January 21, 2016
In & Around Punta Arenas: Campsite to Porvenir.
Sleeping in a tent in this season there's no need for an alarm clock for an early start, as daylight which is around half five wakes me naturally, and that is more than early enough.
The early start this morning is important for to reach the ferry port in time. And having had a much more comfortable night than the previous night, I'm feeling more rested. The howling roar of jet-engines from the airport through the trees starts early too.
I am on the road shortly before seven, joining the single lane each way road to this point, which a kilometre further widens to dual-carriage providing a bit more space to cycle as the traffic is more consistent from the airport to the city.
The morning windless with dark cloud ahead and shaft of rain moving in off the strait.
Entering a port city you would expect the port with destination of sailing to be clearly signed, but there's no such sign, leaving strangers like me to wonder where the terminal for Porvenir is. It is actually at the first roundabout on the way into town, but there being no sign, how on earth am I to know where the ferry terminal is, so keep on cycling along a grey port waterfront with shipping containers stacked to the side and trucks parked up. I keep cycling for what must be two kilometres, when I cross over to the quayside promenade and cycle path, at which point a learner driver has pulled in with her driver instructor at the end of a lesson and I ask the instructor where the ferry is for Porvenir. He sends me back the way I came, back to the roundabout.
It is just after eight when I get there and a ferry is docked with a queue of mainly commercial vehicles waiting for the signal to drive on, which I think probably is my sailing. Though, at the ticket desk in the terminal building, the young man behind the desk tells me the next sailing to Porvenir is five in the afternoon. Oh? The Dutch cyclist made it sound like a morning sailing. Well, I suppose I'm stuck here for the day. Well not to worry. I'll cycle into town, find a café and use the wifi until its time to return in the afternoon.
From the roundabout outside the terminal, I follow Avenue Espania into town. It is a long way on very rough eaten away concrete, with expansion joins broken, so some are as wide as trenches and present a real hazard for bicycle wheels.
In a street just along from the main plaza de armas, I find a good café, plug in the computer, connect to the internet and have an omelette and toast breakfast. It is just after nine and I'm the only person, until around ten when the place starts to fill up. It seems the sort of rest the body needs as I remain sedentary all morning, then coming up on one, the waiter says they'll need the table I'm occupying unless I order something else, so I order a hamburger lunch and continue using the wifi.
What will happen this afternoon. Well there should be a ferry. Meanwhile, I will visit the Umart supermercado on Avenue Espania, a kilometre from the roundabout at the ferry terminal and stock up on three days supplies.
The ferry is a nice modern affair unlike the old early seventies thing I travelled on in 2004, where passengers including myself were crushed together shoulder to shoulder in rows of plastic seats. And refreshments was tea and necafe served from a hot-water urn. Today, I have a relaxed comfortable seat and am engrossed reading George Muster's "At Home With The Patagonians", where he vividly describes landscapes, the relentless cold wind, how the Indians prepare and cook guanaco and ostrich. And settling of scores in a feud which ends up in two being shot dead and a continuing suspicion between the two opposing sides involved in the feud.
You would think with all this lounging around all day I should be well rested. But my stomach feels nausea and muscles ache. The only cause I can think is lack of sleep. On the road I'm up at six and it is a long day until I lay down to sleep after eleven in the evening. On days off updating the journal it is worse. Staying in a hostel I'm up at seven after only having gone to bed at two, so that's less than five hours sleep. Hardly what you'd call rest days. Keeping a bike tour with a journal takes up most hours of the day.
The ferry reaches Porvenir on Terra del Fuego at seven. The stark treeless landscape reminds me of the north-east coast of Norway, the Summer I was there. The air is keen and it takes me the four kilometres from the ferry riding into town to warm up.
I find the hospedaje on Croatia street, the Dutch cyclist recommended. But Juan the owner isn't there when I knock on the door. A guest says he will soon be back, so I sit outside on the step feeling exhausted and unfit to go elsewhere.
About ten minutes pass and a miner staying in the hospedaje, returns from work. He invites me in. Says he is from Punta Arenas and sits me down at a table with bread, jam and dulce de leche, tea and thermas of hot water, and tells me to help myself, which I duly do, making supper of the offering.
It was suppose to be only a short time until Juan returned, but it is now two and a half hours since I arrived.
Shortly after the last statement he and his wife do return and show me to a dorm room which I've all to myself for 7000 (£7).
In the morning I will have a lay in.
Today's ride: 24 km (15 miles)
Total: 4,240 km (2,633 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |