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.



"Ya think! Got pretty tired of these signs every 50 yards"







Windy out today...



Overloaded Europeans



San Martin de Los Andes





"there's a fell voice on the wind... SARUMAAAAAN!"



ripio (gravel/dirt/stone) roads and only one flat!



"Onward, Rocinante!"



Miguel, my Sancho Panza



Made it! Now to find Jake and Katie...

Mina Clavero, Way Better Than Carlos Paz

... or at least, that's how we think their tourism slogan should go ...




After the extreme disappointment of Carlos Paz, the Ocean City, MD of Argentina (with all the jet skiing, teenagers strolling the waterfront and souped up cars whining past at all hours) we decided to only stay the one, stormy night and then head over the Sierras to the smaller, riverside vacation town of Mina Clavero.

Knowing I'd never make it through the hills, not to mention my disabled hands, the boys saw me off at the bus station and we planned to meet on the other side... But what hills they were! Snapping pictures out the bus window of the rocky, rolling Sierras Chicas and then the bigger mountains (Sierras Grandes), I got more and more worried about their chances of making it up and over in only one day; two would have even been pushing it! There are national parks in those mountains with names like Los Gigantes and Los Condors, and neither of those conjures up mental images of "small hillocks" or "easy second day of biking" so I'm not sure what we (they) were thinking.




I was off the bus and relaxing with a cafe con leche at the terminal's cafe when Jay rolls up around 6pm to my sheer and utter disbelief. Jake was just around the corner paying the cab driver he had decided to call when they realized the enormity of the task they had allotted themselves. Even Jay admitted it would have been "tough" to do in one day ... or maybe impossible.




Not wanting a repeat of last night's Spanish party music camping experience, we asked around for the "mas tranquilo" campsite and headed out a soft sandy road littered with signs of the country (read: horse droppings. Yay, caballos!). Camping La Siesta was right beside a huge sandy bend in the river, surrounded by horse-filled fields as well as the last stop on a dead end road. Muy tranquilo, indeed!













After a night not quite as quiet as we'd hoped (mating season for wild pigeons? Who knew?) we spent the next day exploring the rocky paradise of Rio Mina Clavero, bouldering, taking pictures and getting burnt.

























All in all, we ended up staying almost four days, relaxing, catching up on laundry, enjoying the river and trying to decide what came next. With me unable to ride and my hands not showing any immediate improvement, we had to rethink our already rethought plans.
















Eventually Jake and I settled on taking a bus down to San Carlos de Bariloche, the lakeside switzerland of the Andes, where we would wait for Jay, who decided to continue the bike-quest and pedal his way south through San Luis, Nequen, Zapala, San Martin de Los Andes and Villa Angostura. We were bummed to not be joining him for the adventure, but wished him luck and sent him off with the iPod Touch and promises of updates!

Vamos, hermano!!

The bike trip finally begins! ... then ends.

As you may remember, this trip was planned as Argentina par Bicyclettas, and we had spent way too little time in the saddle so far! Minus a few nighttime spins around Buenos Aires, we worried our bikes would think we'd forgotten them!

So after exploring Córdoba for a day we finally set out to begin our two-wheeled Argentine tour!

After a late start packing everything onto the bikes, we eventually had everything strapped down and shoved off to pedal out of the city and into the hills, heading towards a resort town called Carlos Paz about 35km west. We figured this to be a good beginning distance for me, the complete amateur and gave ourselves the afternoon to get there without plans to go any farther that day.

Well, it was hot. Very, very hot. And my legs got tired quickly. Very quickly.

But we made it!

Jake and Jay were very accommodating of my weakness (and not unaffected by the heat themselves) and allowed for many stops en route, even though it's only about 22 miles total, so we cruised into town and plopped down by the huge reservoir that makes Carlos Paz the summer destination it is.










We were hot and sweaty, and a bit dirty from the road.










After a quick dip for Jay (the geese and jet skis put Jake and I off jumping in) we jumped back on the bikes to find some camping, pedaling up river a bit to the packed sites of Las Ribieras. Yes, it's holiday time, but really? Dance music blasting from every campsite at all hours?!




Thankfully a monsoon downpour rolled in for a few hours and confined everyone to their tents. Not-so-thankfully, the thunderstorm covered our tents in dirt and mud.




And now the reason why that day was my first as well as my only day of the bike trip: Handlebar Palsy. I didn't know what it was either and had to google the symptoms I was experiencing and this article came up right away.

Basically every time we stopped to rest, I noticed my hands would be shaking a bit and it was hard to grab, pinch or grip zippers and laces and such getting food or water out. But it's hot, your heart is pumping and your leg muscles are shaking too so this doesn't seem a strange time for weird bodily problems.

When we reached Carlos Paz and rested by the lake for an hour or so, I took stock of my aching thighs and commented that my ring and pinky fingers were numb and tingly, I couldn't straighten them, and pinching zippers or untying straps was nigh impossible. Jake mentioned that he experienced similar feelings in his hands after gripping the handlebars for a long time and it usually went away after a few minutes or hours.

It wasn't until we rode around town and on to the "camping" (as they call campgrounds here), we'd set up, cooked dinner and showered, that I decided to google my symptoms while waiting for a break in the storm to run back to the tent (stop splashing my clean feet, mud!). They hadn't abated and the pins-and-needles feeling was keeping me very conscious of and vocal about it, I'm sure to Jay and Jake's slight annoyance.

WELL, VINDICATION! It IS a legitimate problem! Nerve damage, even!

My symptoms fit the description of Type 1, and the prognosis says nerves regrow at about 1-2mm per day, so if all aggravating factors are removed (ie. bike riding) the hands should recover function in about SIX TO EIGHT WEEKS!! :(

No more biking for Katie.

The effect of all this, besides the frustrating loss of dexterity and the fact that I write like a kindergartner just learning how to form letters, is mostly the bummer of having to travel a different way. We'd planned to bike because we WANTED to go slowly, through little towns, meeting locals in sleepy villages to buy supplies and getting around under our own power.

Not a trip-ender, but definitely a game-changer.

Córdoba = Churches

Late edit: (and by "late" I mean 3 freaking weeks late!) Very sorry it's been so long since the last update, but we spent 2.5 weeks in San Carlos de Bariloche where the blogger app would not upload my posts, nor could I connect the cameras to the hostel computers. It was very frustrating and sad but I'm hoping to post once a day now to catch up! Vamos!




Well, not exclusively, but that seems to be all I took photos of the day we were there!

It was a beautiful, quiet Sunday when we drove into town, and after spending the night behind a gas station and beside a henhouse (damn you birds!!) we gratefully unpacked at our hostel, Che Salguero and Jake crashed for a nap while Jay and I returned the car. After a shower and some lazing around, we headed out at about 5:30 to check out the Cathedral and handicraft market, hoping the heat of the day had faded.

It hadn't.

But we escaped into the deserted interior of the Sagrado Corozon de Jesus de Los Capuchinos (Church of the Sacred Heart of Jesus of the Capuchin Monks). It being a Sunday, and having toured many cathedrals in Europe, I was very surprised to find only two other people roaming the austerely dilapidated interior; no priests, brothers or tour guides anywhere. It could be just that we were visiting in the off season, but I think we happened in at a lull period of the day.










The light filtering in through the stained glass cast a gorgeous array of colors onto the pillars, and each section of ceiling was painted a sky blue and showed a different view of the constellations, panels for each month of the rotation.




Beautiful frescos adorned every wall and panel, though many were chipped and peeling, lending a sad, neglected air to the empty church. No sections were roped off and there was no one to tell us where to go or not to trespass, so we roamed the main hall to the alter, remaining back on our own thanks to a lifetime of Catholic training.







A grand staircase wrapped around and above the back of the alter and sacristy, so we climbed to what appeared to be a smaller chapel overlooking the main hall.




Built in the neo-gothic style from 1926-34, it was a Capuchin church built in a Jesuit founded city and abounding with statues and frescos and inscriptions to St. Francis, so, while I was a bit confused, I found it very welcoming. As did other creatures of God:




There can be nothing more apt than the fact that he was napping if front of a statue of St. Francis of Assisi.




We continued to wander around Córdoba, checking out the artisan market which was full of hand crafted items from crocheted vests to carved maté gourds, antiques to trendy t-shirts. Jay danced with a mime, we listened to a hippie band (digeridoo and crystal bowls!) and enjoyed the shade by the canal.













Jay bought a knife; safety first! We thought it more prudent and handier than a gun.

We made our way to the main square of the city where the main cathedral, a gorgeous creamy colonial confection rests beside the old city hall, both with a "reflection" of tile reaching into the square. My camera batteries had not survived the day, and the light was fading, so I only got a few iPod pictures and we just enjoyed the plaza for a bit before our rumbling tummies forced us back to the hostel for a delicioso dinner.

Buenos Noches, Córdoba!

Ps. Were I really good with my camera and had it rained, maybe I could have taken some pictures like this:






But I'm not and it didn't. These are pics from the Plaza San Martín by Roberto Bowyer. Cheers!

FRUSTRATION!!!!

Dear Argentina, specifically Bariloche, specifically wifi in Bariloche, specifically wifi in our hostel in Bariloche,


Would you PLEASE allow me to write and post blog posts from our iPad? Because as much as we love it here at the Tango Inn Soho, their communal computers do not recognize anything I stick in the USB so I cannot upload photos and you are not letting me upload posts from our "computer" so, as the title of this posts suggests, I am getting very FRUSTRATED!  I am already over a week behind in posts, and I have some great photos to put up but I CANNOT!

I may be the only one who really cares, but I want to be a good blogger!!

Sincerely,
Kate

ps. if you only hable español, wifi, let me know and I will googletranslate this post for you!