My mind drifts as there is little to compute. Patagonia has stunning snowy peaks, lakes and scenery. But large swathes are a lot like this. Aim your front wheel, throttle on, forward. Usually.

Today there are the 100 km/h wind gusts. These require leaning the bike over to nerve wracking angles and, to ensure your head and helmet remain attached to your torso, neck muscles that would shame Mike Tyson. It’s brutal out here.

Los 73 Malditos

The police advised us not to ride, but followed with the fact that the road is not actually closed yet. I am stubborn and we are aiming for a clear weather window that has opened up along a more treacherous section call the 73 Malditos, a ‘Cursed’ 73 kilometres of gravel which are impassable in rain and very difficult and slow in high winds. Both are common.

Staying put could cost us a few days in a badly furnished town, so here we are, on thre road being pummeled. When my bike display shows a direction of SW it’s particularly hellish. The wind is consistent and very strong, stopping for a split second to throw a punch as it starts again. The bike weaves left and right, my horizon lurching back and forth as it sees fit.

When the display is SE, it’s silent and the bike is still. The calm before the bend. A brief moment of respite. I can almost see a scantily clad model walk around the ring holding the number of the next round before the bells rings and mother nature piles forth from the red corner with her fists raised.

And the winner is ….

We pull into Gobenador Gregores, passing the backside of a Police road block. Apparently, due to extreme conditions, the road was closed shortly after we got on it. The police look bemused that we are out there and welcome us back to safety. They wave but I feel they should clap. We’ve made it to safety even if the judges deem we lost on points. Going the distance but no match for the Patagonian heavyweight.