By late afternoon, a shelter provided camping. The shelter must’ve been on
someone’s land, but there was no one around to ask and, once the old cow dung
was kicked aside, the tents were pitched, and an old petrol tank made a good
enough seat that evening. No sooner were the tents up, and the midges descended
upon us with a vengeance! I couldn’t get into the tent fast enough; the things were
a darn menace.
San Francesco - Waterfall - 53 km
Waking under rustling Moriche palms was something special, but it meant one more
day of biking into the wind. Following a leisurely start, we journeyed onward into
the wind. Our route continued through the National Park, dotted by grassy hills,
waterfalls and indigenous settlements. We called it a day after spotting comfortable
accommodation sporting huts, lush lawns, and a lovely waterfall.
By evening, a Czech cyclist also pulled in. He was in the process of travelling from
Alaska to Ushuaia and had been riding for seven months. There was a considerable
amount of jabbering until the lights went out at around 9 p.m. At least I could
charge the laptop and write my journal before losing power.