Chapter 1: If it doesn't burn you, don't do it. (English Version)

Well, it might seem easy and romantic to take a cycling trip through the southern part of the Andes, specifically in the Patagonian region. Here, I’m going to summarize in a few lines this travel chronicle for a high-performing low performer, forged in the northern Andes, precisely where the Andes capriciously decide to split into three large mountain ranges, which blesses us as a country and curses us at the same time, at least that’s how I see it. In these chapters, I’ll touch on everything except the technical details of the route... But well, I know, I know you’re waiting for them, so here they are: it was approximately 5,300 kilometers, 53,000 meters of elevation gain, two countries, Chile and Argentina, 50 stages, and a Scarab Paramo that will be renamed in the not-too-distant future, at least for this chronicle.

It all starts with the curiosity about maps and geography, but above all, the cultures of the world, the curiosity of what’s behind those mountains, imagining what the weather would be like, the wind; all of that intrigued me. Moreover, in these times where information flies and runs everywhere, it’s hard to stop thinking about it. In early 2023, my girlfriend, Masha, decided to go bikepacking through northern Europe and explore those Scandinavian countries, so honestly, that girl inspired me to take a long trip, to venture into the unknown, to jump.

At first, I dreamed of crossing all of the Andes. To be honest, I wouldn’t be the last nor the first to do it, as with almost everything in life. But behind this whole story, there are many fears, many mental struggles, too many traumas to deal with. Masha equipped herself very well for that trip. Her setup was incredible, and a learning experience for her, which she passed on to me, to be honest. I had done many bikepacking trips in Colombia, but none of them camping; that was another level to unlock.

So, in mid-July, the idea of a long trip was still on my mind until I received my bonus payment (half salary that companies in Colombia give to their workers). And I said: well, it’s now or never. But guess who was there. Yes, reason with its fears saying: no, don’t do it, you’re stable, you don’t lack anything. But the internal flame kept burning inside me, it just wouldn’t stop, it kept burning my guts, and no, it wasn’t gastritis. The idea of traveling kept circling in my mind; to this day, it’s still burning. So the next day, I dug into the airline’s miles program and checked how many miles I had, and what a surprise, I had quite a few. Without thinking too much, I said: let’s see, what would be the most appropriate day, and I said: well, this day. On December 15, 2023, I have a flight from Medellín to Bogotá to Santiago, Chile.

I happily remember that day, and I thought: what have I gotten myself into, there’s no turning back. I was super excited, everything was going to revolve around the trip. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t think about the trip, so I set to work planning it. The first thing I did was go to Bukz and buy a travel notebook, first because it’s something I can’t go without, a notebook that would witness my planning, drawings, and writings, even shopping lists and to-do lists.

So I started planning everything and researching as much as I could; I was in sponge mode. I created the route in Ride with GPS and started looking at Google Maps simultaneously. I was checking and configuring the route, noting the towns, estancias, rest stops where I could eat or shop, and cities I would pass through, how far one was from the other, how much I had to climb. It was going to be in summer, so the weather was pleasant, but as I went down, it got colder and colder. What shoes would I wear? One of my fears was the weather. I had read dozens of blogs that stated the cold was harsh and hard; I had never experienced such a climate before; I’m a tropical animal, let’s not kid ourselves. The weather would put me in my place; I didn’t have much cold-weather gear or winter equipment. Every day, I remember reviewing the route and noting more and more information. The months and days went by, and I had a monkey in my mind that I had unimaginable fear of. To me, it was like one of those ultra-venomous snakes from National Geographic; it was the thought and one of the hardest steps, quitting the office job.

Making this decision, the hardest one so far, where the adventure would be the adventure, was extremely tough. Obviously, it sounds very romantic to say that I quit my job and went on a trip. But behind that, my mind and reason kept questioning me all the time: how to say it? Is it the best decision? Should I do it now? And to be honest, even today, I don’t have the answer. Months later, I talked a lot with the psychologist about this trip. She encouraged me to do it a lot, and the truth is that it was the right moment; if not now, when? And the truth is, I didn’t want to owe myself a trip of this magnitude. It’s now. The gear, the ticket, the desire, I don’t know if the money, but I had to jump now or never, to glory or the grave. Some people study master’s degrees, diplomas, and all sorts of things, and that’s respectable. Me, being a bit more romantic, I decided to invest my money and time in traveling, in the experience. A bit of being a salmon and going against the current. Sometimes the best thing about punk isn’t the music, which I deeply enjoy, but its philosophy. So the adventure was already set; I quit on December 5th. It was done. A difficult moment. Yes, but who cares!

By Washedog,

Scarab friend and customer.