February 14, 2011
A change in the weather.
I write to you reader, this Sunday evening, from a campsite 25km outside Comodora Rividavia. We, the Sathre-Vogel family and I, like this campsite because we camp on grass-lawn in an area of desert and there are abundant trees all around which provide shelter from the wind and shield out the monotony of the dreary surroundings. In short it's got great ambiances.
Friday morning; we rode the 45km from the dilapidated yesteryear hotel, Los Manantiantes, downhill to Lago Muster. The lake gleamed brightly in Sunlight across it's middle and was turquoise at it's edge: the road followed it's edge for many kilometres, though the last dozen kilometre into Sarmiento was away some distance from the lake across lush pasture watered by fanned out reedy channels of the Rio Senguer; and fields were divided by straight rows of tall popular trees.
In Sarmiento it was already unbearable warm at 10.30am. We split-up as Nancy and John decided to look for a hotel. There are two campsites. I chose the nearest as I just wanted to get in the shade; and hastily paid at the entry gate before having a look first. A mistake. There was an equestrian festival in town at the weekend and the campsite is full: all the good shaded spots were taken and I ended up camping in a rough spot against bushes by the fence. I paid 38 pesos (£6.33) for this. I felt cheated. I felt like asking for my money back, but thought, there wasn't much chance of that as the man in the box by the gate was a complete asshole: he could've said about the limited space and I suspect he may have charged me considerable more because I'm a foreigner which is a common grievance in Argentina.
Worse was to happen: some Argentine holidaymakers on campsites are very boisterous and speak in a ceaseless loud babble; moreover play loud music non-stop day and night. It doesn't matter that you don't want to listen to their music or sleep as they think it unreasonable to be told to turn it down. I had the misfortune to have a rowdy group camp next to me. They played horrible music loudly all evening as well as shout hysterically loud above it. They left for the festival at midnight. Good, I thought, now I can get some peace and sleep. I was awaken as I'm sure the whole campsite were when they returned at three. The two cars they drove; one was real old without a silencer, therefore noisy: it stopped near my tent and the driver began pumping on the gas. It didn't even go br-um br-um; it splutter and backfired. I thought it would blow-up. It was a terrible racket before he switched it off after a minute's senseless revving. The other vehicle, noisy too, I observed during the day: it was a pick-up truck with ridiculous wide wheels; it reminded me of a scaled-up ride-on toy for a 4 year old which is perhaps the mental age of the driver. Then they proceeded to play the ghetto-blaster at seemingly full volume while their mouths let free with their normal loud frivolous babble.
I was glad to leave the next morning and seek-out the other campsite where I found a more professionally ran place which was half the price and I slept unmolested by noise that night. Nancy and the family were here too having not found a vacant hotel room. They had taken a taxi out to see the Petrified Forest. I visited when I past this way a few years ago so didn't see the worth of enduring the 30km of unpaved road, both ways again, which that time was a chaos of small round river-stones, horrible to ride on, and I'm sure not any better now. The Petrified forest is the left-over preserved tree-trunks petrified, or frozen in time, from a prehistoric rain-forest in an age many million years ago when the area was both warmer and wetter. The logs are deceptively like wood to look at but are stone on feel and touch. There are also multi-coloured hills in the background but this isn't too unusual here.
The hot weather came to an abrupt end Friday evening with a thunder storm and some rain; Saturday was overcast and fresh with increasing wind in the afternoon. The wind continued strong on Sunday as a tail wind as I rode alone away from Sarmiento, the family having left later. A brown haze blew off to the side obscuring the sun and a mercy day ensued. The lush pastureland continue East until the road climbed up through multi-coloured barrancas to a hilly desert landscape which is the land of the nodding-donkey. The iron arms of the oil pumps can be seen oscillating slowly up and down on the flats, on hillsides, on hilltops and seemingly buried rising up from behind low knolls.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
The ride ahead traversed round dreary featureless brown hills, heavily scared by the oil-industry. There were pipelines everywhere and clusters of dull gray corrugated-iron sheds. I stopped at a cafe for oil-workers for lunch as there wasn't any shelter out to be found; and Nancy and the Family entered as I finished my sandwich. John complained that the tandem was hard to control on sections of the road where the wind was a tail-crosswind. All were snugly in jackets because of the wind-chill. Nancy asked one of the overall clad oil-workers at another table was there a campsite anywhere on the road ahead, "Yes at KM26" was the positive reply.
In the afternoon the road descended significantly down into a v-shaped valley to where this campsite is an Oasis of green. I placed my tent in the shelter of a really thick tree-trunk: it provides the same protection from the wind as a wall would. The others have equally good shelter behind a thick felled tree-trunk.
This morning I awoke to the sound of the loud swish of the wind in the treetops and looking out there were fallen leaves and twigs all over the grass. It was wild windy. It would be unthinkable to ride to day. Later; I entered the pavilion where Nancy and John were sat at a table in a crisis meeting; what to do? John looked gloomy. "I don't wanta stay here, but stay I will because am afraid for the kids in that wind" We all have enough food so prepared for a day sitting waiting out the wind.
The morning was spend in the pavilion where the boys Gerald and Dave done there maths as part of there home tutoring. John is a maths teacher by profession so he instructed. I read; finishing the book. The last but one chapter the heroin finds her lover and they marry: in the final chapter 10 year later, the narrative says how she lived for him and he for her. A romantic happy ending. And it strikes me the coinstance: it being the 14th of February, Valentine's day. I comment to John who reply "don't mention it to Nancy" who was out of hearing range at that moment. She hitched a ride into Comodoro Rividavia in the afternoon with the kids and returned with shopping, veg to augment their evening meal. She said that the oil-worker that gave her a lift commented that the wind was so bad today they couldn't do their work.
The wind eased some what in the afternoon but it wasn't sure as sudden big gusts came. However tonight as I finish-off it is a calm moonlit night so it's highly probable we'll leave in the morning.
Today's ride: 126 km (78 miles)
Total: 10,465 km (6,499 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |