Swings and roundabouts.: Two awful days to be on a bike.

September 17, 2010

Mon 13th Sep. Camping behind clump of palm trees on route 5 km156 to camping behind trees km75. 83km.

I lay awake in the early hours listening to the wind sweep and shake the treetops. It was a good thing the low growing palm trees provided shelter on three sides and the open side faced west away from the wind. As a consequence of not sleeping well I most have slept through the alarm as it was five to seven when I first looked at my watch after waking.

Breakfast lately has been bread with whatever and a cup of tea. This last two mornings I've had Dulce de Leche (a toffee spread derived from milk and sugar) on bread. Before that salami sandwich with a few slices of green pepper, yum, it's perhaps my favourite. This type of breakfast is quick and easy unlike porridge which is a slow time consuming start to the day. After eating my fill of bread and drinking a cup of tea I'm on the road in a shade over an hour. Today it was eight after only having stired at 6.55.

What a miserable day it was as when the wind blows from the South East in this part of the world it brings all types of woe. It was a day when the sky was much the same shade of grey as the road and there was a sharp head cross wind making progress laboriously slow. The landscape was nothing to write home about either namely intensively farmed unnaturally green pasture and dairy herds in muddy paddocks. There were no more sheep or moorland or woodland groves.

It began to spit rain so I stopped to put on my jacket. I thought it was going to rain allot so I put on my waterproof trousers too. But it seemed it wouldn't quite make it's mind up because it stopped after a few drops which barely wet the road. Now I's uncomfortable wearing waterproof trousers and it not raining. Usually I only wear them as a last resort when it really pours down as only wearing Lycra leads to getting very cold in heavy rain.

I's thinking that I've never seen the police in Uruguay unlike in Argentina where they're everywhere. Presently a police car passed slowing down and pulled in on the shoulder ahead. Two police officers got out and flagged me down. Seems I thought too soon. 'What can it be' I think. They were very amicable asking me the usual where I'd cycled from etc. Then they asked to see my passport and to take everything out of the bags as if there was something in there that shouldn't. The officer with my passport got back in the car as he had to check my details with the computer in the office via radio. The other smoked a cigarette and talked about the weather. He sucked on it furiously and had it smoked right down to the butt almost burning his fingers when his college returned and handed me back my passport sorry that they wasted my time as well as there own.

I'd allot of food bought in Durazno yesterday so I ate lunch just before the town of Florida in the shelter of trees as although I's entering an urban area there oddly enough wasn't bus shelters. I needed coke and a few other items so I called at a shop just off the main road. Maybe I was just having a bad day or I looked stranger than usual as the girl inside looked at me with contempt. Yes I know I's having a bad day but she wasn't to know or she shouldn't have looked at me in that way. I asked 'have you Dulce de Leche' but seemingly she didn't understand what I'd said as she pulled a face which said so many unprintable words. After three tries making an increased effort with pronunciation each time she finally got leche so thought I wanted milk. No! Perhaps it was all my own fault not opening my mouth enough for proper pronunciation and it probably sounded something like dalsa or the like as she just wasn't getting it. Frustrated I turned and began to brounce the selves where the jam was the place Dulce de Leche usually is kept. She suddenly understood what I wanted and showed me two size tubs of homemade Dulce de Leche inside the glass refrigerator counter. While I paid for a small tub, bread and a bottle of coke she said something about the bottle being returnable but I didn't quite get what she said as I just wanted to leave.

I cycled another 25km until the rain which had held off all day looked inevitable. A dry place to camp was urgently needed. I's in luck though as just ahead was a wood extended on the outside of the fence to the edge of the road. I got the tent up on a dry spot well shielded from the road just as it began to rain.

Dry site no need to cross the fence as this is the strip along the road.

Tue 14th Sep. Camping behind trees at km75 to Montevideo. 80km.

The wind swung round to the South West during the night and the trees no longer gave me any shelter. The tent was pelted by rain and was shuddered back and forth by strong gusts. I daren't open the flap as both wind and rain blew in. I enjoyed breakfast this morning as it took my mind of the prospect of riding in the rain.

The road like all major roads was straight and on rolling terrain that can only mean up and down. The downhill bits don't last long consequently it felt like one long gradual ascend which feels odd when cycling to a city on the coast. Combined with the wind which hit me on the side of the face and nose causing it to run with snot and the hail of horizontal rain it was a slow arduous miserable ride.

It was a morning when I looked at the computer continuously counting down the kilometres to my destination as it was one of those days without joy to get over with. One thing I miss about Argentina is the abundance of good service stations serving excellent coffee in their cafeterias. Where was I to find a good coffee here as my experience so far of the country showed.

Up ahead I saw an Ancap, (the name of the service stations here) if not a coffee I could buy I'd have something sweet to stimulate me. The shop had a good range of stuff. I bought a large heated media luna (croissant) sandwich with ham and cheese filling. There was also a thing called a amarella which is a homemade jam tart. There was a coffee machine better than nothing I thought but when the shopkeeper pressed the button to dispense a coffee it didn't work so I thought maybe I'll do with coke. But then the shopkeeper offered to boil the kettle and make me tea.

I didn't mine the usual questions of where I'd cycled from because the shopkeeper was a nice guy. 'You come from Dah blim' he said. 'What', as I hadn't a clue what he said. 'Dah blim'. Oh, Dublin. No I come from the North, near Belfast. 'Oh Bay fest' 'You catholic or Protestant'. A distinction I couldn't care about as only stupid people in little tricolour nationalist Ireland still living in 1916 or even littler loyalist Northern Ireland think it's a big deal. These people could do with a year in South America and perhaps they'd buck up there ideas. 'Who me catholic' I answer and he seemed pleased. The conversation switched to money. 'So how did you get the money to travel so long'. 'I worked at night in Norway which pays comparatively high wages' 'In Oz slo'. Again I hadn't a clue what he said. 'What!' 'Oz slo' I got it, Oslo. Yes I reply.

I cycled on. I was full of energy after been in doors a while, the tea and the sweet amarella as well as the chat. It was 47km to Montevideo but the time pasted mush quicker now and soon I's down in the twenties then the teens where I's in the industrial suburbs of the city.

Should've whiped the lens. This was the first traffic light since Paysandu over 500km back.

So it was I continued towards the centre where finding a tourist info office so I could find a place to stay wasn't to be easy. I cycled round Plaza Independents twice before asking someone. 'What type of a tourist information office do you want' said a businessman I asked. A street vendor send me to a travel company. Finally someone sent me to the port but Montevideo port is quite spread out and I'd to continue asking people. The problem was the tourist info office wasn't hard to find I was now tired and easily confused. I just wanted off the bike. Eventually finding the office the man gave me a city map and a print out of a list of hostels. I chose one in the old town as it was only a few blocks up from the port. The young man that owns it plays guitar, has good tast in music which he plays on the sound system often practising guitar to the songs.

So I'm here for a few days. It's the cycle touring equivalence of a weekend when a city is reached and there's time off but there's alway laundry, bike maintains which reminds me I should find a bike shop to have the front hub repacked. Lastly sightseeing.

Uruguayan mate drinker commonly seen with thermos under arm.

Today's ride: 164 km (102 miles)
Total: 2,204 km (1,369 miles)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	0
Comment on this entry	Comment	0