October 6, 2016
Thu 6th Oct: 42km (approx) < Chos Malal to Chos Malal
Its give and take.
When riding to sunset you give yourself the joy of evening light while on the road. Something you'd miss if you set up camp mid afternoon.
The downside is cooking in torchlight.
Other than eating, everything else waits until morning. So this morning its late, about half nine as I push the bike back out to the road. A good long way too, having come in a long way in the believe of camping in a place nobody would see me.
Reaching the road and setting off, straight-away there's a long winding climb away from the hollow with the lake behind me. A climb of two parts. The first, a well engineered curving switch-back across the hillside, through a gap where it goes sharp right descending the other side a kilometre or so, into a ravine to cross a stream swinging sharp left, to climb again, diagonally across the hillside the other side a few kilometres to swing right into a broad valley.
Its a grey morning. Big dirty rag cloud close in the sky, with broken white cloud to the side. A ray of optimism that it isn't going to rain.
The road remains high up looking down to the left across the valley most of the morning, until a climb up across to another valley, dropping steeply to the right of a long descent to the river with elm tree windbreak enclosed farmland on the approach to the small city, Chos Malal.
Arriving in the main plaza about half twelve, I stock up on food at a small supermercado on the corner for an afternoon camping. The municipal campsite though has "Cerrado" a closed sign on a padlocked pole-barrier entrance.
I lean the bike over, pushing the bike underneath the pole-barrier, intending to camp anyway, until I see the office open.
The woman there, her actual words, "its impossible to camp".
I plead that I've only a small tent, but she doesn't go back on her word.
She directs me then to an amenity area over a bridge on the opposite side of the river. When I get there its two shelters and a row of parillas (BBQ stands), all of which are full of rubbish that people have left behind. And as for pitching the tent, its gravel hardcore for parking cars.
I look beyond the gravel along the riverbank. The amenity area part of a large gravel-bar: an island between two channels that continues up the river. Over the years river stones have been bulldozed up into a heap, behind which has silted up with sand and grass has grown, providing a fairly good place to camp. Though it being lunchtime I return across the river to the old plaza, intending to return in the evening.
In the plaza the moment I reach a bench to lunch on, a big group of school leavers I'd quest their age, certainly young adults, come along. Always currious. They ask me where I'm from... Then call over a girl from a group trailing behind because she spoke perfect English to come and talk. Talk about beauty and intelligence going hand-in-hand. This girl had both. She, I don't know why they needed her, as I could well conduct answers to any of their questions. It makes me laugh when another girl short in statue, stands on the bench in order to be face-to-face with me and not looking up.
Once I have spent a long time over lunch, I go to the YPF petrol station for to use the wifi. I also need to charge the battery. Surprise, surprise, there's a powerpoint in the cafe, but soon I discover the powerpoint is an old standard. My adopter doesn't fit. However the TV is plugged into a multi-socket lead of the modern pin design. I plug in but then ask the girl at the counter where I buy tea, is it OK. She instantly objects. We argue that I need to charge my battery. When she goes back to the counter, I leave it plugged in anyway.
Having returned to the supermercado, stocking up fpr tomorrow's road on, saving time in the morning. I even bought new batteries for my headtorch, so I now write with a nice bright light.
I had just pitched the tent by the gravel-bar heap of stones, when along come a police pickup truck. I'm hoping they don't say I can't camp here when the truck halts and two uniformed officers get out and approach. But they've come just out of curriousity. One offers that I can stay at the police-station. But I say this is quite a nice place to camp. Before leaving they tell me to be weary of people here. To lock the bike and keep my stuff inside the tent.
So here I end the day.
Hoping to continue south on route 40 tomorrow, to get as close to the next town Las Lajas, 155 kilometres, as possible in a day.
Saturday, Zapala.
Sunday, a short day to Laguna Blanca.
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