Vagabonders: Jay makes his way south

When we left off last post, it was with a parting of ways as Jake and I loaded the bikes onto a bus for the ride south to San Carlos de Bariloche and Jay, the truly light-loaded bicycle vagabond that he is, pedaled off towards the southern horizon to uphold the original bike-trip ideals.

We gave him the iPod Touch and he gave us the promise of pictures and updates when in wifi range and we bid him au revoir... or adios as the case may be (Spanish, Spanish, Spanish! So hard!).

Here, in his own words and photos, is his trip:

"Is that a dragon I see before me?!"

Jay's normal nightly camp en route (gracias Chaz for the shelter!)

"Bamm! Chickpea, red peppa, yellow onion, and brown rice! In no chef, but damn do I cook some food!"

January 29th:
Sooo... I'm crushin' along this desolate desert highway in the pampas, trying to put down an extra 40 km during my mid-day break. My hp level is running low and draining rapidly due to a powerful adversary know in this hemisphere as "el sol." Seeking a moment's respite from my oppressive opponent and the chance to refill my water supply, I pull into what appears to be an abandoned gas station. Only the skeleton of fuel pumps and car wash remain surrounding a standing building with mostly boarded up windows, yet through one of the barred window I see an ample supply of bottles of liqueur and posters with largely naked females on the walls inside. "That's strange," I think to myself. Setting Rocinante to rest in the shade as I inspect the grounds for a water line, I circle the building and to my surprise run right into three provacatively dressed sirens under the shade trees. "Ho" I mean "Oh," I said inaudibly. Being mostly naked myself, as per usual and nessesarily in this ridiculous heat, but too tired to feel awkward, I asked for agua para tomar. Responding with laugher, at any number of thing: the pink hanker chief sticking outta my shorts, my poor spanish, or the peeling skin off my back; at the hint of feeling uncomfortable I turn and walk away to more laughter and calls of "papi." But quickly one departed the crew and responded to my request for drinking water. First cold water i've had in days, if not weeks! they even offered me cola, which I refused. No sexual compensation required! Which makes this story (pleasantly, in my opinion) anticlimatic, I know. Made it on to La Toma for the rest of the siesta.
Mina Cavero to San Luis in two hard days and a morning stroll! It was bleak at times, but good thing I Have the experience level to convert health from my full mp meter

Have some pictures! Sorry there's none of the harlots. I got outta there before pimp daddy showed up. Unfortunately they're mostly of me as my general companionship (used loosely) was largely with truckers and gas station attendants aside from the occasional helpful melon merchant, firemen, and such local who I didn't generally stop to photograph. But, hell, I'm a regular Katie Gill with this shit. I mean Hunka.

"melon!! I need your water!"

February 1st:
Sooo...i met a few interesting people hanging around San luis waiting for my bus. While pulling what I call a samurai sleep in front of the bus station. I'm brought to my feet, without the help of this off balance drunken sonofabitch, though he reached out his hand as if to pull me up, by a man who is so drunk that I'm sure I wouldn't have known what the hell he was talking about had he been speaking ingles. Yet for all his admitted alcoholism he carried it very well, if wellness can be constituted from such a vulgar manner. But what I found remarkable, due to my many encounters with drunks in the states, is that when I asked him for a smoke, more to make conversation since he seemed not to have exhausted his interest in me and my bike, he instructed me to follow him as he went to the station shop and bought a pack of 10 cigs and handed them to me and insisted that I keep them. Whe I said, "no, solo quiero uno!" and tried to give him the rest and 50 centados. He reacted by giving me the rest of the change which was a peso or three. I thought admitted alcoholics asked for my money but these argentines keep throwing me for a loop. Even the cops and helpful and nice when they find you sleeping in strange neighborhoods!

"Sergio is going to the desert, he needs lots of water"

"I don't care who ya are, that's a good torta right there"

February 3rd:
Soo... Never in my life could I have imagined such force of living breath! The trees hulled up there root to hide under the mountain and those that didn't were hurdled over the eastern ridge to a dry, dusty graveyard in the pampas. I though gales like this only came from the miles of expansive open ocean. These descended from their home in the heavens just to test my metal. I must say I feel honored. I hope the mountain biking couple I passed before the south west bend made it through or back alive, they had twice the cargo I did aside from the trailer they were hauling. I was riding as a steady 45 degree angle leaning to the right so as not to get thrown into traffic, and every time I leaned back off locked elbows I was lifted up and carried back 100 yard. Right as I let out a challenging roar, buckled down, geared up, and headed straight into the mouth of Aeolus I saw a sign 27 kilometers to San Martin de Los Andes, almost halfway there and twice as far as I though I'd come. Never stop pedaling my friends even when it feels like you moving backward. Thank you Patagonia, what would have otherwise been an hour and a half joyride on, relatively, flat asphalt through beautiful scenery, became a challenge to face and an eye opening exhibit of the power of nature. To think just yesterday I was cursing the breeze brought by large oncoming vehicles, and wishing one going my way would slow down enough for me to draft off. Surprised those automobiles could stay on the road, but of course those freaky things were still whizzing by, oblivious that the world was tearing apart.