November 19, 2010
Oh look, it's turned out nice!
It was a gray daybreak. The man that looked after the campsite had a very strong country accent which was difficult to understand but I understood him say it sure would rain. It had been so hot recently I shrugged my shoulders as if to say I don't care.
Although San Miguel is the capital of a department it is nothing more than a small village. The link road from the main road terminates at the entrance and all the streets are lose sand, thereby unrideable by bike. So I had to cycle as best I could on the consolidated pathway by the house fronts, but one part was all dug up for laying drains and the workmen in the trench were ecstatic with laughter as I struggled with the bike through the lose sandy street.
The morning grew duller as I left the village behind and soon the tarmac had that familiar smell when raindrops first hit it. The rain came on heavy and before long the rut depressions left by truck wheels were full of water. For once I didn't mind the rain, it was cool, I didn't have any thirst and because of the tropical climate I would not get miserably cold.
The pampa landscape with bogs and ponds looked much like flat boggy parts of Ireland today with the rain. I pressed on through the gloom not too disheartened as it felt so refreshing in comparison to the recent heat. I was aiming to reach a town marked on the map 65km from San Miguel called Santa Rosa by lunch time. My pedal though was making a terrible crunch and click sound, I thought it had come to it's end when it suddenly went stiff. I stop and work it lose discovering that the pedal now has an incredible amount of play, the bearing all crunched up inside but at lease it was free turning, for how long it would be hard to say.
As planned I reach Santa Rosa looking forward to lunch. I first see a service station a block ahead but not as noticeable right beside where I had stopped I see a little place with a sign outside, "Comidor La Casita" The little house cafe, with a name like that it had to be good. It looked dead on the outside because of the wet day. The blackboard which usually is set out with the menu displayed was laid redundant in the empty veranda. Nevertheless, when I opened the door and went inside almost all the tables were occupied. I took a seat at one of the two left, take off my rain-jacket and clean my glasses. The young lady taking orders and serving seemed bored when every customer asked, what's for lunch? She would repeat the four different dishes while looking over the heads of the customers at the wall as if revising facts for an exam, while the guys at the table next to me sniggered and laughed at her. When she got to my table and ran through the menus, I ask a question. The two guys at the next table heard me speak and launched in to a new bout of sniggers. My question, could I have a milanese sandwich. Her mouth opened and she looked at me confused. To not be difficult I suddenly backtrack and say "milanese and potatoes" which was on the menu. To drink, I order a beer. I ask for a 500ml bottle but there were only litre bottles available but whatever I wasn't going too far too soon as it rained even heavier out. I linger on in the cafe for an hour and a half. I could see the way the young lady was looking at me she thought I's never going to get up and leave.
Though leave I eventually did. It felt cold to begin with but I wasn't long warming up. I thought "is it wise cycling on in this rain? Could I not try and find some type of accommodation here in Santa Rosa?" I persisted pressing on as the rain got heavier. The traffic was mainly logging trucks and although they moved over onto the opposite side of the road while passing, they still managed to cover me with spray as they didn't slow much.
The rain eventually began to ease sometime between three and four, by five the road was drying out and a pink glow could be seen through the gray cloud. I reached my goal for the day shortly after, the town of Saladas.
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In the plaza I look out for the info centre. I spot the regional museum instead, "well" I thought "perhaps I ask here". I push my bike in off the pavement, up the pathway leaving it, continue inthrough the main door past a reception desk and on to a room of exhibits of manikin figures in Napoleonic military uniforms. I enter another room and see a young man who insisted on speaking English. I ask "is there a municipal campsite in town?" "Wait" he announces "I speak with someone" He led me to another room pushing in the door where a woman is talking on a Mobil. When she'd finish she introduced herself, "Alejanda, Secretaria de Turismo in Saladas, to night is the festival of the honey and the town is very busy, you come at the right time, you like festival?" "This evening I am very tired after cycling all day, is there a camping-site" "There's hotels" she replies, perhaps thinking that camping isn't worthy of a visitor to the town, but I insisted that I'd prefer to camp. She finally instructed the young man to guide me to the camp-site but said it was closed for the season and the water was turned off.
The walk to the municipal camping-site took 20 minutes. My companion was Rod. He said he was 20 and wanted to be a teacher but his real dream was to be a singer. "Oh yeah, what type of music" I ask " Gospel music" he replied. He said also that he'd like to study to be a medical doctor. He seemed a very ambitious young man.
The municipal camping-site like the two preceding nights, was level, the grass clipped, amongst trees and by a small lake. In short it was perfect. It is a nice change from wild camping. Here I ask, I can buy stuff for an evening meal not far away and they are usually free though if there's a charge it's rarely more than 5 pesos, 1 Euro.
The following day, after a long warm day with a light cross wind I reach a road junction at five where I turn into the wind. I felt almost done for and had to immediately sit down on the grass verge. I only had warm tap water to drink. I rest there for half an hour before riding the remaining few kilometres to the next village for a cold drink and to camp.
The remaining 60km to Mercedes on Sunday morning were uneventful other than I past into another department, Mercedes's namesake. I've lost count of the number of departments I've past through in the last few days. They tend to be very small with one small principal town. It's an extremely rural place, such is Corrientes.
Today's ride: 301 km (187 miles)
Total: 6,158 km (3,824 miles)
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