Patagonia Unplugged

Wind, long stretches without water and heavy truck traffic made biking Ruta 3 up the Atantic coast too much of a challenge. My first stop was at Puerto San Julian. Magellan, Drake and Darwin all touched shore here. This little town would be perfect, with it´s speedbumps instead of traffic lights and a main street of single story bungalows. But, by midday I had to shelter in my tent from the gale force winds. Rose at 3.30am to get fifty km in by noon. At times I was pushing the bike downhill. Whirlygigs of dust rose vertically in the distance and then shot across the landscape horizontally. Suddenly the bike and I were lifted off the road and carried in the air, like plastic garbage, and dumped twelve feet away in a mangled heap. I hitched a ride in a Ford Ranger. The speedometer held steady at 140km until the next town 4 hours away. Bus ride a few hundred km north To Trelew. I´d lost track of the date. The explosions started early evening and between midnight and 2am on Christmas Day there was a heavy fireworks bombandment on all sides. The campsite the next morning was covered in a low cloud of smoke from the grills roasting slaps of beef. Smell of burning flesh filled the air. Next stop was Puerto Madryn, more wind, dust and a monster cruise ship tied to the pier. Ride the bus to Buenos Aires and then biked south to the perfect hidaway in the sun. Chascomus is a former cowtown with cobble streets and a ramshackle 1950s look and feel. Best of all the temps are in the high 20s, the vegation green and almost sub tropical and no wind.