Over the Top-Day 23 of my solo bike tour across South America

I snuck out of my room last night because I couldn’t sleep. It was too hard to quiet my mind, knowing I had 4,000 more feet to climb today. Not only that, but I was going to encounter the scariest of all tunnels that has a long, uphill turn making it impossible to see the end or go fast. Then I would need to hitchhike through a two-and-a-half mile long tunnel in, which bikes were forbidden, right on top of the pass. And if that wasn’t enough, I had a border crossing to contend with that involved having to explain why I never got my passport stamped when I entered Argentina. Then there was just the dread of wind that was certain to complicate things. I thought, since I couldn’t sleep, I would at least stare at the stars instead of the ceiling.

As I rattled the front door of the hospedaje, my host appeared. “Where are you going?”, he asked.
“To look at the stars.” I told him.

“The door is locked, you need to be sleeping-but for one moment.” He let me take a peak and then whisked me off to bed.
This morning at 6:15 when I quietly rolled my bike across the lobby, he appeared again. This time he handed me a bag of sweet breads. “For you,” he said “Good luck.”

Outside, the air was still and the sun was not yet up. I switched on my lights and immediately started climbing.
After several miles I came upon some Inca Ruins by the side of the road. Nobody was there except a pack of dogs. I ate my first sweet bread and tried to absorb were I was, and how people could have lived here, in this land that I was so jittery to just pass through.
As I cycled on, the slope became more and more severe. These were no rolling hills, just a relentless up, winding around buttress and outcroppings.

It wasn’t long before I saw the dreaded uphill, curved dark tunnel, daring me with it’s open maw. Nothing to be done, but race into to it. My heart beat thudded in my ears, my breath was ragged, but I popped out the other side without getting eaten. Things were looking up.

Now I was high. The only thing higher was the Aconcagua peak, covered with snow. This morning, it sent gentle, fresh breezes down that that cooled me, but they didn’t threaten or slow me in anyway. I felt very thankful.

Finally, I arrived at the top. There really are no words. Ethereal? Other worldly? I felt euphoric and my head felt full of helium. There is nothing else up there—just the sky—and it seemed so close.

The long tunnnel that crosses over to Chile now waited. I pedaled over to a guard and told him my issue. He grinned and assured me that he would love to take me across. We loaded my bike and panniers up in his truck and we were off. Halfway through the tunnel is the border and he counted down until we crossed it. All my fears were being allieved.

Out on the other side, there was only one more obstacle, the border. I waited in line for ages, chatting to fellow travelers, having mutual English/Spanish lessons with some kids that were also waiting. It was an excellent distraction.

When my turn finally came, I practiced my best Spanish and said “Lo siento, mi español es muy mal.”

The border official looked at me and gave me a huge smile, “Good then I get to practice my English!” She then proceeded to ask me endless questions, but not about my legality, just about my bike trip. “I don’t get to see this everyday, I don’t even know what to put on the form!”
Soon she stamped my passport and sent me on my way, I had made it.

As I cycled away from the top, the road snaked down and down. Each guardrail-free turn was numbered. 27 in all. As I floated down, slowly, so I could enjoy every moment, cars honked, truck drivers gave me thumbs up, people literally cheered. It felt like I was in a parade. A parade at the top of the world.

And now I am here, eating a salad in Los Andes. Did that really happen?

Tomorrow, I hope to head towards the ocean and see what Chile is all about.

Wanted to eat me for breakfast