Finally, my friends moved on. Still, I waited and thought it unbelievable that a
common ankle injury could take that long to heal. I was fed up and desperately
wanted to get on the road. Then, I received the sad news that severe tendonitis
could take three to six weeks to heal. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. There are,
sadly, certain things in life one can do little about. This was one of those situations,
and I had no option but to wait.
I woke with great anticipation each morning, only to find minimal improvement.
Close to despair and bored stiff, cycling into the wind didn’t sound all bad.
The hostel was a favourite among young Israeli travellers, and they visited in their
hordes. They seemed to favour South America as a travel destination and moved in
packs. Seldom, if ever, did you meet an Israeli travelling solo.
And I waited, and waited and waited!
Puerto Natales
At last, it felt like my injuries were on the mend and walking was less painful than
before.
That very evening, Ernest arrived from the north en route to Ushuaia. He looked
haggard from weeks of battling the wind (at least he had the wind from behind).
Harsh conditions along the Carretera Austral in Chile and the infamous Route 40 in
Argentina could wear any traveller down. With much catching up to do since we
parted in Melbourne two months earlier, the chatter continued until late.