March 2, 2011
Rocking & Rolling yeh the whole day long.
The interior of this hut I've slept in is homely in a way that people that don't want beautifully furnished homes can only appreciate: instead preferring the few basics. There's a cot which I rolled my mat and sleeping-bag out on; there's a built-in table and bench; and a wood stove fashioned from half an old oil drum with a smoke-pipe weld on and extending through the roof. On the table, where I eat my porridge, the estancia owner has left water in two vino svelto, big rotund jars with narrow necks which wine comes in.
I woke cold this morning though. I think this was due to the wind having shifted to the North East; or off the cold South Atlantic. Opening the door, it was a sunny sharp morning; warm in the sunshine in the doorway; frigid sitting at the table. The sheep moved along the fence outside followed by a horse that pauses a moment putting it's head over the fence and contemplating the open door.
Packing the bike outside the door I looked back to see that I'd left everything the way I had found it before shutting the door. The yellow sheet metal hut is set on a grassy square inlay into the usual stock fence that borders the road.
The gravel road continues: it is 100km of it and more to San Sebastian which I don't think I'll reach today as I've only covered 20km since starting at nine, and it's now eleven: 65-70km will suffice as I don't want to over-stress the bike. The road is of small stones dug out of a river loosely scattered over a hard under-layer which is quite bumpy in places: there isn't washboard though, thankfully. The bike rolls along; the fork shudders and shakes on the bumps. The road meanders around hills where it can or gently rolls up and over; down and along valleys with the odd estancia house at the foot of hills. The day remains fine and my enjoyment is complete.
Complete it would be even more, if it wasn't for occasional maniac Argentine drivers that all most run me over; neither slowing nor pulling over to give me space: and generally doing stupid things: example; the Ego-Mobil pick-up that pulled out and was overtaking a truck blindly into thick dust of the wake which was going sideways across the road. Luckily; he saw me come out of the cloud and moved back behind the trailer. Why is it so that Argentina is infamous for reckless driving. A dutch expat I spoke with said "it's the Italian in them"; I can well believe.
The morning past and the afternoon cumulus cloud floated in casting nice dark shadows as they seemingly caress the hills. And the light breeze got stronger, but as it was from behind was of little consequence: luckily, I reached a little shelter, like a bus-shelter, but with arch windows and door, and dome roof; here I stop for lunch in out off the blustery wind. It was clean inside with no urine smell and just the usual scribbling with marker-pen.
I reach cullin; a place on the signs since Cerro Sumbrero: it's a scattering of natural gas installations and pipelines. Shortly after; the road dropped down to a plain where for a while the vegetation was low green bushes before returning to yellow sheep pasture. I stop at a crossroads to take a photo of what stroke me on the sign as North American, "China Creek"
I didn't go to "China Creek"; and I will never know what is there. I did cycle on on road that no longer had the chaos of small stones, but had the occasional big stone protruding out of the hard surface: still a rocky ride but I made better progress on this surface. I finished the day well with 90km when I reached a gravel-pit where I camp, but notice the front wheel is soft.
Today's ride: 92 km (57 miles)
Total: 11,445 km (7,107 miles)
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