August 19, 2010
Towards Santiago del Estero. Days: ..in which I take a wrong turn, get incorrect information from a man on horseback, get an early wake-up call and endure much disbelieve.
Tue 17th Aug. Tucuman to a service station. 79km. Map 3.
It seems as if Spring is on Its way as it's a beautiful day. The road out of Tucuman was as hoped straight forward, so why did I take a wrong turn? It was so simple, follow 24 September Street from the Plaza then there was a huge rotunda (roundabout) which I thought would be risky to negotiate but it was easy. Thereafter followed an avenue, a six lane road but there were no signs for anywhere. I followed my initiative though which was wrong when I came to a fork taking a left which lead onto a dual carriageway, one side of which was closed due to major roadworks. There were lots and lots of old trucks heavily loaded with sugarcane, so I'd to be careful on the reduced road width. I's thinking I was on provincial road 305 but I couldn't tell as there were no signs or road markers with road number. Eventually after a rough bumpy section however there was a sign with three places arrowed ahead none of which I recognized. They were local places which were neither on the map from tourist info or my own map. I could've continued and got more lost but I opted to turn round and retrace my way back to the fork. Although a little annoying it had to be done. Back there the other road was a major single carriageway with heavy truck traffic which had pressed down big ruts in the soft ash felt creating an auward round ridge to ride upon along the side. But even still there was no signs. Ahead though was a big service station, so I go there and ask. The woman behind the counter in the cafeteria answered 'yes it's the new road to Santiago'. The new road, really, I thought. I wouldn't like to see the old road.
I was now on national route 9 the road I'd set out to avoid but it seems to be not so bad to cycle on after all once the heavily rutted section ended in a rotunda and unbelievable a sign SANTIAGO, CORDOBA, BUENOS AIRES. I rode a good few kilometres on the track at the side meant for farm vehicles and was stopped taking photos when Emanuel approached on horseback. He asked the usual questions, where have I cycled from and where am I cycling to. 'Santiago' he said aloud 'oh it's ever so far' and looking down from his horse at my bike he laughed 'it is very slow'. 'How far is it' I ask' He looked puzzled. I suggested is it 200km! 'Oh 200km and more' he agreed. The truth be known I didn't have a clue how far it was neither had he. Though a little further there was a distance sign Santiago del Estero 130km not so far after all. I can only say that one of Emanuels kilometres are worth two normal kilometres.
The prospects for wild camping this evening weren't looking too good as it was all fenced in farmland. I's hoping for a grove of trees on the wide road margin to hide among. At five I's passing a service station with a grassy verge at the back, so I entered the cafeteria to ask could I camp. The woman behind the counter said yes. I bough a beer in good will and one of two friendly truckers who were sat having a coffee joke 'that's no good for cycling' he motioned as to a cyclist wobbling from side to side drunk. 'And that there coffee is not good for sleep either', I said back.
The camping here is as good as an organized site with toilets which I managed to lock myself in as the door handle was missing on the inside, but the window was large so I's able to climb out. There's showers and a sink to wash utensils too. Late at night while laid in my tent waiting to sleep, someone with a torch paused outside then retreated. I could hear him as it was a male voice speak into a radio so it most have been the police.
Wed 18th Aug. Service station to Santiago 91km.
I was awoken by a voice very early. It said something about leaving early. Although still sleepy and confused nevertheless I,s curious to known whom it could be at this early hour. So I quickly jumped up and opened up the tent to see a policeman. He asked me politely to leave early saying something about the owner of the land. Apparently, although I'd asked permission to camp at the petrol station, the landowner however did not like a tent on his land. Perhaps, and this is only a hunch I have, he's afraid of an invasion of tents so it was time to nip it in the bud so to speak, the bud being me. The policeman left and I got back in and soon fell asleep. I awoke again at quarter to eight and quickly got out where the sun was a red disk just risen. Including eating breakfast, which didn't include porridge as I've gone off it remember, I's decamped and on the road within an hour as I didn't want to go back on my word.
It was only a few kilometres until the road passed into the province of Santiago and a few more to the large town of Thermos del Hondo. Here I attracted allot of attention with people asking the usual where I'd cycled from and where I's cycling to. There were allot of tourists in this town. It's well off the gringo trail though so the tourist were domestic. Today there was a large group of Argentinean pensioners. Some were posing by a steam locomotive. A seventy year old man got in and posed as the driver. A nice old lady with fair hair and complexion stopped by me and asked, 'Are you German'. Me, no I'm from Ireland' I reply. 'Oh Ireland, My ancestors came from Ireland' she concluded then moved on.
I rode for quite a bit on the compacted unpaved shoulder as the occasions when an oncoming convoy of trucks would be met by the same coming from behind was too often for comfort. Though in any case you get enough warning by an increasing whining sound coming up behind you of a truck up behind. If riding on the road you swing off onto the shoulder if there's oncoming truck traffic. If not they all most always pullout to the middle and pass at a safe distance.
It was time to stop for lunch and there was a nice grove of eucalyptus in the margin but there was a very conversational looking trucker parked and out eager to know where I's cycling from and where I's cycling to. I didn't want to be explaining this for the umpteen time today. Usually when I say I'm cycling to Brazil they look at me with such disbelieve and think I'm really rather crazy. In the afternoon again an old blue nineteen seventies Ford pick-up truck pulled over onto the shoulder ahead. The driver and his passenger had gotten out when I came along side. He was a shinny teenage boy with bleached blond hair who didn't look old enough to drive, his passenger looked even younger. I said I's going to Santiago when they asked. 'You want a lift to Santiago' the driver said. 'No I want to cycle' I replied, really if I wanted a lift I'd perhaps be travelling by bus anyway but I didn't say anything like that. Meanwhile they looked at each other in amusement. As usual when I said I'd cycled from Salta and was cycling to Brazil there faces turned from amusement to disbelieve and they offered me water before driving on.
At a big road junction 10km before Santiago there was a service station so I stop to buy a coke but when I's stopped I realize what a warm sticky afternoon it was. So I quickly drunk the coke and kept going as the air movement while cycling keeps me comfortably cool.
The provincial capital Santiago does not have allot to offer the visitor. Theres no Backpackers hostels so the hotels are a little more than I'd usually spend. I looked at a few and they all cost 70 pesos or 12 sterling. At that price level breafast isn't included and there isn't wi fi so I'm in a cafe writing this on Thursday morning. It's therefore going to be a short cycling day this afternoon.
Today's ride: 171 km (106 miles)
Total: 607 km (377 miles)
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