We left the shore of Lago Fagnano quite late. Our tardiness was made worse by the fact that after 3km I broke my chain! Then while I was fixing my chain Blenk managed to break the valve to his inner tube! Not a good start to the day.
This entry is not dedicated to our misfortune regarding kit, nor is it really about the Road to Rio Grande, or Chile. It is about the wind.
We had read about the wind before we´d left and we´d been told about it´s strength but we weren´t ready for it. I don´t think anything can prepare you for the strength of the wind here. As we turned north on Ruta 3 from Tolhuin the full strength of the strong northerly wind hit us full in the face. It´s power is incredible, as is it´s relentlessness. You instantly feel the cold air sucking the warmth and energy away from your body. Your mouth becomes parched as each individual particle of liquid is evaporated in seconds.
When the wind isn´t in your face it strikes at your side causing you to ride constantly with a list. You still find yourself caught offguard by a gust that blows you onto the gravel hard shoulder.
The wind has the capacity to instantly destroy morale, moments of respite from pedalling (like freewheeling downhill) are taken away from you. The wind is so strong that it is necessary to push hard even downhill.
Rest stops seem to offer little comfort as well. The landscape is so bleak and shelter so sparse that there is never refuge from the wind.
To conserve energy we rode in closely ordered single file the man at the fron taking the brunt of the wind whilst allowing the two behind to ride in his slipstream. After a couple of km the point man would retire exhausted to the back and the second in line would take the lead.
The only good thing about the wind seems to be that it blows at it´s stongest from early afternoon to late evening. During the night and early morning the wind is not blowing.
This means that we have had to take the decision to ride at night and in the early morning - it would appear that in Patagonia cyclists must become nocturnal or else truly suffer for their art.
I can say that after two hard days in the saddle, and after Dick had damaged his knee slightly, we made it to Rio Grande and we were very tired but ecstatic.
This entry is not dedicated to our misfortune regarding kit, nor is it really about the Road to Rio Grande, or Chile. It is about the wind.
We had read about the wind before we´d left and we´d been told about it´s strength but we weren´t ready for it. I don´t think anything can prepare you for the strength of the wind here. As we turned north on Ruta 3 from Tolhuin the full strength of the strong northerly wind hit us full in the face. It´s power is incredible, as is it´s relentlessness. You instantly feel the cold air sucking the warmth and energy away from your body. Your mouth becomes parched as each individual particle of liquid is evaporated in seconds.
When the wind isn´t in your face it strikes at your side causing you to ride constantly with a list. You still find yourself caught offguard by a gust that blows you onto the gravel hard shoulder.
The wind has the capacity to instantly destroy morale, moments of respite from pedalling (like freewheeling downhill) are taken away from you. The wind is so strong that it is necessary to push hard even downhill.
Rest stops seem to offer little comfort as well. The landscape is so bleak and shelter so sparse that there is never refuge from the wind.
To conserve energy we rode in closely ordered single file the man at the fron taking the brunt of the wind whilst allowing the two behind to ride in his slipstream. After a couple of km the point man would retire exhausted to the back and the second in line would take the lead.
The only good thing about the wind seems to be that it blows at it´s stongest from early afternoon to late evening. During the night and early morning the wind is not blowing.
This means that we have had to take the decision to ride at night and in the early morning - it would appear that in Patagonia cyclists must become nocturnal or else truly suffer for their art.
I can say that after two hard days in the saddle, and after Dick had damaged his knee slightly, we made it to Rio Grande and we were very tired but ecstatic.
