Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Seems I hadn't warned them sufficiently that I snore, and that since my little incident I've also been forced to sleep on my back, which only makes matters worse... Nick, who claims to be a light sleeper anyway, found the noise so offensive that he went and slept with the dog in the dining room downstairs. Over breakfast, I was the subject of much piss-taking, but all I could say in response was that I'd slept very well... (and apologise to the more sensitive souls).

After breakfast I clambered aboard the bike again and rode out of the hotel's gravel car park and back onto the wet dirt road that lead out of town along the side of the fjord. The weather was trying its best to brighten up, but failing miserably, with a cold wet drizzle constantly falling and temperatures well down on what has become normal for us. The initial few miles were relaxing, the road being kind to me, not too slippery and gently curving as it hugged the shore-line. I quickly settled into my new dirt-road riding routine, stood up and trying to stretch my back whilst maintaining a constant 30mph and using the engine braking to slow me down should I need to scrub off speed as the surface changed. I tried to avoid the many potholes that littered portions of the road, but it was impossible as they conspired together to prevent any form of line between them appearing. But the bike took them in its stride, and with me stood up and bracing myself against the impact with my legs, the going was relatively pain-free, at least at first. When the road started to enter a very lush and green forest, with dense vegetation very close to the roadside I suspected conditions would change and they did. First it started to rain more persistently necessitating me stopping and hopping into my waterproof trousers – which resulted in more whincing as I twisted my back trying to balance whilst inserting my booted foot into the leg. Then the road started to climb up the hillside in a series of tight hairpins which were a mix of rocks and loose sand/gravel, which required forcing the bike into the turn and feathering the clutch to maintain momentum. Forcing the bike to turn required me to twist my back and push on the bars which was excruciatingly painful, but I kept going, convinced the pain would subside as soon as I was clear of the switchbacks. Thankfully they didn't last too long, and soon I was back on firm dirt and able to relax a little, and the pain subsided again.

And so the ride continued for quite some time, the rain persistent and therefore not conducive to photography. So much so that I didn't take a single photo during the ride at all. But my misery with the rain and dirt ended earlier than expected, as we hit some roadworks and then some new tarmac ahead of when the notes promised it. I was so happy I laughed hard enough for it to hurt. But as is so often the case in these remote regions, the tarmac was incomplete, and we were soon back on gravelly dirt once more, before returning to tarmac, then dirt.. and so on... At one stage we were on tarmac for a long period, and stopped in a small village to get a drink, convinced we were finally off the dirt for the day. I stopped again a while later for another drink, and was then riding alone along pristine tarmac for some distance, the road sweeping one way then the other. It rounded a bend and then a fairly long straight but in the distance I could see a line across the road and some people and bikes at the roadside. I slowed and came to a stop behind the group, the road once again becoming dirt, but the news wasn't good. Chris had seen the dirt too late and braked hard to scrub speed off, hitting the dirt with the front brake still on and going down. He was completely unhurt (except his pride, it being the first time he'd drop a bike, on this trip or any other), but his bike was a mess. The entire upper front end from the oil cooler back had been ripped off, headlamp, screen, instruments, both brake and clutch master cylinders, etc. There were a lot of people around him, and Kevin was also on the scene, so I bid him farewell and continued on my way – the last thing he needed was yet more spectators...

Riding the section after Chris' off was tricky, the road wide but covered in a thin layer of loose gravel, and whilst there were usually truck tracks to follow (where the gravel has been swept by the truck wheels), frequently there wasn't and it was like riding on marbles. Sticking to a steady and very slow pace, I crawled along and finally returned to tarmac, at the point referred to on the route notes. That meant it was tarmac for the rest of the way, so I celebrated with a big grin and increased my pace. I soon caught up Julia and then dropped in behind for the final run to the hotel, passing by great big waterfalls cascading from the huge rock-faces that lined the valley along which we rode. It was still raining, and I've now got a collection of waterfall photos, so I just kept going. The closer we get to the end of this journey the more keen I am to get to the end of each day's ride, a sort of destination-fever creeping in. Soon we reached the turn-off onto the narrow dirt road that led to the suspension bridge to the hotel, the bridge posing no problems after the banana bridges of Panama, and then I was parked up outside my room, unpacking and taking a hot shower, and sat outside listening to the river whilst writing up the previous day's blog (no Internet access to upload it, though). Oh, and today marks another milestone on this epic trip – I've now done over 20,000 miles since leaving Anchorage (19,000 on my bike and 1,000 on Nick's) – and we're still not done yet...

When done, I took a short walk over the bridge to see how Jeff was getting on with Chris's bike, discovering what a mess it really was. The electronic control switch that checks the code in the ignition key was missing, so they fitted a replacement but it still wouldn't go. It did start briefly after Chris had taken the key for a walk and returned (something to do with resetting the unit after the key had been removed from its proximity), but then refused to go again. I left Jeff and Kevin scratching their heads trying to work out how to bring it back to life...





I wandered back to reception where I joined a few of the group sat around a roaring log fire, drinking very nice cold (and cloudy) Patagonian lager and eating nibbles – sweet cheese on bits of toasted bread, empanadas and fries – before we were called to dinner. I stopped drinking before dinner, conscious that I need to reduce my alcohol intake if I'm to finally recover from the effects of the off, and also because things were already getting rowdy and I wanted no part of it. Dinner was delicious, though, a nice broccoli soup followed by beef and mashed potato, with ice-cream for dessert. Soon after finishing I bade the group good-night and returned to my room, which I was sharing with Chris once more. He was already in bed, some of Kevin's drunken comments understandably having irked him somewhat. With both his bike and Ozzy Andy's now out of action and in the van, we can't afford any more mis-haps, as the support vehicle is now full...