Finding our legs

Following the Rio Parana to Rosario, then beyond to Cordoba we’ve traveled through a landscape that affects each rider differently. Our mid-west contingent has found it vaguely familiar, comfortable. Others have found themselves in want of something a little more exciting. It would be a stretch to call this stretch spectacular; but it isn’t without its charms. We’ve passed groves of ripe fragrant citrus, and vast open fields dotted with cattle and fringed by towering eucalyptus. Fruit trees explode into blossom, telling us beyond a doubt that Spring is here. Along the way an endless parade of parilla restaurants promise the world’s most succulent steaks, and locals are happy to chat with any who are able.

As the days go by we find ourselves constantly learning and evolving to our new surroundings. By now we can all greet the locals without sounding like complete gringos, and we’re certainly able to order another beer. We’ve learned to be constantly on guard for dog poo on city streets, and somehow grown used to the sounds of barking dogs at night. We’ve ceased to notice overly passionate couples in public, and have been constantly spoiled by good cheap wine.

The flat open landscape with its endless sky may bore some after a while; but the complete lack of hills has been a gift for many riders as they’ve had to battle fierce winds and contend with stretches of loose gravel. Really, this has been the perfect stretch to ‘find our legs’. The peaks of the Sierra Chicas loom in the distance.     

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