Why I've cycled here I don't know yet. A case of "because it's there." Though yesterday's ninety-five kilometre ride from Puerto Madryn to where I'm now: Puerto Pyramides, was an exercise in sheer boredom, nondescript flat brown scrubland to the far horizon on all sides. The only distraction the whole way was a park-visiter centre, where I stopped and went in and was glad of the break to look at pictures and read text on geology, flora and fauna on the interpetation boards

Cycling onwards, it was only a few kilometres more until I descended down off a headland to the coast, to half fishing village, half frontier town in painted corrugated iron. There was strong wind all the way but as the road was a straight line eastbound out on the peninsular and the wind was it's usual westerly, the wind was in my favour and so I got here fast, arriving shortly before two. I found the municipal campsite, sandy as it's adjacent the beach, though sheltered by hedges of native scrubs, the types that grow on sand-dunes. But beforehand I found refuse from the wind in the comfortable interior of a trendy pizza cafe which had a picture of James Dean on the wall and rock & roll memorabilia.

Today was calm and sunny which made me think of returning to Puerto Madryn as such days here are few. The wind yesterday got stronger the more the afternoon went on and by six or seven, a brown haze blocked out the sun. This morning I cycled about three kilometres out to a clifftop viewing-point where I saw sealions on the rocks below, cornets on the cliffs and two whales had surfaced a few hundred metres offshore. Not like in the pictures promoting the peninsular as a visiter attraction, with the tailfin stuck in the air out of the sea, but a long black thing just coming above the surface for a minute before disappearing below again. Impressive in size but not much else as Is too far away. However I can tick a box and return to Puerto Madryn. Was it worth it though, coming all this way.

This afternoon a young Belgium couple turned up, touring on a dark green Cannondale tandum with a Bob-Yak trailer like mine. They'd just returned from riding the whole way round the Valdez Peninsular.

Oct 25 Sunday: A brisk breeze early this morning heralded hardship on the road back to Puerto Madryn today, but the wind remained manageable. The two Belgiums were doing the same as me. I passed them on the climb away from town, then we came together at the visiter centre at ten. In the early afternoon the build-up of dark clouds could hold no more and the rain came down, cold rain and in the open with no shelter; bounsing off the road and water was soon trickling in round the collar of the rain-jacket and cold water invaded my shoes. Fingers were numb having lost sensation. Then when the rain eased and the road had dried out, I heard a dragging sound from behind and when I stopped to check, saw that the trailer wheel was flat. When I'd stuck a patch on the tube and inflated it a little in order to put it inside the tyre, along came the Begiums, smiling as they passed. When Is up and running again I bombed pass them.

At five the sun was shining as I saw the much looked forward to traffic of route 3, moving in slow motion in both directions across the scrubland ahead of me; making me ride harder until coming to the big roundabout and rounding left onto 3. There was only seventeen southbound kilometres then to go. It followed undulating stepp, with the coastline off to the left and a hillside ran gently up on the inland right side. Soon on crossing a crest I saw the giant concrete hulk of the aluminium smelter ahead, with it's tall cylindral smoke-stack emitting a white whisp, and the elevator-bridge over the road to the port; beyond which I knew it was only a few kilometres to the city-centre and a kilometre more to the campsite.

Oct 27 Tuesday: It was a calm morning and remained calm the rest of the day. Although up at six, wanting to make an early start, Anton-the English motorcyclist in the tent next mine got talking to me; then, the Belgiums came over and joined in and I'd to pose for a photo with my bike and whatnot. Anyway it was near nine when I set off, south down route 3, to the Chubut valley.