They're tracking me anyways...

Thanksgiving 2011. Spring City, PA area, then on to April's parents home outside of Ephrata, PA. Will and I went mountain biking at the boy scouts land near Brickerville. I made it up to Eagle rock on day two.

I've got a weakening memory, so I need to record.

I rode three days in a row, the last one in the Wissahickon, where I got a flat and had to inflate and ride, inflate and ride until I made it back out to the car.
Later I made a puppet out of sticks.

Eclipse

this bike is for sale.

aspekt19

aspekt19 is a name, a handle for my person. for my business person. for my public person. i produce under this name.

i have used it for a while.
i produce bicycle mechanic repair classes. i produce animation screenplays. i produce crock pot meals. i produce homebrewed beer. i produce solar panel arrays. i produce visual projections based on photographs.

i sell items on ebay using it as a name.

Ho-Humming about New Haven

Yes. I live here. Yesss.

Here, my employer and I are riding Penny Farthings through the intersection where The Devil's Gear Bike Shop will be located after our move in May of this year. I am one of the managers there and ride my own safety bike to work a few miles four days each week, no matter the weather. I have bought two 1960's Schwinn cruisers, though still tend to use Kay's Lemond for daily commuting.

With my own time, I watch plenty of movies and am still nurturing an interest in making animated short films. Tomasz Bagiński is a recent discovery for me. Between the public library, the internet, and netflix I am continuing my education, trying desperately not to lose braincells before I actually use them for some creative artistic production.

My sister and brother-in-law made a child, a small girl who we call Winter. She is certainly a baby. We all four of us live together.
Tonight is Gluten Fest, the Fat Tuesday celebration for those among us giving up gluten for lent. For me, it means another night of Beer and Pancakes for dinner. Great Party.

Back in Boston

Well, friends and family, I am back in the lovely US of A. From Rosario, I took the bus down to Buenos Aires, where I stayed a few nights at the same hostel I had been to twice before. It was nice to know some people there, and I also quickly became friends with a few other guests who were listening to reggae music on the patio when I arrived. We made a little family for the weekend. I picked up my new, hideous passport (ugly not for the photo of me but for the horrendous background photos on all of the pages), bought a few cd's and a handful of books (a season of the cartoon Mafalda, a copy of the epic poem Martin Fierro, and stories by Horacio Quiroga), gave away my polyester sleeping bag, said goodbyes, and then left. Simple as that, I suppose. 

I flew to Miami, where I rented a car and drove across the state to visit my grandparents. After so long traveling by bike, I was amazed again by how much distance I can cover with standard transmission and internal combustion. I spent five days with my grandparents, listening to their stories and wisdom, and letting myself be entertained. And then I flew to Boston, where a new phone number was waiting for me, along with the reality that I have to get a job and that I'm going to start forgetting how to speak spanish unless I work hard at retaining it. Yes, it's something of a drag... 

But all hope is not lost, for I know I will return to the open road. This journey has struck a reverberating chord in my soul and filled me with energy and enthusiasm, and I am putting it upon myself to maintain it, as much as is possible. 

Nine Floors Up

I am nine floors above the ground in Rosario, in the apartment of a friend. I met Mariano in Puerto Pyramides a few weeks ago, and he invited me to stay with him on my way to Buenos Aires from Cordoba. I arrived last night.
I suppose, in the interests of chronology, I should recount the tales of my bike tour in the sierras of Cordoba, and of the few nights and days I spent in Rio Cuarto and the capital city of Cordoba. I will do so, but in general, in the last week, I have been feeling rather critical of my own writing, feeling that I am too easily succumbing to the temptation of producing the kind of travel writing I least admire, that of the 'I am so tough' mode. Certainly at times I have felt pretty rugged, and have tried to convey that feeling, but I need to work towards developing another mode. Maybe it's because I left the bike behind, or because I am no longer sleeping in a tent, or because I am leaving the country one week from today, but I am feeling reflective.
Before the bike tour began, I was taken to Rio Cuarto by my friend and was treated tremendously well. I spent one night at the house on his farm, where, like many campos in Argentina in this day and age, they are growing soy. Diego and I spent the night looking at each other's photos of the south, where we had met before. The next day I spent at Alejandro's house, meeting his two daughters, his son, his nephew, his sister, his brother, his brother-in-law, and his mother, who I stayed the night with. Signora de Alonso lives in Rio Cuarto in a lovely old house that serves as the base for her English language school, named for William H. Hudson, an Englishman who lived in Argentina for many years. In English and Castellano we talked about immigration, current politics, literature, history... It was fascinating, and she sent me to bed with two of Hudson's books to read. I fell asleep almost immediately. The next afternoon Alejandro and I set out for the sierras, but this experience, which I was fortunate to have again at the end of my riding, has shown me yet another lens for viewing the places I am getting to know. It really warrants more attention than I am giving it now, but I have a lot to recount.
The bike tour! I spent ten days and nights riding around the sierras, riding anywhere from 30km to 100km or more. The mountains are generally located to the west of the capital, and there are a few ranges and valleys that I was able to explore. I started out with my friend Alejandro, in a Germanic town called Villa General Belgrano, and together we went on a three day circuit into the mountains and then back into the Valle de la Ctalamuchita. We visited La Cumbrecita, Villa Yacanto, Santa Rosa de la Ctalamuchita, and some places in between. It was great to travel with a friend. I went on solo for the week, as my compañero had to go back home to tend to his campo and his family. I struggled some days and coasted on others. I experienced my first flat tire, and then experienced four more on the same inner tube. One of these occurred on an enormously long descent into a valley from a place called Observatorio, and it sent me skidding along the pavement and now I've got some minor road rash to show for it. I bathed in several small rivers, camped at the foot of the tallest mountains in the area (Los Gigantes), pedaled along the road through the Alta Cumbres, peeked into the neighboring province, and met some nice people along the way. I finished by riding back to Rio Cuarto, where I met up with Alejandro and Miguel, another friend I made in the south. After two days of staying at the house of Signora de Alonso, of having an amazing asado at the campo, of returning of the borrowed tent and sleeping bag, of storing my bike somewhere safe, I headed north on the bus towards the capital, Cordoba.
Miguel provided me with a contact in Cordoba, and I spent a few nights at the house of some more friends. A group of brothers and friends, they welcomed me very hospitably. I got to see a bit of the city, bought myself a mini soccer ball to entertain myself now that I am bike-less, and listened to them play and sing folk music. It was pretty fantastic, except for the mosquitoes. (Did you know there's a Dengue epidemic here?)
Last night I came to Rosario by bus and I am admiring my luck at being able to travel among friends. The apartment here is small, but Mariano claims that my imposition is not so significant. It is a wild experience to travel through so varied of landscapes. I am struck by the extent to which the types of houses I have stayed in and the lifestyles of the people I have met have varied. I wonder what consistency I provide, but I am not too preoccupied by it. I just have to come up with ways to repay the kindnesses that are being offered to me.

More photos!

Near the end of the Carreterra Austral, route 7 in Chile, there is this sign. I was loosely traveling with Cyprien, from Marseilles, and the Molina cousins, from Santiago, and we were all together to take this photo. This was the part of the trip where I was riding with about ten other cyclists making roughly the same journey, and feeling good because we were reaching a terminus.



A few days later, I sent my bike across the Lago del Desierto with a gentleman named James, another cyclist, who I decided to call William of Wales before I knew his name. After crossing the lake in the ferry, James of Gales locked my bike to a tree on the other side while I walked around the lake on the trail. I lost the trail twice, one time going far enough off track that I met a construction worker building a private lodge on the lakeside. Carlos showed me back to the trail, which I followed up and down the ridges in light rainstorm. I saw an eagle and a couple of red-headed woodpeckers before I reached the other end, from where I rode to El Chalten to meet up with my friends.





Also at Cabo Raso, near the sea lion colony, there is this shipwreck on the rocks. The area to the north, near Peninsula Valdes, has lots of shipwrecks in the waters. If one has the experience and money, there are scuba diving excursions to explore the naufragios. I thought this one was quite picturesque.