Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Halloween... how appropriate, given I felt like the living dead when I came to around 5am, the codeine I'd taken before lying down having worn off. I took the remaining tablet and tried to sleep some more, finally giving up around 6am, but lying unable to move for a good 10 minutes before I finally worked out how to get out of bed without the pain in my ribs causing me to give up. I hobbled to the shower and stood under the hot water for a good few minutes, hoping it would soothe the pain away and allow my shoulder to move. It did help, but it still took me a full hour to get dressed, the hardest part working out how to put my socks on as I couldn't reach my feet even when sitting on the bed. Finally I was ready to face the world again, dressed in my bike gear and ready to ride Nick's bike once more. In the dining-room for breakfast I fielded the endless questions about my condition “fine, just a little sore” and “good, considering”, my attempts to conceal the reality feeble and unconvincing, especially as I whinced every time I tried to move...

Aaron kindly offered to bring my bags and stuff down from the room, and I loaded some into Nick's battered panniers (another job for Jeff!) and put the rest in the van, then asked if there was anyone I could ride with as I'd not got any route notes (mine were in my magnetic map pocket, which won't attach to Nick's bike). Pertti and Simon quickly volunteered, and so we left the hotel to get some water and cash from town before hitting the road. The town road was made of large square concrete sections, each around 12ft square and the joins between them were the work of Satan himself, each one jarring my back and having me cursing like grandpa from the Simpsons (try cursing whilst you've no breath and you'll sound the same). In town we got some cash and water and then set off again, using Pertti's GPS to help find the way. Thankfully once clear of town the sadistic road turned to smoother tarmac but about 12 miles down the road we encountered Ed & Lorraine and several others coming the other way. A short roadside conference determined that we were on the wrong road, as this one turned to dirt just a couple of miles further on (though it would still get us to where we were going). Not wanting any dirt roads as they were way too painful, I gladly turned round with Pertti and Simon and headed back to town, where we filled up with petrol before finding the right road.

The riding was uninspiring and pretty dull, once again on fairly straight roads through desert with little to keep my attention. Cruising at a steady 75mph at first seemed ok, but then I started to ache badly, the wind-blast not helping my condition. I was following Pertti, with Simon behind, and slowed to 65mph to reduce the pain. Immediately Pertti slowed too, ensuring he maintained a constant distance in front and demonstrating the great care he and Simon were taking over me. We stopped at one point when I needed to get off and stretch, no complaints from either of them, Simon rushing to me as soon as I'd pulled over with water.





With such great people looking after me the day's riding was going just great until about 20 miles from our destination when the road started to climb a mountain and turned to dirt. It was good dirt, solid mud with a light coating of loose gravel, but the odd rock embedded in the road caught my front wheel and pushed the bars back sending waves of pain up my arms and across my chest. I tried to relax as much as possible (the secret to riding on the dirt is to be very loose on the bike), but it was still painful and I was very short of breath. I had to stop several times to regain my composure, gratefully drinking the by-now hot water from the back of Simon's bike, but with the encouragement of my carers I carried on. Finally we reached tarmac once again, the beeping horns from Simon and Pertti signalling they too were glad I'd made it. As I was now in front (Pertti having turned back to come find me after my last stop to get my breath), and the road was smooth and twisty, I wound the throttle on, glad that I could at last ride the bike without too much pain. I let Pertti past just as we arrived at the outskirts of town, and he guided us to the hotel where I crawled off the bike, exhausted but ecstatic at having ridden every mile. Pertti parked the bike and I went into reception where the group was hanging around drinking, Aaron first to offer me a drink (2 bottles of Aqua sin Gas). I drank one bottle and hobbled off to my room to get changed, Nigel grabbing my bag from the van for me.

Before dinner we discovered that today was Pertti's birthday, it being missed by the Globebusters people as he was originally booked on the Patagonia trip. We arranged the formal ceremony for a couple of days time in Santiago, but sang him Happy Birthday anyway. It being Halloween, Jeff decided to dress up in a frightening costume, borrowing Candy's clothes (she's the inflatable doll that we gave him in Moab and that's caused great amusement at every border crossing since)... Scary or what!





Then we had a Prat Hat ceremony, which this week had all the markings of a stitch-up. First to get nominated was Jeff, for his antics in a bar that resulted in a young lady who'd joined those of the group present and playing Jenga to leave suddenly (I can't reveal the details for fear of a lawsuit). Then Andrew, for repeatedly dropping his bike (like in the hotel grounds on arriving today) and for convincing Max that he was going the wrong way when he wasn't. And that was it. The vote was almost unanimous, Jeff being the lucky recipient of the hat ready for the border crossing back into Chile...





I ate dinner with Nick and Chris & Danielle, Nick and I both looking like cripples as we struggled to cut our meat and tried desperately not to laugh or cough, both of which caused us to whince in pain. Comparing our relative states, Nick initially thought I was worse off, but then his own pain relief wore off and he hobbled back to his room for some more painkillers. He handed me his bike keys again saying that he wouldn't be riding – I think part of which is knowing how much riding all the way means to me, and with my bike still in the van, this is the only way I can. I gladly accepted, Julia's words that “if anyone rides on dirt tomorrow, you've gone the wrong way” reassuring me greatly, especially as it's a 350-mile day...