Leg Distance - 143.35km
Leg Time - 8:28.13
Total Distance - 4081.41km
Leg Time - 8:28.13
Total Distance - 4081.41km
"Count your miles from the lightning,
rest your tired eyes.
Count your blessings against the thunder,
kiss the years goodbye."
rest your tired eyes.
Count your blessings against the thunder,
kiss the years goodbye."
Jeffrey Foucault - Miles from the Lightning
Well, I found those missing 20km. I was about 40km out of Sicuani when I saw the sign saying "Cuzco - 100" and froze, staring at it in a mixture of anger (my map and the two policemen I had asked in Sicuani had all said 110km) and worry that I would not make it. Normally I would have stopped the night somewhere, but I couldn't imagine not making it to Cuzco on the same day after looking forward to it since leaving La Paz, so I (stubbornly and, perhaps, recklessly) decided that it would be Cuzco or bust. Six hours plus later I rolled into Cuzco at rush-hour with the setting sun in my eyes, much like I had done in Valparaiso 3 months ago. Of course, in Valparaiso I hadn't run into the back of a mini-van like I did yesterday (for future reference, white vehicles that brake suddenly: impossible to see with the sun in your eyes), but neither Toops, me nor the van's fender showed signs of any damage. After the driver had come out and mumbled something at me I continued on to the hostel.
My hopes of a celebratory beer later that night were dashed as I was so exhausted that I was on my bed asleep by 9 with nightmares of loose pannier racks and missing allen keys, now relegated from genuine waking worries.
Shortly before leaving the Falklands someone had asked me what my hopes and expectations of the trip were. Returning alive figured pretty highly on that list, but other than that I couldn't think of anything concrete. In many ways, however, this trip was complete for me the moment I left Puerto Varas and set out on the Ruta 5, everything else since has been one long, beautiful bonus.
Highlights: Literally too many to mention. Crossing the Andes was very special, predictably, as was rolling into Valparaiso, or my first day as I mentioned above. However, the moment that sticks out in my mind is reaching the Abra del Condor at 4000m on my way to Iruya. It came after a 50km climb (30 of which of rough gravel) and by the time I reached the top I was mentally and physically exhausted. The view on the other side, however, was breathtaking, and for one egocentric second it seemed as if all those millions of years of geological forces had been staged solely for me to experience that moment.
Low points: Being stuck in La Paz, my morale slump around Arauco or general loneliness were all pretty shit. However, the lowest point (and one which almost led me to ditch Toops) came straight after one of my highlights. I had been stuck at the Chilean - Argentine border post for three hours courtesy of a semi-strike, so I was forced to spend the night in an (overpriced) empty hotel in Puente del Inca. Worn out from two days of sheer climbing, I had bought a beer to celebrate the crossing. As I opened it in the hotel room I felt the anti-climax of having none of my friends and family to celebrate with and felt the whole brunt of the cyclist's loneliness. Of course, I was hungry, exhausted and spending my first night at altitude, so I was far from thinking straight. By the time I got to Mendoza two days later I was gunning to go again.
As I awoke this morning I realised that I wouldn't have to prepare rolls for the day's ride, fill my camelback and go through the (by now, reflex) motions of packing the panniers and loading the bike. At first I felt relieved, but the more I thought about it the more it broke my heart to think that I wouldn't have to.
I got up to discover that Toops had a flat back tyre and couldn't help but feel a little sad that it should look so ungraceful after the epic journey. The road yesterday had glass everywhere, so I had (fearfully) checked the tyres on a regular basis. The last check had been no more that 5km from home, and both tyres had been fine. Logic would suggest that the puncture occurred in those last 5km, but, at the risk of sounding wet, I would like to think that Toops simply held out.
As I started to change the tyre (more out of respect than necessity) this morning I felt myself well up with gratitude. It's difficult to explain it, and even more so for people reading this to understand it I suspect, but I doubt anyone will ever know how difficult the trip was at times, or how rewarding, like Toops does. I admit it was probably down to chance, but it often seemed that when things got tough, encouragement always came by way of Toops. Similarly, Toops always made sure to bring my head down from the clouds when I got ahead of myself. It's such a cliche, but Toops has proved so much more than a means of transport: my travel companion, my hindrance, my confidante, my friend. My Tupelo Honey.
