The road is straight
While pedaling many kilometers, artist and Santos Rider Rosa immerses herself in the connection between people and the landscape. She likes to cycle in places where nature is in charge. Often solo, sometimes with others she meets along the way.
Just back from her cycling adventure from Bolivia to the southernmost tip of South America, she gives a poetic insight into her thoughts along the way.
Rosa van Walbeek
Santos Travelmaster 2.6
The road is straight. The road is straight for so long that I can not see the turn.
The road is straight, the sky is clear and I am looking in the distance. I see a conical shaped mountain, probably a volcano. It is far ahead of me on the left side. I stay on the road.
The road is straight and the tarmac is boiling hot. I am wearing thin shoes and when I get of I feel the heat pushing through my soles. I take a sip of water, even that is hot and I quickly get back on. I am going straight, I stay on the road.
The road is straight and narrow, there is no emergency lane but I don’t need to flee because there is no one. There is no one and flatness surrounds me. What and who is living here?
The road is straight and around me are no trees, only small bushes and little tufts of grass. Everything is growing but nothing gets tall. The leaves are small and everything is dry. There is no water but still I see an occasional flower.
The road is straight and I have to fight to be able to continue. Something is constantly pushing against me, in the morning it is weak but during the day it’s strength grows. I am pedaling hard but I’m not going fast.
The road is straight. Almost all of the bushes are yellowish and dry but sometimes I see fresh green leaves. The bushes with fresh green leaves are next to each other and meander through the landscape. Above the ground there is no water flowing, but beneath there is?
The road is straight and I am fighting on, I am not going fast and the turn is still not in view but the volcano is now on my left and on my right there are some big trees. There is a house. In this landscape without anyone, live people.
The road is straight and where there is people, are trees and water. Or, where there is water are trees and people. I am a human. I am here but I won’t stay, I’m cycling through.
The road is straight and I am cycling through the landscape. Around me I see nothing and at the same time so much. The repetition of dry bushes show what deviates. A flower, green leaves, a hole, a salamander, a bird, rubbish, a car with people.
The road is straight and an occasional car is taking me over. There is no emergency lane but I do not need to flee, they drive safely around me.
The road is straight, next to it are fences, I can not leave the road. I can not go to that volcano that is now behind me, I can not go to the bush with the flowers, I can not go to that little hole a bit further. I am going straight. I am going straight but I stop fighting against the wind; who cares how fast I am going?
The road is straight, I am not in a rush. I have 11 liters of water and dried food in my bags. The sun was on the left, then right above me, now on the right. The tarmac is boiling hot and my thoughts are free. Around me it’s flat and memories are coming from far. Memories I had forgotten. The emptiness calls them and in the emptiness they can leave again. The wind blows against me but the wind is not against me. I am not against the wind.
The road is straight, the wind brings me my thoughts and takes them away again. I see the turn, it’s going to the right, where the sun goes down. The turn is still far and I am tired so I am staying here. Next to the road are fences, I can not climb over them so I put my tent beside them. It is close to the road that has carried me southwards the whole day.
The road is straight and I am laying next to it in my tent. The sun is already beneath the horizon. Slowly the colors in the sky change, I see less. Birds sing around me, I am not alone.