Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

At last I had a pretty good night's sleep, the couple arguing and slamming doors that had Nick shouting in the corridor not disturbing me, as once asleep I slept soundly. I was still awake early, and showered and packed well before breakfast was ready at 8am. Now the mornings are lighter again as we head further south, my body-clock has returned to normal and 6am seems to be my natural waking-up point. And today was lighter and brighter than normal, the grey clouds of yesterday no longer with us, leaving a bright blue sky and a few fluffy white clouds... perfect! Breakfast was as basic as the hotel had been, just a milky coffee and toast with cherry jam (a local delicacy as there are cherry trees everywhere), but it was all I wanted, the thought of the day's ride dulling my appetite. Once done I set off around 8.30am, riding out of town and getting stopped at the police checkpoint at the edge of town. The policeman was polite and smiling, as they always are, and just wanted to check my passport and note down the registration number of my bike. The last bit required a bit of cleaning, as the back of the bike was caked in thick mud from yesterday, the plate and my rear lights completely obscured. Once clear of the checkpoint I was on smooth tarmac riding briskly along the lakeside, watching the white horses dance to chore on the deep blue water, and breathing deeply the fresh clean air. Moments like these are savoured and placed deep in my memory banks for when the going gets tough (as I knew it would later), so here's one I captured on my camera for you to share...





The tarmac rode continued for a good 80 miles, fast and flowing and enabling me to relax and settle into the rhythm of riding once more. The prospect of 200 miles of dirt road did not appeal, more out of concern for my back than my riding, as I kept reminding myself that it hadn't been the dirt that had seen me fall, having ridden all the way up the Dalton Highway in Alaska, into and out of Copper Canyon, Canyon del Pato and numerous other dirt roads without incident. It was the hidden deep sand of the Paso de San Francisco that had been my downfall, and now I was aware of the hazard I would be better placed to avoid it next time. Even so, once the dirt started I tensed up a little, the surface my least favourite with loose gravel covering the entire width of the road and making staying on a chosen line both difficult and painful. With a strong side-wind to content with as well, pushing the bike to the left as it gusted, it was going to be a long and hard day's ride. Fortunately the gravel soon started to show signs of other traffic, narrow tracks appearing and providing some respite from the “riding on marbles” feeling of the gravel. In these tracks the gravel is pushed aside leaving a harder but rough surface on which at least it is possible to steer a little. Trying to keep the bike in a chosen track became the order of the day, battling the side-wind and focusing hard on the distance in case an oncoming vehicle was also using the same track. When I did encounter an oncoming vehicle they were all very good and took to the looser stuff, leaving me in my rut and therefore upright. And so the day went on, with hour after hour of staring along a single track into the distance, trying to maintain a steady course and steady speed (around 40 mph), just ticking away the miles...





There was one stop en-route, for a coffee and some biscuits and to top-up with fuel. The café was tiny and manned by just one chap who was serving coffee and his daughter making sandwiches. As he was also the only person to man the fuel pumps, and a large group of bikes had just shown up with riders all thirsty and hungry (that's us, not another group), it took some considerable time before I was fuelled and back on the road again...





Back on the road the torture, sorry, enjoyable ride, continued. Along the side of the track was a pristine new road, shiny tarmac tempting me to ignore the signs and ride along it. If it wasn't for the fact that every few hundred yards there was a huge pile of dirt placed across the road I might have done so. Then that ended and there was just the dirt again, crossing the plain in a long straight line, with the occasional patches of sand or loose gravel ensuring I stayed alert. When it finally ended and I emerged onto smooth flat tarmac again, which I wasn't expecting, I was delighted. This new stretch of road had been completed since the last Trans Am in 2007, and lasted for almost 50 miles, affording me the luxury of sitting down and relaxing for nearly an hour. Bliss...

It ended, though, some 20 miles before the estancia where we're staying, the road returning to loose gravel again and this time without too many tracks to follow. With the going slow once more, I relaxed and just kept plodding along, and was eventually rewarded with the sign pointing down the narrow farm track leading to the estancia. And then I had arrived, parked up outside the farm buildings in the middle of nowhere, a traditional Argentinian guacho place with sheep, horses, pink flamingoes, ducks, geese and dogs... what a great place to spend the night... I had the option to camp, which I would have loved to have done, but need a soft bed in order to get any sleep, so had to decline...





For dinner this evening we're having a group meal of traditional Argentine parilla or barbecue, and so whilst we were standing around chatting and Richard was fixing the screen on his bike (the bracket had broken with all the vibration), the gaucho and his good lady carried the lamb carcass to the parilla...





The lamb is then hung on a traditional metal cross and placed in a large fireplace in front of burning logs for a couple of hours before it is ready. Whilst it was cooking the gaucho (who had the blackest moustache I've ever seen) also prepared a couple of chickens and around 4 Lbs of chorizo and other sausage... looks like another meat fest for us tonight!








Leaving the gaucho to cook, I went and found the rest of the group in the sitting room of the main building, and joined in a couple of games of cards over a beer or two. Then the whole group assembled around a big table to enjoy the food, which was truly delicious, the lamb especially tender and flavoursome. With a nice glass of Argentinian Malbec to accompany the meat – and the veg and salad, as I was trying to be healthy – it was probably the best group meal since the barbecue in Alaska, and that was a very long time ago...





Once suitably stuffed we all retired back to the sitting room for a couple more games of cards before I bid them goodnight and headed for my bed early, with another long day on Ruta40 tomorrow, I need all the rest I can get...