Two Scotts on the Trott

 

On 5 December, with 10 days to go before Andrew was due to fly out of Argentina, we mounted our bikes once more and cycled out of town. We were 2,000 km from Buenos Aires and it was time for a hitch-hike marathon. This turned out to be a fascinating experience. We caught 11 lifts over five days. Thankfully, there was only one occasion where we thought we were going to die, and this was on the back of a tiny pickup that developed a terrifying speed wobble when the driver exceeded 80 km per hour. Needless to say, we hopped off that lift earlier than planned, valuing life over distance covered.

 

Another noteworthy incident on our return journey took place in Tandil, in the southwest of Buenos Aires Province. We stopped in this handsome little town to investigate its reputable cheese and salami and by chance found ourselves camped in the midst of a moto-encuentro (motorbike meeting) of some 2,000 bikers. The bikers took a shining to us and complimented our ‘equipment’, despite the fact that we did not have engines to rev. In spite of their festiveness and friendliness, we were not sad to leave this leather-clad campsite.

 

We had managed to hitch-hike 1,700 km and were not looking forward to trying to cycle through the expansive urban sprawl that surrounded Buenos Aires. We made a decision that would ensure we arrived in the centre of the city safely. We hopped on a train. And that was it, the final leg of our journey.

 

Reflecting on the trip now, from the confines of a tiled and tiny house, is odd. For four months, our ‘dirt bag’ life was total. Normality was sleeping on a thin camping mattress. Washing clothes was an arduous task: we had to hand wash in buckets, public basins or rivers and then string up a temporary line and hope for no wind. Food was prepared in one or two small pots on a single gas stove. Coffee was simply grinds and water in a fold-up rubber cup. Being clean was always just a relative term, based on the amount of water we could carry and therefore afford to use for a bottle shower. Daily life was slowly experiencing the country one-on-one, breathing in our surroundings.

 

Our learnings along the way have been multitudinous. From basic tangibles, like how to change a tyre and prepare rice and lentils in a hundred different ways, to more immaterial realisations like self-control, anger management on windy days and how to simply accept our situation rather than feel dismal about uncomfortable circumstances. One of the key realisations was that anyone could ride a bicycle across a continent. Before this trip, I did not even own a bicycle. I did not know how to fix a puncture. I had no clue what a derailleur was or what type of brakes were best. Every bike shop or company I visited or phoned had different, conflicting advice. At the end of the day, I opted for economy and bought a basic bicycle. It was a little heavy, perhaps, but besides the occasions when we were lifting our bikes over fences, it was perfect.

 

On top of that, we had not trained at all. One of the questions we were asked most frequently regarding the trip was how much we had physically prepared. There was the general expectation amongst those we met that we were experienced cyclists who had trained for months before venturing forth. We hadn’t. This response was always met with surprise. I went on a few short training rides before we departed, the last couple carrying a backpack with a few kilogrammes of sugar and beans. We went on one test cycle when our panniers arrived, to see how we handled the change in weight. When we began our trip, we were barely prepared and definitely not fit.

 

Furthermore, our research had been minimal. We had spoken to a few cyclist friends and sales people, and read a few blogs. From this, we were able to ascertain some vital information regarding what was necessary and what was not. What we discovered is that you do not need a fancy bike. However, we were thankful on a daily basis that we had invested in a good set of panniers. Loading and unloading our bikes every day was a pleasure.

 

For those inclined to try a similar journey, we would thoroughly recommend not planning a route too extensively. One of the best parts of our trips was the fact that we had no set plans and no real destinations. This opened us up to receiving uncountable experiences that we would never have been exposed to had we been following a strict plan. Likewise, and this was something we learnt along the way, by not planning and researching accommodation and our next day’s destination, we were pushed out of our comfort zones. We were forced to communicate with people to gain information that often led to many great conversations, offers and opportunities. We also gradually became comfortable with free camping and ultimately aimed to avoid campsites altogether. This really brought us into contact with the people of the land.

 

Cycling as a form of travel ultimately means that the going will be slow. When there were big distances between towns, we would have to camp somewhere along the way. Some mornings we would wake up on a gaucho path – a path used solely by the cowboys of the South American pampas - amongst thorn trees and cow dung; other days we would wake up surrounded by snow-capped mountains alongside a little stream that served as our water source, bath and hopefully source of food. Each day became a little challenge and therefore incredibly rewarding. It became essential to become attuned to the wind and weather, and to read the landscape. Our senses sharpened.

 

As well as learning about the places we went to, we learnt about the people of Argentina, Paraguay and Chile. Not the tour guides or the people selling bus tickets, but the people who had never met a foreigner before, let alone invited one to camp on their farm or sleep in their spare room. We came into contact with people from all walks of life and we were able to share a laugh with every one of them. We gained a wealth of experiences that we will remember and reminisce about for the rest of our lives.

 

Yes, spending every hour of every day with one person was not always easy and required extreme patience, tolerance and compromise. Yes, there were days where we wanted to tear each other’s hair out, but all in all, it would be difficult to find a more perfect travel companion.

 

I asked Andrew to jot down a few thoughts on the trip and what he said was that, “The trip gave me the adventure I have been wanting all my life.” I couldn’t agree with him more.