December 5, 2010
The road to Colonia. Day 2.
The town of Palmira sprawls over a large area and with a grid system street lay-out one street looks like the next. Furthermore, there's no signposts, so at 7.30 on Sunday morning with few people about that I could ask directions of, I had to rely completely on my own initiative. I pick to ride a long street at a right-angle to the river or inland and gently uphill so I couldn't see far ahead and on cresting every summit the street still continued ahead without any sign of the North-South road where I would continue my journey. I spot one solitary man in a hurry cross the street and ask was this the right way to route 21. "Si senior adelante" he replies and hurriedly continues on.
There was one other bit of confusion a few kilometres out of town, though, it was more to do with me having my map inside the bag and not having looked at it recently. The road came to a fork and the road, according to the signpost, straight ahead led to a place I didn't recognise and the other road was to Carmelo which after checking the map is on the way to Colonia.
By nine I reach a petrol station and buy a cool Pepsi. As I sit on a bench outside looking at the word, Biocombustables, on the petrol pump, in the background emanating from inside the shop, a Beatles song can be heard. Mellow, on a Sunday morning listening to the twangy guitar rift and John Lennon's voice sing the familiar words of, Ticket to ride.
The town of Carmelo was only 20km and therein I passby a bakery. The two girls in attendants and a customer are a little taken aback when I enter as I'm in need of a haircut and have not shaved in a very long time. But her on the till asks me where I's from making conversation while the other cuts me a slice of spinach quiche, a slice of cheese and ham quiche, and a custard tart which they call crema here, but no matter, I leave with what later proves to be a very big lunch.
Continuing on through town until I turn onto a cobblestone street along a channel where ahead there's a boating marina. The street is lined on either side with Jacaranda trees, or trees with purple bloom. I stop and marvel at the colour and take a photo. I was glad though, when I cycled a little farther to a bridge over the channel to see a signpost for Colonia pointing over the bridge, as I hitherto wondered where I exit town.
The light wind which yesterday had been on my back, today was between a cross and a head wind coupled with the constant gentle uphills, checked my speed and by midday when I found a gateway to stop for lunch, I'd only covered 50km despite starting early enough.
Sometimes I hate my Bob-trailer and vow that my future bike will be a dedicated touring-bike. In the nineties I used a strong steel mountainbike with four panniers and how mush simpler life was. If I stopped somewhere without something to lean the bike against, I just set the bike on it's side. Now, with a stand on the bike, the weight of the trailer swings the bike around and it falls over. It puzzles me why the people at, Bob-yak, never thought a stand a useful addition to their trailer which would hold both trailer and bike firmly upright. As it is without a stand I struggle with it every time I stop, usually having to put a stone in-front of the front-wheel so the bike cannot swing round. That's in addition to the badly thoughtout mesh floor which breaks at the weld when ridden for a considerable time on dirt roads.
When I had eventually secured the bike so it wouldn't fall over and was sat comfortable on the grass getting stuck into my cheese and ham quiche, I notice on my new pedals that the right pedal has the dust-cap missing which is what happen the old pedals. Now all the dirt and dust will get in. At lease they only cost 30 pesos and will do me until I get something better.
The afternoon continued with warm cross wind and gentle rolling landscape.I had nothing to drink so was glad to reach a small place with a shop, though when I tried the door it was locked. Across the road there was a rural school and they always have wifi. I thought though that my computer hadn't worked anywhere else in Uruguay in the last few days so why would it work now. Nevertheless, I was curious and anxious to check things. There was a nice brick bus-shelter outside the school gates which provide good shade so I could see the computer screen. I press connect and it connected instantly first time. What a relief.
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After I had checked things, two women cycle-tourists turn up anxiously stopping at the shop too to buy a drink. They were from Buenos Aires and so could tell me when the ferries from Colonia run and the prices.
Nothing mush of note happen on the remaining stretch to Colonia, except that I was very thirsty when I arrived and stopped for a drink at the first service station.
Today is, I think, the last day for me seeing Uruguay by bike. I will spend a few days in Colonia before catching the SeaCat to Buenos Aires. People traveling by bicycle can chose wherever they want to cycle-tour in the Southern region of South America, most however chose the same places. I have not seen another cyclist, except for meeting a Brazilian cycle-tourist one day over two months ago and two Argentines today, which isn't many. What I'm trying to say is Uruguay is a nice country, though what I think is nice the next cyclist may not. Suffice to say just come and see.
Today's ride: 108 km (67 miles)
Total: 7,101 km (4,410 miles)
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