Tue 4th Oct: Bardas Blancas > 30km (approx) to Ranquil Norte

October 4, 2016

Slow going today, blustery and soon the tarmac ends.

I remember we left Bardas Blancas that morning with a ferocious tailwind. I think we barely dropped below 30km all morning. We rode to nightfall of coarse. Well I did. Oliver left me on a long downhill late in the afternoon. As I chased I felt that familar wobble in the rear-wheel followed by rim bumping on the road. A puncture that took some time fixing.

Today ten years later I was never going to cover that kind of distance.

The same road ten years ago although deteriorating, cracked and broken tarmac, looking as if it hadn't been maintained for over thirty years, could nevertheless be ridden rapidly.

The cracked and broken tarmac is all but gone; reverted to as its calll here "Ripio", ie dry stony soil with compressed wheel-tracks where its just about possible to ride, but with a chaos of small smooth river-stones that clank under my wheels, throwing me off coarse.

Its a game of weaving from side to side finding the best coarse. The most level and cleared of loose stones by passing vehicles. Of which there may go fifteen minutes without anything. Then four or five pickup trucks will come at once, leaving a spewing cloud of white dust in their wake, although most slow to reduce the dust. One woman even stops and hands me a banana out the window. And there is the occational truck. Heavy laden, tarpaulin covered flatbed-trailer travelling at a crawl. I guest transporting gear from mines in the area.

La Pasarella. The little bridge over a deep narrow ravine in lava the Rio Grande surges through.

The road swings back toward the Rio Grande further on.

I cross the Rio Grande, but I was neither in the US, nor Mexico.

A nice surprise it is to see another cyclist coming the other way.

Sebastian, he tells me from Cordoba in Argentina, who started in Ushuaia in January. How's that for slow going? Explained by him having stopped for three months in Patagonia's lake district to hike. His overall goal is La Quiaca, the furthermost north town in Argentina, thereby completing what is a classic cycle-tour for Argentines, cycling their country end-to-end. South to north.

Having left Sebastian continuing on his way, my aim is to reach the bridge over Rio Grande by lunchtime. But at this slow going walking pace, the road keeps going on forever without river nor bridge in sight. Ten years ago we'd reached the bridge at half twelve. Today its half two when I eventually sight the river ahead, then the bridge.

I lunch just beyond the bridge in along the fence to the side. Then don't hang around, setting off again, my goal to reach the small village of Ranquil Norte by evening to refill on water, then camp just the other side.

The climb on up out of the Rio Grande valley is gradual. The surface quarry stones and dust, that goes on climbing seemingly without end, while I watch the hours pass. Eventually levelling upon a plateau where a southerly crosswind makes it foundering cold.

A boggy margen lake/lagoon provided a wonderful contrast to the volcanic landscape.

At long last I reach the start of the tarmac, with a rejoicing in my heart. But the wind has strengthened as the road drops downhill into a magnificent valley of a brown rush fringed placid blue lake with green pasture... Beyond which is an inevitable climb out the other side, followed by about ten kilometres of moorland hills, slow going with crosswind before another downhill to my goal, the village. Filling up on water I find a dry-stream bed a kilometre on, where I push the bike far enough away from the road and pitch the tent.

This evening I'm rapped up in my down-jacket, prepared for a cold frosty night.

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