August 27, 2010
Far in the middle of nowhere.: Who said route 34 would be interesting.
-Day 15. Sat 21th Aug. Roadside camp to Real something. 89kms
I awoke shortly after seven but as the sun doesn't rise to quarter to eight I remain put for half an hour in the tranquility of my tent which it now being warm I've not used the fly sheet instead aloud a cool breeze to circulate.
The road this morning was no different than yesterday, still the heavy truck traffic. I can see me being glad to reach Rosario for a break from this.
An extremely long frate train rattled by on the line parallel to the road then followed a horrible sight. I's passing a farm and dogs began to bark. A big brown and white dog with four little dogs with the same colour marking came running out the lane way onto the road. The big dog was just crossing the central white line , teeth striped and eyes focused on the attach. It simply didn't see a white pick-up truck coming very fast and moved out to the central line to give me space. Next there was a fatal impact and thud. The dog spun over the wing blood spurting out in a jet across the road. It was all over in a few seconds, when the dog landed stone dead on the road. The small dogs gathered around whimpering.
I'm now sat in a roadside cafe reflecting. I feel sorry that the people at the farm have lost their dog.
Today I need to be passing through somewhere with an ATM. The proprietor at the roadside cafe mention one in Colonia Dora, 18km on. I'm now in the YPF service station 2km before that town and as usual the cafeteria has wifi but unfortunately my battery is low. It's a shame there isn't a power point to charge up with.
At the bank after pressing in the instructions on the screen I'm glad to hear the familiar sound of the machine paying out instead of a message, you cannot use your card in this machine or worse my card being swallowed as I wouldn't want to be stuck in Colonia Dora as it's a very down at heal place. Most of the houses are shacks. People use horse drawn vehicles. Nice cars are the ones from far away passing through.
There's more misery further along the road. People living in shelters made of plastic selling what ever can be made or harvested from the thick scrub land including small birds which they sell in cages.
The road now follows a salt water channel. There's a few cleared areas of small family run farms but the most is thick scrub land and cactus. I'm now camped behind a hedgerow along the road and I'm hoping not to be disturb tonight.
Day 16. Sun 22nd Aug. Real to near Argentina. 106kms
I didn't realise when I chose the spot that it was quite close to a farmhouse. The dog came along at eleven and barked and barked at my tent. I kept as still as possible hoping it would soon go away but it kept on. By now I's thinking everybody knows I'm camped here.
On reflection on what happened yesterday removed from the awfulness of it, it was perhaps poetic justice as dogs come to think of it can be right pests.
Today being a Sunday is no different, it's business as usual, the same constant truck traffic. I now happen to be sitting in a service station in a little place called Pinto. In the forecourt outside sits a truck with it's bonnet up and along side the firms mechanical back-up vehicle. A couple of guys are busy in around the engine. They seem not to be have allot of luck as one comes out nodding his head walking back and forth across the forecourt. The other has just laid out air filters on cardboard on the ground.
The amount of traffic did drop off in the afternoon so I's able to cycle long stretches without meeting anything. It was to turn out a warm sticky day and I really felt it on the way to the next place, Malfran. There didn't seem to be a service station here at first and therefore nothing open as it was the middle of the afternoon. The place was lifeless. I cycled around and saw nobody. I's very thirsty and only had warm water, not too refreshing. Eventually I passed a house where the family were in the garden eating. They told me the service station was one kilometre further along the main road.
I'm now sat in that service station writing my diary. The fans on the ceiling are turning at full speed. There's a football match on the TV but it has not started yet. Instead the TV camera shows the fans walking into the stadium. Fan after fan passes the camera waving, they're on TV after all.
Refreshed, I leave with a litre and half of Sprite and continue on. There's now a cooling breeze which luckily is coming from behind helping me along. I'd not gotten very far when two motorcycle cops passed then pulled in flagging me down. The young cop who spoke first was quite anxious to impress by being thuff the older cop who had a more relaxed attitude. He 'said in a load voice ýou know this road is very dangerous'. Really, I thought, don't I know it. I agreed. 'Why don't you wear reflectors and have a light like this 'he said pointing at the blue light on the back of his bike. My thoughts were going look, my jersey is bright red, the panniers are bright red with big reflectors and the Bob bag is yellow as well as it being a bright sunny day, how more visible can I be. I nodded and said it would be a good idea. The older cop who was just on a Sunday outing asked me where I'd cycled from. 'Salta', which I never tire of saying. He sucked deep and said so far with an air of disbelieve.
The next village was called Argentina of all names where I bough a coke, before looking for a place to camp along the road further on which was treeless and marshy. The only place was in long reedy grass. As I tramped down a place big enough for my tent, my two cop friends passed in the opposite direction waving.
Today's ride: 196 km (122 miles)
Total: 916 km (569 miles)
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