The last 1500km. Without any doubt I started that day with intensively mixed feelings. The last three weeks seemed to be a shattering challenge which finally found an end by putting my cycling gloves over my wrists. All my emotions were thrown in a blender, a painful juice. My father died, he died in the same hour he was born. After I left 2012 and being abroad for so long, I met my family at his grave without ever have talked to him about his and my life in this long lapse. What happened seemed to be untrue, days and weeks were shrink to a briefly moment as I prepared to start cycling again. I heard of his death in Coyhaique, Chile by entering a cafe to call him for a birthday greeting.

The weeks ago, Niseema and I finally got an idea about our near future. I was eating bread and jam, slept in the fields, bought barely anything to get along with the small money. An acceptable reduction of comfort to be able to start my next lifespan with my girlfriend. I was happy, I was confident about my future - I will have to end the trip by cycling to a nearby finish. Enjoying the solitude of the Carretera Austral. I was looking forward to go further south to reach "the end of the world".

 

Those steps I sat on, somewhere in nowhere, hurt my soul. It is a deep sad to look back at the past weeks and the moment a little girl asked me about the reason of my returning to Germany and about who is waiting for me. "And your dad?" The first time I was telling somebody "No, I have no living father". I thought back and let the last two and a half weeks pass by my inner eye. Being unable to think straight, I struggled to find an internet connection or a quiet place for myself. I had to find a solution to solve my problems and get back to Euope for my father’s funeral, to thank him for my life, to say my regrets. In those times of total vulnerability I got help. My network backed me up. Every step I took until I passed by the window of my mother’s flat to see her waiting for me, was a favor of friends. The father of a friend brought me to the ferry where I got one of the last tickets to cross over to Chile Chico at the border to Argentina. My pockets were filled with gifted money for food. Cyclists collected for me. Tailwind pushed my bike until Perito Moreno, I arrived in Argentina and began that my plan can be done without struggles. A friend explained me how to get buses through the nation and her brother put my bicycle in his small place. A sorrow less on my five days lasting return to Rostock, Germany. Two weeks after the girl to the little girl, I was sitting in front of the same bakery and remebered how I asked people to change my dollars into Argentinean Pesos, so that I can buy my bus tickets to the thousand of kilometers distant Buenos Aires. It all seemed like a story I heard of but I could not believe to be have been a part of.

 

My first kilometers of pedaling were insane. With the last house of Perito Moreno disappearing on the horizon, it was just me and my bike in the desert. Nothing than nature surrounded me on a summer day. Pictures of the funeral appeared in my head. Pictures of my family members sitting around me. Pictures of my youth. Memories of the exhausting last weeks with the decision to keep up the idea to end cycling and finally being on the way to finish it. Pictures of my future, of Niseema and me introducing my mother to her grandchild we are planning to have. My future child will never see its grandpa. In this moment I stopped. Two condors flew over my head as I latest down on the hot ground and stared in the blue sky. Can I really end this trip? Niseema just left South America; she had to solve family issues as well and would be in Mexico from now on. I wouldn't be able to easily meet her for defining our close future. But as I saw those two huge majestic birds of prey flying above me in harmony with time and space, I felt a big relief. I felt pure happiness to be alive.

The beats started to light a fire in me as I put the headphones on to cycle down into the valley. Colorado mountains in front of me, a wonderful road, no traffic, no wind. Again I started to tear. I love the remembrance of my childhood. I miss my dad. I will finish cycling. I will see Ushuaia at the end of this road.

 

Frank Maaß

27.01.1957 - 27.01.2014