Puerto Madryn

January 17, 2011

Tehuelche warrior, the original inhabitants of the area.

" The lamb-chop bounced of the plate and every table had an ugly ornamental penguin jug", if I remember correctly, that was something like how Bruce Chatwin, briefly described a restaurant in Puerto Madryn.

The seaside resort is perhaps unrecognisable from when the author of "In Patagonia" past through in 1975. International travel for the masses was then only in it's infancy and Chatwin would've met few other travelers. Nowadays, in January it is a popular location for Argentine holidaymakers, and is a mecca for international travelers, attracted to the nearby marine reserve, the Valdes Peninsular and the Penguin colony, Punta Tumba.

Today there is a great choice in restaurants and the traditional stable lamb is lost in a menu of international as well as the usual Criollo fare. And so if you make a good selection of place to eat you won't be disappointed. Though, prices have shot up, and eating out is now as dear as Europe.

Nevertheless, I have been eating out here in Puerto Madryn. On Saturday afternoon I'd a small pizza and a 660ml beer which is just a little over a pint, and the bill was 50 pesos (£8.33). The beer by it's self was 18 pesos which is more expensive than at home. The pizza cost more than what I'd pay at home and I finished off with a coffee, an extra 9 pesos, more pricey than home too.

But costs aside, the great value of eating out is perhaps the people watching or just watching the world pass by. Most of the people in the cafe like me were European. The main reason I sat down was an interest in the BMW parked outside, with big silver metallic panniers, an EU flag and D indicating country on the number plate. It's owner Tristian sat nearby, at an outside table picking out the green olives and sucking on them before eating the pizza while he told me about his motorcycle-tour.

Yesterday afternoon, Sunday, I took a ride round the seafront to Punta cuevas, the spot where the first Welsh pioneers took refuge in shelters excavated in the rock, after being abandoned on the beach. I intended to spend the afternoon in the museum there but it was closed and it being an extremely windy afternoon I didn't linger.

I returned this morning on foot. It was the turning point of a longish walk which followed the beach after leaving the streets of the centre. The walk took in the long pier where cruise-liners dock and added at lease a kilometre to the walk.

I was disappointed to find the museum closed today too. Perhaps it's closed for the Summer, I thought. There was no notice to explain. But there were things outside that interpret the historic importance of the place, such as a monument with a marble stone, thereon engraved the names of the 153 Welshmen, women and children whose ship, Mimosa, made landfall here on the 28th of July 1865, after a voyage from Liverpool.

Artist impression of the Welsh coming ashore, on interpretation board.

It was Winter and inclement. After unloading everything the ship sailed away and the colonists had to take refuge in holes hewn out off the soft rock in the bank up from the beach.

The project by Welsh nationalists to find and colonize a place in the world where they could have cultural and religious freedom which was curtained at the time in their homeland, had been under way for many years. Places like the opening West in the United States and New South Wales were past over as it was found that the Welsh that had already immigrated to such places mixed with other nationality immigrants and soon lost their cultural identity. Like the Jewish people, this place had to be a New Wales, their Israel, free to carry on their traditions, speak their language and practise their religion, undiluted by others.

Window of the museum. El Dragon rojo (the red dragon), a familar sight in this part of Argentina.

The project's leaders visited Buenos Aires and the Minister for the interior and colonies, Guilermo Rawson gave them permission to colonize a river valley, called Chupat in the Tehuelche language. The word would soon be corrupted by the colonists and change to Chubut. This was within a vast area still unsettled by white man and unconquered by the Argentine state.

The ship didn't sail to the mouth of the Chubut river because of a storm, instead pulling into the sheltered bay where it did. The colonists were in a place without drinking water nor possibility of substance. They most find their way and walk to the Chubut river, 40 miles to the South.

I walked back around the bay towards town. There was a light breeze today, unlike the wind of yesterday. I had the rested feeling of what comes after a few days off the bike and eating well. But by the time I reached town I was failing and on passing the restaurant I'd eaten in on Saturday, in my famish state I couldn't resist stopping for more pizza.

Tomorrow it's only 65km or so to Trelew.

Many of the streets are named after those first colonists.

Today's ride: 8 km (5 miles)
Total: 8,948 km (5,557 miles)

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