February 18, 2011
An eye-opener.
Truck-drivers don't oversleep and normally start the engine when the first light announces the coming day: thus, it was after a restful night's sleep, Is awakened before dawn by the steady hum of trucks ticking-over. I took advantage of the service-station's cafeteria for breakfast; eating more Empanadas, Medialunas and take a coffee; then spent quite a time using the wifi. Eventually glancing up from the screen and out the window, I see the Argentine flag fluttering vigorously in the wind, pointing Southwards, or going my way, so I thought I'd better get-moving to take advantage of the good tailwind.
On my bike the front derailleur no-longer works which isn't a problem as I ride all the time in the middle ring; but today the wind would push me along at a rate of knots were "I pedal out" as they say: so I stop and manually lift the chain onto the big outer ring in order to keep up. There showed 35 on the computer and soon it went up to 50 as the road descended down into a canyon: a speed which I find a touch scary with a trailer. The warning "Not to exceed 40km per hour" is there on the trailer's rear end for good reason: at over 40 the bike feels wobbly and unstable, almost unable to remain in front of the heavy trailer pushing from behind which has picked up so mush momentum. I was glad to be going back uphill again: do I change down onto the middle ring? No; there was enough momentum for me to remain on the big ring and slowly cranking around the third biggest sprocket at the rear, as the wind pushed me up and out the other side of the canyon.
The swoop down into canyons and out would be the main feature of today's itinerary; far horizons were blocked out by colourful barrancas and brown hills. There were places where the road followed small valleys with dry crusted salt-lagoons. There were guanachos everywhere. I would not want to be stuck out here; suffice it was to be sailing along with a helper-wind on smooth road and low traffic density. It was scenic.
The scenery remained interesting all day with impressive vistas. The afternoon was memorable when the road descended down to a great wide valley where the brown hills on the opposite side were purple because of the distance across.
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This was were the wind shifted to the side; but I suspect that was because the road had swung right, rather than the wind direction changing. I was now in the middle ring crossing the valley in a slow laboured pace. The road seemed to go on and on, it took over an hour to reach the hill up out the other side, where just before the road goes up, there is a turn-off and a sign "San Julian por la costera 27km" the coast road to San Julian. It may be a nice alternative, but as it is unpaved, how bad it may be, was going through my mind, so I stuck to Route 3 which climbed through the hills: and the hillsides now provided some shelter from the crosswind.
The town of San Julian seen from afar as I descend, appeared like a scattering of box-like houses in gray, faded red and blue. In it's treeless barren setting, it reminded me of settlements in Iceland or Northern Norway: it certainly felt like it with the wind. I found the info centre and the lady informs me about a Canadian cyclist that came in yesterday and he may still be on the campsite. And sure enough I meet Ian: not Canadian but English which I spot the moment he opened his mouth, though he's lived in Canada; he has ridden from Canada to Tierra del Fuego and is now riding North on Route 3.
"I just got use to knocking on peoples doors. "Can-I camp in your yard" I'd say. And then I'd ask "can I use your kitchen". And nearly always they'd say yeah yeah no problem. And cum out with a thermos and make me cofe, and very often they'd invite me in for dinner", such was Ian's story of how he if at all possible avoided paying to camp and lived on a very tight budget. He stayed away from other westerners if he could. He related an argument he had with a Dutch girl when he said he didn't pay entry fees to National Parks: her argument was that the Park fee goes to help the local economy and preserving the environment. "Whot to build roads so big RVs can drive" was his, I most say, enlightened answer to that.
It is nice to talk to other cyclist like Ian; and today (Monday) Nancy, John and the boys have turned up. I talked with Nancy much about Route 3 today. She cannot understand why so few ride it. Ian too likes Route 3. I myself having ridden in Patagonia quite alot find Route 3 an eye-opener; I thought it'd be monotonous, having listen to certain people, but hey what may be monotonous to one may not be monotonous to everybody, and who decides any way.
Today's ride: 145 km (90 miles)
Total: 10,931 km (6,788 miles)
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