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.