Once upon a time…

A girl with a purple shirt couldn’t buy a motorcycle due to bureaucratical hardships. Her lips formed a pout and her arms crossed themselves at chest level as she pondered her options. Her mind oscillated among the dream worlds of feasibility, possibility, creativity, passion, and imagination. Much like mental window shopping.

The idea of pedaling crossed her mind, but was dismissed along with many other good ideas. If it wasn’t motorcycling, it just was not good enough. It’s mind-blowing what amazing possibilities can be sent packing due to even the smallest doses of stubbornness and closed-mindedness. Consequently many competent results of various brainstorming sessions got thrown in the idea compost.

But when the desire for travel, the itch for adventure, the yearning for change all become too great, options once casted away are reluctantly reconsidered. Maybe the hot-air balloon idea wasn’t TOO bad. Or maybe helicopters aren’t AS difficult to fly as they say. Or maybe I CAN do a long distance bike trip, even though I’ve never really ridden a bike.

And so the idea was conceived. Over the time, it took shape and form; details ironed out and questions satisfactorily answered.

February 28 was my last day as a Canopy instructor. What a fun job! I learned a lot and spent a lot of quality time flying through the trees enjoying the Patagonian summer sun.

The very next day I bought the bike.

And the helmet… Mom…

And that’s how it began. Over the next three weeks I got the bike racks, the saddle bags, the reflector lights, the kickstand, the mirror, the cool gadgets to adjust screws and things, and… my favorite purchase by far… the bike shorts with the butt padding. I love these shorts. A lot.

In fact, my love for my bike shorts far surpasses my love for any other inanimate object. True statement.

But along with all the cool biking toys I get to purchase with my hard-earned Canopy money, comes the training. I have to build up my legs, my lungs, and my spirit to prepare for a trip of this scale.

My goal is to get to Jujuy, northern Argentina. For a beginner biker, that’s quite a trek. Over 3000 kilometers. Have I mentioned that I’m not really a biker? I do alright. I defend myself. But I’d never even considered a long distance bike trip. It was always for real bikers. I most certainly wasn’t a real biker.

But there’s nothing like the smell of a good adventure (and gorgeous Argentine landscapes) to get you to push your own limits. What if I CAN do this? Amazing the limitations that you put on yourself with a closed mind. But I think I’ve mentioned that already in this blogpost…

Over the past three weeks, this trip has been unfolding, developing, and blossoming. And it’s starting to look not only possible, but that it also could end up being enjoyable. How do I know this? Well, I did a mini-trip. A test-trip I call it. And it was good.

Up until the day I left for Villa La Angostura, I had been training a little bit. Maxing out at 40 kilometers per day. Some hills. Some flat. Some traffic. Some deserted winding mountain roads.

From Bariloche to Villa La Angostura there are approximately 85 kilometers. That’s double my daily average. And, yes, I planned to do it all in one day.

I don’t want to go into details by giving a kilometer-by-kilometer commentary, but I made it. In one piece. Needless to say I was an incoherent exhausted mess, but triumphant nonetheless.

What I will mention though is that I may have picked the windiest day in the history of all windy days to do this trip. And, of course, the wind was heading east as it always does, and I was heading west. I understand now why some people find Patagonian wind infuriating. Yes, I did lose my temper. Yes, I did scream and curse. Yes, I lost a lot of energy getting angry at the wind. And, yes, I do understand that there is nothing productive about getting angry at the wind. But I’m relatively new to biking… and I’m starting to realize that the world is a windy place when you’re on a bike.

The last 10-20 kilometers were the longest, toughest, and most challenging ever, but as I rolled into the quaint tourist town of Villa la Angostura, it was suddenly all worth it. Suddenly my legs didn’t hurt as much. Suddenly my goosebumps erupted in jubilation. Suddenly the hours and hours and hours on the bicycle seat didn’t seem so bad. Suddenly wind, the horrible wind, was a distant memory. And in my exhausted excitement, I took a picture.

I was too tired to look for a free, out-of-the-sight-of-the-police spot to pitch my tent, so I forked over some pesos for the rights to a small plot of grass in a campsite. After some of the best mates I’ve ever had, I threw my barely conscious body in my tent and passed out to the sound of Bob Marley coming from the next tent over. It was 9pm.

Around 2am I woke up to the most intense, most excruciating pain. But, in my delirium, when I tried to pinpoint the origin of the pain, I was surprised that it came from almost everywhere. My sunburnt legs stung. My back hurt, in two different places. My lungs burned. My throat ached. My jaw throbbed. My face felt like it was falling off. And my feet were frozen. I realized that my body was in shock. I drank some water. I ate some crackers. But I was in so much pain. Uncontrollable tears streamed down my face. What was going on?

If you push your body to its physical and mental limits, it will react. Especially if you then proceed to sleep in sub-zero temperatures in a tent. Especially if you haven’t had enough water or food. So push your body, but then take care of it. Or push it comfortably. Or push it hard, but be willing to deal with the side-effects. Hmmm… There may be some good lessons to be learned here.

That night and the next morning I seriously considered putting the bike on a bus and return to Bariloche. The idea of biking back was unfathomable. I had done my 90 kilometers. I learned some good lessons. I could still consider the trip a success. Couldn’t I?

The next morning, after a devouring a generous portion of hot oatmeal, I cycled into town and went to my favorite bakery. Arte y Manteca (Art and Butter) was recommended to David and me on a border-run trip that we did in June. Finger-licking good pastries. I’ve always been meaning to go back. So I did and I picked out some spirit-lifting, bad-mood-erasing, dulce-de-leche-filled goodies. And I decided to attempt the bike trip back home.

The day was perfect. No clouds. Blue blue blue skies. And, best of all, no wind!!

It was on this day, that I discovered the pleasure of biking.

Biking is freedom. There is nothing between you and the trip. You control the trip. You ARE the trip. You feel the breezes. You coast down the hills. You race the clouds and competitive little yellow-jackets. You stop for water. You stop for the subsequent bathroom breaks. You chose to eat your lunch at the most picturesque beaches and then take an after-lunch nap on the rocky shore. You wave to motorcycle dudes and dudettes. You stick out your tongue at cars and wonder where the rush is. You freak out a little each time a truck or a double-decker bus pass you. It’s adrenaline and relaxation. It’s the meeting point of being exposed and being in control. And you are the protagonist.

Biking is not about arriving at the destination. Biking is about the journey to get to a destination.

And, to state the obvious if I may, biking is slow. Very slow. It’s not for people who are in a hurry. It’s not for those with schedules and deadlines. It’s not about rush rush rush. It’s about the road. It’s about the moment. It’s about patience, enjoyment, and sloooooooooowing down a little bit.

I‘m still new to the biking lifestyle, but I’m picking up a few things. Like how sometimes you stop and have amazing conversation with super interesting bikers. Imagine, you’re going down the road and, along comes another biker. You’re going slow and so you have time to cross the road and come bike-to-bike with the other individual. You’re in no hurry. It’s a beautiful day. You stop and talk. They most likely have some amazing stories to tell. And then you each go your own way. It’s a great feeling to get encouraging waves, smiles, and fist-pumps from almost everyone you meet along the way. You can stop and try to help the exasperated Brazilian couple with the broken down car. It’s the small-town kind of traveling.

At the end of the second day of pedaling, I arrived in Bariloche exhausted, sunburnt, sweaty, and in disbelief that I had actually pulled off the seemingly impossible trip. Sometimes when you set the expectations high, you can surprise yourself when you achieve the unthinkable. So let this moment be the green light for you to do your unimaginable. Try something you’ve never done. Go above and beyond. Go for it!