Tolhuim – Rio Grande – 113 km
Waking to loose, corrugated-iron roof sheets banging in the wind, one intuitively
knew the day would become a long, hard one into the wind. Heading out of
Tolhuim, swirling dust clouds made it a desolate and lonely scene. The route led
north to Rio Grande, straight into the infamous Patagonian wind. In the cold
weather and while rain pelted down, driven by a near gale-force wind, the rain hit
my hands with such force that I wished for thicker gloves. Even though dressed in
all the warm clothes I possessed, I was freezing.
As if the weather weren’t challenging enough, the rear gear cable gave problems,
but there was nothing one could do but battle on and work with the three remaining
gears. It didn’t make much difference, as I could barely average 10 km/h. The wind
grew stronger as the day wore on, slowing the pace to a mere five km/h. Still, I
battled on, past vast windswept and barren-looking estancias. Goals became
shorter and shorter. Four times five kilometres sounded far more doable than
kilometres at that stage. Every five kilometres, I rewarded myself by eating a sweet
or biscuit. Then, head down, I headed off into the howling wind.
Midday, a stormwater pipe running underneath the road gave shelter from the
wind, if only to give the mind a break. It’s incredible what all runs through a
person’s head sitting alone in a stormwater pipe. This was indeed a mental game
and, back on the bike, it took fighting the wind with each turn of the pedal.
Barely 20 kilometres from Rio Grande, a kind Argentinean stopped and offered me
a ride. Smelling victory over the day I declined his offer. Seeing him disappearing in
the distance, I could’ve kicked myself wondering what was wrong with me. Instead,
gripping the handlebars, I pushed down hard on the pedals.
Eventually, Rio Grande rolled into view. Exhausted, I crawled into Rio Grande,
booked into the first available guesthouse and fell asleep exhausted but pleased to
have survived such a harsh day.