Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Despite all the alcohol I woke up feeling fresh and looking forward to spending a long day in the saddle. It's been a long time since we last rode a long distance on tarmac roads, and I was keen to get going. After a quick breakfast I loaded up the bike and plugged in my MP3 player and set off just before the official departure time of 8am. Late Guy followed me out of the car park but then when I turned right at a roundabout to go out of town following the route notes, he went straight on. When I couldn't find any signs for places on the route I was taking, I questioned whether I'd made the wrong turn and so turned back to ride further out of town the way we'd come in, and the way Late Guy had gone. As I was riding back South, Late Guy was coming back towards me, obviously thinking he'd got it wrong too. When I stopped again I concluded I was right the first time and so rode back towards town and the roundabout, overtaking Late Guy who was still looking confused. On the way back into town I saw one sign pointing the way I went originally and I kept going until I eventually found another sign some miles out of town confirming I was on the right road. All that had wasted a good half hour, and with over 470 miles to ride I was looking at a very long day...

The ride wasn't the most inspiring of the trip, as the road (Ruta 3) was almost arrow-straight as it headed due North. It passed through miles and miles of barren moorland, dotted with the occasional ragged-looking sheep. The sky was simply huge, the flat landscape allowing it to touch the horizon all around creating the impression I was riding over the top of a high plateau even though I was almost at sea level. With heavy grey clouds to the South and white clouds hiding the sun to the North even the sky wasn't the most interesting to look at. At least the wind kept me busy, blowing constantly from West to East, forcing me to ride with the bike leaned over a good 10 degrees. It wasn't a gusting wind, but it was relentless, forcing me to lean my head into it as though trying to resist an angry giant's head-lock.





The only real respite from the wind came with the fuel stops, which were by necessity more frequent than normal, the strong wind and constant speed increasing my fuel consumption dramatically. At the second stop I met some of the others, including Aaron who was chatting to a guy from San Francisco who had ridden his Harley sportster all the way down and was heading to Ushuaia. At least he'd avoided the rough dirt roads we'd taken and sensibly stuck to the main highways. With over 150 miles still to go and no further fuel stops, Aaron said he was concerned about his fuel lasting, so I said I'd follow him in case he ran out. So I at least had someone to ride with for the last few hours, as we battled with the wind. When the road dropped down to the coast and ran along the side of a bay the wind picked up even more, blowing us across the road and necessitating us riding with the bikes pushed over into the wind. As each truck passed in the opposite direction we'd get a few seconds of calm before getting blasted again as we emerged from the side of the truck back into the wind. It was highly comical, watching Aaron get blown around before doing exactly the same myself. At one stage the road followed the shoreline and headed due East, the wind behind us, and it was only then that we were able to relax our necks, the giant releasing his head-lock for a short while...

Finally we arrived in Comodoro Riveradia and made our way to the hotel, parking the bikes in the underground car park before checking in. I had made excellent progress, sticking at a constant 80-ish despite the wind, and so arrived around 4pm, having covered almost 480 miles in just 8 hours, including stops. But I was tired, and so the evening was a fairly subdued affair, just a pizza from a restaurant around the corner from the hotel and an early night...