February 10, 2011
So warm it is.
My camping-place was 100m off the road along a fence at the back of the group of buildings which included the shop. When I wheeled the bike back to the road, Nancy, John and the two boys had just arrived. John said they'd past the idea of camping at the river by as there was no shade and had pushed on till late when the sun was less strong and camped amongst the scrub. They soon entered the shop and sat around the table enjoying a cool bottle of Sprite. They told of not having drank enough yesterday and were feeling dehydrated today. The woman behind the counter told Nancy of one house about 80km from here where it would be possible to obtain water and camp, so that would be the family's goal for the day.
The shop is actually signed on approach as a museum; but a museum of what we did not ask: though looking through the door from the shop into the kitchen, the family home was timeless: most of the furniture was 1950s. They were sat around the table for breakfast. The only person visible was a big guacho sat at the head of the table in a chair with nice turned woodwork and a curved back rest. On the other side was a large stove-range for boiling the Mate kettle and no doubt essential to keep warm during the long cold winter months.
John was anxious to get going again as it was already very warm, while Nancy took some photos: the boys, argued as usual, in a good natured way about whom would watch what film in the evening. I left them as they paid for the drink. Today was mush of the same as yesterday; desert scrub with absolutely no shade to be found anywhere. The road climbed a gentle incline and then came a few kilometre decent to where could be seen a brief glimpse down into the valley of the meandering Rio Senguer with lines of popular trees dividing the pastureland on it's watered banks.
I reached on a hilltop the turn-off for Rio Mayo at midday already having had enough of the strong sun. Road intersections in Argentina are usually great big round-abouts or triangles: this was the later and in it's island was a shrine to travelers with lots of red flags and countless bottles of water left in veneration: there were even two dwarf pine-trees which a truck-driver was watering praying as he did so. Here was the only place I could possibly take shade to eat lunch. I was not long sitting when a excursion bus stopped and eight or nine middle-aged French and German, recognizable by their speech, tour goers got out and soon gathered around me. One well dressed woman holding her hand to shade her eyes and signifying to the sun exclaimed "tre tre chaud". "Ou ou" I replied, the understanding of the phase about the level of my limited French. And then they looked down at the bubbling water around the pasta and examined my stove; and I just wished they would soon leave which they did so I could enjoy the hour of repose from the sun.
The afternoon was terrible; even warmer than yesterday. There was some descending were over 40ks showed on the computer and I felt a cool draft; but also too many short steep climbs: beads of sweat ran down over my glasses and they became so smudged. The heat was too mush and I loathed the idea of riding to evening which would be necessary to reach Sarmiento. I looked forward to reaching the house which the woman in the shop spoke of. It was only a mere 10km or so now.
I reached Los Manantiales at 3.45, the house alluded to. It looked to be a derelict hotel, build with stone with a corrugated iron roof, the weeds grew-up by the front door and windows. I pushed the bike around the side where there was shade and found a side door open; and heard voices within. Painted on the house's side was, Comidor, Cerveza, so I expected refreshment inside. I entered. The voices now fell silence. It was like walking back in time into the 1970s. A long counter occupied one side with bottles on shelves behind which by appearance had been there a long time. All was cobwebbed and the paint was flaky and ancient. At one of the tables which made up the barroom a guacho with gray hair and weather worn face sat mute. And the woman of the establishment that previously to me entering held a conversation with him, sat by the counter. After drinking a small can of beer which was double the normal price I asked could I camp outside. Yes was the reply.
The others arrived late as they went underneath a bridge for a few hours in the afternoon to escape the heat.
Read more about the family at http://familyonbikes.org/
Today's ride: 126 km (78 miles)
Total: 10,339 km (6,421 miles)
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