Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Despite the close proximity of Jim's bed to mine in the cramped little room I managed to get a reasonable night's sleep, and made it all the way through showering, loading the bike and eating breakfast before I gave in and took some paracetamol to ease the pain which has now moved to my back. At least my rib no longer hurts and I can breathe in with a reasonable degree of confidence that I won't end up doubled-up and moaning like grandpa from the Simpsons...

I decided to latch on to Richard and Karen for today's ride, as I always enjoy riding with them and they would take good care of me, bearing in mind Karen's promise to Tracy (to treat me as well as Tracy treated her cats, both of which sadly are no longer with us...). We rode out of the hotel car park and no sooner had we got on the road than a large bunch of other riders tagged on, hoping to be led out of town. Richard pulled into a petrol station as we'd agreed to fill up, and the rest (apart from Nick who had decided to join us) rode on, oblivious to the fact that they were on the wrong road... When we left the petrol station we realised that the road was incorrect and headed back into town, finding the right road without too much difficulty.

With just 65 miles to the border, but the border being in the mountains, we'd been warned to wrap up warm. It was a warning well heeded, as the temperature dropped the more we climbed until we were very cold indeed. Arriving at the Chilean border buildings we quickly went into the relative warmth to clear ourselves and the bikes out of Chile, only to discover the customs guys were on strike. Now this didn't perturb us too much, as we simply joined the queue and waited patiently (Richard ferrying cups of coffee and chocolate biscuits in from the shop next door). Despite being on strike, the guy was still processing the forms, albeit slowly. Well, it may have been slowly, but given some of the border crossings we've had, this was still relatively quick. Once cleared out of Chile we set off towards the Argentine border, some 13 miles further up the road. Now the last time I was between these 2 borders was when I had my big off, so I was a little nervous about this stretch. The road was beautiful though, heading higher into the trees and all smooth tarmac, so I began to relax – after all, what could possibly go wrong? Well, the snow-plough coming the other way covered in snow should have been ample warning...

As we climbed higher, the light drizzle in the air turned into a small snow flurry. Then a full-on blizzard. The road went from being slightly wet tarmac to white snow an inch or so deep and slippery as hell. I was glad for the knobbly tyres, as they at least cut through the snow a little, which the road tyres we'd previously been on most certainly wouldn't. Following Richard & Karen we crawled along in ever decreasing visibility at a steady 20mph, trying desperately to keep the bike vertical and not to make any sudden steering or braking moves. All the while the road climbed higher and the snow fall got heavier. Then we came upon a stranded artic, which had passed us a little time before, spinning its wheels and getting nowhere fast. Kevin was parked up beside the road, in theory to warn us it was a little slippy, but we'd guessed that already. Having stopped to assess the situation, getting going again was a real trial, the front and back tyres sliding this way and that as I wrestled to maintain some form of footing and keep the heavy machine from toppling over. When I finally got moving I was heading for the bank, so had to turn carefully and gingerly, finally getting the bike pointing in the right direction and hooking 2nd gear to give me a little more traction (1st was simply spinning the rear all the time). And so we continued, crawling up the hill through the blizzard until eventually we reached a patch where the snow-plough had cleared the road and the snow stopped falling. Only now did I feel confident enough to pull over and get off the bike to take a photo, but take my word for it, the section prior to this was one of the most challenging of the entire trip...





But as is so often the case with these most challenging sections, the reward once they've been successfully negotiated more than makes up for the “holding your breath and trying not to sit yourself” moments earlier. The beauty of the mountains and the forests with their sprinkling of pristine white snow cannot adequately be described in words, the only real problem being the images will remain in my memory as stopping to capture them on camera was not really an option... suffice to say, snow on this pass during the Trans-Am is unusual, but I felt we'd been blessed by it as the scenery was simply stunning.

Once we had arrived at the Argenine border the procedure was simply and efficient and very soon we had another stamp in our passports and another temporary import permit for the bike. A short distance from the border we took the turn towards our destination of San Martin de los Andes, a mountain resort town at the head of a lake. The only problem, and more for me than the others, was that half the road there (about 35 miles) was dirt. Initially it was hard-packed and therefore not too demanding, but one section was deeper loose gravel and I discovered that with my weakened back muscles I could not control the bike as I'd like, it skitting over the gravel and going in any direction other than the one I had intended. In the end I ended up sat down and with my feet out, almost paddling, like a complete novice, but it was the only way I felt I could keep the bike under control. So much for the confident off-road rider I'd become before my fall. At least as soon as my muscles have healed I should be able to ride properly again... But as with the snow earlier, the challenge of the dirt simply took us to somewhere beautiful, with lakes in front of snow-capped mountains, forests with bubbling bright green streams running along the roadside and endless excuses to stop to get my breath back and take some pictures...








It was almost an anti-climax when the pot-holed mud and gravel gave way to smooth tarmac, but as the road wound its way down the valley and along the lakeside in a series of swooping bends, it wasn't. Now we got the chance to see how knobbly tyres handle on the road, and the answer is surprisingly well, although they do feel odd and I won't be getting the sort of lean angles I had in Columbia on them, that's for sure. San Martin de los Andes is a beautiful little town, reminiscent of an Austrian ski-resort, all full of wooden buildings and outdoor shops (I resisted the temptation to buy anything other than a woolly hat, but the reason was everything was so damned expensive!). I wandered round with Richard & Karen, and after finding an ATM to top up my local currency, we went to the Dublin bar and had a Guinness. Seriously. It was from a bottle, but brewed in Dublin and had travelled pretty well. After a while we wandered round some more, before realising it was already quite late, so we selected one of the many restaurants offering Patagonian Lamb and went inside. Now these places (and yes, I should have taken a photo) all have a large window in which is a fire pit with wood burning and one or two whole lambs (minus the heads and innards) spread-eagles on skewers lying over the fire and gently rotating. And the lamb is delicious, served on a hot plate as chunks seemingly cut at random from the lamb in the window...





I think Richard's rather shocked expression is more to do with me taking the picture than the lamb, but it had been a long day...

And so, fed and watered and tired after another long and challenging day (even though it was only 160 miles) we returned to our hotel ready for a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is another short day for me (I'm skipping the optional dirt-road ride that will add 100 miles to the 160 or so the basic route takes), and then we have a rest day, so that should give me ample time to get fit again...