I´m going to take a note directly out of my journal, which I have been writing in almost daily. The background information is that I came to a small town called Puerto Pyramide, which is the only town on the Peninsula Valdes, a national park that juts out into the Atlantic and is shaped like a ... well, I dont know what. In september and october, there are swarms of southern right whales here, but for now it´s pretty relaxed. I´ve been enjoying myself on the beach for a few days. This is what I wrote this afternoon:
I watched orcas today. Two of them were cruising the coast at Punta Norte in what a German tourist with a two foot lens on his camera called the 'attack zone.' For a while, only the dorsal fins were visible, and these only at certain moments, and I wasn´t sure what I was looking at, and if I was looking in the right place. But, after a while, we would see one of the two orcas rise up out of the water and rush towards the beach in an effort to snatch up a baby sea lion. Sparkling black and white, the orca would practically beach itself on the shore in pursuit of it´s prey. As I was quite far away, I did not try to sack any photos. I was also not equipped with binoculars or a foot long camera lens, and so my view of the attacks was not as detailed as that of some of the other visitors. But several times I saw the orcas rush towards the coastline, showing their bellies as they pushed the water out of their path.
It was impressive to see them chase the sea lion cubs, but, for me, seeing only the sleek black dorsal fin, or their glistening back rise up out of the water was just as impressive, and maybe more menacing. The hint of the danger lurking beneath the surface put chills into me.
The two orcas exited the 'attack zone' along the peninsula to the north, on their way out to the open sea. They paralleled the coastline, passing by our viewing platforms at a distance of about 50 meters. As they casually swam northwards, they played in the water, showing their tails and rolling onto their sides, splashing water around them. I was feeling quite satisfied at the spectacle I had witnessed on my second trip to Punta Norte.
My ride, I soon learned, had left without me, and before the grand exit of the orcas. I saw it happening, but chose not to worry. The young Romanian couple that picked me up probobly went on to have a romantic journey around the peninsula. I was brought back to town by a couple who I presume to be a mother and son, traveling in a big Mercedes van. They live in Quilmes, in Buenos Aires province, and own a lubricentro.
I wrote that and more when I got back to town, where I have also been playing soccer on the beach. I made friends with a guy from Rosario, where I am still planning to go, and also found a sharks tooth on the beach after walking a long ways to sit in some caves outside of town. I have been thinking how incredible it must be to be here when the whales are present, playing and learning to swim in the protected bay that we are looking into. If it is this nice now, I can only imagine what it must be like...
I am heading soon to Buenos Aires, and am thinking of this as my last peaceful experience before I enter the mess of the big city. For this reason, I have finally been taking it easy, not pushing for more distance on the bike, or hauling any gear anywhere. It has been a great rest, and I am not eager to leave.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Trelew and Points South
I rode the bus into Trelew on Sunday afternoon. I decided that this was a good way to get an introduction to a city as a traveler, as the town was sleepy and quiet and I calmly was able to reassemble my bike in the park across the street with a couple of old men nearby hanging out, helping me at times. I headed straight for the Paleontology Museum after buying a little food, and spent a couple of hours walking around their exhibit, taking photos, generally being fascinated and stoked that I was in a dinosaur museum in Patagonia. I spent a while talking with one of the guides after walking through the exhibit and watching a short film, and then I headed out into town.
I spent maybe another hour riding around the town. I went to the tourist office for maps, and the to the small art museum next door where there was a room full of comic art, and it was good. None of it was published, and I couldn´t take pictures, but, I suppose, the memories are mine. The tourist office and the art museum are housed in an old school complex, across from the main square that the Welsh residents built in honor of the Argentine republic. It was lovely, though the town itself was nothing fantastic: flat, hot, dry, lots of auto shops and banks and chain stores.
I left Trelew for the beach. I rode 20 or so crappy kilometers through Rawson, a nice enough sister town, to Playa Union, which reminded me of Coney Island. There was a boardwalk along the beach, and lots of people hanging out drinking mate. I camped at the overpriced campsite in town, chatted a bit with the owners, and went to sleep early.
I headed out in the morning amidst a big wind storm. I bought some groceries and rode on pavement to the dirt road I would take south to where I am now, a town called Camarones. I was heading directly into the wind. Very strong wind. It felt desolate, and dry, but I am very glad that I fought through the pangs of retreat, as I had some unique experiences along the way.
I was walking my bike after only a couple of kilometers, and after not too long, a pickup truck stopped to haul me and my bike. The man driving was an energy developer, looking into obtaining properties to install windmills to generate electricity for Chubut province. Together we went ten or so kilometers to Estancia La Normita, where he inquired about property lines, and then turned back to take a closer look at a few areas. I stayed at the Estancia for a couple of hours, waiting with an older gentleman for the winds to calm. They didn´t ever calm, really, but after drinking mate, eating bread and some meat and rice he offered to me, and watching him wash the dishes and start to swat flies, I decided I needed to make some progress. I fought the winds for another hour or so, and felt okay with the progress I was making.
Another truck came along, and two men from Rawson took me another ten or fifteen kilometers to the junction with a road to Isla Escondida, where they were going fishing. My bike was resting on top of their inflatable boat, and three of us crammed into the cab of the 1954 International, rattling down the gravel road. They gave me phone numbers and addresses, and told me to call before I come back to Argentina so that I could bring back a wetsuit for Walter. They left me, and again I was alone, with twenty kilometers of wind and wheel-devouring gravel to go until I reached a short stretch of pavement.
I made it to the pavement, and then a bit further, spending the night next to an old, abandoned postal building. It was a bit creepy, but was very quiet and I slept without waking up. In the morning, I rode twenty five kilometers, mostly again on gravel, to Punta Tombo, which in the summer is an enormous penguin colony. Many penguins had already departed for Brazil, and the ones that were there were losing their feathers and getting fat. It was pretty funny, all in all. Penguins are funny creatures to watch, and I spent a good bit of time talking to the guide about why they do the things they do, like stand with their beaks pointed at the sky without moving. I filled my empty water bottles at the Guardafauna station, drank some mate with the bored gentleman there, and then asked around for a ride back to the junction that I had just rode in from.
I didn´t secure a ride, but I met a family from Connecticut, and their guide from Trelew told me about her friends who live in Cabo Raso, a small bay that I would pass through on my way to Camarones. With the help of a truck driver who took me back to the junction in his empty water toting vehicle, and who has loads of relatives living in Camarones, I managed to arrive in Cabo Raso that night. There is only one family living there, and I stayed the night in their trailer, in a fairly real bed. They had three lovely dogs, and are working to develop Cabo Raso into a tourist destination, with cabins to rent and a kiosko to buy food and water. I spent the night with them, watching the movie ´The Hurricane´ for a bit, and telling the story of how I lost all my gear and why I am riding with a backpack on.
In the morning, I left my gear in the trailer and rode ten kilometers along the coast to a small sea lion colony. It wasn´t a reserve, only a place where sea lions and seals happen to live. I was the only visitor. Also hilarious creatures to watch, they were lazily hanging out on the beach until I came along to take photos of them and rile them up. They would all as one blunder into the water, where they felt safe, leaving only a couple of extremely lazy, or fearless, ones on the beach. I think there were three different species, and they were snorting and standing up and playing in the water while I walked along the edge of the beach, where the sand meets the scrub brush. The are huge and obviously powerful creatures. I expect to see more outside of Camarones and at Peninsula Valdes.
I retrieved my gear, said goodbyes to Ilyana, Eduardo and Antonio, and headed out for Camarones. After thirty kilometers, I reached Estancia La Maciega, one of the oldet and biggest in the area. There, I happened to meet the 88 year old owner and former resident of the hundred year old estate. I also filled my water bottles there, and drank until I wasn´t thirsty anymore. I rode twenty more kilometers under a blazing sun, and stopped to eat the rest of my food: matambre, cheese, crackers, almonds, water. As I was stopped, two cars showed up, and I figured I would accept what was being offered: a ride in the back of an old truck. We loaded my bike in, and me and the dog sat in the covered bed of the pickup, as the cab was occupied by an older man, an older woman and a young guy with a boino hat (like a beret, it´s gauch gear) and a rifle, or some big gun like that. They were clearly not going to harm me, so I allowed myself to be ported the last twenty kilometers into town, and directly to the campsite. The campsite, like the one in Playa Union, seems to be better set up for RVs than campers, but it costs only 15 pesos and there´s a washing machine and showers.
All in all, a pretty awesome adventure! Unexpected, yes, and I´ve met and become indebted to another handful of people along the way. Today I am resting some in town, where there appear to be no other tourists. I will ride without gear to the Cabo Dos Bahias penguin and sea lion and seal reserve; as it is 28km away I can go and come back in one day without trouble. And tomorrow, I suppose, I will disassemble my bike for a bus ride north towards Peninsula Valdes, which will be my last stop before heading to Buenos Aires.
Sorry to be so long-winded, and to still lack photos, but for me, this is all very exciting. I am tiring of biking, especially as I am riding with a very weighty backpack tugging on my shoulders and waist. Soon enough, I feel, I will have earned the luxuries of a month in the city. I love and miss you all.
I spent maybe another hour riding around the town. I went to the tourist office for maps, and the to the small art museum next door where there was a room full of comic art, and it was good. None of it was published, and I couldn´t take pictures, but, I suppose, the memories are mine. The tourist office and the art museum are housed in an old school complex, across from the main square that the Welsh residents built in honor of the Argentine republic. It was lovely, though the town itself was nothing fantastic: flat, hot, dry, lots of auto shops and banks and chain stores.
I left Trelew for the beach. I rode 20 or so crappy kilometers through Rawson, a nice enough sister town, to Playa Union, which reminded me of Coney Island. There was a boardwalk along the beach, and lots of people hanging out drinking mate. I camped at the overpriced campsite in town, chatted a bit with the owners, and went to sleep early.
I headed out in the morning amidst a big wind storm. I bought some groceries and rode on pavement to the dirt road I would take south to where I am now, a town called Camarones. I was heading directly into the wind. Very strong wind. It felt desolate, and dry, but I am very glad that I fought through the pangs of retreat, as I had some unique experiences along the way.
I was walking my bike after only a couple of kilometers, and after not too long, a pickup truck stopped to haul me and my bike. The man driving was an energy developer, looking into obtaining properties to install windmills to generate electricity for Chubut province. Together we went ten or so kilometers to Estancia La Normita, where he inquired about property lines, and then turned back to take a closer look at a few areas. I stayed at the Estancia for a couple of hours, waiting with an older gentleman for the winds to calm. They didn´t ever calm, really, but after drinking mate, eating bread and some meat and rice he offered to me, and watching him wash the dishes and start to swat flies, I decided I needed to make some progress. I fought the winds for another hour or so, and felt okay with the progress I was making.
Another truck came along, and two men from Rawson took me another ten or fifteen kilometers to the junction with a road to Isla Escondida, where they were going fishing. My bike was resting on top of their inflatable boat, and three of us crammed into the cab of the 1954 International, rattling down the gravel road. They gave me phone numbers and addresses, and told me to call before I come back to Argentina so that I could bring back a wetsuit for Walter. They left me, and again I was alone, with twenty kilometers of wind and wheel-devouring gravel to go until I reached a short stretch of pavement.
I made it to the pavement, and then a bit further, spending the night next to an old, abandoned postal building. It was a bit creepy, but was very quiet and I slept without waking up. In the morning, I rode twenty five kilometers, mostly again on gravel, to Punta Tombo, which in the summer is an enormous penguin colony. Many penguins had already departed for Brazil, and the ones that were there were losing their feathers and getting fat. It was pretty funny, all in all. Penguins are funny creatures to watch, and I spent a good bit of time talking to the guide about why they do the things they do, like stand with their beaks pointed at the sky without moving. I filled my empty water bottles at the Guardafauna station, drank some mate with the bored gentleman there, and then asked around for a ride back to the junction that I had just rode in from.
I didn´t secure a ride, but I met a family from Connecticut, and their guide from Trelew told me about her friends who live in Cabo Raso, a small bay that I would pass through on my way to Camarones. With the help of a truck driver who took me back to the junction in his empty water toting vehicle, and who has loads of relatives living in Camarones, I managed to arrive in Cabo Raso that night. There is only one family living there, and I stayed the night in their trailer, in a fairly real bed. They had three lovely dogs, and are working to develop Cabo Raso into a tourist destination, with cabins to rent and a kiosko to buy food and water. I spent the night with them, watching the movie ´The Hurricane´ for a bit, and telling the story of how I lost all my gear and why I am riding with a backpack on.
In the morning, I left my gear in the trailer and rode ten kilometers along the coast to a small sea lion colony. It wasn´t a reserve, only a place where sea lions and seals happen to live. I was the only visitor. Also hilarious creatures to watch, they were lazily hanging out on the beach until I came along to take photos of them and rile them up. They would all as one blunder into the water, where they felt safe, leaving only a couple of extremely lazy, or fearless, ones on the beach. I think there were three different species, and they were snorting and standing up and playing in the water while I walked along the edge of the beach, where the sand meets the scrub brush. The are huge and obviously powerful creatures. I expect to see more outside of Camarones and at Peninsula Valdes.
I retrieved my gear, said goodbyes to Ilyana, Eduardo and Antonio, and headed out for Camarones. After thirty kilometers, I reached Estancia La Maciega, one of the oldet and biggest in the area. There, I happened to meet the 88 year old owner and former resident of the hundred year old estate. I also filled my water bottles there, and drank until I wasn´t thirsty anymore. I rode twenty more kilometers under a blazing sun, and stopped to eat the rest of my food: matambre, cheese, crackers, almonds, water. As I was stopped, two cars showed up, and I figured I would accept what was being offered: a ride in the back of an old truck. We loaded my bike in, and me and the dog sat in the covered bed of the pickup, as the cab was occupied by an older man, an older woman and a young guy with a boino hat (like a beret, it´s gauch gear) and a rifle, or some big gun like that. They were clearly not going to harm me, so I allowed myself to be ported the last twenty kilometers into town, and directly to the campsite. The campsite, like the one in Playa Union, seems to be better set up for RVs than campers, but it costs only 15 pesos and there´s a washing machine and showers.
All in all, a pretty awesome adventure! Unexpected, yes, and I´ve met and become indebted to another handful of people along the way. Today I am resting some in town, where there appear to be no other tourists. I will ride without gear to the Cabo Dos Bahias penguin and sea lion and seal reserve; as it is 28km away I can go and come back in one day without trouble. And tomorrow, I suppose, I will disassemble my bike for a bus ride north towards Peninsula Valdes, which will be my last stop before heading to Buenos Aires.
Sorry to be so long-winded, and to still lack photos, but for me, this is all very exciting. I am tiring of biking, especially as I am riding with a very weighty backpack tugging on my shoulders and waist. Soon enough, I feel, I will have earned the luxuries of a month in the city. I love and miss you all.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Rio Gallegos and Points North
Rio Gallegos wasn´t on my original itinerary, or on my revised itinerary, and now that I am here I understand why. It is a rather grim place, with lots of concrete, autopistas, trucks and a few slummy barrios. I am passing the day in a nice enough hostel, where there are several young Argentine men looking for and finding work. Tonight I leave on a bus for the town of Trelew.
To arrive here, I cycled 300km in two days, completing my first real American century (100 miles) from El Calafate to a wide spot in the road called La Esperanza, where I camped next to a gas station. The winds were at my back and at my right side for both days, and though it was better than encountering headwinds it was not always helpful. It was not exactly tranquilo, but I prefer to ride hard for two days and rest on the third than to ride slowly for three days. Eu sou assim, as we said in Portugal: I am like this, or I am that I am (this is the title of Peter Tosh song, so I like this translation better).
There is not much to do here in Rio Gallegos, and I am already ready to leave. I am feeling a bit nostalgic for Patagonia, as this is the southermost point I will reach on this journey. I have been lucky enough to develop bonds with people in El Chalten, and while I am reluctant to head north and away from Patagonia I am content with what I have done and what has been done for me to get here to where I am.
As far as cycling goes, I am not done, only shifting gears a bit. I will take the bus tonight to Trelew, where there is a Paleontology museum, and I hope to see the Dino exhibit tomorrow. Then I will be back on the bike riding past Rawson to the coast, where I will camp on the beach. There are two big penguin colonies to the south from here, and I am going to visit them before I ride back north to Puerto Madryn, Puerto Pyramides and Peninsula Valdes. And then, well, maybe I´ll be ready for the big city after that.
To arrive here, I cycled 300km in two days, completing my first real American century (100 miles) from El Calafate to a wide spot in the road called La Esperanza, where I camped next to a gas station. The winds were at my back and at my right side for both days, and though it was better than encountering headwinds it was not always helpful. It was not exactly tranquilo, but I prefer to ride hard for two days and rest on the third than to ride slowly for three days. Eu sou assim, as we said in Portugal: I am like this, or I am that I am (this is the title of Peter Tosh song, so I like this translation better).
There is not much to do here in Rio Gallegos, and I am already ready to leave. I am feeling a bit nostalgic for Patagonia, as this is the southermost point I will reach on this journey. I have been lucky enough to develop bonds with people in El Chalten, and while I am reluctant to head north and away from Patagonia I am content with what I have done and what has been done for me to get here to where I am.
As far as cycling goes, I am not done, only shifting gears a bit. I will take the bus tonight to Trelew, where there is a Paleontology museum, and I hope to see the Dino exhibit tomorrow. Then I will be back on the bike riding past Rawson to the coast, where I will camp on the beach. There are two big penguin colonies to the south from here, and I am going to visit them before I ride back north to Puerto Madryn, Puerto Pyramides and Peninsula Valdes. And then, well, maybe I´ll be ready for the big city after that.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Ventisquero Perito Moreno
I visited the glacier. Sure, put a check mark next to that great destination for me. But, here´s the experience: I pedaled the eighty kilometers from El Calafate, a route that many cyclists prefer to rent a car for, or hop in a bus, because you go out and back on the same route. I, being stubborn, battled the fiercest winds I have ever encountered in order to enter the park at night, traveling in near silence under a full moon. It was spectacular. There was a trickle of rain as I entered the park, and so I wrapped my gear in the scraps of a torn poncho I got from the hostel in El Chalten. It was strangely warm, so I slept outside by one of the many streams without pitching a tent. I had to work very hard for the experience, but I arrived at the glacier near 8am, and was in the company of only a few other spectators.
The wind was really something. I never knew winds like this could ever exist, but with the adoption of a certain inward stare and indifference to the world around I managed to stay on my bicycle and keep crawling along until the road turned south. At one point, I walked. Yep, maybe the first time since Bariloche, I walked, because I could not handle the work to progress ratio, and I had come more than 100km already that day. I was beat, and so I walked.
As well as the strength of the wind, the sound is really unbearable. I say it as if I have faced it for days on end, but even for only a few hours, having to constantly hear the roar of passing wind is quite disruptive to the experience. Other than the wind, the land hardly speaks. I read it in a book somewhere, that traveling Argentine Patagonia is like chasing the horizon. It is flat and large. The horizon always seems to be uphill from where I am also. At times, people like me just have to see for ourselves, disregarding the conveyances of other people. Maybe it will be different for me, I think...
On the route back to town, where I´ve stayed two nights, I noticed that the roadway is littered with carcasses. Cows, sheep, birds, hedgehogs, maybe a guanaco, rabbits, a fox, all sorts of things. I found two more cow horns but threw them back. I have to carry everything, and they didn´t hold the same weight as the one that I, fortunately, still have with me.
Today I am heading south east, on a paved road towards Esperanza and then Rio Gallegos, a big industrial town from where I will hop on a bus and head a long way north. Change of plans, and maybe they will change again, but I am thinking I will take the bus all the way to Puerto Madryn, rather than cycle the route. I feeling a bit tired of this, wanting rather to be among friends, or making friends. And also, with the change of gear, I have to ride with a backpack on my back, and it´s not very comfortable. So, I´ll probobly get on a bus. Ciao.
The wind was really something. I never knew winds like this could ever exist, but with the adoption of a certain inward stare and indifference to the world around I managed to stay on my bicycle and keep crawling along until the road turned south. At one point, I walked. Yep, maybe the first time since Bariloche, I walked, because I could not handle the work to progress ratio, and I had come more than 100km already that day. I was beat, and so I walked.
As well as the strength of the wind, the sound is really unbearable. I say it as if I have faced it for days on end, but even for only a few hours, having to constantly hear the roar of passing wind is quite disruptive to the experience. Other than the wind, the land hardly speaks. I read it in a book somewhere, that traveling Argentine Patagonia is like chasing the horizon. It is flat and large. The horizon always seems to be uphill from where I am also. At times, people like me just have to see for ourselves, disregarding the conveyances of other people. Maybe it will be different for me, I think...
On the route back to town, where I´ve stayed two nights, I noticed that the roadway is littered with carcasses. Cows, sheep, birds, hedgehogs, maybe a guanaco, rabbits, a fox, all sorts of things. I found two more cow horns but threw them back. I have to carry everything, and they didn´t hold the same weight as the one that I, fortunately, still have with me.
Today I am heading south east, on a paved road towards Esperanza and then Rio Gallegos, a big industrial town from where I will hop on a bus and head a long way north. Change of plans, and maybe they will change again, but I am thinking I will take the bus all the way to Puerto Madryn, rather than cycle the route. I feeling a bit tired of this, wanting rather to be among friends, or making friends. And also, with the change of gear, I have to ride with a backpack on my back, and it´s not very comfortable. So, I´ll probobly get on a bus. Ciao.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Leaving El Chalten
My mom joked with me that 'Stillness' is an appropriate title for my blog, and I've probobly lost most of my audience in the last weeks of inactivity. I'm in danger of being wiped off the bookmarks page.
The truth is, I've been living quite thrifty the last three weeks, for I lost my backpack. Yep, just about all of it: tent, sleeping bag, cookpot, cherished copy of Moby Dick, moleskine journal, passport, clothes... just about everything that had enabled me to live autonomously, buying only food, cooking fuel and the occasional hour on the internet. I have had to change my pace quite a bit. Since the event, which I would rather not recount in full detail, as there is certainly a fair amount of culpability and excess of faith on my part involved, I have been working and getting to know many people in this beautiful town that sits at the base of Mount Fitz-Roy and Cerro Torre, two world-class mountaineering destinations.
I've been living in a refugio/hostel, where much of the time I have been the only guest of Jesus and Natalie, who have two sons with red red red hair, and are expecting a third maybe next week. It has been an amazing experience, listening to the music of Jesus' band Siete Venas, drinking mate, listening to them banter at the dinner table. I have had to pay for it, and for many new clothes and for my food, by working during the days. I have been employed in one fashion or another just about every day for more than two weeks: mostly I am fixing bicycles, and as there are no bicycle mechaincs here and I still have my toolkit, I fixed maybe fifteen bikes in town. I'm not making much money, but enough to pay for the hostel and my food. I was also employed for six or seven days building a wire fence, installing posts for the fence, and then painting the underside of a wooden roof to protect it from the fierce winds.
All the while, I have been waiting for a dear friend I met along the way to send me a tent and sleeping bag and some clothes from his house in Cordoba. Thank goodness for friends! Many people have really helped me during my time here, and I now have several good friends who live here. Part of the triple bottom line we talked about at the CCC, in a way.
I have all that I need to continue my journey, and though it has changed quite a bit, I am excited to continue. I cannot go to Chile and the Torres del Paine, but I can visit the Perito Moreno Glacier, for which I am setting out today. After that, I am heading east towards the coast, to try to ride to Buenos Aires. I don't know if I will make it all the way, but there are buses and it is safe to hitchhike, I am told, so I will have options. And, at least, an adventure.
For all those of you who have been worrying about me and my whereabouts, I apologize for my negligence in communication. If you have experienced the frustrations of computers in Argentina, you can understand that this has not been at the top of my concerns. Thanks to everybody who has helped me through this difficult time. Your patience and love is greatly appreciated. I'm still soaring, though I crash landed back to earth for a moment.
The truth is, I've been living quite thrifty the last three weeks, for I lost my backpack. Yep, just about all of it: tent, sleeping bag, cookpot, cherished copy of Moby Dick, moleskine journal, passport, clothes... just about everything that had enabled me to live autonomously, buying only food, cooking fuel and the occasional hour on the internet. I have had to change my pace quite a bit. Since the event, which I would rather not recount in full detail, as there is certainly a fair amount of culpability and excess of faith on my part involved, I have been working and getting to know many people in this beautiful town that sits at the base of Mount Fitz-Roy and Cerro Torre, two world-class mountaineering destinations.
I've been living in a refugio/hostel, where much of the time I have been the only guest of Jesus and Natalie, who have two sons with red red red hair, and are expecting a third maybe next week. It has been an amazing experience, listening to the music of Jesus' band Siete Venas, drinking mate, listening to them banter at the dinner table. I have had to pay for it, and for many new clothes and for my food, by working during the days. I have been employed in one fashion or another just about every day for more than two weeks: mostly I am fixing bicycles, and as there are no bicycle mechaincs here and I still have my toolkit, I fixed maybe fifteen bikes in town. I'm not making much money, but enough to pay for the hostel and my food. I was also employed for six or seven days building a wire fence, installing posts for the fence, and then painting the underside of a wooden roof to protect it from the fierce winds.
All the while, I have been waiting for a dear friend I met along the way to send me a tent and sleeping bag and some clothes from his house in Cordoba. Thank goodness for friends! Many people have really helped me during my time here, and I now have several good friends who live here. Part of the triple bottom line we talked about at the CCC, in a way.
I have all that I need to continue my journey, and though it has changed quite a bit, I am excited to continue. I cannot go to Chile and the Torres del Paine, but I can visit the Perito Moreno Glacier, for which I am setting out today. After that, I am heading east towards the coast, to try to ride to Buenos Aires. I don't know if I will make it all the way, but there are buses and it is safe to hitchhike, I am told, so I will have options. And, at least, an adventure.
For all those of you who have been worrying about me and my whereabouts, I apologize for my negligence in communication. If you have experienced the frustrations of computers in Argentina, you can understand that this has not been at the top of my concerns. Thanks to everybody who has helped me through this difficult time. Your patience and love is greatly appreciated. I'm still soaring, though I crash landed back to earth for a moment.
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