New country.: Enthusiasm is soon dashed when I cannot use the ATM, but it's only Saturday. - Northbound from Argentina through Brazil - CycleBlaze

September 28, 2010

New country.: Enthusiasm is soon dashed when I cannot use the ATM, but it's only Saturday.

Fri 24th Sep. Chuy to near Vitoria do Palmer (Brazil). 36km.

It's been a long day. I first stirred at 5.55 and got out off the sleeping bag immediately. I'd spent a couple of hours in the tent the evening before writing the latest page of my journal and this morning I wanted to get on the road at a reasonable time after cycling into town connecting with a network and pressing save. But I's also afraid of the gremlins namely pressing save and the, Internet Explorer cannot display the webpage, page showing up and losing the lot. I did and it did. My jaw dropped as I knew I had lost two hours work plus an hour spelling, Grammer and test reading. I'd have to sit down and type the whole thing out again. By the time it was ready it was after twelve and two when I finally set out to cross the border into Brazil.

The border crossing.
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I feel sad to be leaving Uruguay as it's a great country for cycle touring. The roads are excellent with wide shoulder making for example riding in to Montevideo safe and easy. The secondary roads in the countryside are next to traffic free and that countryside isn't ruined by industrial farming practises like it's larger neighbour. So I recommend Uruguay as a cycling destination. And of coarse the alfarjores which not only are a great energy boost for a hungry cyclist but are much better than in Argentina.

I've now reached the point on this tour where it seems a lifetime since I began seven weeks ago in Salta. I feel that euphoric feeling of have came so far under my own steam. I've come a long long way since those first few days from Satla through Cafayate and over the Andean foothills to Tucuman so far behind me now they seem as if they're on a different planet to Uruguay which as I've alluded to looks like Scotland in places not a hundred miles from my home. Many travelers from the US say Salta looks similar to the South Western United States. The big cactus and the Spanish colonial architecture makes it look like a western set. So what will Brazil be like? Well so far as I write no different than Uruguay but it's still too early to say.

The border crossing was easy apart from the language barrier. In Spanish I asked as I filled out the entry form do I fill my passport number in here? The woman behind the counter didn't quite get what I said but nodded in agreement nevertheless. It was all very quick and efficient and all the officials had big mate cups on the desk in front of them with the wet green yerba swelling over the top around the metal straw.

Wild camping proved a little more difficult than in Uruguay on this stretch of the road after the border. I'd see a grove of trees then when I drew closer I'd see a farm house along side. So finding a place to camp took quite a bit of time this evening. I'm now camped by a farm track, the usual track for cows and agricultural vehicles, hidden from the road by a hedge.

Sat 25th Sep. Near Vitoria do Palmer to km559 (br471). 85km.

A bank of grey cloud had already blocked out the sun when I first poked my head out of the tent this morning. The grey day would reflect the way I would feel when I tried to withdraw cash at two ATMs in nearby Vitoria do Palmer without luck. The machines only used Portuguese and they were unusual in that the screen with the picture of the keypad didn't show when I entered my card. I think in any case these banks weren't connected to Cirrus. It was Saturday so I couldn't ask for assistance from a member of staff so I'll wait till I get somewhere on a weekday. So I'd to get some dollars changed at a hotel. The guy at the reception in the hotel luckily spoke Spanish and asked me all about my cycle tour. I didn't mind answering the same questions I'd been asked so often any more as there'll be few people I'll be able to have a conversation with from now on.

The town was full of election canvassers, young guys paid to cycle around on bicycles equipped with big speakers hailing out a political message and it would be better with this candidate. Well that's what I think would've been emulating from those speakers isn't politics the same the world over. They were even outside the supermarket where one of them spoke to me but it was a limited conversation.

As well as buying food for the stretch ahead I tried to buy a map and thought they could be bough at servive stations but no the only thing I could buy there apart from petrol was lubricants. One of the guys on the forecourt sent me to tourist info but it was Saturday, they were shut and in any case I need a road map not a plan of the town or a simple map of the surrounding countryside. There's only one road any way as this is a narrow peninsular between the ocean and an inland lagoon. The shoulder isn't all that great beening rough bumpy ash felt or it's been covered by a layer of grit which is slower to ride on as well as making that gravel drive crunch.

I cycled all afternoon under a grey leaden sky being splattered by the occasional large rain drop. The landscape was an example of where industrial farming has obliterated or wiped out all that is good about the countryside for the sake of big fields of pasture or crops. For a long way there wasn't even a tree never mind a grove. Great big brown fields with huge tractors pulling massive ploughs monotonously back and forth. Though towards evening the agricultural desert was left behind namely there were hedges and small plots of woodland again and the sun at last made an appearance as the cloud cover began to clear.

It was a day to be down on my knees in the grass verge as there wasn't mush of interest to photo.
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The road when the sun made it's appearance.
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For a long stretch just as I wanted to find a place to camp there was nothing but houses and barking dogs every hundred metres. People at the houses stired at me as I past. There was a service station so I filled up on water my lack of a map meaning I didn't know how long it'd be to the next settlement. The houses eventually petered out and I did find a place to camp. As I write I'm camped in a grove of gum trees shielded from the road by a stout tree trunk. Overhead I hear the occasional hoot of an owl. I'd to discretely lift the bike over the fence but they drive so fast here it's a wonder they can see anything.

Shealth camping. The white out glare along the top is the road.
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Today's ride: 121 km (75 miles)
Total: 2,711 km (1,684 miles)

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