September 30, 2010
Rio Grande to usual forest camping.: You most leave now!.
As always leaving a city after a few days off the bike is slow. There's the last cup of coffee in the cafe with wifi where I check emails the last chance to do so for many days. There's packing the bags the contents of which during the stay end up strewn about the hotel room everywhere. So it was no surprise that it was late when I finally got on the road.
As always allot of time is wasted cycling in the wrong direction when trying to leave a city in this part of the world because of non existent road-signs. There was however a sign for Pelota a city in my direction but on following the road arrowed I saw no more signs for Pelota and the road led toward the new port where I's lost cycling a cobble street along a railway with a big long freight train of tanker after tanker moving slowly along side. There were smoking chimneys and other dirty industrial installations all around. The city is builded on a peninsular and to leave the city I would be cycling out the way I came in but this area I's in now was nothing like where I'd come in. It was time to do a u-turn and cycle back towards the centre this time using my initiative. I would use the sun as a reference. At this time of day its in the north and I want to go south so I've to find a major road going south or away from the sun. It's easy except if it's overcast which is common on this coast but today was sunny.
I wanted to be on BR392 the major trunk road in and out of the city but I found myself on a serious of branch roads seemingly lost cycling from neighbourhood to neighbourhood. The road was very rough and often cobbled. I cursed allot at one stage thumping the handlebars. I asked a shopkeeper. He agreed, I's on the right road to Pelota, but then when I let the bike slip me and the bike almost falling over he said 'be careful you are tired'. 'No I'm not I'm just fed-up with streets and roads leading who knows where as there aren't any direction signs' I didn't say that I thought it and why does he think I'm tired riding a bike, I mean I only began that morning after a few days rest.
There was a bit of a crosswind which became a headwind when I eventually got on BR392. It was not strong enough to stir up the sand on the new carriage-way under construction though so II's saved from that discomfort today.
Im now sitting in a cafeteria selling buffet lunch. I'd lamb, sausage, potatoe salad, a warm potatoe dish and beetroot salad washed down with a beer. The bill was 11.40 or 5 Euro.
The afternoon started with me almost falling off my bike. I saw her walking towards me on the shoulder of the road. She had ivory white skin with red blushing cheeks, long dark brown hair or it could've been black. She was smartly dressed in a dark trouser suit and a dark jacket. She strode along with purpose lifting strands of hair up from her eyes which were full of joy when we drew level and past. In love. My jaw dropped as I looked back at her and I steered the bike onto the verge only correcting it in time to avoid the enevitable fall.
The road from the place I'd stopped for lunch toward Pelota had way too many trucks. Even with a good shoulder to cycle on it was bothersome as they stired up the wind when passing which felt like a great gust of wind lifting the jersey on my back and pushing me to the side. I daren't leave the bike on it's stand or a truck would pass and blow it over. I could see the city from a long way off, grey high rise blocks above the reeds of the bog to the side of the road and was hoping that all the trucks which were bumper to bumper much of the time would turn North at Pelota where I planned to turn South.
Thankfully the road bypassed the city as it was a right ugly scrawl. I got close enough though to see a neighbourhood from the carriage-way of hastlely builded shacks where young children were playing in garbage which was everywhere. It does not bear thinking what it would be like to live there. Here too a thing I've also seen allot of in Uruguay and Northern Argentina are shacks builded on wasteland on the edge of the city by piles of rubbish and a half starved horse on a rope grazing a meager patch of grass. The occupants livimg by going into the city with horse and cart to collect the rubbish.
Though later my road South, BR166 was passed through another urban scrawl, the town Capao do Leao at around five just when I wanted to be looking for a place to camp. There were lots of cars and chaos, glass strewn everywhere. I wouldn't want to puncher here and now at this time of day I thought. Eventually I made it past the last houses and back to the countryside where things were looking good. There were lots of forests but there were wetlands too and a deep drainage ditch on both sides of the road barring any entry possibilities to said forests. I's glad to eventually reach a closed gate which had a narrow passage to the side big enough for a bike to pass through. Behind the gate a dirt road led farther in. Although there looked to be nobody near and lots of dry grassy areas to the side there were fresh motorcycle tracks though in the dirt.
I got the tent up and while eating a motorcycle past. I waved it tooted it's horn. As there were lots of wet areas in the forest it could only mean the mosquitoes were out in force this evening. I closed myself in the tent and those mosquis that remained in the tent became preoccupied with getting out rather than attaching me. Shortly another motorcycle came along this time slowing to a halt. It was now dark and I only saw the lights as I walked towards the bike. I thought a friendly chat would follow, as friendly as was possible given language barrier but the voice in the dark by the bike didn't sound friendly. It came from a man I could barely see yet but he had a big torch in his left hand the light of which glinted on a revolver in the other hand that was pointed to the ground. The next thing I saw was the police uniform. The language problem led to him repeating his message a few times but I soon got the jist of it from words similar to Spanish.'this is federal land and you most leave now'.
If there had of been a noom moving on may not have been a problem but this was a particularly dark night and I didn't fancy packing up never mind trying to find an alternative, so I pleaded with him saying I'd be gone first thing in the morning. He said 'that if I don't leave it would only cause problems for him'. Eventually he said pointing to his radio that he'd ask would it be ok for me to stay till morning but because of the trees the reception was poor. I could only hear a bark on the other side each time he repeated his request. So He told me to wait that he would return in 15 minutes.
15 minutes past and he returned with an older officer riding pillion. The older officer had a look and agreed I could stay but on condition that I don't hunt he held up his arms in sight language to represent a hunting gun. I don't know, even if I were a hunter how I'd see anything in this darkness. And I wasn't to fish, he held his arm out as if holding a fishing rod. Again ridiculous as it was hard to see anything. Then he asked could he have a look in the tent to make sure I'd neither gun nor fishing rod. There was one other thing before they rode off I wasn't to desiccate so as I sit in the tent tonight I wonder what I'll do if I need to go to the toilet. The morning could be interesting.
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Today's ride: 85 km (53 miles)
Total: 3,042 km (1,889 miles)
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