The Storm: Route 22, km841 to km985

November 23, 2015

Green desert. The view remains much the same all day.

A place with water and so a farm, a bit of a distraction.

16.00 hrs: I come to a layby with bricks, from which I build a shelter to boil water for mate.

18.00 hrs: Camp in the nick of time before the storm arrives.

The rain, the rain, the rain. It is raining now as I write, drumming hard on the tent fabric. I consider myself extremely lucky to have arrived at this pit dugout by the roadside, with spoil heaped up on two sides, giving a degree of shelter, should the wind rise, and cover from the odd passing car or truck.

The rain doesn't persist and I think I only caught the edge of the storm as it moves on east. I look out at dusk when it has stopped raining and see to the east, the sky black with rain and frequent flashes and forks of lightening.

As I saw the rain approach from four o'clock onward, I knew this is no place to get caught out, as there is absolutely no shelter, not a tree, no nothing. And when it reaches me, it'll sweep ahead with violent wind and big splodges of cold rain, making it impossible to continue riding. The only thing to do is put on my raincoat and lay down curled up on the verge and wait it out.

Today starts with the noise of a truck rolling slowly upon the layby track, pass my tent, out onto the road and shifting up gears as it drives off down the road, the noise fading in the distance.

Packing up my camp and setting off about half seven, it is only a dozen kilometres more until the road drops down and crosses a long bridge over Rio Colorado, leaving La Pampa and entering the province of Rio Negro, the beginning of Patagonia. There's a big YPF petrol service station on the right coming off the bridge, also with ACA sign (Auto Club Argentina), which do good detailed paper maps. I have already most of their maps from previous trips.

In the café, I restrict myself to a large bottle of cola and a sandwich to do me the day, having to make what cash I have last until I get to the city of Neuquén. There's a power-point, so I plug in my computer and logging onto this site, create a journal page for yesterday, uploading a map and photos, the part of the journal process I like to have done with and out of the way, so I can get down to writing on a day off the bike.

Macri, the right wing candid has been elected president; he is on the TV holding a press conference. And apart from drivers coming and going, buying food for the day, there's a big group of solders with their packs taking most of the tables, looking at the TV in silence over coffee. I think they're waiting for a bus, and sure enough later a bus pulls in on the forecourt and they all quickly rise, collecting their packs and fill out to meet it.

Leaving Rio Colorado, with the main village off to the side, it is a hundred and forty kilometres to the next place, Choele Choel, and a day of looking ahead along a dead straight road at an unchanging horizon where the road blends into the sky. To the side the same green thorn desert off as far as the eye can see. I pass two farm houses the whole day with a windmill for pumping water up from a borehole.

As I settle down to sleep this evening, the rain is on again and the wind fluttering at the edge of the tent. Hopefully it'll have passed by morning.

Today's ride: 144 km (89 miles)
Total: 1,201 km (746 miles)

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