Bad Karma: Rio Ecker to Rio Chico. - We're So Happy We Can Hardly Count - CycleBlaze

December 21, 2015

Bad Karma: Rio Ecker to Rio Chico.

My rat friend gives me an early wake up call, at least that's what I think it is, light brown fur and cute eyes, rustling in the pocket of the tent. I shoo it out.

I have decided on riding a long distance today, from camping here by Rio Ecker, I remember another river where there's good camping on the riverbank, but it is over 200 kilometres away, which I can make in a day as it doesn't start getting dark until after ten o'clock.

Yes?
Heart 0 Comment 0

I reach Bajo Caracoles, a crossroads village, more boxes dropped on the immense Patagonian steppe from afar; consisting of a few peeling paint clapboard houses, forlorn and appearing uninhabited. A road works depot, police station, hotel bar and shop in one with petrol pumps outside. There was a guesthouse with camping in the yard, but it is closed now. The couple that ran it where getting toward retirement age when last I's here, so supposedly they have and moved away to a city.

I decide to treat myself to a coffee in the hotel shop bar and also a bottle of soft drink for the road. The total come to a princely seventy pesos (£4). The coffee is watery and the man running the place impersonal. A stern fair haired man with indigenous wife. "Take a seat amigo" he say, while I wait for him to make the coffee. Then when he has delivered it to the table returns behind the bar and drinks mate with his wife. At least I could content myself with sitting in the same room, perhaps the same spot as author of "In Patagonia" Bruce Chatwin sat when he stayed here in 1975.

Heart 0 Comment 0
Heart 0 Comment 0
Heart 0 Comment 0

About twenty kilometres on I see another cyclist struggle from the south, the wind having picked up from the north west as on previous days. He crosses over to my side when we meet. A young man with oval face and what I think is a Polish accent, but he tells me he's from Finland. And not carrying very much; two front panniers, a handle-bar bag and only a shopping basket on the rear-rack packed with cans of food. A traditionalist that has learned to travel with only the bare basics.

I remark on him having a headwind and he tells me of the tough ride against the wind he'd yesterday. And relays information about the road ahead, mainly that there's a hundred kilometre section of ripio south of Lago Cardiel. Whatever I do, he stresses, don't ride this after a day's rain which he did. So much muck stuck to his tyres it jammed up his wheels. It is well to assume this section is impassable during or after heavy rain, I remark and he agrees.

Heart 0 Comment 0
A single guanacho.
Heart 0 Comment 0

Well I wish not to have triumphed over having had only tailwinds when I met the Finish cyclist, as I've brought a curse of the wind shifting round more to the west, bringing with it dark rain cloud. It being lunchtime I take refuse on the sheltered side of a culvert. Once I've finished the rain has moved on east and wind eased somewhat.

I ride on with far vistas of hilltops suspended in white fluffy clouds on the horizon. Further the road swings right and enters an area with closer hills firmly connect to the ground on either side and off ahead a horn topped hill, beyond which is the barranca slope of Rio Chico valley. By this hill I know the road swings left and I should have a tailwind, as more dark cloud move in from the west with accompanying brisk wind.

Sign for road back. Just after taking this the wind blew the bike over.
Heart 0 Comment 0

I toil away all afternoon barely more than walking pace, the aforementioned horn hill closer but seemingly unobtainable. I meet more cyclists, an Argentine father and teenage son. The older man appears not all that happy and is anxious to keep moving.

From the shelter of a culvert.
Heart 0 Comment 0

Eventually with it well gone evening with clearing sky and long rakes of thin cloud remaining, I reach where there's a turnoff road on the right into the national park Perito Moreno; and beyond, the road goes downhill and swings left to follow parallel with Rio Chico. Now with a tailwind I ride rapidly to reach where old route 40 crosses the Chico, with a good camping riverbank down from the bridge. I approach this spot as the sun sets behind me and the barranca slopes ahead along the valley side turn to glowing fire. I find a sheltered spot in among the riverside willows and the wind having settled, enjoy the days remaining light while cooking rice; it not getting fully dark until eleven.

Roadhouse Los Horiquitos.
Heart 0 Comment 0
Heart 0 Comment 0
Riverbank.
Heart 0 Comment 0

Today's ride: 205 km (127 miles)
Total: 3,017 km (1,874 miles)

Rate this entry's writing Heart 0
Comment on this entry Comment 0