AT

Riding a bicycle in the Argentinian Patagonia can be adventurous, amazing and many things more, but to me it is monotonous and tedious. The Patagonia is enormous, and one can hardly begin to understand its breadth, width and mystique unless you’re in the midst of it. Maps are a double edged sword for the intrepid adventurer because the scaled distance goads one forth, yet scoffs at the reality of the space involved.

I remember an anecdote of an Indian who knew the true length of his land, how it stretched from this river to that place and so forth because he had walked the distance many times. Eventually he came across a map of the land and found it deceitful, infuriating! There was no way one could match the distance of the horizon to the boundary of a bit of parchment.

And riding through hundreds of kilometers by bicycle and by bus, I came to the same conclusion. There is literally nothing but an immensity of land— arid steppe covered in stunted bush growth, guanacos and sheep. Along the Ruta 40, which is partly paved and largely empty, the spinal cord of the Andes can be glimpsed breaking the skyline to the west. But the only company you can expect is the howling wind etching a primordial feel to the land. I wonder if the landscape has changed a considerable amount since man began walking on it, circa 10,000 BC.

I had found myself in a bit of a pinch once I reached San Sebastian, despite the elation of reaching my destination after hours of headwinds and primitive desolation. The one thing that could stop me from enjoying my delicious choripan (a chorizo sandwich) was the trouble of knowing I had no food, no money or enough water to take me across 200km. There was only desert-like steppe between the Chile-Argentina border and the ferry taking me into the mainland… how was I going to resolve this issue? Hitchhiking! I was lucky to find someone straight away who would take me to Rio Grande, 250km away. Once I got there, I found out that there was a bus to El Calafate leaving in 45 minutes and from there a connection to San Carlos de Bariloche all in succession. I did not have to think hard about what to do, and was very much relieved to be leaving the wind-swept, monotonous plains for warmer weather up north.

I am saddened that I have neither the time or money to stay longer in Bariloche to see the richness of its forests or absorb its idyllic setting in the mountains. But despite the money I spend on buses and the short time I spend observing the country, I am glad that after arriving at Santa Rosa tomorrow I will be days away on bicycle from arriving to Cordoba. And after another bus ride, I will arrive at Asuncion, Paraguay where an extensive family awaits for Christmas together. I will have plenty of time to enjoy the culture and scenery in Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia and so on once the time comes.