Andes’ baptism

averse dispersée

That’s it, here I am. It’s around 9:30 in the evening, the sailboat’s captain drop me off with the inflated motor boat on a little wooden pier with my bicycle and other people’s luggage. He leaves me alone while he goes get the other passengers off the sailboat. Trying to keep my balance on something that is not moving, I set up my panniers on my steel structure. Here we are, in South America. And not too far from here, those mountains that will be my companions until Patagonia: the Andes.

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