August 28, 2010
The provincial road alternative.: Still far from anywhere..
Day 17 Mon 23th Aug. Near Argentina to some unnamed village. 76kms
I spent the night rolling and tumbling. The ground underneath was as hard as concrete. There were lots of small animals rustling in the long grass around. I's only a few metres from a swampy waterway and I could hear something moving in it. There were big stork type birds which made a disturbing croaking sound too.
The early morning here is the time when there's most traffic on the road. It's also usually hazy so I avoid it waiting to eight thirty before setting off.
The first fifteen kilometres were a continuation of the treeless wetlands until reaching a police checkpoint where the way ahead was gradually uphill and once again there were trees near and far in faint rows off in the distance.
I've now reached a place which I've been looking forward to reaching for many days, Selva. It marks the frontier of the province of Santa Fe and I hope from here on less distance between services. I'm sitting in a cafeteria celebrating with a coffee in the YPF service station which can always be relied upon for good coffee being spotlessly clean, having regularly cleaned toilets and showers, also wifi which isn't mush use if the battery's flat.
Passing into the province of Santa Fe, no change really just psychological in that I've put mush distance behind me. I reached Ceres at one or time to stop for lunch and seeing a place offering plate of the day for 14 pesos I stop. The proprietor Ricardo sat down opposite me and goes on about a friend he's got working in the local radio station and he may be interested in doing a interview. I didn't mush like the idea but agreed anyway. Later I's relieved when he couldn't make contact with his friend and so I quietly got out of it. Ricardo filled all my water bottles with freshwater, as the mains water is salt water, before waving me goodbye.
Before leaving the cafe at lunch time I could see the trees waving from side to side outside. Nevertheless the wind wasn't too strong on the road ahead, it was just enough to make progress laboriously slow. There was allot of blue smoke blown horizontally from the burning of the dry grass by the roadside. I passed one other settlement of a few houses grain stores and agricultural machinery graveyards before reaching another with a green with pick-nick tables beside a police station. So I ask the policeman, who was already out not used to seeing such a sight as me, could I camp there.
Day 18 Tue 24th Aug unnamed village to San Cristobal. 65kms
This morning the change in the weather persisted with cold wind coming from the South which was directly against me. I set off at ten to nine and after one hour had only covered 12kms. The traffic situation on this road is really getting to me now. Progess is slow anyway even without having a headwind as I spend so much time on the bumpy grass verge avoiding trucks. The province of Santa Fe has so far proved even more flat and monotonous than Santiago, coupled with the heavy traffic narrow road it's become a miserable cycling experience.
I'm now sitting in a Shell service station in a place beginning with A. The cafeteria is closed and the only coffee is machine coffee. While paying for the coffee an old farmer with fair pinkish complexion wearing a flat cap and a patterned neckerchief asked me the usual where I've cycled from. A young farmer with a tractor in the forecourt enters wearing a Massey Ferguson logo red shell jacket and a black bere whom the shop assistant called Leo. He hurriedly paid for diesel then left.
I saw while riding into A a sign for provincial road 39 and I'm now looking at it on my map. It's perhaps a quieter alternative road and it doesn't take me too far out of my way. In any case I've had enough of this route 34.
It was such a relief to be riding on a quiet road at last as I took route 39 after all after leaving the service station in A. It was 50kms to the town of San Cristobal which is allot to pack in between eleven and lunch time. Furthermore the wind was even stronger blowing me from the side holding me captive in a way not alouding me to quickly get to where I's going. It was a long and monotonous ride across intensively farmed flat pampa during which I spended mush time looking at the odometer seeing approximately how many more kays to San Cristobal. As I looked down I saw the bolt holding the front rack in place had come lose and fallen out so I'd to stop a while to screw in a replacement. The old one which had fallen out was rounded so couldn't be tighten in any case.
Together with the wind, slow pace and over four hours with only the stop to replace a bolt, my arms and shoulders were sore when I rode into San Cristobal at Three thirty. The main town centre was as is usual a kilometre off the main road. The grass verge was burning sending a blanket of blue smoke horizontally across the road. A man on horseback was herding cattle by the roadside. There were more agricultural machinery graveyards. At first it look as if there'd be nothing by the roadside and I'd have to detour into the town centre but on rounding a bend I saw a road junction and a North South road across which was a YPF station.
It is usual that the service stations have large gravelled areas all around where trucks pull in and over night. This can also include a grassy patch and grove of trees, ideal for camping as there's showers at the main forecourt.
Before going off to the grove of trees to camp I took a photo of a pick-up truck with Che's imortal image on the window. The driver a young man from a small place near Rosario seemed very proud of it. Again the same inquirey in to my cycletour. I summed up Salta and Tucuman are nice provinces but Santiago and Santa Fe there's nothing. He agreed 'nada, toda pampa' nothing, it's all pampa.
Today's ride: 142 km (88 miles)
Total: 1,058 km (657 miles)
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