February 9, 2011
Somewhere to Nowhere.
Gobernador Costa is located on a narrow strip between a small river and impressive brown cliffs. It most have been an idyllic place for the early explorers to stop and rest before the first settlers came and build a town. Today the main avenue has wagons donated by descendants of the town's pioneers.
Tuesday morning saw me ride the 14km from where I had camped to town: on the way I past a long grove of tall popular trees, amongst which was a mansion of a estancia house build of stone with mock tudor upper story. The trees and house in the valley's middle watered by the river is such a contrast to the arid slopes on either side. On the wide margin between the road and the fence, I saw men on horseback drive cattle, and later in Gobernador Costa I saw horse-riders on the main street.
Nancy was sat in the service station with the computer open in front of her. The Sathre-Vogel family had ridden past my campsite and camped in town where they are having a rest day. I decided to wait here a day too, because when I had finish using the wifi, it had already gone 11.30 and I still had to shop before leaving town.
I found the campsite. There the youngest of Nancy's two boys Gerald was climbing a tree. The other children looked on amazed as I did too. He was like a monkey the way he clung and moved amongst the branches. One little girl called out "amigo cuido" be careful friend.
The afternoon past with Nancy and husband John and I discussing the road ahead. I've made a decision to do like them, namely ride East to Comodoro Rividavia and South on Route 3; but first we've to ride to Sarmiento which is 247km without any villages between, so are concerned about the possibility of finding water. There is a petrol-station 100km South but it is now closed according to the woman in the service-station Nancy asked.
The following morning the warm windless weather continued. The Sathre-Vogels were gone before me but I came upon them stopped for a picnic, and for most of the day we rode separate but came together for lunch and other stops. At lunch time we stopped at the only shade there was, a fine stone estancia house hid amongst popular trees. Apart from dogs tied up yelping and barking there was no-one about and the house seemed derelict. Nancy commented that much of estancias are abandoned. Indeed much of rural Patagonia which had been depopulated of it's indigenous people, then populated by European settlers: the descendants of which have died-out or moved to cities leaving the place void of human life.
We rode on that afternoon across a stark nothing landscape flat and arid where only scrub grows. The heat was repressive: the horizon ahead was a vapoury blur and distant hilltops appeared suspended in mid-air. The road was a crumbling narrow strip with big chunks broken off the edge. The government obviously don't spend money here as there aren't any voters on this lonely stretch.
I arrived first, the others a little after, at the rural petrol-station-roadhouse, La Laurita which had been our hope of water and perhaps camping; but it's now abandon: the windows smashed and all movable fitting ripped-out: all that remains is an empty shell. I remember stopping here overnight in 2004. The couple that ran it were quite elderly. They had come here as a young couple and had brought-up a family. The old woman told me her ancestors where Welsh: she looked though a mix of European and Native American.
The estancia that own all the land around had fenced it off; and of-coarse the water was turned-off. We were disappointed but expected no water. Nancy was anxious as it had been such a warm day that they drank more water than usual and may not have enough to reach as she says "The big lake" or Lago Musters.
A few kilometres onward the road crossed a river which at this time of year is dry: here was Nancy, John and the boys next choice of camping-place. I rode on intent on going as far as possible before nightfall. From the river the road climbed up across the side of a barranca to much the same arid plain of all afternoon. I was so thirsty. I was also aware that I had limited water too, but was drinking what I thought was enough. I had enough food though and when I began to get hunger-knock, I sat-down awhile and ate cake. The water was as warm as water in a thermos for drinking Mate which I wish I had as it's stimulating effect is similar to coffee.
I only rode a dozen kilometres after that as I came to a rural shop which I'd forgotten about from the last time I had ridden this road: and if I had of remembered I could've told the others so they'd be less anxious tonight, though it will be a nice surprise for them in the morning as it was for me. I bough a big bottle of Fanta and asked could I camp to a reply of yes. I bough a beer too and sat in the shade out front drinking it, watching life on this short inhabited stretch of road pass-by. Here I had to laugh as a horse rider cantered along the opposite side and a little girl accompanied by her mother by the shop front gladly repeated to the mother "es el campesino, el campesino". I think that may be his nick-name.
Today's ride: 140 km (87 miles)
Total: 10,213 km (6,342 miles)
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