"Aye!" The wind felt like it was trying to twist my head off. It had been a constant menace all day but now a gust had caught me off guard. The bike wobbled and skated across the unpaved surface, my front wheel plunging into a deep rut filled with pea gravel. I could feel the front end give way as the handle bars became loose in my hands. I'm going down.

In these conditions, there is a fine line between riding too slow and riding too fast. In this case I was carrying too much speed and front tire did not want to grip the pea gravel. It was like trying to ride over a pile of ball bearings. In motorcycling you have to train yourself to resist your body's natural tendency to tense up when under stress. You have to be delicate on the controls, using a loose grip. Trusting that the bike will find its own stability. Releasing the throttle or braking at this point would certainly result in a crash.

My only hope was to apply more throttle which is what I did. The rear tire dug in. The acceleration transferred my weight rearward, lifting the front tire slightly. Just enough to get on top of the gravel. Just like magic the bike straightened up. I was still going way too fast and the wind was threatening to send me skittering off in another random direction.

If this had been an isolated incident, I probably wouldn't be writing about it as it is a common experience when you are riding off road. Today, however, I encountered the worst stretch of road for this entire trip. The squirrelly crosswind didn't help. I have been hearing horror stories about the ferocity of the wind in this part of South America from other riders along the way. Turns out that they were not making them up.

It was only a 65 miles section in an otherwise unremarkable day but it was difficult. Deep ruts of river stones and pea gravel is no way to pave a road. I stopped at one point to catch my breath. I of course didn't know how far this section would be. I had not seen any other cars in quite a long time so it was just me and the wide open Argentine plateau. I would have cried if that would have helped me in some way. Nothing to do but to struggle on... which I did. It took me nearly three hours to navigate this section.

At one point I came upon a pickup truck that was pulling a small camper trailer. The wind was so strong, the trailer was acting like a sail, pulling the rear end of the truck helplessly across the road. The driver looked terrified. I wasn't sure how I was going to get around him as I didn't want to get smacked by that trailer. Fortunately he stopped to let me by.

I did see several small herds of wild guanacos grazing along the road. Guanacos are related to llamas and alpacas but are much larger (over 7 feet tall) and they have never been domesticated. I also saw a few flocks of rheas which are large flightless birds native to South America.

It was a long day and every muscle in my body aches. I feel justified in complaining because I didn't see any pesky bicyclists today.