The beginning of PATAGONIA. Day 1.

January 8, 2011

The coffee in Bahia Blanca Hostel is good and the breakfast filling, consisting of as many media lunas (croissants) as you can eat. The black dog that lays stretched out on the pavement outside came and cocked his nose in-through the door this morning. He has a collar but it isn't known whether it's got an owner as it is out there on the pavement all day. It likes nothing better than guests, like me, that go out and fuss over it. Anyway I had to say goodbye. I pay the bill which was less than I'd calculated but I didn't complain, mind you if it had of been over I would have.

National Route 3, the Atlantic seaboard road in Patagonia, but don't be expecting great coastal scenery as it's upwards of 100km inland in places.

"All good things most pass" to borrow from George Harrison. The paved shoulder shall end.

But No fear. Empalme de Route 22 which splits of West and takes the bulk of the traffic. National Route 22 is what is known here as a Biooceanic, that is it crosses the continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific. I continue South on 3.

Riding out of Bahia Blanca was uneventful and straight forward on a Saturday morning. The main road South, Route 3 was what appeared to be newly surfaced and included a paved shoulder. Just as well, as the traffic was heavy, but 33km South, Route 22 split off West taking most of the traffic with it, leaving Route 3 almost deserted the rest of the day.

Officially, Patagonia begins on the Southbank of the Colorado river, but the countryside on both riverbanks are the same. The Colorada river is really only a man-made line on a map and has little to do with the reality of nature and the place. Therefore, I'm saying, today cycling South from Bahia Blanca I was already effectively in Patagonia.

The landscape was wide open with far horizons and the wind blew from the West all day hitting me side on and making it hard going to maintain a moderate speed of 16km per hour. With the exception of the sanitary inspectors at a road block, there to relieve road-users of certain food produces believed to carry bacterial infection, I was lucky having cooked meat for lunch as it was fruit they were after, the inspectors apart, I never saw another soul the whole day.

The only memorable thing to happen was a bit of a storm in the evening. At that point, thick white cloud appear on the horizon looking as if resting on the ground off to the left. Then, after the road swung left, it looked to be resting across the road. I could describe it as Cotton wool, no, it looked more like a lambs fleece this cloud. The wind increased in strength as I got close to it and was making the bike hard to control as it pushed on me sideways as I lent at an angle into it. The sun which had hitherto shone in a cloudless sky all day was gone from sight and it looked increasingly like rain.

Road block ahead. Or alternatively, Patagonia, where you can reach out and touch the clouds.

It was getting on and I would soon need to stop for the night but it was unthinkable to try to put the tent up in this gale even if I could find somewhere suitable. There were plenty of small roadside plantation in the afternoon, now there weren't any, moreover everywhere along the roadside was waterlogged after all the recent rain.

I struggled on in wind that wanted to push me into the road until reaching a bus-shelter which was clean inside and would've done as a place to sleep the night, but it was on the wrong side of the road, thus open to the wind.

What most have been not more than a kilometre farther, there was a PetroBras service-station with a truck overnight park at the rear. There was a two row pine-tree windbreak around the boundary. It didn't provide great shelter as low down the trees were bare but otherwise it was perfect as the munch of pine-needles is a perfect bed.

I went into the cafeteria and had a coffee, some chocolate and Mantecol which is sesame seed resin bar. It is nice to sit inside and look out at the wind and the flags flutter like crazy on the flagpoles by the roadside.

I spent an hour inside and when I's ready to go out and pitch the tent it had calmed somewhat, the flags now sailed gently. But it was short lived, though lucky for me as the tent was up, I'd cooked and now I was ready to lay-down to sleep. To conclude the day, I unzipped the tent and brought over lots of bricks from a pile nearby and placed them on the flaps provided for stones all around the bottom of the fly-sheet. With this precaution taken, I felt a degree of security as the wind pushed in on the tent and swished through the treetops making a sound like the ocean in a storm.

Today's ride: 113 km (70 miles)
Total: 8,229 km (5,110 miles)

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