Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Despite sharing a bunk room with the group's snorers (they seemed to think that putting us all together was a good idea), I slept reasonably well. I still woke early, though, getting up at 6am and showering before quietly making my way to the sitting room to write up the blog whilst the rest of the group slept. With breakfast not starting until 8am and a designated departure time of 9.30am, I had plenty of time to reflect on the previous day's ride and to prepare myself for more of the same...

The day dawned bright and sunny, with clear blue skies and high clouds (which Chris, master of “we're doomed” proclaimed was a sign of very high winds) but spirits were slightly subdued over breakfast, the prospect of more gravel roads and high winds playing on the rider's minds. Breakfast was excellent, with fresh scrambled eggs the colour of the sun made with the freshest eggs imaginable (when we get out smallholding, I'll eat like this every day!). When done and all packed up, the riders started making their getaways, everyone keen to get the day's riding underway. I left mid-pack as usual, riding along the track out of the estancia and onto the dirt road around 8.30am. Initially conditions were good, with clear tracks of hard-packed mud in the middle of the sea of gravel, and as long as I stayed in the track I could make steady progress, keeping my speed up to around 40-45mph to enable me to combat the worst effects of the wind. This wasn't as strong as Chris' gloomy prediction, being no worse than the day before and for the most part at a constant strength, necessitating riding at an angle but not blowing me into the gravel as I'd feared. And so it went on for mile after mile, just me alone with an empty track in front and behind me (the riders ahead were travelling slightly quicker, those behind slightly slower, so over time we got widely dispersed).

I would have been happy for it to remain like that for the entire 200 miles, but it wasn't to be, as I encountered a stretch of the conditions I heated the most – loose gravel the entire width of the road with no discernible tracks. This was really like riding on marbles on a polished floor, the bike skittering one way then the other, both front and back wheels independently sliding around as they struggled to find grip. With the wind blowing it was impossible to steer a straight course, and in my weakened state all I could do was maintain a constant throttle and try and correct the worst of the slides. Every jolt as the bike skittered sideways caused me pain in my lower back, very much like having a dwarf riding pillion playing xylophone on my back with a 3lb ball-pein hammer. Very, very, painful...

Whilst riding in this mess I was forced to stop regularly to try and get my breath back and to paddle the bike away from the deeper gravel (in places it was about 6 inches deep). Doing so slowed my progress significantly, and I was soon passed by Kevin with Julia riding pillion – he stopped briefly to exchange words (like “it's a bit loose, isn't it!”) before ploughing on. Then Richard & Karen came by, then Chris and finally Al, all bucking and weaving and struggling to find a decent line. I continued, trying to use the lines set by Chris & Al (Kevin and Richard were travelling quicker so they disappeared). After about 20 miles of this torture the road eased again and tracks became clearer, so our speeds increased and I caught back up to Chris & Al just as we reached the T-junction marked on the route notes at 135 miles that signified a fuel and coffee stop. And miracle of miracles, the start of a stretch of tarmac! But before we could delight in the smooth running we had to fill up, taking a rocky road to the petrol station where I gladly crawled off my bike and stood trying to stretch my back and ease the aches and pains away. A coffee helped, but not as much as leaving and getting onto the tarmac... this was all new, billiard-table smooth and wound it's way for mile after glorious mile through countryside I could now see (as opposed to before, when all I could see was out of the corner of my eye as I stared at the narrow track straight ahead). It was barren countryside, devoid of animals except for the occasional guanaco (a small Llama-type animal). Wilderness indeed... but with such a great surface I was happy to sit and ride briskly, feeling the wind push me upright and help to stretch me back into shape. Hacking along I forgot to stop for photos, except for once when I rounded a corner and was confronted by a massive green lake and a sign that pointed to a place to pull over and take a photo (seems I needed the hint!)...





As I continued on my merry way I caught sight of a couple of bikes in the distance and determined to catch them up, revelling in being able to ride quickly once again. I soon caught and passed them – Finn following Pertti who was nursing a failing rear shock – and then arrived at the destination town of El Calafate. Just before finding the hostel I saw Mac, Jim and Danielle outside a café, their own journeys to this rendezvous point seemingly successful. Once checked in and unpacked, and the bike moved to the car park I went online to update the blog, at last having a decent enough Internet connection to upload the pictures and check my email, and then had a lovely chat with Tracy. Having not spoken to her for 4 long and hard days it was lovely to hear her voice and see her smiling face on Skype (though the connection was rubbish) and we discussed plans for Christmas... which still seems an age away – unlike at home the shops here are not festooned with Christmas decorations yet...

When finished, I dropped my laundry off at reception and went for a walk round town. It's another strange place, being in the middle of nowhere yet packed with tourists on coach trips. Close by are a large number of glaciers and they flock here in their thousands, mostly old folk crowding in the hotel lobby and chatting loudly (something that would be a source of great annoyance later, as our room is the closest to reception). The town is full of outdoor shops, but the quality is poor, so I may yet resist the temptation to spend lots of money on new clothes I've no room for. I did succumb to a new t-shirt though, as I wanted one with a Ruta 40 roadsign on... after all the road has done to me over the past couple of days, I think I deserve it...

Later I went out for dinner with Finn, Simon, Aaron and Nick, making the mistake of choosing a busy restaurant on the main street. Fancying a change from meat I ordered the calamari followed by spaghetti bolognese and neither was particularly good. I'd fancied a few beers to celebrate getting here, but as we'd not gone out until 8pm I was too tired to bother, so made do with a couple before heading back to the hotel and my bed...