Riding with Dakar Champion

After refueling in La Viña, we continued towards Cafayate in the Valles Calchaquíes area. Upon reaching the picturesque town of Cafayate, we headed to the private neighborhood of Estancias de Cafayate Wine & Golf – Grace, where an eagerly anticipated lunch awaited us at the Club House.

Many of us opted for the classic Argentine dish, milanesa a caballo—a breaded steak with fries and fried eggs—which did not disappoint!

After lunch, the coordinators from Big Trail Tours Argentina, brothers Guille and Pato Marelli, shared some exciting news with us. We were informed that we would be staying in a rental house alongside our host and guide, Kevin Benavides — an honor that was both unexpected and thrilling. This arrangement set the stage for a deeply communal experience, one that was rooted in our shared passion for riding and the unique adventure we were all part of.

It’s worth mentioning that Big Trail Argentina adeptly handles the transfer of our luggage from one hotel to the next using their support vehicles, allowing us to ride unencumbered by extra baggage. A small backpack with essentials was all that was needed.

There was also no need for excessive worry about potential mechanical issues with our bikes. As part of the organized team, we were accompanied by two remarkable individuals, Carlos Zeiss and Pablo Maier, from the city of Bariloche in Patagonia. Not only did they serve as escorts and guides, but they also excelled as mechanical assistants and tire experts, adeptly managing more than ten tire punctures across various motorcycles throughout our journey. Beyond their technical skills, their amusing stories at the end of each riding day often left us in fits of laughter.

Additionally, we were supported by Luchi Marelli, who served as a marshal and was always ready to assist with any unexpected situations. Franco Marelli and Gian Clavelino completed our support team, bringing up the rear each day in a 4×4 vehicle laden with an array of tools and spare parts for any minor mishaps.

Importantly, the comprehensive care from Big Trail Argentina extended to our safety and well-being. An ambulance with three paramedics was discreetly present throughout the journey, ensuring immediate medical attention if needed. Fortunately, their services were only required for minor bumps and scratches, but their presence provided an invaluable peace of mind.

The entire Big Trail staff deserves recognition for their positive attitude and readiness to tackle any issue. They were more than just good hosts and excellent tour organizers; they became an integral part of our band of riders, transforming what was an organized tour into a journey of friends united by a passion for motorcycling.

To cap off this exhilarating first day, we headed to a charming restaurant in the town of Cafayate, where a large table awaited all participants and staff. It was the perfect setting to reflect on the day’s adventures and bond over a meal, reinforcing the camaraderie that had been cultivated on the winding roads and under the vast Argentinian sky.

Day 3

The day began with a short asphalt stretch on Route 68 before we veered left, regrouped, and received our daily briefing from Kevin. He revealed that we were about to traverse one of the most iconic sections of the South American Dakar’s editions—a realization that sent ripples of excitement through the group. We proceeded with caution along the local roads, mindful of tourists and local traffic.

After navigating increasingly remote routes, we found ourselves on a purely off-road track. The day’s journey halted momentarily for a unique showcase from Kevin—an official rider’s speed run. The same paths that challenged us with loose stones and sandy stretches were effortlessly conquered by him at racing speed, leaving us awestruck by his skill and mastery.

After the stunning display of skill provided by Kevin, we resumed our journey and soon found ourselves at the bed of another dry river. Turning right, we began to follow its course as it meandered between mountain ranges. After several twists and turns, I started to notice the mountains on either side drawing closer together, creating an increasingly narrow path ahead. Looking forward, seeking the route onward, it seemed as though we were approaching a dead end, the riverbed leading us straight into a rock wall. At first, I couldn’t grasp where we were heading or how we would find a way through. And then, suddenly, it became clear—we had arrived at the legendary canyon of the Dakar.

Describing this place is a challenge, as it stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me. I realized we were at the threshold of that awe-inspiring site I had so often seen on television, where Dakar competitors of all classes—motorcycles, cars, and even trucks—had once roared through. This narrow canyon opened a passage to the west and the Calchaqui River. It was a serpentine trail between towering walls of stone, a place of majestic beauty, remote and challenging to access, yet thrilling and enjoyable to traverse. Standing at the entrance, I was overwhelmed by the realization that I was about to ride through a part of Dakar history, a moment that combined a sense of awe with an indescribable joy.

At the entrance of the canyon, we regrouped, where Kevin and Luchi awaited us. We gave Machi, our photographer, time to arrive on his intrepid Versys 300, allowing him to venture into the mountain pass to find the best spots for capturing each group member’s journey through the canyon. We began to proceed one rider at a time, spacing our departures to let the dust settle from the bikes ahead, providing Machi the chance to snap clearer, dust-free shots.

When it was my turn, the urge to accelerate full throttle through this legendary passage was overwhelming. However, I quickly realized the need for restraint. The terrain, a mix of sand and gravel, was loose, making navigation more challenging on my 440-pound (200 kg) motorcycle. But what I encountered inside the canyon exceeded all my expectations. My gaze struggled to take in the towering heights, the vast sides, and the path ahead all at once. It was an unforgettable experience, one I was fortunate enough to repeat a few more times since we were allowed multiple passes. With each re-entry into the canyon, my confidence in my riding and my bike grew, allowing me to dare a bit more with each run.

Day 4

In the cool morning air, we left behind the Hacienda de Molinos, a place that seemed to pause time itself. A touch of nostalgia-tinged our spirits as we recognized this was the final leg of our extraordinary journey with Kevin Benavides. The camaraderie that had blossomed over shared passions and myriad emotions was now expressed through heartfelt goodbyes, hugs, and well-wishes.

The motorcycle community is truly remarkable, transforming strangers into fast friends bound by the thrill of the ride. Despite the varied skill levels—from enduro adventurers and amateur riders to those escaping the monotony of daily life—our shared passion united us. Each throttle twist, each mile of untamed landscape, brought us closer, turning us into a band of brothers from across the globe.

The day’s route promised one last dance with the wild as we traversed the final 40 mi (65 km) through Los Cardones National Park. The valley welcomed us with a dramatic shift in scenery, boasting rich, red soil and astonishing rock formations. We rode along the famed Recta del Tin Tin before reaching the asphalt of Route 33, where we turned right to face the renowned Cuesta del Obispo.

We paused at a lookout point, my Garmin watch registering an altitude of 10,945 feet (3,336 meters). The serpentine path unraveling into the valley below—a visual feast for any traveler. This stretch was a patchwork of asphalt and gravel, a rider’s dream akin to a child’s first visit to Disney.

Descending the Cuesta, each group member savored the experience in their unique way, some pushing the pace, others soaking in the vastness. At an intermediate point, where gravel gave way to tighter asphalt curves, my watch showed we had descended nearly 2,953 feet (900 meters) to an elevation of 7,972 feet (2,425 meters). Refueling in El Carril, I noted we were now at 4,133 feet (1,260 meters), with only the last stretch of road leading back to Salta.

Upon reaching the Portezuelo Hotel, we officially regrouped to close our journey. It was a bittersweet moment, joyous for the dream days we had lived and the trails conquered, yet somber as the time came to part ways. Under the endless Argentinian sky, the bonds formed on these dusty tracks would linger long after the engines cooled and the dust settled. It was an experience etched into our very souls, a ride that was so much more than a mere tour—it was an expedition of the heart.