I woke a few times in the night to the wind howling outside and gusting against the roof and walls of our dilapidated shelter. My hope that the wind would be calm in the morning, shattered.
Argentina, why are you doing this?! We had such a good thing going!
I hate the constant noise of wind whipping in my ears. It’s too loud. ALL. DAY. LONG. I can feel my sanity slipping away. Safety issues aside, I really would like to ride with noise canceling headphones.
Biking in strong desert winds is like being in a dehydrator, or taking a blow dryer to your body for 5-7 hours. My legs seem to get the worst of it. The skin is dry and scaly, like lizard skin. They haven’t seen a razor since Arequipa, Peru. The idea of dragging a razor over the parched skin makes me cringe just thinking about it.
We fight the headwind for 57 miles to Belen, where we check-in to a hotel for the night.