Inhaling deep I try to catch my breath as I struggled along, fighting the wind and terrain that seems to forever work against me. Up ahead I see the telltale signs of inclement weather, unsure at the moment of what kind of precipitation is in my future rain or snow but regardless my day is getting more interesting moment by moment. I am barely 500 metres into the Ruta Lagunas, only a couple hundred kilometres to go. I plod along with my hood up to keep the snow and cold from dampening my spirits more than my exhaustion already has, trying to find a stream feeding into one of the lagunas to which the route gets its name so I can quench my thirst and satiate my hunger before bedding down and repeating this the following day.
The wind was whipping around the mountain to my right and turning to the north directly into my face making progress slow but eventually I make it to the first laguna and find a fresh water stream; home for tonight. If I thought my troubles would end with my ride I was mistaken, the wind never abating made erecting my tent a monumental challenge and the soft ground refused to hold the stakes firm. Rocks would be needed. Sleep came in fits as the wind refused to let up and the temperature dropped well below zero and when the morning dawned I groaned knowing today would be much of the same. While the sky stayed cloud free the road became worse nearing impassible, where the day before it was firm but full of large rocks today it was deep sand and washboards 20cm deep. At times it was easier on my body to just get off and push while losing none of my pace. Hour by hour and minute by minute I move forward, it’s the only thing I can do. To stay still is to go hungry in the future; food is a limited supply and unable to replenish until the next village.
The next day is a rare bright spot on the ruta, for almost 20 kilometres I have the wind at my back and a relatively firm and smooth path and a smile on my face. But like all good things it came to an end too soon and I was back to trudging though the deep sand for the rest of the day until I arrived at Laguna Colorada, and a tienda. I would not sleep hungry tonight. Hoping against all reason I wished for the road conditions to improve, thinking it can’t possibly get worse, I am partially proven right but to make up for the improving roads the wind only became more fierce. Struggling to even keep my bike upright, forward motion dropped to below 3 km/hr, the only thing looking up was my altimeter, gradually climbing closer and closer to 5000m.
With the end nearly in sight, I get struck down by either food poisoning or bad water either way the result is the same exhaustion and days of rest to slowly build up my energy reserves delaying my arrival to Chile and the promise of pavement. After a false start saw me returning to the hostal for another day of rest I finally make it to Laguna Blanca where I spent my final night in Bolivia. Looking out across the laguna back towards the ruta I couldn’t help but think about all I had been through in this country; crossing salars with a broken rack, getting separated from all of my gear because entire towns were on strike, and completing the Ruta Lagunas which to date has been my biggest challenge I can’t help but feel some pride in my accomplishments and a little sad as my adventure is nearly at an end. I sigh and exhale at this moment of sorrow before I turn around and make my way inside and into bed sleeping peacefully knowing my day tomorrow would actually be better than today. 