Day 71 Update: Puerto Madryn to Garayalde

Today was the worst day of my trip, but I know tomorrow will be worse. Mileage is nothing to me. The big days did nothing to repair my soul. They only numbed my pain and pushed it below the surface. The second inconvenience popped up everything came crashing back down. All the emotional damage came back and my stew boiled back over. I had the worst headwind of my life today. I ran out of water and I didn’t eat for 10 hours because I ran out of food. It took me seven hours to go 70 miles. After that, I only managed to average 9 miles an hour from 2 o’clock to 10:30 PM.

I rode for 35 miles this morning before stopping in Trelew. I felt okay. I got a flat about 10 minutes after setting out, but I was totally numb to it. I just fixed it and jumped back on the bike. I restocked on food and water in Trelew. I sat and drank some coffee and did my normal meal of burritos, sandwiches, and burgers. When I set out from the YPF I only bought enough food to hold me over for what I believed would be a four-hour ride. My map claimed that there would be a gas station 70 miles up the road. I had a 25mph crosswind in Trelew, so I figured I could average a little bit more than 15mph for the next stretch. However, I failed to account for the fact that Trelew is a sheltered port right on the ocean. When I climbed 600 vertical feet out of Trelew and popped onto the plains above town, the wind was whipping by at about 30 to 35 miles an hour and it was no longer a crosswind. It was a headwind. For the next 200 miles, the road climbed a couple of feet every mile, which is barely noticeable, but it is just enough of an incline to be noticeable. Mentally, it’s very noticeable. The 70 miles took seven hours to cover instead of the four that it usually would.

I started looking for the gas station 60 miles outside of Trelew. 75 miles outside of Trelew I double checked my map; it said that I had already gone past the gas station. There had been nothing but shrubs. The gas station didn’t exist. It was 80° and sunny. Was out of water. I had no food left. I checked my emergency rations. I always carry extra food in my bag for scenarios just like this one. The last time I dipped into this emergency supply was in Nicaragua. The food had been sitting in the bottom bag for a long long time. I pulled out my rations, peanuts coated in sugar and dense energy bars. The plastic wrappers had rubbed against each other and split open. All of the food was moldy and no good to eat. My map showed the next gas station or population center was another 60 miles ahead, which I knew would be about seven hours. I didn’t have reception, so I didn’t know if the next service station even existed. I didn’t know if the gas station would be open even if it did exist. The earliest possible arrival would be 10 o’clock. It should’ve been a three-hour ride was going to be a seven-hour ride. I was beyond broken. It was so foreboding. Such a long time to cover such an easy distance. I was dehydrated and the lack of food made everything hurt. I’ve never felt so hopeless. It doesn’t matter that I really don’t have that far to go. It feels like I still have to cross the sky. I’m going the speed of a turtle. With the wind, the distance to the finish line is effectively doubled because my speed is halved. It feels like someone keeps running away with the finish, moving it further back. I don’t even know if I want to get to the finish anymore. I want to be done, but I don’t feel that elemental pull to the line that I used to. I feel a pull to be finished for the sake of being done. To be honest, I don’t know what I want. The wind is beyond demoralizing. I ride for hours and look back and have made no progress. I’m truly banging my head against the wall. Every second is torture. To ride in this landscape all day, being this miserable the whole time… it is almost incomprehensible. Time has never passed so slowly. The miles have never passed so slowly. I’m mentally weak and broken. There’s nothing for me here. There’s no pride, no joy, no emotions except dark and toxic ones that are rooting around in my mind and destroying everything I’ve built. I’m backsliding. I’ve been carried away in an avalanche of weakness. My mind is crushed to pieces and all the good things that I’ve learned on this trip are becoming irrelevant. I feel like I’m destroying years and years of progress. Years and years of dreams seem so stupid and pointless. What’s it all for? It’s all selfish and self-serving. I’m out here all alone, suffering all alone, crying all alone. What is the broader goal if I feel no pride in my effort? I’m so embarrassed by my mental weakness. I thought I was so much stronger than this. It’s incomprehensible how poorly I’m doing. I didn’t think this level of suffering mentally was possible. To think that I am so weak that this level of suffering is triggered by just a little bit of wind… I’m a pathetic person right now. I have no backbone, no strength, no resolve. My mind is flimsy and shattered. It’s embarrassing how poorly I’m handling myself.

When I got to the gas station in the middle of nowhere, it was closed. I desperately needed water. They had closed at 10:00pm and it was now 10:30. The employees were leaving but I begged them for a little bit of water and food. They relented. Those three men are my saviors. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them. I tried to tip them, but they wouldn’t accept it. For the first time in weeks something finally broke my way. Something as simple as a glass of water. When I passed the water over my cracked lips and down my dry throat, some of the pain dissipated. Some of the physical agony subsided. Mentally, I felt nothing complex. I wasn’t capable of processing much. I did feel gratitude, for the first time in weeks, but not gratitude for myself or my journey, gratitude for these men who gave me supplies. I wanted to cry and hug them. They had no idea how much a glass of water meant to me. I think they were a little scared. My cheeks were marred by tear streaks, tears that had slid down my face freely all afternoon. I looked awful. For lack of a better term, I look like shit right now. I didn’t put on sunscreen today. I was too distracted. Even if I had put on sunscreen face, my tears would’ve washed it away. I haven’t shaved in weeks, but my hair no longer grows. My protein intake is so low that every gram goes to my legs. My hair and nails have stopped growing. Nonetheless, I have some stubble on my face that has built up slowly. I look like a tramp. I look to be as miserable as I feel. They took pity on me and I appreciate that, but I don’t deserve it. I could barely manage to bike 200 meters south of the gas station as the headwind was still ripping at 25 miles an hour, even at 11 o’clock. I tried to set up camp, but everything kept getting blown away. It was below 50° now and I was cold. I crawled into my sleeping bag and tried to fall asleep. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t fall asleep. My head spun, and the pressure behind my temples was turning into a headache. I cried so much during the day that my eyes hurt and my head hurt. I have no control over my crying now. it just happens. I don’t think about it. I’m not even sure if it is an expression of depression, more of despair. I don’t know what I cry for or if it helps anything feel better. I just cry. I have no control. I don’t even have control over my legs. They just pedal themselves. I didn’t set an alarm. I didn’t charge my phone. I didn’t lube my chain. I didn’t take care of myself or my equipment. I don’t care about any of it anymore. It’s hard to even care for myself. I feel too much self-hatred and self-loathing to care. I know that the wind will not die down tonight. I will wake up tomorrow with the same headwind. It will take me all day to cover the 120 miles to the next town. I know I will cry again. I will wake up in a miserable state but will only continue to deteriorate. I will feel hollow and somehow sink lower than I am right now. I feel like I’m lower than low, but I know it’s going to get worse. It doesn’t matter how many miles I have left. Thinking about riding in this headwind in this landscape for one more mile brings me so much sadness. I have days and days ahead of me; it is almost too much to handle. I don’t know what to do with myself. There’s nothing I can do. I’m a disappointment to myself. I looked at the stars and the moon above me, but I felt nothing. I can’t even appreciate the beauty of nature. I’ve lost my own identifying features. I’m a soulless warm body. I feel like an object. I feel inhuman. I’m a robotic boy with a cold iron heart.