Heart

0

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply

I have taken for granted for so long riding on shoulder-less Argentine highways, that yes allot of the drivers are a danger to both themselves and everybody else. And the truck-drivers, although the majority do driver carefully and do give me space, the general low standard of driving in Argentina is also present in a minority of truck-drivers too. I am truly glad to only have a day more on a busy Argentine road: crossing the border into Chile cannot come quick enough for me. There; where I have spend allot of time previously; cars slow and give me space on passing; the trucks wait until nothing is coming and then proceed to pass on the opposite side. But most of all, the above slowing isn't as necessary as most of the National Roads in Chile like most of Argentina's neighbours have reasonable shoulders. I write this now having had a close shave this afternoon. What happened I'll get to in due coarse of the days other happenings.

The day began in the little room set aside for passing-through-travellers at the back of the bakery in Tolhuin. It is a grime windowless room and I cannot help when awakening in it feel the need to rise straight away and get out. However, my enthusiasm to leave took a shock when I hear the hiss of rain from without and the drum of it on the bathroom roof. Opening the outside door and looking out fully confirms it is a horrible wet morning with puddled streets and more rain falling from dirty grey skies.

My co-inmate in the little room is a cyclist from Russia, Andreas, I think he is called. Anyway, he had been travelling for a year when in Asia met a Chilean that suggested he come to South America. The Chilean also suggested cycle-touring to him, so on arriving in Buenos Aires, He bough a bike with racks and panniers and set-off across the Pampas to Patagonia. And now after three months cycling will in two days finish in Ushuaia.

I told him of my ride and that Is riding North and when I get that far will ride "Ruta40" (Route 40) rather than the "Camino Austral", the route he took, to great dismissive exclamations of "it's all Pampas!" from him. I assured him that it's any thing but; that yes there are boring stretches which are more than repaid by others where the landscape is incredibly interesting.

We sat in the bakery coffee-shop; he browsing on his computer and I eating a breakfast of Facturas, the sweet jam or cream filled pasties while I wet it with a poor cup of machine-coffee. "So have you made up your mind yet?" he said glancing up from the computer and was asking had I decided to ride in the rain as I told him earlier I would rather than remain here all day. "I think the rain is easing" I replied, looking out the window. And so it was. I got up excitedly and went out the door crossing the street without a single rain-drop as it had indeed stopped and moreover I could see clear blue-sky and sunshine to the North beyond the grey mantle that overhung Tolhuin.

The road North from Tolhuin was still soaked and I'd to contain with the swish of rain-water swirling off the wheels until I reached where the cloud was open and the road beginning to dry-out. Andreas had told me about the American cycling family he'd met at "Club Nautical" in Rio Grande; and that they had set off on their way South yesterday. So, I had the happy expectation of meeting the Vogel family once again on the road whom I cycled together with a couple of weeks ago. Indeed, it wasn't long until I saw the three bikes swooping down a short incline towards me. I swung over and onto the gravel shoulder on their side ready to greet them. John shouted "hey" and Nancy "nice to see-yer again". For old time sake, we chatted a while and I gave them route info. A happy reunion. The last as I'll most likely never see them again in person but will retain happy memories. Nancy said they'll keep in contact as we rode are separate ways. Just before we did, two other cyclist cycling in their direction joined us. "yeus look to be just starting today" Nancy commented as they rode shiny clean Trek bikes and wore like new out-door clothing. "No, we ave cycled from..." said the girl with a Francophone accent. They are a young Belgium couple and had been on the road for over three months and it's amazing how they kept everything so clean and in order. I told them my supposed itinerary North and they made similar noises to Andreas about "Ruta40" being all Pampas, so I made an excuse and quickly rode on.

Another concern they had about "Ruta40" is the wind, but I told them at this time of year, the wind is less of a factor. And I wish I hadn't of opened my mouth as it was to tempt faith, as shortly after leaving them the wind rose from the North. But, the wind remained moderate and I was able to remain riding at a tough reduced rate of knots, sometimes with a crosswind, and other times head-on, depending on which way the road meandered. Before the end of the afternoon though, it would prove almost fatal.

All day the weekend traffic sped past in both directions. The Boy-racers and Men not so young taking out their frustrations in speed on the road, or just adrenalin rush or macho testosterone driven madness. Furthermore, there's a steady train of trucks with containers on their flat-decks pasting from Ushuaia where ships can dock, meant for the city of Rio Grande where ships cannot dock. All the time, I'm riding hesitantly on the white line as the wind is pushing the rear wheel off in the gravel and I regain the white line again, over and over against the wind's will to push me sideways. A truck past very closely and I don't know what happened next, only that before the trailer had completely past I was aware a sudden thump to the back of the head and with the impact the helmet's peak flew off. I knew I'd been hit and I instinctively rode off onto the gravel margin and stopped. I had a moment's shock but knew straight away Is unhurt. A bus traveling behind seeing what happened slowed and pulled over and I've got to thank the drive whom it was got out and comforted me and offered to give me a lift into Rio Grande as the road was he considered too dangerous to ride. I thanked him and said I'd be OK.

I had had a frightening experience and so rode on on the gravel shoulder which as it happened was compacted and not too bad to ride on and I could weave about with the crosswind. But most of all it was only a mere 15km to my destination, Rio Grande, so I'd get there in reasonable time. I regained the road again in the last few built-up kilometres into town as now it felt safe because of the calming effect of traffic lights.

I am now at "Club Nautico" in Rio Grande where I plan on staying two nights. There are other cyclist here too, a French Canadian Couple that have cycled from Boliva and Mathius from Mexico that has cycled from Alaska in nineteen months and knew me by name as he's been following this journal.