“I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t like dirt roads,” I mused.
“Didn’t you already know that?” Daryl asked.
“I don’t like them either,” Davy added. “Unless they’re a BMX track.”
There was a time, back when I was young and foolish, that I enjoyed the rough and tumble challenge of dirt roads. But now that I’m old and gray and ready for my rocker, I’ve decided I prefer asphalt.
I don’t like the intense concentration needed to maintain control on dirt roads. I don’t like that I have to concentrate on that patch of road six feet ahead of me watching for an errant rock or patch of loose gravel that’ll send me sprawling. I don’t like how my whole body stiffens when I hit loose stuff and how my bike wobbles and my wheels slip and slide. I don’t like how sore my arms and shoulders get after a few days on dirt roads. I don’t like the whump-whump-whump-whump of washboard.
And so – I was thrilled when we pulled up to a small hotel/restaurant in San Sebastian on the Chile/Argentina border. This gawdawful stretch of dirt road through Chile will end at the border – and I was more than ready for it.
“It’ll be dirt road all the way to the Argentinian San Sebastian,” truckers told me. “Fifteen kilometers away.”
Talk about taking the wind outta my sails…
Our plan had been to cross the border and get to the Argentinian San Sebastian today, then on to Rio Grande tomorrow. But… well… I dunno…
We walked out of the restaurant after eating hamburgers and it was cold and cloudy and rain was starting to fall and we had another fifteen bloody K of ripio and…
…we checked into the hotel.
Kilometers today: 27
Kilometers to date: 27505