What I Love-Day 15 of my solo bike trip across South America

89.2 miles. That is what I have to do today. There doesn’t seem to be any choice in the matter, because I refuse to wild camp and that is the next campsite. A bit overwhelming, but I try to reframe it-I am just going to spend the day biking-the whole day.

I try to get an early start, but I have a hard time rousing the municipal camp ground owner to unlock the gate and let me out. I hammer on his door for around fifteen minutes before he shuffles out. I feel bad. Not really. In fact not at all.

Last night I heard him carrying on at 3:00. Playing loud music, chatting and cooking outside. I have come to the conclusion that there actually is no night in Argentina-just hours of the day that are dark. I am coming to peace with this.

When I finally hit the road, I find that once again I am on a highway. It isn’t as busy, but every time two trucks pass each other coming from opposite directions, I need to bail out into the grass. This makes riding very stressful, as it entails looking over my shoulder to see what is coming every 30 seconds. No spacing out at all. I opt for sneaky side roads whenever I get the chance.
After about an hour or so of this the wind picks up. A healthy headwind that leaves me breathless-much like an infant when you blow in their face. I gasp and double down.

When I finally stop for lunch in a school playground on the side of the road, a small girl with pink glasses approaches me. She stares at me and does some tricks on the equipment to get my attention, but I am already too tired to engage and just smile weakly while cramming a granola bar covered with peanut butter into my mouth.

At mile 65, my knees start to ache, and I can’t believe I still have 27 miles to go. The sky is heavy and thick and feels foreboding-I have to work hard to keep positive.
And then…

I cross the border between the Cordoba and San Luis and everything changes. The wind turns around and seems to push me along like a plaything. The skies lighten and show me a new landscape. Instead of the flat, dry pampas, I have now entered rolling hills. They are layered in mounds from the road to the horizon and they are every shade of green. Some vibrant, some dusky, some rich. It is now a beautiful pastoral landscape.

Ten miles from town, I find a fruit stand. There are crates of everything from watermelon and corn to plums and oranges and everything in between. I stop and buy bananas, grapes and a peach and stand there inhaling them-barely taking the time to chew.

Finally I make it to my campsite. I am greeted warmly by my host and he walks me over to a glade of trees with a cool breeze blowing through. I shower, set up my tent, and sit in my chair-the most comfortable chair in the whole world.

This day is why I love bike touring. Maybe I am a slow learner, but I don’t always taste the perfection of a grape, or the way a chair holds me just so, or the luxury of a tail wind, or the beauty of the world, unless I strip it all down. I need to exhaust myself to appreciate resting, to become filthy to appreciate a shower and to be overwhelmed by the heat to be relieved by the cool. It is how I feel the most alive-but wow do my knees ache.