Calm does not come in the night. The wind hits in blasts, crashing against the sides of the trailer. It’s raging out there, like the wind is on an angry tear. I lay awake, unable to sleep because A) I’m concerned the wind could actually roll this trailer and B) We’re biking straight into this tomorrow.
We only have 34 miles to cross the border into Chile and arrive in the town of Cerro Castillo. Today those 34 miles feel like the distance to the moon. Every mile is an eternity.
The wind seems to be hitting in every direction (except behind us) as if trying to knock us off our bikes. When it hits from the side we have to ride with the bikes at an angle, so we’re leaning into it in order to not fly out into traffic.
The wind is so violent it rips the snot out of our noses and paints it like plaster on our faces. But having a snot streaked face is the least of our worries today. We are in a battle to just stay on our bicycles.
Eight miles in and the sky turns black. We slide ourselves, bikes and gear under a locked gate and take shelter in an abandoned hotel while a storm blows through.
By the end of the day I can’t hear because my ears are ringing with the screams of the wind.
When we finally roll into Cerro Castillo, it is a colossal disappointment. It’s our first town in four days and over 200 miles. It only has one poorly stocked store with exorbitant prices (2000 pesos/$3.35 for a can of tuna). We spent 42,500 pesos ($72) for two bags of groceries. We bought cinnamon for our oatmeal and later realized that it had expired, two years ago. We were expecting more from this town, considering it is the gateway to Torres del Paine National Park.
The wind is forcing us to be more creative with our camp spots. Tonight, we snuck into the announcer’s booth at the rodeo arena in town. It’s enclosed, has a roof, and we can put our sleeping mats on the floor. Anything to be out of the wind.
We are both glad to see the sun go down on today.
Quote of the day from Scott:
This wind can eat a buffet of dicks.