Cruising the Coast

The bike rental place I’m looking for is an empty shop, out of business. LP promises that the waterfront is full of bike rental shops, and I have plenty of opportunities to rent a car, but not a bike. I go down the beach a bit further and find a gear rental shop with working bikes. I procure efectivo and comida and I start pedaling to Punta Loma.

My first stop is Ecocentro, a multimedia marine information center, that is full of beautiful displays. The modern and clean bathroom alone makes me happy. I browse the displays and climb the stairs to a tower overlooking the ocean. There’s a library along the wall in case one wants to hang out there for a few hours which wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I continue down a wide, sandy road, never getting deep enough to bog me down. I reach Punta Loma, a popular sea lion viewing point, and the attendant tracks me down to greet me and collect 10 pesos, but I decide to move on. I soon reach an impasse. Large dunes eclipsing 100 feet hem me onto the coast and the road peters out in some smaller dunes. I scamper up a road on a larger dune barely keeping my footing on the steeply pitched pebbles and sand. I’m not sure who in their right mind would and could follow this road with a vehicle.

I roll and carry my bike through thorny flora, occasionally stepping over guanaco guano, but never spotting the actual animal. I cross and climb washes and finally come to rest on a dune overlooking the ocean and eat my lunch. I return along the beach and the sand and rock shelf on the coast is a great medium for riding. I head towards some sand cliffs riding atop the undulating white rock intermitantly growing seaweed in its divets. I catch my tire in a colony and slip into a murky seaweed filled hole which sucks me in and I have a difficult time getting out.

I steer as far as I can from the seaweed on the way back and find my way back to the road much quicker than my journey from it.

I cruise back, passing the familiar landmarks quickly. All’s well until I pedal up the last hill and feel myself starting to bounce and fishtail. I have a flat tire almost three kilometers from home. Rather than trying to negotiate the tiny pump I start to hoof it home pushing the bike. This is when I fully realize the pain and stiffness in my left knee. I aggravated it while riding the leaden bike in Mendoza and now its reaching its full, painful, potential. I hobble down to the beach and plot out the straightest line I can to where I estimate the rental place should be. I return the bike, which in addition to the flat, is splotched with sand and bits of seaweed. The young attendant wishes me suerte.

I while my time away writing postcards and sipping a submarino at Havannah before dinner which is a much worse version of pizza than the night before.