September 21, 2016
Wed 21th Sep: 119km < San Juan to San Juan
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There were a few things I forgot to mention about yesterday's ride, such as the protest against a big mine in the area. There was a slogan daubed in white paint upon the road and walls reading "No al la Mineria". Also something about justise for protesters against the mine who've been inprisoned.
I almost ran over a very much alive armadillo that was crossing the road. Armadillos like snakes are ellusive. Like snakes you see lots flattened on the road, so it's good to see one living.
Oh, my camera played up too.
These thing were overlooked when I wrote about the day mainly because I was preocuppied with a forever going soft front wheel, which was good enough to remain a slow puncture, to holdout with a few pump ups until I stopped for the evening.
Its usual to puncture on a roasting hot day on a road without a tree, nor nothing, no shade at all. So you're stuck fixing the puncture in the open sitting with sun beating down on you, in a mess of panniers that you've removed off the bike that lays on the verge. Sometimes you go flat where there's only long grass to the side. Or it could be a day of strong wind on a road with no shelter. Here the wind can be strong enough to blow plastic tyre-levers away, even a wheel can be pushed off by a strong gust, so imagine fixing a puncture. In short you rarely puncture in ideal circumstances, with shelter from the ellements, do you?
The road surface this morning is patchy degenerating old tarmac, with a regular peaked join where a crack has been filled, giving the bike a terrible jolt. Other than that, there's not much to moan about. The road follows a flat coarse with thorny desert either side.
I arrived in the city of San Juan mid afternoon, sticky and thirsty with few shops open to buy a cold drink before looking for a hostel.
Later as I write, in an eating place where I've waited almost an hour for a sandwich. All I've eaten today is a small piece of two day old bread with cheese. That was this morning, so I'm starving. Meanwhile I've drank a full litre bottle of beer.And I'd a job to get the tendors attension in the first place. I feel like walking out. I'm not happy. I jump up having had enough, launching at the counter, motion angily and ask where the hell/s my sandwich. I've been waiting long enough!
Having got my message across, I return to my seat. Five minutes later the tendor comes out with my sandwich, appologising for it taking so long.
On the way back to the hostel I ask where I may find a supermercado that is open late. It's now half nine. I get directions to a small city-centre food shop with deli-contestine counter, that has a wider range of food than I've seen in a long time, certainly bigger than the supermercado-chains. Cheaper too. I buy everything I need for a two day ride to Mendoza.
The hostel is called "Hostel Rosa" run by Rosa, an old lady, a widow who's turned her house over to paying guests to pay the bills.
In any even it'll be the shortest I have stayed anywhere, as I'll be back on the road in the morning.
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