November 12, 2010
San Ignacio.
I slept well despite the discomfort of dry itchy skin. The back of my legs have up until this last few days been turned to the South, now they're turned North so they get the full strength of the sun. Today I wore tights to keep them covered so not to burn more. It would nevertheless be fine to have the possibility of a shower in the evenings, the cooling effect of the water on the skin in addition to cleansing should prevent itchiness.
In the mornings when taking down the tent, I usually lift the inner tent with the opening faced down and give it a shake to shake out any grass, soil or even bread crumbs. This morning while doing so however I heard a sudden snap. Putting the tent down I saw what I expected, the front pole which is especially strained curving up from either side of the tent's narrow side forming a tight ark, had snapped. It now formed an elbow protruding up rather than a round curve. On inspection I saw that it had sheared off at the narrow sleeve which slides into the next section. There wasn't mush I could do then. I would wait to the evening and try to do some kind of repair.
I rode back out the red dirt road which I came in yesterday afternoon getting on the main road at seven thirty. It was another bright sunny morning which by nine the temperature seemed to be already in the thirties and rising. I bough oranges from a road side stall and shortly afterwards made a mid morning breakfast complete by yogurt and cereal with a cold coke bough at a supermercado in a village I past through. While putting my purchase in the bag outside a man asked "adonde ustede" where am I from. I say "Ireland". "Ireland no good, Norway riches country in the world" "I lived in Norway for ten years" I replied to his statement before riding off. The road I've been on until now, Route 12, has been a safe road to cycle upon having a shoulder albeit one where I most swerve round aforesaid rumble strips. I suspected though that this would not always be the case and the likelihood would be that ahead the shoulder could come to an abrupt end. I did not have long to wait as shortly after leaving the village, the shoulder did indeed come to an abrupt end and ahead was a single lane of constant fast traffic.
Maybe I have missed something but I don't quite understand the reasoning behind it as on either side there is a rough harecore surface level with the road and often as wide as the tarmac. Surely there isn't any economic or logical reason for not having the tarmac extended even a metre beyond the inside white-line, just so I or other cyclists can ride in safety. I am left to think that the people whose decision it is are the biggest arseholes going. And not to exclude the drivers from the last statement that drive with the accelerator locked to the floor which blare the horn frantically when they see you or if anything should get in there way. It is quite often to hear such cars pumping the gas pedal if they come up behind slower sensible driven cars. They don't rev behind trucks though. They do make stupid, as is there nature, risky overtaking maneuvers in order to save thirty to forty seconds in their journey. It became one of those miserable days where you wonder are you going to die or end up in hospital. There continued the climbing lane for the trucks which means more than half perhaps three quarters of the road was wide. Why not wide the whole way?
At noon I turned off at a village called Caipoli which had an attractive church with a pointed spire bell tower like what you'd expect to find in Europe. Opposite was a big school and the children were just coming out for lunch. I didn't want anything in town, I only wanted to escape the madness of the road. I was low on cash anyway so thought it a good idea to find a bank. I asked a guy walking along the street. He directed me back down past the church the way I'd come up. The banks here, well every where except Brazil, work well with my card. I got my money and felt rich and so decided to find a cafe to eat lunch.
There were 60km more to the Jesuit ruins San Ignacio which was too far to cycle in the afternoon as I's forced for my own survival to ride on the road's rough margin. I asked the lady proprietor of the cafe where I ate lunch what was there in the way of villages between here and San Ignacio as I wanted to stop at a place where there was a camping site as in this heat I needed to wash. "Jardine America 20km, nice camping site, no more than 5 pesos to camp" she informs me. She asked me about my travel and as I was leaving wished me lucky.
I had as said to resort to riding on the unpaved margin so the 20km to Jardin America couldn't pass quick enough. I stopped at an YPF service station on the way into town to quench my thirst then continued on and didn't see any sign for camping anywhere. I ask a shopkeeper and he told me it was back 3km the way I'd come, so I'd missed it looking out for the rough surface on the road margin. I rode back as far as the YPF service station and seeing that it was a truckstop knew there wouldn't be any problem camping at the rear. The broken pole I tied together with wire screwing it tight with the Leatherman pliers to form an A-frame which supports the inner-tent and the flysheet fits over the top taut enough to perhaps withstand rain. It's a temporary solution until I get somewhere to replace the broken pole.
On Saturday morning the remaining 44km to San Ignacio was more of the same riding on the rough margin. I hope that I can buy an ACA (Auto Club Argentino)map when I reach the provincial capital Posadas as I need to get off Route 12.
The three hours from 11pm were spent walking around the Jesuit Ruins. The Jesuits came to America around the year 1609 and established missions in the jungles of what is the geographic core of South America. They lived in harmony with the local Guarani people converting them peacefully to Christianity, even alouding them to retain their political freedom in what are currently Paraguay, North East Argentina and Southern Brazil up until they where expelled by the new Bourbon kings and queens in Spain around 1768. I found the history interesting and I like old masonry work but at times I just had to find a tree and sit down in the shade as yet again it was stifling hot and humid. There were lots of guided tours and others like me just ambling around. Afterwards I found a restaurant, had lunch and found a hostel. It would be interesting to maybe visit another Jesuit ruins in the days ahead.
Today's ride: 129 km (80 miles)
Total: 5,533 km (3,436 miles)
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