Entry #13:

I am still playing catch up on the postings due to very poor email conditions through this remote part of Patagonia, Rio Mayo does not have broadband yet!

9th February Baja Caracoles

The wind is still blowing and by now whenever it is anywhere but behind, it is to be cursed. Leaving Caracoles we were straight onto the ripio to Cuevo de Los Manos Pintadas. The road climbed and twisted and all the cars boiled at intervals because the wind was behind us, yet another reason to curse it from any quarter. The road was pretty appalling and the chummy struggled with the conditions, being hot and bothered by steering problems. Vince changed cars to drive the chummy and was unhappy with how it was handling.

We descended the steep road into the valley and arrived at the site administration buildings and booked in for the tour

The gorge was inhabited by people who hunted guanaco for meat and skins. They lived or subsisted in the cave or overhang of rock, formed by water action when the valley was scoured by a river. The remnants of this stream flow through the valley bottom and provide grazing and shelter for animals still. The walls and overhead are decorated with 829 painted hands, most are male and only 31 are right handed. They are all negatives and were made by placing the hand against the rock and blowing pigments through a reed or tube of some kind. Interspersed with the hands are outlines of puma paws and rhea prints as well as decorative patterns and ‘ways’ or maps. The other principle figures are guanaco, often in herds and mostly pregnant.

The first prints were made here in 9300 BC, later groups used more geometric shapes and symbols as late as 1300AD

The paintings are made from many different pigments, the berries of calafate bushes for instance and may represent rites of passage or religious beliefs and have significant numbers of pregnant guanaco, which may depict semi-domesticated herds. The paintings have survived remarkably, in part due to a coating of guanaco fat and urine applied to create a waterproof coating.

Looking down into the valley it was possible to imagine a pastoral existence, protected by the rock at back, with height to both oversee herds and detect danger from afar. Water and wood on hand and some protection from the weather above, this might have been a good base from which to scratch an existence in an otherwise harsh environment.

After a stiff climb back to the car park and refreshment it was decided to take advantage of the flat concrete surface and deal with the chummy steering problem. It was stripped and subjected to severe rearrangement of its principle parts. The eventual culprit was determined to be insufficient castor angle and with some gentle blows and persuasion with a wrench, these were reset and the car put back on its wheels.

Now the cars faced a stiff climb out of the valley, over ripio and in the mid afternoon we drew up beside the ironically named Parador ”El Chatto”. The owner, an impoverished estancia owner of 10,000 hectares, was able to produce coffee, tea and biscuits from his store of provisions. The isolation of this Parador, beggared belief at the enterprise. Probably 25 miles from any habitation it had fewer than 30 people a day passing from which to draw custom!

Having retraced our steps to The 40, the next 70 miles were mainly ripio and after a gentle beginning, became really tough going. The road was under reconstruction and will eventually remove many of the steep and treacherous climbs and turns we faced.

We passed through an area of watercourses, where the earth, exposed in may places, without much vegetation of any kind, bright with reds and orange hues. The moonscape surface is the location of one of the richest fossil beds in Argentina. It was rather disconcerting to drive through however and made one feel out of place. Late into the evening we got onto paved road again and sped the remaining few miles to Estancia Telken where we hoped to find rooms for the night. The chummy steering was now light and positive, much improved by its adjustment.

We arrived to find the owners absent and a couple waiting to take up their room. River and I launched into cooking our evening meal and in case things did not work out the rest of the team erected tents and made ready to camp. The owners eventually returned and were able to supply some additions to our planned meal, including some excellent red wine.

10th February Estancia Telken

A peaceful night, on the chill side for some, we rose early and broke camp, enjoyed breakfast in the house and heard about the eruption of the Chilean Volcano Hudson in 1991 that devastated large areas of Patagonia and forever changed the face of farming in those parts. Many Estancias were abandoned as millions of sheep died with the grass covered by up to a metre of ash. Town streets had to be cleared and lakes had a 500 mm crust of pumice that turned them grey when it sank. Gradually the rivers returned to normal and the wind dispersed the ash, but for farming it was too late, with no compensation they never recovered.

Back on The 40 we finished the 30Kms into Perito Moreno with a quick stop for fruit and rolls to see us through the day. Vince and I got out of the car to be gathered into a whirlwind of a greeting by a woman, who though she spoke no English, made it clear that our car was enchanting and we such adventurers to be travelling through Argentina in such cars. After embracing us she invited everyone on the street to come and see who was here in their town with English cars. Within seconds cameras were produced and hands shaken, applauded and congratulated we sought shelter in the supermercado somewhat taken aback by the effusiveness of the welcome. The open welcome and pleasure we have witnessed throughout Argentina has been such a pleasant experience.

We escaped to the sanctuary of The 40 and embarked on what proved to be the single worst section of 125Kms to Rio Mayo.

HALFTIME SCORE:

RIPIO 2 – AUSTINS NIL

Broad and relatively level, the road stretched ahead, after a couple of miles we had begun to pick up speed when, without warning ‘Rusty’ bit the ripio, scrunching to a halt in the deep and unforgiving surface. Opening the driver’s door Vince said in a flat voice the axle must be broken. Climbing out we found to our open mouthed astonishment that our offside king pin was out of the top of the hub and the wheel tucked up under the wing.

Exactly the same situation obtained now as had occurred with the chummy, except that we now had no spare king pin cap and were not lucky enough to find the thrust washer. The system of repair was familiar however and we set too. Unloading the contents of the car to the side of the road, fishing out the spares and tools and putting it all back together. Strangely, whilst searching in the stones River picked up a very thin washer of exactly the correct outside and inside dimensions and this, with a washer from the spares, made up the necessary thickness to fill the gap! Spooky was the feeling.

Whilst the repair was underway, passing motorists made the usual enquiries and a message was sent forward to ‘Crusty & Dusty’ “broken down but help not needed”. We received an answer within the hour “standing by”. Later we sent another message “under way again, will catch up” The 40 telegraph certainly worked. A long distance bus also stopped and nearly everyone got off to watch the fun, we had to tell them this was not part of the organised tour and Vince took off his cap and went round for alms, without success.

When complete we started again and ground our way forward, the road being very tough on car and drivers alike, both the dust and the jolting progress. When a short distance allowed we would reach the dizzying speed of 20kph only to be reduced within metres to 2^nd gear crawl, as the going got bad again.

Late in the afternoon we hit a large rock with the nearside tyre and the shock reverberated through the car. The incident was to figure late in the day. A total of 101 miles for the day, of which 62 were the worst ripio we had encountered. We limped into Rio Mayo, the dusty unmade streets and broken pavements a testament to the poverty of the economy in these parts.

FINAL SCORE:

RIPIO 3 – AUSTINS NIL

We unloaded our bags and washed off the dust, Vince went out to top up the oil and have a look round the car. The result was the discovery that the front spring was broken just outboard of the centre U-bolt. Rehashing our plans we elected for a rest day and planned the replacement, from the spare carried on ‘Cru sty’s’ front bumper.

11th February, Rio Mayo

Finding a quiet spot behind the hotel ’Rusty’ was soon relieved of its front end.

A quick recce of the town had revelled a workshop that might be able to supply heat and basic facilities. With the old and new springs Vince went to the garage and the situation was soon understood. The proprietor, a man who had obviously spent a lifetime repairing things in his workshop, was extremely helpful and had almost everything needed to sort the problem. He and Vince worked together, no language other than engineering needed to deal with the issues.

The repair complete we walked back to the car and by midday the component parts were refitted.

Excitement over for the day the cars received a little TLC and all were examined for king pin tightness. We recovered our composure a little and enjoyed the surroundings of the hotel and its rather faded glory.

We have some considerable mileage to cover and are beginning to believe the ripio stories. Will there be enough rubber left on the tyres, will more kingpins show their weakness?