November 28, 2015
Then And Now: Neuquen to route 237, km1341.
Often hostels are noisy settings to try and concentrate on writing a journal and the hostel in Neuquén is no different. I have my head scrambled by the shrill screech of an angle-grinder and the hollow tapping of a hammer on metal tubing all afternoon, as the owner and a welder in the garden put together railings. Otherwise, the hostel in Neuquen is tranquil; no inconsiderate people that allow their terrible phone ringtone to go on and on, before answering, which is the worse distraction, something that cannot be closed out like the conversation of other hostellers.
On my final day I've a walk around the city-centre. It is Friday and shops are shut and as few vehicles on the street and people about as a Sunday morning, some holiday or whatever. Anyway, I wanted to look and see the city as I saw it eleven years ago, when I arrived on an overnight bus with my bike from Buenos Aires. I couldn't find the bus-station, but I did find the hotel I checked into that afternoon, when I vividly remember, strong wind howling along the central green and rattling street signs, turning the sunshine of the morning to a dull haze of airborne dust.
While riding out of the city today, quite a way from the centre, I see a big modern bus station, which would explain why I couldn't find the bus station in the centre, what I remember was old, dating from the nineteen-fifties. This is the new replacement.
The city seems a lot bigger than I remember. The avenue carrying route 22, goes on for well over a dozen kilometres from where I turn onto it in the city-centre, where I ride on the inside street for local traffic, the main road being dual-carriageway with no-cycling signs.
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Once beyond the city, the dual-carriageway is reduced to a single road without a paved shoulder, making it a bit hairy, but not far on, dual-carriageway is being built with a newly tarred unopened road parallel, which I cross over to and continue on for the duration of the morning.
The sky is clear and it's warm. The countryside is still valley with stands of tall thin popular trees enclosing fields of fruit; then further on it's more open unused steppe; the valley sides far off on either side are brownish white cliffs; and the Rio Limay is in there somewhere on the left.
About midday I reach the village of Senillosa and pull in to a supermercado, mainly to buy a cold drink, but prices are expensive. Big bottles of coke and sprite are fifty pesos, or over three pounds. I settle for a locally produced bottle of lemon juice for twenty-two and pick up a few other items. Thankfully I bought most what I'll need for a few days in Neuquén.
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Shortly after I reach a big empalme roundabout where route 237 splits off southwest toward Bariloche, which was my planned route eleven years ago; whereupon, on that day, the wind suddenly blew up from the southwest big time. I remember struggling about a hundred metres in on 237, being repeatedly pushed to the side onto the gravel shoulder and having to put my foot down quickly to avoid being blown over. It was impossible, so I turned round and rode back to the roundabout and took 22 further toward Zapala, on which I still had a hard afternoon with a cross wind to reach Cutral Co by evening. The following day the wind rose midmorning just as the snowy peaks of the Andes appeared over the steppe horizon. I was stuck in the open making next to no progress, as each time a gust of wind would ease, so I'd start riding again, another gust would immediately push me back onto the gravel shoulder to a standstill trying to hold myself upright. Then a white pickup passed and pulled over, the driver out when I get as far offers me a lift the rest of the way to Zapala, something I wasn't about to refuse. So we put the bike in the back and I got in.
Today is calm and here I leave 22, a route which is too dangerous around the large towns after Villa Regina, but will be feasible to cycle in a few years, once the continual dual-carriageway is complete to this roundabout. Hereon I find most of the trucks have continued on 22, the trucks remaining visible for a bit across the steppe off to the right moving along until route 22 dips out of sight beyond a fold, leaving route 237 relatively safe so long as you remain alert as passing cars drive very fast. Its a route for the experience cyclist, as with most of steppe Patagonia, the distances being huge, needing great stamina as the following days to Bariloche would prove.
The arrow straight road ahead, goes gently down the steppe, levelling out, then is seen rising up a fold to a level horizon. At this point I stop for lunch at the only shade, underneath a sign for an atomic power plant within a cluster of popular trees up a slope to the left. It says on the sign "Agua Pesada" heavy water. The only thing I can say is, Nazi-Germany were in the process of developing such a plant in occupied Norway for weapons use, when Norwegian resistance fighters sabotaged it. A film later made about it, was called "The Heroes of Telemark".
Once riding again, the abovementioned rise goes on for quite a way and when I said calm earlier, well in Patagonia there's always wind and "calm" therefore means breeze. The breeze rises to serious wind as I battle toward an ever unreachable crest. But it proves to go no further than a bluster, being manageable. And on crossing the crest, dies, from where a long sheet of lake come into view, light blue contrasting with red rock barranca cliffs below to the left and ahead.
For the remainder of the afternoon I've lake off to the left and steppe rising to table-top hills to the right. I'm making progress and want to keep going until nightfall, but at eight o'clock, I come to a sign for road works and see ahead clouds of dust thrown up in the wake of vehicles passing over a temporary unsealed road to the side. So, rather than get filthy riding through dust, I look for a place to camp, which is easy, the wide verge having an elongated hump at the roadside most of the way, high enough to hide behind on level space between it and a stock fence.
I pitch the tent in a space between thorns, hoping wind doesn't rise in the night, because the ground is loose powder and it goes without saying what a mess that'll make if it becomes airborne. Note, try if possible to find a campsite where the ground is bound by tree roots. That will possibly avoid waking to wind and a dust storm inside the tent.
I will be up early enough tomorrow to pass the road works before the traffic and their dusty wake.
Today's ride: 127 km (79 miles)
Total: 1,571 km (976 miles)
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