【翻译转载】火星上的生活

flyme1234

From: http://www.bikepacking.com/stories/life-on-mars/

LIFE ON MARS

23 days on the puna de Atacama

   Words and Photos by SkylerDes Roches.

火星上的生活

阿塔卡马高原上的23天

文字和照片由SkylerDes Roches提供

Skyler, Scott, and Rick set out to ride a 1300 kilometer route in the sublimely harsh Puna de Atacama desert along the Chile-Argentina border. Here’s Skyler’s tale of mental starvation, dizzying winds, mind-boggling scenery, and a harrowing river crossing.

Skyler，Scott和Rick完成了智利和阿根廷边界的阿塔卡马沙漠中穿越1300公里的路线。这是Skyler关于精神饥饿、眩目的风、超越想象的风景和一次惊悚的渡河的故事。

flyme1234

I correctly identified Volcán Socompa on the horizon, three days before we rounded its base and crossed the border. The going was easy at first, though at the time it felt very hard.Along a stretch of rough road, a beat-up Toyota pickup – the first car we'd seen in a day – caught us while we rested at the top of a rise. Leaning out, a man asked where we were headed on this empty road.

“We're going to cross into Argentina.”
Looking us up and down, he laughed incredulously through his sparsely-toothed grin and made a series of exclamations that were beyond my Spanish comprehension. But the gist of his outburst was familiar:“Well god damn!”

     在我们绕着山脚转了一圈并越过边境的三天前，我分辨出了地平线上坐落的Socompa火山。开始的时候很容易，虽然当时感觉很艰难。沿着一段崎岖不平的道路，当我们在一个山顶休息的时候，一辆破旧的丰田皮卡赶上了我们--这是当天见到的唯一一辆机动车。一个人从车窗中伸出头问，我们在这条鸟不拉屎的路上准备去哪里。

  “我们准备穿越去阿根廷。”

    上下打量着我们，他怀疑地咧嘴笑了笑，说了一长串我听不懂的西班牙语感叹词。但他想表达的意思很明白：“天哪！”

flyme1234

THE BORDER

The Chilean border guards shuffled around in the small entry room, reminding themselves how to process a passport, while we leaned against the inside of the metal door, wind whistling at our backs. They said that only three other people had crossed at that border before us this year, and only two in total the previous year. The outpost remains manned year round, so that a few times per month an empty train from the Chilean coast could meet an Argentine train full of raw lithium ore. Then the cargo could be leisurely transferred from one train to the next without any humans needing to cross. The Chilean sergeant insisted on having his photo taken with us, so he could remember the occasion.
Even though it’s remote and rarely used, this pass is relatively well known to cyclists and is rapidly gaining popularity as the confusion about it diffuses. On the Argentine side, we were casually stamped in by a man in sweatpants and white Crocs. He allowed us to sleep out of the wind in an empty building that reeked from a barrel of used motor oil.It was not until a day later that we turned off the known route, perpendicular to the gales that had pushed us up to 4300m on that lumpy narrow-gauge railway. From there on the wind was a nuisance at best. At its worst, it was a heavy pack, a swarm of wasps inside our heads, driving us insane, a draining sickness. Our earliest nights were calmer, with the gale building by noon and lasting until nighttime. But even this pattern gave up as we moved higher, passing between salt-bottomed basins and lifeless passes. Then the noise rarely let up – in gusts it carried gravel to eye-height, in lulls just howled on in our ears, a deafening white noise. It wouldn’t let us forget… consciousness exists on the brink of insanity.

边境

    智利边防警卫在小的可怜的铁皮房里来回走动，提醒自己如何处理护照，而我们靠在铁门内侧，背后小飕风风地吹着。他们说，今年只有三人在我们之前过境，而去年全年只有两人。边防哨所全年一直都有人，因为每月会有几班从智利海岸开出一辆空火车，在这里和从阿根廷开来的满载锂矿石的火车相会。然后，这些货物就在边境线上轻松得完成交割，乘员并不需要越过边境。智利中士坚持要和我们合影留念，为了他能记起这个场景。
    尽管它很偏远而且很少使用，但这个边防哨所对车友来说是一个传说，并以讹传讹得迅速流行起来。在阿根廷这边，一个穿毛裤和白色Crocs的家伙给我们随意签盖了，并允许我们睡在一幢废旧建筑物里避风，那里有桶废机油，散发着刺鼻味道。一天之后，我们关闭了路线导航---一条窄窄的铁路把我们领到4300米海拔，期间横风凌冽。从那里开始，风是最讨厌的。最糟糕的是，它像一个沉重的包，像一只，不，是一群大黄蜂钻进我们的脑袋里，驱使我们发狂，简直要人神经衰弱。我们早期度过的夜晚比较平静，而后的几天，中午的大风会一直持续到晚上。但是不管我们是爬得多高，还是下到盐碱壳盆地，或是取道荒废小径，都不得安宁。然后噪音愈演愈烈——在阵风中，飞砂走石，震耳欲聋。我们不会忘记它…只有意识支撑着快要崩溃的神经。

flyme1234

RITUAL MORNING BONKING

Each morning we got up with the sun, around 7:30. I somehow failed to plan breakfasts, so I’d sip on a mug of coffee – instant Nescafe with powdered milk, of course – and pack my things. We were rolling before nine, and by half past I was ravenous. Most mornings, I managed another half hour or 100m up the first climb before stopping to smear a spoonful of peanut butter on one of Chile’s ever-disappointing budget granola bars.

Excursions deep into deserts and other austere places are said to inspire philosophical contemplation and divine epiphanies.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that the world’s largest religions all spawned out of desert civilizations. But not this time, and not for me. Even my crippling existential terror was unusually quiet behind the din of the Puna’s eternal wind and my own self-pity.

Nope. I only thought about food:

– how I could ration my food more sensibly,

– what I would eat next,

– all the things I really wish I’d bought a week earlier when there were stores,

– and how many cookies I could allow myself that day.

I’d been woefully casual and disorganized during our food shop back in Calama. Only through this constant food anxiety was I able to stretch my already lean ten-day supply to fourteen. The weight of the hunger slowed me down more than the weight of the food might have.

I don’t know what my companions Scott and Rick thought about all day. I don’t think it was food. Scott seems to run all day on last night’s dinner. Rick is too cool to worry about such animal needs, he operates at some higher, Nirvanic level. (He also lost 14 lbs on this trip.)

惯性的早晨疲软

每天早上7点半左右我们就起床了我不知怎么没计划吃早餐，所以我喝了一大杯咖啡。 - 当然是用奶粉的雀巢，然后打包我的东西我们在九点以前就出发了，过了半小时，我就饿坏了。大部分

早上，我在第一次攀登之后爬升半个小时或100米，然后停下来在智利一个令人预算失望的燕麦棒上抹上一勺花生酱。

据说深入沙漠和其他严峻地区的游览激发了哲学上的沉思和神圣的顿悟。

世界上最大的宗教都是由沙漠文明衍生出来的，也许并非巧合。但这次不是，对我来说不是。甚至我那残破的存在主义的恐惧在普纳喧闹的没完没了的风和我自己的自怜背后异常平静。

不。我只想到食物：
- 我怎样才能更明智地分配食物，
- 我接下来会吃什么，
- 我真希望一周前在商店购买了的所有东西，

- 我允许自己吃好多饼干的那些天。

在我们回到卡拉马的食品店期间，我一直非常随意和杂乱无章。只有通过这种持续的食物焦虑，我才能把我已经精益的十天供应量延长到十四天。饥饿减缓的我的体重比食物的重量还要多。

我不知道我的同伴Scott和Rick整天想着什么。我不认为这是食物.Scott似乎依靠昨天的晚餐运行了一整天。Rick太酷了，不需要担心这种动物的需求，他在更高的涅磐水平上运作。 （他在这次旅行中也失去了14磅。）

flyme1234

THIRST

When I wasn’t worrying about food, I thought about water, incessantly peering down at the scratched screen of my GPS to estimate how far we were from the next suspected water source.WHEN I WASN’T WORRYING ABOUT FOOD,
I THOUGHT ABOUT WATER, INCESSANTLY PEERING
DOWN AT THE SCRATCHED SCREEN OF MY GPS TO
ESTIMATE HOW FAR WE WERE FROM THE NEXT
SUSPECTED WATER SOURCE. Water scarcity was the real danger of our chosen route. Our route overlapped bits of Harriet and Neil Pike’s impressive and unparalleled ride through the region, when they climbed nine of the western hemisphere’s twenty-five highest peaks on a single pedal-powered journey. But, our routes were sufficiently different that, once in Argentina, only one of their water sources was of any use to us. Besides that, we depended on a vega, an oasis, spotted from Google Earth, snow, and carrying a lot of water.

Leaving Vega La Brea we were loaded up, not with spring water as we’d expected, but with bottled water from the mineral exploration camp that we encountered beside the spring. The spring water flowed warm and stinky, and we heeded the miners’ advice to avoid it. But, with the politeness demanded of the encounter, we accepted less water than we wanted and departed with only 10L each. We hoped we’d arrive at the paved highway at Paso San Francisco, some 130km away, the next day. From there, we’d leave our high desert route and hitch hike down to Fiambalá for a rest and resupply.

Two nights later we found ourselves halfway up a climb past the perfect cone of Volcán Peinado. We wandered between dunes and old lava flows, looking for a sheltered place to set up camp, eventually settling for the bottom sand-filled trough where the wind was imperceptibly lighter – so, still a full gale. In the forty-five minutes it took to pitch our tents, we lost a few stakes that were catapulted by a flying tent. One gust threw Scott’s tent into his bike, tearing a hole in the side.

FINALLY, COCOONED INSIDE OUR TENTS,I LOOKED OVER AT
MY REMAINING WATER- ONE HALF OF A BIKE BOTTLE THAT
I DESPERATELY WANTED TO DRINK,AND, THROUGH ANITCHY
THROAT, SAID, “I HOPEWE DON’T DIE.

”Finally, cocooned inside our tents, I looked over at my remaining water- one half of a bike bottle that I desperately wanted to drink, and, through an itchy throat, said, “I hope we don’t die.”

After a long pause, Scott replied, “I’m going to kill you if we do.”

We finally found snow the next afternoon. Wrecked from dehydration, we made another windy camp at 4950m, having only traveled 25km in a full day. The next day, our fourth out of Vega La Brea, we were already two days behind schedule when reached the paved road at Paso San Francisco. We found no cars, however. The border crossing to Chile was still closed for winter, and our hopes of hitching a lift to Fiambalá, some 200km away, were dashed.

口渴

当我不担心食物时，我想到了水，不停地看着呈现在GPS屏幕上的轨迹，估计我们离下一个疑似的水源有多远。水资源短缺是我们选择的路线的真正危险。我们的路线重叠了哈里特和尼尔派克令人印象深刻且无与伦比的骑行路线，。当他们在一个用脚踏驱动的旅行中攀登了西半球25个最高峰中的9个。但是，我们的路线是完全不同的，一旦进入阿根廷，他们的水源只有一个对我们有用。除此之外，我们依靠从谷歌地球发现的一片绿洲，一片绿色，积雪，并携带大量的水。

离开Vega La Brea时，我们装满了，不像我们想象的那种泉水，而是来自我们在泉水旁边遇到的矿泉探险营地的瓶装水。泉水流淌着热量和臭气，我们听从矿工们的建议以避开它。但是，由于遇到的礼貌要求，我们接受的水比我们想要的少，每个人只分得10升。我们希望我们能到达 Paso San Francisco的铺路公路，第二天大约有130公里。从那里，我们会离开我们的高沙漠路线，搭便车到Fiambalá去休息和补给。

两天之后，我们发现自己爬到了Valc PePeADO完美圆锥体的半途上。我们在沙丘和古老的熔岩流之间徘徊，寻找一个庇护的地方来建立营地，最终定居在底部充满沙子的地方，那里的风是微弱一些，虽然如此，仍然是一场大风。在四十五分钟的时间里，我们的帐篷投入，我们失去了一些被飞行帐篷弹射的赌注。一阵狂风把Scott的帐篷扔进了他的自行车，在旁边撕了一个洞。

最后，我们在帐篷里蜷缩在一起，看了看剩余的水 - 我非常想喝的半壶，并且通过发痒的喉咙说道：”我希望我们不会死。“

经过长时间的停顿，Scott回答说：“如果我们这样做，我会杀了你。”

第二天下午我们终于发现了雪。由于失水，我们又在4950米的地方搭建了一个多风的营地，整整一天只跑了25公里。第二天，我们第四次自Vega La Brea离开，当我们到达Paso San Francisco的铺设道路时，我们已经落后预定计划了两天。然而，我们没有发现任何汽车。通往智利的边境线仍然在冬季关闭，我们搭车抵达200公里外的Fiambalá的希望，已经破灭。

flyme1234

EASY LIVING

Within an hour of arriving in Fiambalá, we were stationed in the town square with cold lager and ham sandwiches. And so it went for the next two days – eating, drinking, coffee, fruit, beer, ice cream, finding wifi in the square, and resting out of the wind. The town seemed to empty between the hours of 2-5PM. An ancient Peugeot rolled past the plaza on bald tires and crooked axles, it’s paint long gone but its body not yet taken by the desert. At the sight of our fat bikes, a boy leaned his upper body out the passenger window and, reaching above his head, shook his hand like he’d just touched something hot. Rick understood.

“So tough,” he nodded, with that uniquely Californian intonation.

On one corner of Fiambalá’s town square sits the tourist information office and municipal building. On the next corner is the region’s police station. On a third corner of the square you’ll find the unmarked office of Jonson Reynoso. You’ll know he’s in when there’s a battered champagne Toyota Hilux parked nearby.

Jonson has several obscure official titles, as well as running his own guiding outfit, but he is more or less the mayor of the Argentine Puna. His wealth of knowledge of the region is sought by mountaineers, the planners of the Dakar rally, government, mining companies, and, on occasion, cyclists. He’s the only person we spoke to who knew all the place names from the start of our trip, 700km north of Fiambalá, and all the names until its end, continuing south over the mountains to places that were several days away by 4×4.

His office is stacked with mountaineering supplies and binders of documents. The walls are hung with summit photos, gifts from the world over, and signed foreign flags. Amid the stacks, Jonson, dressed in unlaced work boots and an equally unlaced lumbar belt, sat down to give me a flyover on Google Earth. He had the rare generosity to patiently and politely correct my Spanish. But rarest of all, as I’ve found in my travels, he didn’t conflate that which is difficult, with that which is impossible. He didn’t try to talk us out of anything.

“Take this pass, east of Mt Pissis,” he said. “I walked it in 1986, and it’s less steep than what you had in mind.” Pointing at the screen, “The Pikes went here. It’s much higher, about 5650m. Take the lower pass. It will be very hard, but you will do it.”

After those first fourteen days, I was ready to quit the trip, get on a bus, and get away from the pPuna region. None of us were prepared to repeat what we’d already done. The combination of tough riding, heavily loaded bikes, high altitude, hunger, thirst, and constant wind added up to something demanding more mettle than I possess. But, after a bit of rest down in warm, thick air, we felt ready to head back into the mountains, this time prepared for shorter days with food to spare. So we left Fiambalá in Jonson’s pick-up truck and were dropped off 3000m higher, at 4600m, cutting off a few days of climbing and 100km of our intended route.

轻松生活

在抵达Fiambalá后一小时内，我们驻扎在城镇广场，那里有冷啤酒和火腿三明治。接下来的两天也是如此-吃、喝、咖啡、水果、啤酒、冰淇淋、在广场找无线网，在风中休息。在下午2点到5点之间，这个小镇似乎空荡荡的。一辆古老的标致车用光秃秃的轮胎和弯曲的车轴驶过广场，它的油漆早已不见了，但是它的车身还没有被沙漠吞噬。一看到我们那辆胖胎自行车，一个男孩把上半身探出车窗，伸出头顶，握了握手，好像刚刚碰了热东西。瑞克明白了。

“太难了，”他点头，用独特的加利福尼亚语调。

Fiambalá镇广场的一个角落坐落着旅游信息办公室和市政建筑。下一个拐角是该地区的警察局。在广场的第三角，你会发现Jonson Reynoso的无标识办公室。当附近有一辆破烂的香槟丰田Helux时，你就会知道他在家。

Jonson有几个不起眼的官方头衔，以及经营自己的指导机构，但他或多或少是阿根廷普纳的市长。他对该地区的丰富知识是登山者，达喀尔拉力赛的计划者，政府，矿业公司以及有时骑自行车的人所追求的。他是我们交谈过的唯一一个知道所有地名的人，在Fiambalá以北700公里处旅途开始的地方，直到旅途结束，继续向南越过山脉的地方需要花费几天通过四驱车前往。

他的办公室堆满了登山用品和文件夹。墙上挂满了山顶的照片，来自世界各地的礼物，和签名了的外国国旗。在书堆中，乔森穿着一双未系鞋带的工作靴和一条同样没有系的腰带，坐下来让我在Google Earth看渲染图。他非常慷慨地耐心地、礼貌地纠正了我的西班牙语。但最稀罕的是，正如我在旅行中发现的，他并没有把不难的事和不可能的事混为一谈。他没有试图说服我们不要做任何事情。

“走这条路，Mt Pissis的东边，”他说。“我在1986年走过，没你想象的那么陡峭。”指着屏幕，“长矛走到这里。它高很多，大约5650米。从低处通过，这将是非常困难的，但你会做到的。”

在最初的十四天之后，我准备退出旅行，坐上公共汽车，离开puna地区。我们当中没有人准备重复我们已经做过的事情。艰苦的骑行，重载的自行车，高海拔，饥饿，口渴，还有持续的风，这些因素加在一起，使我需要比我现在更多的勇气。但是，在温暖、浓密的空气中休息了一会儿之后，我们觉得准备返回山区，这次准备了短短的几天以内的备用食物。因此，我们离开了在 Fiambalá Jonson的皮卡，在4600米下降3000米高高度，切断了几天的攀登和100公里我们的预定路线。

flyme1234

LOS SEISMILES

The corridor that extends from Paso San Francisco southward to the next road at Paso Pircas Negras is home to a concentration of high peaks. On top lies Ojos del Salado, at 6892m it’s the world’s highest volcano and second highest peak outside the Himalayas. Pissis, Bonete Chico, Tres Cruces, Cazadero, Incahuasi are all above 6600m.

I first visited this area in 2011, when I traveled around South America with a bag of mountaineering equipment. I hitchhiked to climb Ojos del Salado alone from the less-traveled Argentinian side. Arriving at the trailhead, I stared across the 80km void of wind-battered desert that lay between me and the peak. My pack was loaded with nine days of food, though I suspected a trip to the summit and back might take me ten. The next morning, I hitchhiked back to town, wondering if I lacked the courage or simply lacked the desire to keep suffering. I never stopped thinking “if I only had a mountain bike, it might be fun.”

I NEVER STOPPED THINKING
“IF I ONLY HAD A MOUNTAIN
BIKE, IT MIGHT BE FUN.”

Over the next six years, I periodically returned to gazing at Los Seismiles, this chain of six-thousand meter peaks, on Google Earth. In time, I mapped out many scraps of what looked like rideable 4×4 track. These pieces were eventually incorporated into this month-long route across, hugging the Chile-Argentina border across the Puna.

The next section, from Pissis’ basecamp southward, was the longest stretch that followed no road or track at all. We simply chose the lowest pass – first to 5250m, then along the edge of the glacier-filled crater Corona del Inca to a height of 5530m (18,100′). Of course, we mostly pushed our bikes up to that height, while pedaling over flatter alluvial fields.

A general rule of high-altitude mountaineering is to climb high and sleep low. But, we found ourselves setting up camp a few meters below the highest point of our trip at the day’s end, hammering tent stakes into rock hard permafrost while the wind wailed as usual. Or, perhaps we were on a sand-topped glacier.

I got up to water the wind at some point after dark. It probably wasn’t late, the sun sets quickly at lower latitudes. There was no moon, but I could see clearly for the unfiltered light of the stars. I LOOKED FOR THE SOUTHERN CROSS IN VAIN. THE STARS WERE TOO BRIGHT, IN FACT, TO MAKE OUT CONSTELLATIONS.I looked for the Southern Cross in vain. The stars were too bright, in fact, to make out constellations. An uncountable number filled the sky in a near solid mass – only our own galaxy painted a distinguishable shape across the sky, in a great glowing streak. Perhaps I would have spotted our neighbour Andromeda had I dallied in the bitter cold wind. But after casting a quick glance at Rick’s flapping tent, pitched to half its usual height, I hurried back into my sleeping bag. We were so alone. We are so alone, chained to a star with a finite life, trapped by uncrossable expanses in a universe destined to go dark. Rick must have been freezing in his 3-season sleeping bag on a thin foam pad.

       从Paso旧金山向南延伸到Paso Pircas Negras下一条道路的走廊是高峰集中的地方。最重要的是Ojos del Salado，海拔6892米，是世界上最高的火山，也是喜马拉雅山脉以外的第二高峰。Pissis，Bonete Chico，Tres Cruces，Cazadero，Incahuasi都在6600米以上。

       我在2011年首次来到了这个地区，当时我带着一袋登山设备在南美洲旅行。我搭便车从少有旅人的阿根廷那边独自攀登Ojos del Salado。到达小道后，我盯着我和高峰之间80公里长的没有风雨的荒原。我的包里装满了九天的食物，虽然我怀疑去山顶旅行，然后回来可能需要十天。第二天早上，我搭便车回城，想知道我是否缺乏勇气，或者只是缺乏继续经受苦难的愿望。我从不停止思考“如果我有辆山地车，那可能很有趣。”

在接下来的六年里，我定期回到谷歌地球上凝视着这条六千米高的山脉Los Seismiles。随着时间的推移，我绘制了许多看似可行驶4×4的轨迹片段。这些碎片最终合并为这个长达一个月的路线，拥抱智利 - 阿根廷边界横跨普纳。

       下一节，从Pissis的大本营向南，这是最长的一段路，没有任何道路或轨道。我们只选择了最低的路径 - 首先是5250米，然后是沿着冰川填充的火山口Corona del Inca的边缘，到达高度5530米（18100英尺）。当然，我们主要是将自行车推到那个高度，同时踩踏在更平坦的冲积域上。

高海拔登山的一般规则是高爬和低睡。但是，我们发现自己在当天的行程最高点以下几米处设立了营地，将帐篷桩砸在岩石坚硬的永久冻土，同时风一如既往地呼啸着。或者，也许我们在沙顶冰川上。

       天黑后的某个时候，我在风中放水（手动滑稽）。可能不是很晚，太阳在低纬度地区落得很快。没有月亮，但我可以清楚地看到未经过滤的恒星光。我徒劳地寻找南十字星。事实上，星星都太明亮了，都可以制作出星座图。不计其数的以近乎实物似的填满了天空 - 只有我们自己的星系在天空中画出了一种可辨别的形状，呈现出巨大的光辉。如果我在刺骨的寒风中嬉戏，也许我会发现我们的邻居仙女座。但我瞥了一眼瑞克的帐篷，高度只有平时的一半，我匆匆回到了我的睡袋里。我们是如此孤独。我们是那么孤独，拴在一个生命有限的恒星上，在一个注定要走向黑暗的宇宙中，被不可逾越的膨胀所困。瑞克一定是在他的三季睡袋里薄的泡沫垫上冻得不行。

flyme1234

FALLING OFF THE MAP

The Puna de Atacama is a high-altitude desert plateau shared by Chile and Argentina, punctuated by high volcanoes, with low, salt-filled basins that rarely sit below 3500m. We climbed up into these heights near San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, when we followed the tracks of an antique railway away from the lower Atacama. And now, after three weeks of riding, we were dropping off the southern end of the plateau. Monte Pissis and Cerro Bonete Chico are some of the highest points in the Puna, and indeed anywhere in the world outside of Asia. Once we passed these two peaks we dropped down an ice-choked canyon, wrapped in all our layers, toward Laguna Brava and beyond. We were falling off the Puna.

More than two vertical kilometers below that frigid night, we reached the Rio Blanco, where we planned to enter Parque Nacional San Guillermo and continue south. Unexpectedly, we found a park gate. In a typically perplexing display of Argentinian bureaucracy, we were informed that we needed official authorization to enter the park, and the authorities at the gate lacked the authority to authorize our entry. They could only do so at the southern end of the park. After a half-hour long stand-off, I finally accepted the futility of reasoning with a crew who were more interested in asserting the hierarchy amongst themselves than with the fact that they were leaving three cyclists in a bit of a pickle. Instead, we leveraged our finite food supply to ask for a ride back up the massive climb we’d bombed down that morning.

I’ve long argued that the speed of a bicycle is a perfect pace for travel – it’s a human pace, yet not so slow that you can’t still cover some ground and see many places. But, while ripping up that washboard climb with our bikes clattering in the back of a pickup, it occurred to me that the Puna was an exception to this rule. The Puna is far beyond a human scale, and I suspect its greatest treasures, the most otherworldly landscapes, remain out of reach to those exploring without the aid of a motor. Even relatively short detours cost too much on a bike.

We were dropped at a faint junction, back at the top of our morning’s descent. To our left, a wide gravel road would take us quickly to the end of our trip – a day’s descent until we reached a paved highway in a populated valley. To our right was a faint machine track that didn’t show on any map. It looked as though a bulldozer had cut a road there once, in a single pass many years ago, and it had not been touched since. The park rangers had told us they knew where it came out – right back on track to our destination, Rodeo – but none of them knew anyone who’d ever traveled it.

关掉地图

普纳阿塔卡玛是智利和阿根廷共有的高海拔沙漠荒原，高火山点缀着的低盐盆地很少有低于3500米。当我们沿着远离阿塔卡马山脉的古董铁路轨道行走时，我们爬上了智利圣佩德罗德阿塔卡马附近的这些高地。而现在，经过三个星期的骑行，我们正从高原的南端降下来。Monte Pissis和Cerro Bonete Chico是普纳的最高点，实际上是亚洲以外的世界任何地方的最高点。一旦我们通过了这两座山峰，我们就将下降到一条冰冻的峡谷，包裹着我们所有的层，朝着拉古纳布拉瓦及其他地方。我们从普纳上下来了。

在寒冷的夜晚下降超过两公里，我们到达里约布兰科，我们计划进入Parque Nacional San Guillermo并继续往南。出乎意料的是，我们找到了一个公园门。这是阿根廷官僚主义令人困惑的典型表现，我们被告知我们需要获得官方授权才能进入公园，而门口的当局无权授权我们进入公园。他们只能在公园的南端这样做。在经过半个小时的长时间对峙之后，我终于接受了与船员们进行理论的徒劳，他们更感兴趣的是维护他们之间的等级制度，而不是让三个骑自行车的人陷入困境。相反，我们利用我们有限的食物供应来要求乘坐我们那天早上轰炸的大规模攀登。相反，我们利用有限的食物供应，要求搭车爬上那天早上我们越过的那座巨大的山峰。

我一直认为自行车的速度是一个完美的旅行速度 - 这是人的节奏，然而，不会慢到你不能走一些路，看很多地方。但是，当我们的自行车在一辆皮卡车后座发出咔嗒咔嗒的声音时，我突然想到Puna是这个规则的一个例外。Puna远远超出人类的范围，我怀疑它最大的宝藏，最超凡脱俗的景观，不要让那些没有马达帮助的人去探索。即使是相对较短的弯路骑自行车也会花费太多。

我们在一个模糊的路口被抛下，在我们早晨下山的最顶端。在我们的左边，一条宽阔的砾石路将很快带我们走完我们的旅程——一天的下降，直到我们到达人口稠密山谷中的铺有路面的公路。在我们的右边是一个微弱的机器路径，在地图上找不到。看起来好像推土机曾经在那里开过一次道，从那以后再也没有人碰过它。公园护林员告诉我们，他们知道它出现在哪里 - 正好回到我们的目的地 - 罗德奥 - 但他们谁也不知道有谁去过那里。

flyme1234

THE RIVER

The dozer track was in worse shape than we’d expected. After hours of descent peppered with constant washouts, runnels, and thorn shrubs, we arrived at the river. Despite the fear of riding down an unmapped road, I felt relief at the sight of vegetation and the sound of rushing water. It was warm, the air was rich below 3000m, the wind came in short-lived gusts, and I was suddenly reminded that bike touring could be fun. I had enough energy to enjoy myself. Our trail remained faintly visible even as we oscillated between ankle-deep marshes and exuberant off-trail mountain biking in the bottom of this monumental canyon.

THOUGH I’VE FORDED MANY
RIVERS ON BIKE TRIPS, I'D
NEVERCONSIDERED HOW ONE MIGHT
CROSS A RIVER TOO  DEEP TO WADE.

Though I’ve forded many rivers on bike trips, I’d never considered how one might cross a river too deep to wade. After two days of following the river, we’d already waded across the river several times, but since hitting a graded, named road, we assumed that we had this trip in the bag.

Not so.

The road entered the river on a paved ford that formed a head-height weir on its downriver side. This far downstream, a confluence of valleys had more than doubled the size of the river. Though less than knee-deep until midstream, the water was moving fast. Another footstep would put me into deeper and faster water, and a slip would have sent me over the weir into a churning froth of river and rock. Scott and Rick hiked up and down the river, searching for a place to cross. I waited with the bikes, hoping a truck would come. One of Argentina’s ubiquitous 4-cylinder pickups wouldn’t suffice though, it would have to be a dump truck to avoid being washed off the weir.

An hour later, Rick and Scott were back, having found nothing. But there remained an option worth pursuing, if we only had enough rope – swimming. I traced out the play in the sand, drawn here on paper for posterity:

河流

推土机轨迹的形状比我们预计的还要糟糕。经过几小时的下坡，不断的冲刷，细流和刺灌木，我们来到河边。尽管害怕骑在未经铺装的道路上，当看到植被和湍急的水流我如释重负。天气挺暖和，3000m一下空气很充足，一阵风吹来，我突然想起自行车旅行可以很有趣。我有足够的精力享受生活。即使我们在这个巨大的峡谷底部，在齐踝深的沼泽和丰富的越野山地之间骑车摇摆，我们的足迹仍然隐约可见。

虽然我已经在自行车旅行中划了很多河流，但我从来没有考虑过如何穿过一条太深而无法穿越的河流。经过两天顺河而下，我们已经多次穿越河流，但自从我们到达了一条名为“路”的分级公路后，我们就认为这次旅行已经是十拿九稳了。

但事实并不是这样。

这条路在一条铺砌的浅滩上进入了河流，在它的下游一侧形成了一个高高的堰。在这个遥远的下游，山谷的汇合使河流的面积增加了一倍多。虽然直到中游不到膝盖深度，但水流速度很快。再走一步，我就会陷到更深更急的水里去，一次滑倒，我就会越过堰，掉进河的翻腾的泡沫和岩石里。斯科特和里克在河上徒步上下，寻找一个可以穿越的地方。我和自行车等待着，希望有一辆卡车来。阿根廷无处不在的四缸皮卡之一显然不够，但它必须是一辆自卸卡车才能避免从堰上冲下来。

一小时之后，里克和斯科特折返回来，一无所获。但仍有一个值得追求的选择--游泳，要是我们有足够的绳子。我在沙滩上描绘了这个游戏，下面画在纸上以为后人：

To begin, we tied together all the webbing straps and bits of rope Rick had hiding on his bike. This added up to nearly fifteen meters (45′), which just spanned the deepest part of the river. Scott, the strongest swimmer among us, dove into the current, easily crossing without gear. Then, Rick and I waded as deep as we could and hurled bags across, paying special attention to those that carried passports and electronics.

“SWIM FOR IT RICK!” I YELLED
OVER  THECURRENT,AS HIS TENT
AND SLEEPINGPAD FLOATED
DOWN THE RIVER IN A NEAT ROLL.

Rick hesitated, grabbing his hair in fists. “Ahhhhhh, shit……it’s gone!”

But I was already running. It’s one thing to lose a tent, it’s another to lose the one and only tent ever made by Scott, a project I’d been told would never be repeated. Slowed by the hole below the weir, I caught up after a short sprint and rescued the roll.

Scott stretched his arm over the current, leaving Rick just enough slack to tie one end of our rope around the head tube of a bike. When Rick pushed the bike into the current, it would pendulum downstream, with Scott as its axis, moving toward the far riverbank. Each time, as the bike reached the apex of the arc, the front wheel flopped into the current, and Scott started cussing as the force on the bike multiplied. Meanwhile, I jumped into the stream, up to my navel, grabbing at the bike to help it into shore. Rick followed the third bike and emerged from the current grinning, reaching for a hug. Home free.

We reached a small village at 10am on our last day of pedaling.

“Is it OK to drink beer in the plaza?” Rick asked the woman behind the counter of a dimly lit, low-roofed store.

“Yes, but maybe only one. The Police don’t like it when people get drunk in the plaza.”

Laughing, we filled our mugs with cold, pale lager, and sat in the shade of big eucalyptus trees. We ate ham sandwiches for lunch.

首先，我们把所有的织带和瑞克藏在他自行车上的绳子绑在一起。这增加了近15米（45尺），刚够跨过河流最深处。斯考特，我们中间最强游泳者，潜水进去，没有装备轻松穿过。接下来瑞克和我尽可能涉水，然后把袋子扔过去，特别注意这些因为里面有护照和电子设备。

瑞克踌躇了一下，用拳头抓住自己的头发。“啊，shit....它不见了！”

但是我已经跑起来了。失去帐篷是一回事，失去斯考特曾经做过的唯一帐篷是另一回事，这种事情我告知自己不能再重演。在堰下方的洞口缓慢下来，我在短暂的冲刺后赶上并挽救了卷口袋。

斯考特伸展手臂，让瑞克放在足够松软的地方，把绳子另一端绑在自行车的头管上。

斯科特伸出手臂挡住水流，让里克有足够的松紧度，把绳子的一端系在自行车的车头管上。当里克把自行车推到水流中时，它会摆向下游，斯科特作为它的轴线，朝远处的河岸移动。每一次，当自行车到达弧线的顶端时，前轮就会扑通一声掉入水流中，斯科特开始咒骂，因为自行车上的力成倍地增加。与此同时，我跳到小溪里，一直跳到肚脐处，抓住自行车，把它扶到岸边。里克跟着第三辆自行车，从当前的笑容中走出来，伸手去拥抱。免费回家。

我们骑车的最后一天上午十点到达一个小村庄。

“在广场喝啤酒可以吗？“瑞克问一家光线暗淡、屋顶很低的商店柜台后面的女人。

“是的，但可能只有一个。警察不喜欢人们在广场上喝醉。”

我们笑着，把冰冷苍白的淡啤酒装满杯子，坐在桉树的树荫下。我们午餐吃火腿三明治。

flyme1234

Skyler Des Roches is a full-time troublemaker at Porcelain Rocket, and occasional contributor here at Bikepacking.com. For this trip, he assembled aFatback Rhino FLT with support from Fatback Bikes. He was stoked to also be decked out in Canadian-made Westcomb Outerwear clothing, andOnly What’s Necessary riding shoes. He lives in Calgary, Alberta.

Skyler Des Roches是Porcelain Rocket的全职麻烦制造者，偶尔也会在Bikepacking.com担任撰稿人。在这次旅行中，他在Fatback Bikes的支持下组装了Fatback Rhino FLT。他还被装扮上加拿大制造的Westcomb外套服装，以及Only What's Necessary骑行鞋。他住在艾伯塔省的卡尔加里。

Scott Felter is the owner and supreme leader ofPorcelain Rocket. He’s into cats, home renovations, mountain biking, and big fatbike expeditions. His previous cyclingtrips of note include a self-supported completion of the Canning Stock route, and trips in Tasmania and Newfoundland. He lives in Calgary.

Scott Felter是Porcelain Rocket的拥有者和最高领导人。他喜欢猫，家庭装修，山地骑自行车和大型胖胎车探险。他之前的自行车记录包括自我完成Canning Stock路线，以及塔斯马尼亚和纽芬兰的旅行。他住在卡尔加里。

Rick Hunter is the mind and maker behind Hunter Cycles. He started making custom bicycle frames 25 years ago. He obviously built the frame and racks he used in Argentina. This was the longest “vacation” he’s ever been on. He lives in Santa Cruz, California.

Rick Hunter是Hunter Cycles的头脑和制造者。他25年前开始定制自行车车架。他显然制造了他在阿根廷使用的车架和货架。这是他有史以来最长的“假期”。他住在加利福尼亚州圣克鲁斯市。