9/28/12
In Rolante, heading towards Riozinho. I did not expect to suddently be riding on a steep dirt road up a mountain shortly thereafter, nor did my right knee.
I made it 55
kilometers today, then turned back due to a) lack of daylight (I had three
hours of daylight—exactly 3, as it is pitch black at 6 p.m.). This isn’t a
problem in Colorado,
where one can ride at night with good lights, and then just camp somewhere. But
where I was, I had b) a dense jungle foliage that was impenetrable on either
side of the road. I had just seen a large iguana earlier, and I knew nothing
about jungle camping and had spoken to no locals about camping in these parts.I want to be prepared and then be brave when something goes wrong, but I also
don’t want to be stupid. C) The pavement ended when I didn’t expect it to end.
The road became a decent dirt and packed gravel road with little washboard but
some good potholes. The road grew very steep and I found myself going 4-5 mph.
Climbing out of Riozinho. To steep, too early. Knees were unhappy.
Should have read my map more closely. It clearly said this road was unpaved. I also should have realized this went through a small mountain range to the ocean.
Exceptionally beautiful riding. I will attack similar dirt roads later.
D) The knees weren’t adjusting properly. I was pushing them too hard, and the right one began to be bothersome. Too early in the trip for knee pains. As I was just about to approach a plantation home to ask if I was on the correct road (my map clearly indicated, to my chagrin, that this section of the road was unpaved; it wasn’t a topographic map, and I thought the route to the see was totally flat) a man on a mountain bike came by and I flagged him down.
He told me the road was beautiful and great riding, but was tough work even on a mountain bike without bags. We both doubted the remaining 44km was a good idea at 3:00 p.m.. I kicked myself for being so unprepared.
D) The knees weren’t adjusting properly. I was pushing them too hard, and the right one began to be bothersome. Too early in the trip for knee pains. As I was just about to approach a plantation home to ask if I was on the correct road (my map clearly indicated, to my chagrin, that this section of the road was unpaved; it wasn’t a topographic map, and I thought the route to the see was totally flat) a man on a mountain bike came by and I flagged him down.
He told me the road was beautiful and great riding, but was tough work even on a mountain bike without bags. We both doubted the remaining 44km was a good idea at 3:00 p.m.. I kicked myself for being so unprepared.
Had I begun at
9, I might have made it. But it was bewildering to suddenly be in such remote forest. Even at that moment, I might
have made it, because I had done, according to this man, a lot of the climbing.
But I thought this was an easy ride to the coast. I thought I would begin easy
and then let things get hard. I like to prepare the knees for the hard stuff by
doing the easy stuff first. I had rested my legs too much since the ride in Colorado and had partied
too much between the end of the bike trip in Colorado and my departure (some good partying, though, that wedding).
It was tough to
turn the bike around but I rode with this man—his name slips me, but he is from
Novo Hamburgo and his accent is familiar to Raphael’s accent—and we chatted and
then he eventually accelerated ahead. Once I hit the pavement, I began to take
the switchbacks fast, and soon I was doubling back and getting cheers from the
same people. The grocery was finally open, apparently being closed during
lunch, and I bought some sausage, milk, papaya, a can of feijoada, tuna, and
sardines, thinking I might not have another grocery until I slept for the
night. I had decided to hit St. Antonio da
Patrulha, but with 2 hours and 27k to go, I didn’t think the knees could take
it if I hit climbing. I then decided to go to the next town for a hotel, even
though it would know me 10km off course in the morning. I made it 2km before I
realized there was a camp site outside of Rolante, and it would be the perfect
starting point in the morning. I pedaled 2k down a rocky dirt road and I asked
a nearby family where I should register, and they told me that with my bike it
made no sense to pay. Just go and camp, they said.
The affair is on
a river and there are shacks set up with tents inside for the motorists, who
have to pay $R3 for the night or $R5 for the day. I said good evening to the
people at the site but they ignored me. I picked a spot by the river, put my
valuables inside my tent, and had my knife with me. I ate my canned food and
granola, drank a large beer, read some Portuguese and Von Mises.
Awoke slightly
before 6 to the sounds of sheep and chickens and the river. Made my café de
manha in my tent—a bag of powdered coffee, water from my waterbag, and one
waterbottle. Used the flush toilet in the wooden shack and expected the
shower—with a water vestibule on the roof—to be cold, but to my surprise there
was a heating mechanism. I had washed with a cloth a very little water last
night, but decided to experiment with the shower anyway.
The riding yesterday was tough on the bike—much dirt, grime, and agitation to the bike gear and bags. I have learned about the dirt roads and now I know. If I must use them to get where I am going, I will manage and be prepared. But for my long journey it is stupid to ride them unless I must or unless the view is incredibly spectacular. I must also care for my knees. The knee warmers go on this morning, despite how stupid the look. Off to ride now.
9/30/12 7:30
p.m. (and considerations on the North later at 10/1/12 8:00 a.m.)
I had a tough
ride today. The right knee began to experience pain on the inside hinge. I ran
into a cyclist, Silvio, who knows of Ned Overland because the two are the same
age. And it was just at the point I wanted to throw in the towel and rest for
the night. We rode together for 10km and we spoke of cycling and Brasil and he
told me I must ride in Chile,
so I will thus ride in Chile.
Silvio on the right. Ned Overland's age (early 50s). He told me to ride in Chile.
I need maps with
at least as much detail as 1:1,000,000. Some of my pages have this detail,
some have half this detail, others much worse. But it was a good beginning purchase,
and there was no way I could have known that I required more detail. If I am to
attack the dirt roads, I must get greater detail. My maps are the least
detailed in the Northern regions, with the assumption that drivers won’t go
there anyway, or would just fly or take buses. But if I decide to tackle these
areas, I must obtain detailed maps.
Other
considerations on the northern areas:
Most of the
roads are dirt, and the condition of the dirt roads may not be very good.
Accordingly, a mountain bike may be of better use. While disk brakes are great
for mud and other poor conditions, v-brakes and cantilever brakes require less
maintenance and are easier to repair on the road. I know that Dennis Coelho
toured on mountain bikes, so it is possible to obtain racks.
It would be very
advantageous to travel very lightly on dirt roads under these conditions.
However, it is very unlikely I would encounter accommodations under these
conditions. Ideally, I would not carry a tent or sleeping bag, but instead
approach homes each night and sleep there.
I would need to
have a water filter. I had mistakenly given my water filter to a fellow cyclist
in Salida when she convinced me that it was unnecessary. I agreed that it was
unnecessary in areas of Brasil where bottled and tap water is available, but in
the north it will be necessary. I can buy a water filter later on. But this
leaves a question: would I offend someone if I use a water filter when they
drink unfiltered water?
It seems
premature at this point to worry about the conditions of the North, but it does
well to plant a seed for these considerations and discuss further these matters
as I make my way North.
I rode until Terra
de Areia. I don’t think anyone cares about my fucked up right knee. I’m
embarrassed about the pain, especially when the music outside is hot, fireworks
are exploding, and there is a good story outside. But I am exhausted and it is 8:05 and the local political party (PT) is having a
party 100 meters from me.
I’m tired and my
knee hurts and this place is $R29 per night. I showered and washed my
clothes and left my bicycle downstairs with the host, who indicated he would
guard the bicycle. I had some beer, cachaca, and a chicken thigh for dinner. The host of the hotel invited me to
watch t.v. near my room by inserting a plastic chair in my door but I wasn’t in
the mood to watch T.V. with him. Large, local political
demonstrations occurred in the main sqaure, consisting of 46 cars and trucks
displaying signs, playing music, shooting fireworks from the window, and honking. One party dominates here. They
typically win by a large percentage. An afterparty ensued nearby, but I don’t
know if I can take it, even though I want to cause trouble. My right knee is
very problematic at the moment, and I don’t want to risk the knee with a night
of partying. Or do I? Shit, tough call. (I went to sleep.)
10/1/12 8:20
a.m.
It rained hard
last night and I assumed the rain would be temporary and would pass, but alas
the rains continues and falls hard and cold. The main detriment of rain is its
attack on the bearings of the front and rear hubs, extreme wear of the chain (the lube comes off and he grit works its way deep into the chain) and, to lesser extent, the
bottom bracket. Yesterday was dry—I wonder how much rain I will encounter going
forward.
The right knee
provided excruciating pain at the end of the day, so much so that I considered
turning back not far after my stopping in Osorio when I filled my water bottle
with milk (a good way to carry weight and feed oneself; I use the water bottle
for coffee later for the acidity of the coffee to clean the water bottle).
So, at the
moment, I sit in my room as the rain proceeds outside. This would be an
excellent opportunity to rest the knee: avoid the rain, allow for recovery, and
perhaps find some better maps later.
The ride from
the campground outside of Rolante to the town of Sto. Antonio do Patrulha was verdant and
hilly with painted wooden farm homes and large grassy pastures in the hills in
which roamed horses, sheep, and large healthy cows. Palm trees moved in the
wind and pines stood still and watchful in the background. I stopped and took
photos on the way, and I wonder if this stopping and starting contributed to
the knee pain, as once I get going and keep going, the pain seems to be
manageable.
I arrived at a
loja in Antonio do Patrulha and purchased a lage avocado (3 times the size of
those in the U.S.),
a papaya (mamao), milk, linguica, granola, and two 1.5 liter bottles of water.
It was difficult finding space to put the items, and I was able to use the
front panniers, the handlebar bag, as well as the rear panniers. The two
t-shirts and the thermal shirt are seldom used and take up room.
I then
withdrew money at an ATM in a bank, road out of town, and ate lunch on a bus
bench.
The climbing was
hilly and sunny but slow and I believe the knee began to show signs of weakness
at this point.
3:12 p.m.
We’ll see about the right knee tomorrow, but I’m not optimistic. The last time I remember such
an acute knee pain, I had to take off over a week. And since at the time I had
no car, I remember I had to remove a crank arm to pedal with one leg. 320km to Florianopolis, an island.
With a healthy body, I could do this in 3 days. But with a bum knee, it will be
tough going. It’s not bad here at all in this city or in this hotel. The light
blue pastel walls are worn and slightly dirty but that’s the way my own home
would be if I had one here in Brasil: tile floors, some wood, a good roof, and
friends that come over all he time for erva mate.
Teo, the day
manager of the hotel, in Terra de Areia—the hotel has no name, and it’s the
only hotel in town—spoke to me for about 30 minutes this morning as he watched
me clean my chain, pump my tires, and put my bags on my bike. He warmed to me
this morning, and I don’t blame him for thinking I was slightly weird earlier.
What was I doing in this non-touristed town? Why did I spend 2 nights (I was
rained out on Monday (full day of heavy rain, which ruins the bike and makes
for miserable riding) and had planned on resting my right knee anyway). The
hotel was very cool and simple—wood floors, plaster walls, pastel blue paint, a
great bar next door, a market down the street, and cheap. The
room may have been updated in the 50s, but it was perfect, and the two managers
kept my bike safe, kept me company, and were very gracious.
Teo asked me if I was religious—I’m always looking for God—and he gave me a medallion of St. Christopher, the saint my grandfather always carried when he traveled. He gave me a hug and told me to go with God. It was the blessing that I needed, and this necklace stays on my neck. Man, what blessings: the chimarrão I drink in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening, for the solitary cyclist, and the medal of St. Christopher.
Teo asked me if I was religious—I’m always looking for God—and he gave me a medallion of St. Christopher, the saint my grandfather always carried when he traveled. He gave me a hug and told me to go with God. It was the blessing that I needed, and this necklace stays on my neck. Man, what blessings: the chimarrão I drink in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening, for the solitary cyclist, and the medal of St. Christopher.
The ride to Araranguá was uneventful. To the East, the Atlantic Ocean fed lagoons abutted by huge green fields in which oxen, cows, and horses grazed. To the West, the Serra Geral, Serra do Rastro, and Serra do Rio mountain ranges revealed their peaks, dotted with pines, banana plants, palms, and farm houses. There was a more traditional life on today’s stretch of 101. Horses, oxen, and cows are in most yards and graze everywhere. Homes made from simple stone and wood juxtapose in contrast to modern high end fashion advertising. Many tire repair shops line the road for truck drivers.
