| Ricardo
and Matu were already up and deep in conversation
when we eventually ‘slithered’ out
of bed it was already 10:30am and last night we’d
hoped to already be on the road by this time,
that may have been overly optimistic? With our
bags stuffed and tank bags squeezed closed, we
headed for the elevator and the sub-basement 2
to find the bikes it was already 1:00 pm. Ricardo
and Matu were already downstairs waiting to see
us off. Inside the cavernous concrete walls of
the basement parking the engines grumbled to life,
Lisa and I exchanged glances and smiled contentedly.
Shortly after and with our thanks given to new
friends we waived adios to Ricardo and Matu, well
for a little while at least and edged carefully
out onto the slippery wet cobblestone street before
jumping onto Corrientes Ave. Marco had given us
easy directions that would get us easily to the
Panamericana highway,…hah’ that sounds
so cool! Marco’s directions were spot on
and right on cue there was the small arrowed sign
he’d promised ‘I-Panamericana’,
unfortunately we weren’t paying attention
and so drove right by it, Duh! A quick U-turn
would resolve that little hic-cup. The I-Panamericana
was smooth and easy but we’ weren’t
going to be using her for long and about ½
hour later found ourselves on the I-9. The countryside
is so different to what we’ve become used
to. Parts look strangely European, but the area
has a gritty undertone, quit distinct. The dilapidated
but massive Chevrolet pick-up’s belching
exhaust smoke punctuate the fact.
We were looking for the I-12 North, which would
take us past Zarate, over the Rio Parana and North
parallel with the Rio Uruguay, where we’d
swap it for the I-14. We were aiming to stop somewhere
around the ‘Parque Nacional El Palmar’,
that may have been a little overly optimistic.
Our late start meant that there was a strong likelihood
that we’d been putting up our tent in the
dark. The Police check point ahead and the green
uniformed arm waving nonchalantly but firmly wasn’t
going to help. “Passaporté y documentario”
he asked firmly. He wasn’t a ‘happy
chappy’, the darting, suspicious glances
we were being shot were meant to intimidate…it
wasn’t working. Lisa & I were thinking
the same (a little smugly) ‘we’ve
been stopped and intimidated by Russian Police,
Mauritanian Army (skirting the Sahara) and a few
other in between, by comparison this guy was the
‘Andrex puppy’. We’d been here
now for 20 minutes and 3 of his colleagues had
joined him, eventually he’d asked for our
insurance. We were about to see if the fake Insurance
card I’d had made and laminated was up to
the job. The card was passed around, inspected
more closely than was comfortable and then accepted.
Great! With our documentation stuffed back into
pockets we were soon on our way. This had been
the first of our three checkpoints. We were With
the dark clouds threatening rain and the sun sinking
fast, there was no way we were going to reach
‘Parque Nacional El Palmar’ in daylight.
In fact by 6:00pm we’d decided we weren’t
going to make it at all and that we’d start
looking for camping. ‘La Aldea camping’
had been sign posted for the last few Kilometres
and so following the large green hand painted
sign we turned right off the ‘14’and
onto the dirt track. The Sun had almost completely
gone. 15 minutes later it was pitch black and
we were still on the track following the small
signs to La Aldea. Like all nigh time tracks this
one seemed to be endless and the ruts carved out
by passing trucks that’d used the track
in the wet were getting deeper and more unpredictable.
The additional lights that Alf (in Cape Town)
had fixed up for Lisa’s F650GS were working
‘brilliantly’, sorry for the pun.
The snaking track eventually straightened out
and the large archway painted with ‘La Aldea’
confirmed we arrived, we just weren’t sure
where ‘here’ was.
The noise from the bikes had brought out one of
the young guys from the only illuminated building
we could see. The rows of tall lined trees we
could make out marked the camping boundaries.
With hellos exchanged we were led to a long barn
housing 10 old tresseled tables. Our guide explained
we could park the bikes inside if we wanted; La
Aldea had no other guest. 15 minutes later and
we joined him in the site restaurant; he’d
offered to open it up. It was an offer we weren’t
going to refuse; besides we were undecided as
to wetter to put up the tent or to just lay out
our old tarpaulin and sleep in the old barn we’d
seen earlier. The pasta Bolognese warm hot and
tasty. The guy man returned as we were finishing
and spoke rapidly to Lisa, but I’d pick
up “Cabaños, este nocha and Gratis”.
Lisa was looking at me with a delighted grin.
“Did I just understand him correctly “,
I asked Lisa. Lisa grin was still in place. “Bloody
hell”, her exclamation had confirmed what
I’d thought I’d heard. We weren’t
camping, the young guy had been on the phone to
the owner (a Motorbike and Africa Twin fan) and
he been told to give us a cabin free for the night.
20 minutes later we were unpacked, undressed and
cosied up inside a log cabin on the edge of the
Rio Uruguay. The relief, excitement and anticipation
to be back on the road is absolutely wonderful.
We’ve missed this.
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