A thought I had for weeks before starting the trip was, "Gee, I should ask Kate A. about bikes, because she lives and breathes cycling." I did not do this. I did not even google what, in retrospect, is a very simple and obvious question.
Hear ye, hear ye -- ATTN ALL -- lend me your eyeballs, for I have crucial information to impart! There are bike seats designed for women, and they are different than men's. If you, a lady, ride a hard, narrow man's seat, on a loaded bike, up a rocky two-track, you will know butt and crotch pain of the severest turn-of-the-century British prep-school corporal punishment. My butt was bruised, I breathed hard just sitting down, and one day I burst into tears three times over the course of about 15 miles of washboard gravel road. Yes, there is a "breaking in" period no matter what your seat, but one needn't subject oneself to such torture when, evidently, you can measure your sit bones and appropriately position your tailbone so as to avoid a blistered ass and sucker-punched vag.
In addition to the butt pain, I struggled with keeping spirits up. Perhaps it was intuition, or accumulated unspoken sentiment (or a natural inclination to realpolitik?). Anyway, things felt off with Jace. Though he was helpful and did the lion's share of planning and navigating and made sure I was doing ok, we concluded that at the end of the trip we'd be just friends.
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I haven't weighed all my stuff, and the amount of food I carry varies, but it's probably around 45-50 lbs. With the exception of water bottles strapped to my front forks, all of that weight is on the back of the bike. A loaded bike makes me clumsier than usual, particularly trying to balance when stopped. These elements, plus a fussy/malfunctioning derailleur, and the Argentine brand of my bike -- Patriot -- suggested to me the name...Benedict.
The first chunk of riding took us from Bariloche to Cholila. We took a beautiful, indirect route, covering 140 miles in five days. Somehow, in spite of the physical pain, exertion, and indignity of my ungainliness on the bike, I really enjoy riding. We've cycled by weathered farms, an abandoned railroad, watched the sun rise and fall as we slowly but determinedly climbed and descended the landscape. For days a strong headwind blew, fighting us every inch of the way, blasting us with waves of dust like blizzard-driven snow.
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