From My Notebooks In 1974: West Across the Pampa
25th October 2026 |
The notes, exactly as I wrote them, going west across the Pampa.
Tuesday October 15th
Set out for Bahia Blanca, after painful farewells. Sky very grey, soon began to rain, but first wind off the sea, buffeting me so much I began to fear that a freak gust might blow me right off. After a short while in rain the throttle seized up and the engine began to misbehave, refusing to give power above medium revs. At last, it was so bad and I so wet and uncomfortable, that I pulled in to a concrete bus shelter. The floor was in inches of water, but there was a cement bench looking out over the bleak scene. I might as well have been in a Southdown bus shelter somewhere on the Kent coast in winter. Took the carburetor out and found that main jet had come unscrewed and dropped into reservoir.
Cleaned out throttle, cooked coffee, changed my clothes, reassembled myself before an audience of school children come for their bus with their grave young ‘seňorita’ all in white nylon tabliers. Set off again to Necochea (all this was after Miramar where George and Elsie gave me the Wesley’s on a scrap of paper}.
[“George and Elsie” were an elderly British couple met at a petrol station, entranced by my adventure, who insisted I find “the Wesleys” when I got to Bariloche. Just one of those brilliant introductions I almost ignored.]
Hotel in Necochea. 25 pesos + tax + breakfast = 40 pesos. Lots of hot water, nice room. Bike in garage. Dinner at “Mi Cantina” – big restaurant, quite good, 48 pesos.
Wednesday 16th
Out of Necochea. Sunshine and clouds. Kid on bike rode alongside looking very self-important. I asked him if this was the way to Bahia Blanca and he kept shaking his fingers and saying it was at last five hours, as though I had made a terrible mistake. I said I knew very well how far it was, but was this the “ruta”.
But the throttle was still sticking, annoyingly. It was battered at the handlebar end. I decided to fit the spare cable. When I’d got it all apart I found the spare they’d given me at Joe’s in Jo’burg was the wrong one – as was the clutch cable. Absolutely furious at waste of time and effort and being dirty. Made the old one work and drove on.
Campo country – not very interesting. In Bahia Blanco guy in pickup truck and blue overalls took me to his workshop where he said he had a bike like mine. He and his brother ran a repair shop. Both terrible slobs. Raced bikes. Gave me picture. Attacked me with questions: “How much money have you got? What currency is it in? What does it cost? etc., etc. Was glad to get away, but already late for camping. Found funny hotel with surly old couple, in yard at end of corridor, just off main square. 30 pesos. Dinner at Gran Hotel, about 40 pesos.
Very conscious of money running out, and always mean to sleep out and cook food. Resolution falters at end of day. An episode like that with ‘slobs’ can weaken it fatally. But also I wanted to buy some things in Bahia Blanca which is last big town East of the Pampa.
However, on the morning of …..
Thursday, 17th October
It turns out to be a National Holiday to celebrate Peron’s first coming to power, and everything was shut. Soon after Bahia Blanca the Pampa began. First thorn trees, then scrub about three feet high. Stopped to make some breakfast. Sun high and hot and hazy. Constant wind blowing from NW across and against me. Occasional tumble of weed. Fences on both sides. Posts ten metres, stays one metre apart. Oil pipe alongside road, slightly raised. Grasses browned, few cows and a carcass or two. Hawks. Some small constructions here and there.
Somewhere west of the pampa
Pampa is 300 miles across and 600 to 900 miles long. La Pampa is name of province.
Came out of pampa into General Roca. First, trees to break wind for orchards. Then commerce. Italian names. Ribbon development. Road signs, shacks and urban debris. Stayed on camp site at General Roca. (after pandering to local police). Small patch of ground, littered and surrounded by slums, with camp building locked. Went down road away to restaurant for dinner.
Friday 18th
Left General Roca expecting to get near to Bariloche, but a little way along felt the air go from rear tyre. Only had the old tube – Nairobi to Buenos Aires (Pirelli). No new tubes came with the tyres to B. A. In changing the tyres I pinched the spare and perforated it in four places. Had to replace original with a patch and now left without a good spare. Took hours to do. As I was finishing a man drew up in has car and came over to talk. He had travelled on a bike some years before to Säo Paulo. He gave me water to wash my hands. Talked about the kind way he had been received and treated on his travels – said he thought it was because people all wanted to travel but, not being able to, did it vicariously. He was always ready to help and bringing a handful of banknotes from his pocket thrust them towards me with a smile. “Here” he said, “if you need it take it.” There was quite a lot. Maybe 10 pounds worth, and he certainly meant it, but I couldn’t take it. I could hardly feel that destitute.
How marvelous though to have a fistful of money thrust at you by a complete stranger. It cheered me up tremendously.
He recommended a camping site at Plottiers, small place 15 km past Neuquen, I set off again, it was now 1pm, feeling very hot and a little dizzy from the sun. Felt I should stop and refresh myself somewhere and also get some oil. Got to ACA station a little way along. They sent me elsewhere for Shell oil. Couldn’t find it, meanwhile engine behaving oddly, losing power rapidly. Eventually couldn’t get it above 2nd gear and was full of dreadful fears. Then back at ACA station it hit me hard. I had tightened the chain and forgotten to adjust the rear brake. Exactly what I did in South Africa. Felt a great relief and very foolish.
Shops were still closed at Plottiers, so I decided to ride on to Piedra del Aguila. More like desert now. Polaroid goggles came back into their own. Some fleecy cloud had formed in the south, and a thin veiling of white was spreading out fanwise to north. It consolidated, but further west I could see belt of duck-egg blue, and by the time I got to Piedra I was in sun again.
Camping at Piedra del Aguila