Wind

Got my first taste of the real Patagonian winds today. It´s just rediculous. It doesn´t gust, or die, it´s just a constant noise in your ears, and a drain on your strength, physical and mental. I´d read about it, but nothing prepares you for the maddening relentlesness.

Every time you change up a gear it´s a minor victory, and you celebrate with increasingly maniacal glee. I cycled down a steep hill and was working hard to do 6 mph. Going up hill is the only releaf as the hill temporarily blocks the wind - you accelerate to 7mph! The lorries pass and you hear the SMASH of wind against your chest and just hold on to the bike until it stops dancing beneath you. Scary stuff. If the road turns a bit, you cycle with a cross wind and try to get 50 metres before you lose the fight and drop off the road again. 10 hours of the hardest effort I´ve yet endured (including running with Mr G. Cookson! ;-) got me 85kms to Rio Grande and a well earned tent pitch at the back of the seemingly famous (mentioned by every cyclist I met so far) Hostel Argentino.

Drained. Need sleep. Fortunately there are other cyclists who understand and take pity on me with food. Oh how the food intake is increasing.....