Trans Americas 2009 - The Blog

Whether the fact that I slept really badly was because of concern over my snoring keeping the rest of the wooden house awake, or more to do with being uncomfortable even with a double bed all to myself I don't know, but the bottom-line is I hardly slept at all. Chris even remarked that he'd not heard me snoring... But I was still in a relatively good mood, the early morning sunshine making feeble efforts to help keep my spirits up, and the excellent continental breakfast finishing the job. With cereal, fresh orange juice, a muffin, coffee and a strawberry yoghurt inside me I was well set for the day ahead, a day which promised a whole 60 miles of tarmac followed by over 110 miles of dirt. Setting off early with Al to go and get some cash from the ATM in town and fill up with fuel, we then rode out of town together heading South on routa 7. Only we weren't as we soon ended up in the car park of the aerodrome, having taken the wrong turn at a roundabout. We retraced our steps and found the right road, which also headed South but higher up the valley. Soon I was really enjoying the ride, being on smooth tarmac being much more pleasurable than bouncing around on the dirt, and I caught and passed Aaron who was riding slowly to enjoy the view, then Max & Christine, the latter looking decidedly ill and then proceeding to throw-up at the roadside, the effects of last night's salmon and wine clearly disagreeing with her. By now I was alone, riding along and enjoying the scenery, great big snow-topped mountains and lush green fields. Unlike yesterday, when the scenery was partially obscured by the constant drizzle, now it was brightly lit by a clear blue sky, and so I stopped to take some pictures...





Eventually, though, the tarmac had to end. But first it descended in a beautiful series of switchbacks down to the small town of Cerro Castillo, giving me ample chance to relax even more. On entering the town I could see the road stop and the dirt start, so pulled over to take a breather, drink some water and re-attach the video camera as the gaffa-tape that was now holding it in place had come loose. I was fully expecting the others to catch me at this point, but there was no sign of them. Reasoning that they must also have stopped to take photos, I continued on my way, standing up as soon as I crossed the threshold from tarmac to gravel. But the road was in truly excellent condition, hard packed dirt with a light coating of gravel and clearly marked tracks that offered easy riding and plenty of grip for the front and rear wheels. I started to enjoy myself once more, probably for the first time on the dirt since my fall. Still taking it really steady, no more than 35mph initially, I made steady progress as the road climbed up the hillside, with spectacular views across the valley to the mountains in the distance... beautiful...





Despite stopping and riding slowly, I was still alone, and started to wonder if I'd made another wrong turn somewhere. Retracing the route in my mind I was convinced I was on the right road, so continued on my merry way, happy thoughts popping into my head whilst I concentrated on following the narrow track between the loose gravel that provided the safest route. Rounding one corner I was presented with a weird sight – lots of dead trees in a large lake. I'd seen something similar a couple of days ago, but hadn't been able to stop to take pictures, so once again I pulled over and got my camera out.





Whilst I was snapping away, Pertti arrived in a hail of stones, sliding his bike 1200GS Adventure around like it was a motocross bike. He skidded to a stop next to my bike and got off, a big grin across his face. He was clearly grooving... I left him taking pictures and continued on my way, slow and steady and determined not to aggravate my back by allowing the bike to get out of shape. A further 20 miles or so down the road Pertti caught and passed me, sat down at roughly 60 mph whilst I was stood up and cruising at 40-ish. I guess that's the benefit of living in Finland, where there are ample roads just like this to hoon about on, learning how to control a bike properly. But I wasn't complaining, as my pace was relaxed and the stunning surroundings provided plenty to admire. After 135 miles (75 of the dirt) I entered the small town of Puerto Tranquilo, marked on the route notes as a suitable place to stop, so pulled over outside a café where Pertti had also stopped. We were soon joined by Aaron and Nigel, and tucked in to some lovely coffee and chocolate biscuits (Nigel and Aaron both enjoying a chicken sandwich). Some more of the group arrived and went in the café next door, so we said hello and then off we went again. By now I was completely relaxed and enjoying the ride, the dirt no longer freaking me out as it had done, and I found my pace picking up a little... but only a little as I kept my enthusiasm in check for once, the painful memory of what can go wrong all too vivid still. After one final stop to take a photo, the road ran along the side of the lake to the town of Puerto Guadal and our destination for the day...





The road down to the hotel was a steep, muddy and narrow track ,but I got down safely as did the rest of the group, although Late Guy was so excited at getting down without dropping his bike that he proceeded to drop it at the bottom, wrenching off a pannier and banging his ankle in the process. The hotel is simply beautiful, by the side of a large lake surrounded by mountains, the accommodation chalet-style apartments. I'm in one shared with 4 others, who are each in twin rooms – Tony and Phil, Simon and Chris – and I have the single attic room all to myself. Seems they've put all the snorers in attic rooms to try and help the others sleep!

No sooner had I arrived than the receptionist had lit a real fire in the wood-burning stove, and I was underneath a hot shower, warming away any remaining aches and pains. Without the Internet I was reduced to writing up the blog and selecting the photos before saving my work and heading out to chat to the others and take the odd photo or two.





Whilst I was relaxing and chatting, decisions were being made as to what to do with the broken bikes in the van. With the parts for Ozzy Andy's bike still in Miami and now not likely to arrive in time (seems there was a cock-up with the wheel, a rear being sent to the dealer instead of the front that was needed), and Chris' bike refusing to start, it was decided to turn Chris' bike into a doner. Jeff started work stripping off the front wheel and swinging arm, then fixing them to Andy's bike. In around 3 hours he had the job done and there was now one working bike between the 2 riders. How they would split the available bike between them was the subject of much speculation, but in the end Julia stepped in and volunteered her bike for Chris to use to get to the end. It was an act of pure generosity that drew a lot of admiration from the group, as this is likely to be the last TransAm that Kevin and Julia both guide, their business demands such that them both spending 5 months on the road is becoming impossible. So she will now complete the journey as they did their record-breaking one, riding pillion behind Kevin. Let's hope we don't have any more mishaps and the rest of the group can all ride into Ushuaia behind them...

That evening was a group meal, served in the hotel's dining room, and was very good. Once again I restricted my drinking to a couple of beers and a glass of wine, despite tomorrow being a very short day of just 85 miles as we cross the border back into Argentina. More dirt roads, but if they're anything like those today, I won't be complaining...