Intro
I rolled out of Olmos much later than I should have, the sun already high enough to bake the pavement of the N1. The road ahead looked flat and predictable, a 72-kilometer stretch of grey ribbon cutting through the dry landscape. My mood was steady after a few days of rest, but the heat was already pressing down on my shoulders before I even cleared the town limits.
The Click of the Shutter and the Digital Void
- It was 10:40 AM by the time I actually turned the pedals. Elias and Sonja were there to see me off, and we spent the last thirty minutes fussing over their analog camera. There is a specific sound to those old machines—a mechanical click-whirr as the film advances—that felt much more permanent than any digital snap. We stood in the green of the schoolyard, capturing a version of ourselves that looked more rested than we felt. That click-whirr stayed with me for the first few miles, a rhythmic reminder of the social bubble I was leaving behind.
- Almost as soon as I was alone, the technology began to revolt. I tried to start my route on Komoot, but the blue dot on the screen just sat there, pulsing uselessly in a grey void. It knew where I was in the planning map, but the moment I hit ‘start,’ it went blind. I spent fifteen minutes on the side of the road, sweat dripping onto the glass of my phone, performing a desperate dance of clearing caches, logging out, and restarting the device. Nothing worked. I was flying blind on a straight road, which shouldn’t have mattered, but the mental weight of a broken tool makes every kilometer feel twice as long.
Red Sauce and White Sealant
- By the time I hit Motupe, I was frustrated and hungry. The route hadn’t offered much in the way of scenery—just shimmering heat waves on the asphalt and the occasional passing truck. I found a small spot for lunch and ordered tallarín rojo. The smell of tallarín rojo is unmistakable; it’s a heavy, iron-rich scent of tomato paste and cumin that sticks to the back of your throat. I washed it down with a glass of apple juice, watching the street traffic and trying to ignore the fact that my GPS was still a brick.
- Just past Puerto Rico, the day took another turn. I felt that soft, rhythmic thud-thud-thud from the rear of the bike—the unmistakable sign of a dying tire. I’d been lazy before Olmos, knowing the sealant was low but choosing to ignore it because I didn’t want to deal with the mess of filling the sealant. Now, on the side of a dusty highway, I had no choice. I pulled the valve core and squeezed the new liquid in. The sticky, milky residue of the sealant got everywhere, coating my fingertips and the valve stem in a tacky film. I pumped it up, hit a local gas station to top it off with their compressor, and watched with relief as the white goo bubbled out of the puncture and finally held firm.
The Illimos Collapse
- The final push into Illimos was a blur of grocery shopping in Jayanca. I grabbed some bread and a few heavy bananas, my legs starting to feel like lead despite the flat terrain. I had called ahead to a hotel in Illimos, specifically asking about the essentials. When I arrived, the reality was a stark departure from the promise. The owner admitted, with a shrug, that there was no running water and the Wi-Fi was down. I was too tired to argue or go back out into the fading light.
- The moment I stepped into the room, the adrenaline that had carried me through the flat tire and the navigation issues evaporated. A sudden, violent exhaustion hit me. I started shivering, a deep chill that didn’t make sense given the afternoon heat. I had no appetite, no desire to move, and certainly no energy to find a different hotel. I spent an hour huddled under the thin covers before I could even manage to slice an avocado for some bread roll. I ate it in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the chills to subside so I could finally close my eyes.
Overnight
I stayed at a basic hotel in Illimos. It was a failure on almost every front—no water for a shower and no connectivity—but it provided a door I could lock while I dealt with a sudden physical crash.
Reflection
A flat road and technical glitches can be more draining than a mountain pass when your body finally decides it has had enough.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-03-23
- Distance: 72.12 km
- Elevation gain: 178 m
- Elevation loss: 311 m
- Duration: 9 h 53 min
- Time in Motion: N/A
- Average Speed: N/A