Gaiman and Tea Time

Nov 21-24 Gaiman to Comodoro Rivadavia to Puerto San Julian

Gaiman is an oddity in Argentina, it was founded back in 1903 by a group of Welsh settlers that were looking to start fresh away from all the rules and regulations within the English colonies. They set about homesteading and farming in the rich valley that even today is a green oasis in a sea of Patagonia flatlands. Our first impression when we seen the valley was that it looked like Drumheller with the badlands and hoodoos as a backdrop. We are not disappointed by the town, it is very well kept and has numerous historic buildings to look at. Along with the Welsh came their traditions and one of the most prominent is High Tea. There are a few very traditional tea houses, that serve up afternoon tea, scones, finger sandwiches and pastries, all on fine china by ladies dressed in traditional black and white servants’ uniforms complete with lace trimmed aprons. 

Very upper crust, but somehow cozy at the same time. What would a tea house be without a rose garden you might ask? Well these folks are not willing to find out because everywhere we turn there are beautiful rose gardens. I did not know that orange roses existed, but they do and are striking to look at.

We stay for two nights which allows us to explore the area a little bit as well. We take a side trip West to a hydroelectric dam and are treated with a nice little village at the base of the damn. Not where I would choose to live but a nice village all the same. There is a scenic route along the river for a few kilometers then the road changes direction  out of the valley.  We turn around and ride it back into the village then backtrack our route to Gaiman. A great day all around.

The next morning we are once again treated to breakfast in our room, nothing fancy just toasted baguette with jam and a thermos of coffee but it is nice that the hostess brings it to our room. We have to backtrack on the dead straight 40km section then rejoining Rte 3 and it is all South from there. Everything is going well and shortly after we hit the pavement of Rte3 Brenda’s chain breaks and once again it is roadside maintenance.

The chain is not only broken it has also suffered a twisted link from being run over on the highway. I do my best to straighten it and it seems to be good enough to run for the rest of the day. Rte3 is called the Ruta Azul (Blue Route) because it follows the Atlantic coast most of the way south, and maybe because there is a whole lot of blue sky to enjoy. 

We are aiming for the destination of Comodoro Rivadavia to meet up with the young couple that drove a limo from Argentina to Alaska. We met them in Cochrane the day before our annual car show, they entered their limo and I think they got an honorary plaque for longest distance travelled to get to the show. Comodoro is an oil and gas town that reminds me of Fort McMurray, expensive hotels and a somewhat tired appearance. After checking at a couple of spots we find a rather dumpy medium priced hotel. It pretty much feels like a work camp inside, everything is a little too old and unclean from overuse and neglect.

The owner of course is a friendly fellow who makes up for the lack of house keeping, and his Marlboros cover the other odors as he show us around the place. Brenda is a little horrified but after a thorough check of the bedding for bugs settles in for an uneasy night's sleep. I on the other hand sleep quite well as my tolerance for this type of environment is a little higher.

This is also a long weekend so the town is pretty much shut down, including the money exchange place and we are in need of Pesos. A bit of walking around and trying different bank machines proves futile so we decide to try at one of the fancy hotels. Sure enough they are willing to help with a small amount of USD conversion to Pesos and we are set to leave town. Well first we have breakfast, then we get stopped on the street by a radio station reporter for a quick interview about our trip. That was fun, but it was also in Spanish and charades don’t transfer well on radio. 

During the interview a passerby stopped to see what was happening, turns out he knows a guy in the next town who changes money. We discuss where and when then we are off to meet “the guy”. Sebastian “the guy” runs a motorcycle tour business and motorcycle repair shop. He offers to change money at the posted bank rate which is a deal breaker but he did take us to a view point of town and beach. Because of the constant winds here the national windsurfing championships are being held at the beach here in Radda Tilly. Honest, I could not make this shit up.

So far today we have gone 20km, and it is 2pm, we had planned on going to Punta San Julian which is 500km down the road, man we gotta get going. Lucky for us the weather is holding out and we are treated to a tail wind for the first few hundred kilometers.  The last couple hundred were a different storey as the wind shifted and we fought a cross wind the rest of the day. This of course causes us to use way more fuel than normal and the jerry cans are put to use once again before we reach San Julian, even though we had filled up less than 200km from town.

San Julian is home to a replica of the sailing ship used by Magellan when he discovered Patagonia back in 1520, yes that number is correct. Other than that there is a naval base and a naval museum, and during the Falkland Island crisis back in the early 80’s it was used as an air base. It seemed that back during the crisis it was a world-wide news event and I can remember some of the focus that it was given even though I was in junior high. Looking at the location and that England was claiming it as theirs it proves that once again the bully on the playground sometimes wins. But I digress.