{"id":1216,"date":"2011-04-07T16:20:49","date_gmt":"2011-04-07T19:20:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.worldbiking.info\/wordpress\/?p=1216"},"modified":"2011-04-07T16:27:15","modified_gmt":"2011-04-07T19:27:15","slug":"the-hard-way-round","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.worldbiking.info\/wordpress\/2011\/04\/the-hard-way-round\/","title":{"rendered":"The Hard Way Round"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cShe doesn\u2019t look good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve never seen her like that.\u00a0 Just collapsed on the side of the road and refused to move.\u00a0 I had to drag her back on to her bike.\u00a0 Force her to pedal.\u00a0 I told her she\u2019d die of exposure if she didn\u2019t move, but she didn\u2019t seem to care.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMust be the altitude.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"
It's tough and exhausting riding through the Andes.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I lay huddled under a mass of blankets listening to Eric discussing my situation with a stranger.\u00a0 The stranger\u2019s accent was English and his voice calming and reassuring.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got some medicine.\u00a0 Maybe it\u2019ll help.\u201d<\/p>\n

Moments later Eric thrust a tiny white pill at me and instructed me to swallow.\u00a0 With a momentous effort I gulped down the medicine.\u00a0 I hoped the Diamox would help.<\/p>\n

I was cold, so cold.\u00a0 It felt as if an elephant was lying on my chest.\u00a0 Although the throbbing headache I\u2019d dealt with all day was now but a dull pain, I was weak and nauseous.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d never been so thankful for a roof over my head.\u00a0 Just after dawn, when we\u2019d set off from San Antonio de los Cobres, I\u2019d felt vaguely unwell.\u00a0 It had been a long, hard slog up the pass\u2014Los Chorrillos, our highest yet at 4,555 meters.\u00a0 My respiration had been shallow and labored.\u00a0 I\u2019d had to push around the bends in the switchbacks.\u00a0 But I\u2019d made it.\u00a0 We\u2019d snapped a photo and began the long descent.<\/p>\n

\"\"
A slow descent that should have been easy. Once altitude sickness kicks in, nothing is easy.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"
Our cycling companions in the Andes.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Midway down the dizziness began.\u00a0 Then the slurred speech.\u00a0 Finally I just collapsed.\u00a0 I knew this was the way foolish people died.\u00a0 They just gave up.<\/p>\n

The functioning part of my brain knew I had to get back on the bike and pedal.\u00a0 Nights are frigid in the Andes at over 4,000 meters.\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t just lie nestled in the sand until daybreak.<\/p>\n

Without Eric to force me back on the bike, I don\u2019t know what would have happened.\u00a0 I\u2019d like to think I would have summoned the energy to go on.\u00a0 I\u2019d have made it to safety and shelter in the tiny railway village of Olacapato.\u00a0 At the very least I\u2019d have had the sense to pitch the tent and protect myself from the freezing temperatures.<\/p>\n

But there I was, huddled up on the top bunk in an adobe hovel high up in the Andes.\u00a0 The medicine from the mysterious Englishman\u2014Martin was his name\u2014began to take effect.<\/p>\n

Slowly I revived enough to take in my surroundings.\u00a0 I was lying on a dirty foam mattress.\u00a0 Martin\u2019s bike was propped up against one wall and our bikes were stashed away in the opposite corner.<\/p>\n

Eric and Martin were busy discussing the route ahead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should be able to make it to the border tomorrow.\u00a0 We\u2019ll be able to get water and apparently the customs guys will give us a place to sleep\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

They droned on about logistics, debating the various route possibilities, exchanging information about purported places to stock up on water, discussing the elevation of passes and the likelihood of headwinds, washboarding and the most dreaded of all road conditions: sand.<\/p>\n

I dozed off into a fitful sleep.\u00a0 At 6:30 AM the alarm sounded.\u00a0 Unsure of what to expect on the road ahead, we bolted out of bed in spite of the cold, keen to get an early start.<\/p>\n

After bundling up in long thermals, thick fleeces and fuzzy hats we wished Diego, the local schoolteacher who had been our host for the night, well and set off down \u2018Highway\u2019 51 on our way to Paso Sico and the Chilean border.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Time to hit the road. Eric and Martin saying farewell to our host Diego.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

This was day five since we\u2019d left Salta, the last city we\u2019d encounter for a very long while.\u00a0 We\u2019d managed two passes. Alto Chorrillos at 4,555 meters, and Abra Blanca at 4,080 meters.\u00a0 The asphalt had long ago disappeared.\u00a0 So, too had villages and any semblance of civilization.\u00a0 The stark beauty of the Andes surrounded us.\u00a0 Snow-capped peaks of the volcanoes in the distance, sandstone cliffs and llamas grazing in the wide valleys.\u00a0 This sun-scorched region of northern Argentina was dry and desolate.\u00a0 Occasionally we\u2019d spot an adobe hut in the distance but largely the land was uninhabited.<\/p>\n

\"\"
A proud moment. Hard work, but very much worth the effort.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"
It would be a long time before we'd see asphalt again.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

So far, so good.\u00a0 Just out of Salta, we\u2019d camped one night at the gendarmeries.\u00a0 The next night we\u2019d pitched the tent smack dab in the middle of a goat pen perched on the mountainside at some 4,000 meters of altitude.<\/p>\n

Thankfully, the goats were absent, still grazing even higher up at their summer pasture.\u00a0 The pen made a fine wind break, but the decaying droppings on which we were camped didn\u2019t do much for my appetite.<\/p>\n

Then there\u2019d been the comfort of the village of San Antonio, where I\u2019d enjoyed a hot shower and taken advantage of the running water to wash clothes.\u00a0 Next came our night at Diego\u2019s humble home.<\/p>\n

\"\"
San Antonio: the last sign of civilization and our last chance to stock up on food.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Now we pedaled along easily across the high plateau, Martin, Eric and I. It was a glorious morning for cycling.\u00a0 The sun cast a soft glow over the Andes, the road was hard-packed dirt and there wasn\u2019t a vehicle in sight.\u00a0 My bout with altitude sickness seemed like the distant past and–at that moment– there was no place on earth I\u2019d have rather been.\u00a0 Life was perfect simply cycling through the Andes.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Sometimes life just can't get any better.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Later that day, as the road turned sandy, the washboarding began and the wind kicked in, life felt a little less perfect.<\/p>\n

Looking out over the blinding whiteness of the Salar de Rincon on my left did little to boost my mood as I pushed and prodded my bike along.\u00a0 It was times like these when I questioned our decision to take the hard way round.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Life suddenly seems very tough.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"
Even beautiful Salar de Rincon couldn't distract me from my troubles.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

In Africa, the hard way round was usually the only way round.\u00a0 We had to toughen-up and take what the continent dished out.<\/p>\n

In South America, there is usually a choice.\u00a0 We could have quite easily followed the nice smooth paved highway over Paso Jama and in to Chile.<\/p>\n

But we\u2019d been lured into attempting the higher, remoter and harder Paso Sico by romantic tales told by Brits Harriet and Neil Pike<\/a> and Canadian Jeff Kruys.<\/p>\n

Those intrepid cyclists were to blame.<\/p>\n

Particularly Harriet.\u00a0 It\u2019s always easy to wimp out on a challenge which only guys have taken on.\u00a0 But there was Harriet\u2014in my opinion the toughest woman on two-wheels in all of South America.<\/p>\n

She\u2019s done Paso Sico.\u00a0 I\u2019d better give it a try, too.<\/p>\n

But back to my story.\u00a0 To every cold and weary cyclist\u2019s delight, the Aduanas Argentinas operate an unofficial \u00a0Casa de Ciclistas at their far- flung border outpost.\u00a0 High up at 3,833 meters we were treated yet again to a roof for the night, a soft mattress and, quite unbelievably, a hot shower.<\/p>\n

Rejuvenated by the comforts, we set off the following morning as the sun\u2019s first rays lightened the sky.\u00a0 A tough day lay ahead.\u00a0 First a climb up to Abra Sico at 4,458 meters, then a descent followed by another pass\u2014Abra Laco at 4,578 meters.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Up, up, up we go.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In reality, the gradients were gentle.\u00a0 But at such high altitude the body strains under even the gentlest of slopes.<\/p>\n

I was ecstatic as we passed the border into Chile.\u00a0 Thrilled as we crested Abra Sico and devastated as I saw the straight up climb that lay ahead.<\/p>\n

\"\"
The border at last.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"
Another pass ahead.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Chilean immigration outpost was perched across a narrow valley half-way up a steep mountainside.<\/p>\n

I was fast running out of steam.\u00a0\u00a0 The wicked afternoon winds were picking up and, despite my most concerted efforts, my overworked legs refused to turn the pedals.<\/p>\n

I would push.\u00a0 And push.\u00a0 And push some more.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Never, ever have I pushed so much, so hard.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

All they way up to the immigration post and four kilometers beyond to Abra Laco and the highest pass of the entire trip.<\/p>\n

As the winds whipped us head on, I summoned all my determination to soldier on.\u00a0 From the pass, a quick descent would bring us to the El Laco Mining Camp.\u00a0 We had to make it.<\/p>\n

It was our only chance for a reprieve from the freezing conditions that nightfall would bring and a chance to refill on water.<\/p>\n

We had to make, and with a herculean effort, we did make it.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Our highest point, yet!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The camp cook greeted us with a smile, showed us to an empty room and thrust a pile of thick woolen blankets at me.\u00a0 Immediately I burrowed into bed and attempted to warm up.<\/p>\n

For a third night, we\u2019d been saved from sleeping rough.\u00a0 Now at 4,434 meters I was even more grateful for the relative comfort of the mining camp.<\/p>\n

Later, the cook would call to me and insist I wiggle out from under my nest of blankets and trudge down to the kitchen to warm up by the stove.\u00a0 My uncontrollable shivering was abnormal he insisted.\u00a0 I was showing signs of hypothermia.<\/p>\n

Hypothermia was probably a bit of a stretch, but as I thrust half my body into the welcome heat of the oven, a wave of gratefulness swept over me.<\/p>\n

How would we ever have made it without the kindness and hospitality of these generous souls?<\/p>\n

Without their help, we would have had to lug several day\u2019s worth of drinking water.\u00a0 We\u2019d have slept out in the tent, exposed to the elements.\u00a0 Diego, the custom\u2019s guys, the crew at the mining camp, they were all making the hard way round a whole lot easier.<\/p>\n

Day seven and were just 100 kilometers from the village of Socaire and a return to civilization.\u00a0 A short day\u2019s ride and an easy descent?\u00a0 No.\u00a0 Absolutely not.<\/p>\n

Fantastic scenery awaited us as we forged on to Lago Tuyaito and Salar de Aguas Calientes.\u00a0 But our faithful companion the wind never let up.<\/p>\n

\"\"
The amazing Andes.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"\"
Aguas Calientes and more spectacular scenery.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And my trusty Koga had chosen this inauspicious moment to let me down.\u00a0 The crank had worn out and my left pedal continually slipped off.\u00a0 A swift quick every few kilometers was the only thing keeping the bike going.<\/p>\n

Now the Koga opted to give up entirely, and the pedal and crank lay uselessly in the sand.\u00a0 Eric and Martin were deep in consultation, like two surgeons discussing a complex medical procedure.<\/p>\n

Saving the day, Martin produced some miracle blue glue from deep within his saddle bags.\u00a0 The guys set out cleaning the parts and smearing on the glue.\u00a0 Hopefully it would do the trick and I wouldn\u2019t end up stranded by the side of the road.<\/p>\n

Traffic was light.\u00a0 Extremely light.\u00a0 One day there had been only a Brazillian couple on motorbikes and a mining truck.\u00a0 Another day just three trucks in a convoy.\u00a0 Chances of a lift were slim.<\/p>\n

The glue would have to set before I could attempt turning the pedals.\u00a0 Not wanting to waste time, I chose to push the bike while I waited.<\/p>\n

By this point, the winds were gusting so strongly that I could actually push the bike as fast as the guys could cycle.\u00a0 Well, I had it a little easier since I was crouched down behind Martin who was shielding me from wind\u2019s full force.\u00a0 Martin cycled, I pushed and we made our way slowly forward, Eric bringing up the back.<\/p>\n

At such a slow place our efforts were almost futile.\u00a0 As soon as we spotted a gravel pit and potential protection from the wind, we called it a day and set up camp.\u00a0 The GPS informed us we were still at well over 4,000 meters.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Our campsite at over 4,000 meters.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

During the night, I was awakened by the high-pitched calls of the vicu\u00f1a.\u00a0 By morning the howling winds had calmed to a gentle breeze.\u00a0 As the sun began to rise, I was still snuggled deep into my heavy down sleeping bag.\u00a0 Eric lay comatose beside me.\u00a0 Martin called out from his tent that the thermometer read -12 Celsius.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It took a great deal of willpower to emerge from the tent and face the day.\u00a0 The water bottles were frozen solid and the tents covered with a thick layer of frost.\u00a0 Finally we got the coffee going and scraped together the last of our oats to produce an energizing porridge.<\/p>\n

\"\"
Morning view from the tent.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After all the tough times, I felt we deserved an easy day.\u00a0 But it was not to be.\u00a0 Just a few kilometers down the road my rear tire got a puncture, then the right gear cable snapped and after we\u2019d resolved that problem, the front tire got a flat.\u00a0 Thankfully, Martin\u2019s miracle blue glue held the pedal tight.<\/p>\n

Mid-afternoon we cycled triumphantly into Socaire.\u00a0 Civilization at long last.\u00a0 Shops, paved roads and even a guesthouse.\u00a0 Martin was already set up in a comfortable room.\u00a0 Frugal cyclists that we are, we settled for pitching the tent on the hotel terrace.<\/p>\n

Food supplies were low.\u00a0 It had been five days since we\u2019d crossed a shop.\u00a0 I\u2019d been dreaming of chocolate bars and fresh bread, but in Socaire all the shops were closed up tight for the siesta.<\/p>\n

Instant mashed potatoes was all that we could dig up at the bottom of our panniers.\u00a0 I tried not to grumble too much as I hunkered down to our somewhat disappointing celebratory meal.<\/p>\n

And then something beautiful happened.\u00a0 The kind woman in charge appeared with a huge platter of food.\u00a0 Admittedly the huge chunks of meat were nothing for me, but it didn\u2019t matter.\u00a0 Eric attacked the food with gusto.<\/p>\n

\"\"
The hard way round comes to an end.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The hard way round was coming to an end.\u00a0 The paved road had begun.\u00a0 San Pedro de Atacama\u2014better known as Gringo Central– <\/em>was an easy 90 kilometer ride away.\u00a0 Soon we would be surrounded by backpackers whining about the horrific 15-hour bus ride from Santiago and others enthusiastically organizing a tour through the Salar de Uyuni.\u00a0 The tourists would outnumber the locals and touts would vie for guesthouse and restaurant business.<\/p>\n

It was time or a rest.\u00a0 Time to let the mind process all the events of the last 9 days.\u00a0 Time to gear up for the next hard way round: a ride through the largest salt flats on earth:\u00a0 Salar de Uyuni.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cShe doesn\u2019t look good.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ve never seen her like that.\u00a0 Just collapsed on the side of the road and refused to move.\u00a0 I had to drag her back on to her bike.\u00a0 Force her to pedal.\u00a0 I told her she\u2019d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1239,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0},"categories":[16,34,12,49],"tags":[50],"yoast_head":"\nThe Hard Way Round - Worldbiking.info<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.worldbiking.info\/wordpress\/2011\/04\/the-hard-way-round\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Hard Way Round - 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