“The wind is not a river”, I overheard someone say after one of our windiest rides.
The sentence lingered in my head as I tried to unwrap its meaning like one of those fortune-cookie lines.
Crossing into Argentina was a welcome reprieve from the harsh altitude of the altiplano plateau and the more desolate Bolivian environment.
Argentina compared to Bolivia has been the land of milk and honey, with cheap steak, cheaper vino, and fantastic empanadas and dulce de leche flavored ice cream.
What more does one need in life?
One gelato place was even open until 4 am! A big difference between Argentina and its neighbors so far is how late everything opens.
The difference between Chile and Argentina is continuing to unravel to me, but so far both have been wonderful. Argentina is certainly cheaper, and I like their more Italian, old money, laid back vibe. Chile feels more modern, and richer, privileged with their mineral wealth compared to Argentina’s more traditional agricultural wealth.
I also have come to appreciate that it’s normal to have things open so late in Argentina, where typically dinner is at 9/9:30 - as it reminds me of Cairo.
But although I’ve loved northern Argentina and Chile so far, the story of riding here has not been as sweet, but dominated by winds. One of the days, I recall having a favourable tailwind for most of the ride and then in one second, the bipolar wind changed directions by 180 degrees and I find my speed significantly drop and the last half-hour of the day felt like it took half the day.
On another brutal day, we had the duo of brutal headwinds gusting over 50km/h and pouring rain, and I am sure every single car, bus, truck who looked out at their window was wondering what on earth we were doing cycling. This was probably one of the toughest rides so far, and I was fortunate enough that one stranger stopped his small truck, asked if I needed water, or a ride somewhere? I told him I’m good to go, but if he doesn’t mind slowing down perhaps I could draft behind him until the next town? And I cruised behind him for a while, full of gratitude for the shelter; the kindness of strangers continues to be overwhelming.
As we battle the winds, I think of the role headwinds and tailwinds play in cycling and finding fulfillment. If things are easy because of a headwind, am I on the wrong track? If I have a tailwind, do I need to remind myself that it’s not going to last forever?
I wonder if I have the tendency to overly blame the wind when it’s rough, and give myself too much credit when it’s blowing behind me?
The winds did teach us to ride better together, and work as a team. And they’re only supposed to get much worse the further south we go into Patagonia - arguably the most beautiful but toughest stretch of the journey.
It’s not supposed to be easy, I remind myself.
In earlier times of my life, I sometimes would find myself asking: God, if this is for me, make it easy, make it effortless. I wonder if that is the right frame of mind? Of course wishing or praying for a tailwind all the time would be nice, but not having it isn’t the absence of grace; avoiding discomfort isn’t the right posture for maximal growth.
Growth takes effort, hard work. The opposite of love isn’t indifference says Scott Peck, it’s laziness. What do I gain by avoiding effort and discomfort?
Discomfort is what I signed up for. Just because something isn’t easy, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. While at the same time, if it’s always a headwind, it might get overwhelming. But is it ever always a headwind? The wind isn’t a river…
Perhaps I was misunderstanding fulfillment, seeing it before as more consumption and comfort, but perhaps I should see fulfillment coming from giving more and overcoming challenges, helping others, and not avoiding what’s hard.
Embracing discomfort and pushing through the headwinds sometimes solo, and sometimes with a team does generate more satisfaction.
Despite the discomforts, there have been moments in the last few weeks where I felt overwhelmed by awe.
I will never forget stargazing in the atacama desert and seeing Saturn‘s rings, or the stripes on Jupiter through the lens of a telescope, or seeing the elegant flamingos do their thing at 4000m in the salt flats.
We are so small in such a vast universe!
As we’re making our way more and more south, I do feel a certain bittersweet feeling, full of gratitude for everything that I’ve seen so far but also overwhelmed that there is so much of the world still left to see. So many questions to ask, people to meet, animals to learn about…
And as I am now only 6 weeks or so and approaching the end, I do find myself feeling more tired of it too. And I am trying not to let the tiredness cloud my curiosity, or sense of awe, especially at what is to come.
The stars and the planets are always there…and the sense of awe, grace, unconditional love are always accessible…even if I’m tired or facing a nasty headwind.
I struggle to remind myself of this sometimes. Especially when I find myself overthinking about what’s to come next for me career-wise. How can I have a fulfilling career where I can improve the world, and enjoy it at the same time.
But my career and this journey are both rides, still unfolding…
The wind is not a river?
Rivers always flow in the same direction, but the wind dances -
It is shifting and unpredictable. It challenges me, sometimes pushing me back and sometimes sweeping me forward in ways I don’t expect.
I’m learning to accept the mystery of it— accepting that I can’t control it. I can only control my attitude towards it.
The wind has its own rhythm. Sometimes, it pushes me right into discomfort, testing my patience, my resolve. Other times, it fills my sails and lifts me up, and I feel the joy of moving effortlessly.
I’m learning that maybe it’s less about reaching a final destination quickly and more about the way I lean into each turn, each climb, each descent.
Perhaps fulfilment too comes in riding with it all—the headwinds and the tailwinds, the easy days and the hard ones—knowing each is part of the story.
I think that’s what this journey is teaching me: to find strength in the flow, even if it changes direction. To let go of some of the pressure to always know what’s next, and to trust that I’ll figure it out as I go. Maybe even appreciate the mystery of not having all the answers yet…
