? to Junin de Los Andes (Friday 1/29)

 

Stats:
- 57 miles
- 3400 feet of climbing
- Roadkill: 1 mouse, 2 small birds, 1 rabbit, and 1 very large skeleton which Arn thought was a sheep and I thought was a cow but we both thought at first it was dead cyclist that we both felt like
- Many friendly motorists that waved, honked and cheered

It was the end of the day, Arn was in the tourist office gathering information on lodging and I was outside with the bikes. A man approached and explained that he too is bike touring. In fact, he crossed the pass yesterday that we crossed today. After he did the typical scan of our set up -- bikes, load, packing strategy, lashing system --- he asked, "What are those shoes like to walk in?"  I replied, "They aren't road shoes. They are mountain bike shoes".  (Road shoes are notoriously difficult for walking). Not happy with my answer, he said, "Yeah, but what are they like to walk in?"  This time I answered, "Well, they have very stiff soles." (Stiff soles make for better power transfer from the rider to the bike).  Still stuck on his point, he repeated,  "Yeah, but what are they like to walk in?" Growing weary with his question, I said, "I don't know. I bought them for cycling. I don't walk much in them."  Clearly aggravated, he asked, "Yeah, but what are they like to walk in and push your bike? Like when you pushed your bike up the pass you crossed today."  I replied, "I don't know. I rode my bike. I never pushed it."  The pass between Pucon and Junin de Los Andres is a real suffer-fest!  So, with this said, let me go back now to how it all started. 

After a breakfast of homemade bread and my treasured peanut butter, it was time to face up to the grueling climb that confronted us.  With overcast skies and cool temps, we changed gears and immediately started climbing. The surface was lousy ripio.  There must be some piece of construction equipment called "The Cylist's Nightmare". It generates a sea of deep, loose, sandy soil chocked full of rock in assorted sizes. The rock was everything from basketballs to cantaloupes to softballs to oranges.  Nothing was packed down.  Our choice was loose or looser. And then, it was steep and getting steeper. After roughly five minute (I'm not kidding on this), Arn asked, "Are you tapped?"  Meaning -- do I have any easier gears left or I am riding the granny gear.  I quickly said, "No, I have one gear left. And you?"  He said, "Me too, one left.  Mentally, I can't go to the last gear." (I should clarify. We don't ride with the same set of gears. If I were on Arn's bike, I would have run out of gears about three gears ago). And this was the mental twister for the next hour and forty minutes -- 'I can't use my last gear. It could get worse around the next corner and then I will really really need it. I have to save it. Yes, it must be saved. But, if I swtiched gears -- if I used it -- well, then this wouldn't hurt so much. I could spin better. The pressure would lighter.  My back wouldn't hurt. It would be easier. This would be better. Yes, definitely better.  Oh, but then what would happen if it gets steeper around the next corner?  Could I hold on?  That could be really bad. I would be stuck already in my easiest gear. No, I can't use it now. I have to save it. Yes, I'll suffer this and save it. Wow, this still really hurts. Maybe the road is a little better further left.  No, it's not better. If only I was in the granny gear....' And so it went.  For ~1.5 miles, the surface was a true nightmare created by man's attempt to improve the road. Then, the signs of construction disappeared. We passed a Chilean Park Office. A ranger told us the ripio will get worse.  Really?  How is this possible?  Well, the road became a long, unending series of switchbacks. The grade was a pretty constant 8% uphill grind. As for the surface, let's agree that the devil is usually hidden in the details. The road offered two choices.  Option A: very hard, deep and constant washerboard. Option B: soft, deep, loose, sandy soil with many rocks. What first started as, "Deborah, make sure you ride the outside of the corners to make sure oncoming cars can see you", evolved into "You know, the best surface seems to be on the far left side of the road". So, we zigzagged looking for the best surface.  After roughly 7 miles, we were at the pass. With low cloud and fog cover, our views were truncated a bit. We stopped to put on more clothes as the temps were in the 50's. Around mile 11, we reached the Chilean border. After passing through customs and talking with several other travelers (motorists that had passed us on the road), it was time to pull out all of our rain gear.  The heavy fog which had turned to a light drizzle had now turned to rain. Wearing arm warmers, windshirts, rain jackets, Buffs (for neck and head), rain pants, shoe covers (me), and overmitts (me), we headed off for the Argentina customs. There is about a 1km distance between the two.  Again, we cleared customs and spoke with many other travelers. 

So now, we are at the pass and should be seeing a giant, snow capped volcano named, Lanin. All we can see are the sloping shoulders very near to us. The landscape has changed dramatically. While we are still riding in a light rain, the vegation indicates it is a drier climate. We are treated to huge Monkey Puzzle trees. Soon, the rain stops and the sun is starting to poke out. Given our downhill direction and the cool temps, we continue with rain gear. Now, the ripio is downhill, but the surface is lousy --- more deep washer board side by side with loose, sandy junk.  At this point, we have lost count of the number of near misses (nearly dumping the bike and falling over at it starts a frenzied wobble).  Several times, we stop to reattach the bottom connecters on my panniers. They continue to bounce off. Finally, we stop, take all the packs off my bike, change the connector set up, and head off again. This change seems to keep things attached (for today). Then, in the distance, we see a welcomed sight -- pavement!!!  Sweet smooth asphalt!!!  Now, we started riding at 9am. At this point, it is 1:45pm and we have climbed the pass, stopped for two custom checks, stopped for resetting my panniers, have not had lunch and have logged 18 miles!!!  That's it -- 18 miles.  With roughly 37 miles left to reach Junin de Los Andes, neither of us can mentally think about lunch. We continue. 

The next hour in this ride is something out of a fantasy!  With smooth pavement, a slight downhill grade, and roughly a 30mph wind at our back, we are flying!  The sun has returned and we are getting a free ride. Really, we laughed that as long as we are moving at 22 miles an hour, then we are not going to pedal.  We did very little pedaling and exerted very little effort.  In about an hour, we knocked off another 22 miles!  At one point, we had views of Lanin behind us and we tried to stop for a photo. With no place to prop a bike and one of us could not hold up both bikes in the wind, we gave up on the photo and continued flying down the road. At bends in the road, it became necessary to read the wind. It would shift from being at our backs, then to the side and eventually the road would twist once more and it would return to our backs. The inflection points were unstable moments on a fully loaded bike. 

Well, you know what is going to happen next. It was time to make the final turn toward Lanin de Los Andes.  Yes, the 30mph wind is now coming from our right side. You have hears of "paybacks". This was a big "blowback". The only place you want 30mph of wind is at your back. This sucked. And it seemed like it went on forever and ever and ever and ever. The inside of our noses grew raw from the wind blowing so hard. It was during this stretch that Arn declared, "I'm not riding tomorrow. My butt is killing me. Do you think we can find a stand up sushi bar for dinner? I might not be able to ride for a week. Did I mention my butt is killing me?  Do you know how much I hate wind?" Okay, his language was more colorful than this, so I will just let you use your imagination". I tried to maintain a sense of humor and but took to my own colorful language when we met more and more uphill stretches. 

After nearly 55 miles, we saw the first signs of civilization. Really, up until this point, we saw nothing. Okay, we passed perhaps 4 houses, 2 border check points, and one hosteria (think B&B). Our first sign of Junin de Los Andes was what appeared to be the county fare --- hundreds of cars, cattle rings, food vendors, and crowds of people. We wondered what this meant for accomodations. We rode to our first choice -- full. We checked the place across the street -- full. We checked the place down the street -- full. Do you notice a pattern?  Yes, everyone is here for the fare and today is Friday. We checked one more place and they had availability.  I stayed with the bikes while Arn scouted the room.  He returned and we rode on. In15 years of marriage, I have  learned that there are two negotiations in which I am happier with the outcome if I don't show up for the discussion.  The first is selecting movies in a rental shop and the second is in the selection of hotel rooms.  So, lacking alternatives, we head to the tourist office. After a few more attempts, we found a place. While we were looking for two nigts of accomodations, we only found one. Things aren't looking good for a day off the bikes tomorrow.

We checked into the room, dropped the gear, and started to work on about "Plan I"  Since plans A thru H involved a two night stay at one of many different places with a hike on our layover day, it was time to consider a totally different plan. We made the decision to get back on the bikes the tomorrow  and head to San Martin de Los Andes --- 26 miles down the road. To be safe, we (really Arn) researched accomodations and made a two night booking.  It was about this time that our hotel for the nigt offered us a different room for tomorrow night.  Having experienced the bathroom, Arn declared his butt would take another day in the saddle to avoid another night in this room. You see, the shower was this combo deal. One piece of plumbing to rule the world. It was an integrated shower, wash basin, and bidet. Thank god the instructions for usage were printed in both English and Spanish. Add to this one more bit of trivia. At 5'6" in height, I could sit on the toilet while touching one wall with my right foot, another wall with my left foot, the third wall with one hand and the remaining wall with my other hand. Clearly, there is a high school geometrey math problem in here to figure out exactly how small this bathroom was.  I guess this is how you end up with a integrated apparatus such as we experienced!