"I'm packed, I'm done."
2AM in a mild late winter evening, Brian reported to me, who was still trying to decide whether or not I needed to take a
bug-net. Somehow, Patagonia reminds me more of snow, ice, and mountain than insect-infested jungle. And so does Alaska where
I saw mosquitos bigger than a dragonfly. You never know.
Our road warriors, Brian's new Trek and my old GT, were packed in boxes. Even though it was the second time we had taken
our bicycles traveling, things didn't really get much easier, especially for Brian's spiffy new Trek with hydraulic disc brakes.
They simply don't make racks that would carry more than a roll of toilet paper for his type of bike, not to mention two
expedition size panniers with tent and backpack we would put on it.
Mail was put on hold; plants were on auto dripper; alarm was on; heater was off. Got tent, got sleeping bags, got stove,
got clothes in dry-bags, got pump and repair kits, got everything on our checklist. We are ready. For the next two months,
we would be living out of our panniers while cycling in Patagonia Chile, the rugged, sparsely populated southern region of this skinny
Boston Airport. Check in was smooth. No extra charge for shipping the bikes! At this point, the only challenge left was
how to finish three bagel sandwiches, one bowl of spicy rice with veggie (Bi Bim Bop), some salad, and four hard boiled
eggs before getting to customs in Chile. We can't take the refrigerator.