The night-watchman and other wayfarers.

May 18, 2011

It goes without saying that we cyclists when we meet have much to talk-about. Two strangers meeting on the road from different nations rarely need to break ice, the common bond connecting both is this human powered machine, and often a conversation will instantly strike-up between the two which is a lot more interesting than that chat you may have with a non-cyclist.

The reception guy in the hostel in Valle Fertil was not the most talkative and spent the evening sitting out on the pavement chatting to his girlfriend, while I sat inside alone until a young couple from Germany turn-up late and checks-in: nice to have someone to talk to then; but, it soon became clear that the idea of cycle-touring was quite a novel idea to them. The conversation that ensued, well it was more one of being asked questions that I'd heard a thousand times before and now find fairly boring.

"How far do you cycle a day?"

"Where do you sleep?"

And for some reason this irritates me: "Have you done this before?"

Yes you think, I should be a little less irritable, and be glad to talk more on the ways and hows; they could after all be inspired by what I have to say on cycling. And then there are those that are not cyclists but nonetheless proclaim to know everything about cycling; read the night-watchman that came when the reception guy had gone home.

After telling him about the ride here from San Juan, Is eager to pick his brains on the road ahead. You see, there are two alternative routes North to Salta, Ruta40 which I cycled Southbound on five years ago, and the busier route way to the East via the provincial capitals, La Rioja and Catamarca, it was this that Is interested in knowing about.

"Si, fue camionero" he said he had been a truck driver and had driven the route regularly warning me that it was busy. He ran through the itinerary, then stopped where the turn-off is South of Tucuman, and the climb over the mountains, shaking his head in a way that said it can't be done on a bicycle. But why? Remember back in August I cycled down this road and it's a normal road which loses or gains elevation depending on which way you're going; namely it switch-backs it's way up the mountain maintaining a manageable gradient the whole way provided the bike has low enough gears and the rider is reasonably fit it isn't a problem. Herein perhaps lays the misconception that the night-watchman and other experts alike have, they rode bikes in their youth before they were old enough to drive. The bikes they rode didn't have gears and they didn't have the fitness potential of an adult. Furthermore, the night-watchman was surprised I'd so few punchures. Well a cheap bike ridden in youth with cheap tyres equals lots of flats

On the ride North to the National Park, Ischigualasto, a man stopped me asking could I push his car as the battery was flat. I declined as I have the don't trust a stranger mentality, and as a matter of fact, I'm not that strong when it comes to pushing cars.

I stop for lunch in a gateway. A farmer on a donkey comes along and after a few words tells me he's lost a Goat and asks have I seen it along the road anywhere. I didn't. I've seen lots of goats but not one in particular.

The things I do see are all these little thorns. I think they most grow on a weed that cripes along the ground in the rainy-season and now when the weed dries out for lack of moisture, they fall off allover the margin of the road; so every time I wheel the bike off to the side, the tyre becomes covered in them, and I've to be careful to knock them all off before continuing.

A striking bulk to the South of the visitor-centre.

Thursday nineteenth May: I am sitting in my tent as I write looking out upon what passes as a campsite here in the National Park. It is an area open to the prevailing wind which this afternoon has whipped up a gale blowing a cloud of dust from the campsite. I've managed to pitch the tent away from it in shelter behind a clump of rocks. It is ludicrous as according to the Park Ranger, the average Summer temperature can reach forty-eight degree celsius, and how could anyone have a tent there as it's totally without any type of shade.

Earlier (it's now late afternoon), Is joined up with a French family and traveled in their camper-van to do the tour of the Park. They asked me mush of the usual questions though not to the point that it was twenty questions. They talked more on what the guild said at the stop points as the various rock formations.

The first stop on the tour is "El Guisano", the worm.

Time for a wash perhaps. But after a misunderstanding, "Well I didn't know, did I? It says baths!"

Today's ride: 76 km (47 miles)
Total: 14,505 km (9,008 miles)

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