Mon 7th Nov: Alta Pampa to near Villa Ortega

November 7, 2016

It was a cold night. That forced me to huddle up in my sleeping bag to retain core body heat. This morning, the tent is stiff and white with frost. So I remain snug in the sleeping bag until the sun has risen high enough to warm things up. Eventual, feeling warm enough to get out and pack the panniers ready for the road, I see the bike's rear tyre flat. I was sort of expecting as much, as it felt soft yesterday evening when crossing a cattle grid: the rim under the tyre's compression on impact, almost touching the grid's tubular steel edges.... I am glad it happened here where I can repair it in the shelter of the tent.

The old road from where I'd camped, has a good compressed clay surface. Brown in colour, easy riding. Unfortunately it stops only a few hundred metres on-around the hill on joining the newer road. From there on, the surface is smooth stones from a river bed. I'm sliding and coming off the bike all over the place, in my smallest gear riding at walking pace for much of the morning. Futthermore, having dropped down a lot, down pass the lake my campsite overlooked, it is still nevertheless what can only be discribed as high pampa: a place of icy winds. This morning though it is nothing more than a breeze, as relatively calm conditions prevail today too.

The main feature now, other than fenced in pasture stocked with sheep and cattle, are great plugs of rock, like grey hats the size of hills punctuating the stark pale green pasture land. I think these are dormant volcanic vents.

Bano Nueva, a large sheep farm with village for workers

Dropping down further and reaching Bano Nuevo, represented by a circle on my map, a large sheep and cattle estancia. All most a village, with many dwelling houses and a chapel, as well as huge clipping shed and sheep cheese proceeding plant.

Leaving here the road splits. Straight on is for Coyhaique Alto. Right, Coyhaique via Nirebuo. I'm not sure which way...Both go eventually to Coyhaique. But. Sitting down on the grass verge, now lush Spring grass-yellow sprinkled with flowering dandelions, I study the map.

I decide to turn right, as straight on to Coyhaique Alto, alto meaning high implies climbing up again, and I want to avoid that. As expect the right continues downhill and soon I'm trundling along a wide valley of ever more luxuriant dandelion speckled pasture. On toward the village of Nirebuo, with dark wooded hills of the cordillera and snow streaked mountains just beyond. About here, after having stopped to take photos, the moment I take the bike to go on, the rear-tyre is flat, again.

Looking back as I enter the Andean forest zone.

I pass a scattering of rotten clapboard houses in pastille hues that line a grid of streets with old cars-the road has advanced to good compressed gravel and on winding up the hillside away from the village it's almost as good as tarmac. Here however I develope a skipping chain. No. I think the cassette sprockets are worn to the point where it'll need replacing. That's going to be expensive. And the climb up from Nirebuo continues, while I have to fiddle with the gear-lever, to find a gear I can ride in without the chain slipping.

Near the top there's a bench to the side where I stop and lunch on cornbeef and crackers, looking back on the way I've come: the rocky plug punctuated pampa back to Argentina.

The road the other side of the hill drops into a wooded valley with small farms, that over the previous century have been cleared from the forest.

Nice scenery, but like everywhere else locals (there was almost a car every minute) take it for granted and tear by at speed.

Streams tumble down from the hills to my right, creating minature valleys branching side-ways off the main valley, that the way dips steeply down to cross, then steeply up a rise the other side to crest a summit, to continue. Down and up and down and up again; while the chain continues to jump and skip. I'm constantly feeling the gear-lever to find a gear that works. Then the unexpected happens. The chain gives. Separating and rolling off onto the road.

My chain has 116 links with outer plates sandwiching inner roller links on either side, held together by rivets that slot through both. In any event, the chain's length can only be reduced in pairs of an inner roller and outer plate link. Though, in this case, a link has splayed and cannot be reused, so, using a chain-tool, I remove a pair, one being the splayed link, and rejoin the chain, reducing the chain length to 114 links.

The shorter chain is still plenty long when I rivet the chain back together. And riding on, straight-away the gear slipping problem is no more. The gears index properly and the shorter chain now runs smoothly.

Well, with all the small farms and resulting increase in traffic from the six cars-all-day yesterday, then one car and a tractor this morning; now, a pickup truck rattles by leaving a cloud of dust in it's wake every two-three minutes. They don't slow down much. One pickup though slows to a halt alongside me. The driver, a jovial young man with jet black hair and asiatic eyes gaze out at me. He asks where I am going and would I like a lift. He says he can take me all the way to Coyhaique. I politely decline. He thinks he is doing me a favour; thinking I'm cycling to save money instead of hiring a car or taking a bus. No. I want to ride to wherever I'm going. It is the journey there that matters. And Coyhaique is only a stop on the way.

The enduring feature here, the primeval forest of native beech much disfigured by forest clearing and the ever presences of fenced in private property. Even rivers and streams are well fenced in. So finding a place to camp isn't easy. Not until the road descends into a ravine with trees down to the road and no houses anywhere near: the road bottoming out to a river with a bridge over and on, a track off to the left on the approach, down to the riverbank with the blacked ashes of a fire from previous overnighting, is there the possibility of camping. In actual fact, its a good place, concealed by a canopy of trees and by the fire pit is smooth and level for the tent. There's also the ambiance of the stream.

Well, it isn't even five yet, but a little back, I passed a sign: Coyhaique 48km. It should be an easy morning tomorrow, arriving there around noon.

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