McCRAICKEN: Hello and welcome to our program. This week Sean's been on route 40. He tells us all about it in a moment, after the news, read by Robbie Bonnet.

BONNET: Touring cyclist Sean Kane has admitted posting dirty photographes. The landscape photos in question have stains visible in the sky, most likely because the lens wasn't cleaned. Sean added it was thoughtless of him not to have cleaned the camera lens first but "when it's blowing a gale, there's wind chill and a soaking from rain on the way, thinking whether my camera lens is clean is a low priority".

KANE: The weather conditions are such that some days when I stop to take a photo, I've to first take off warm gloves and put them somewhere where they won't get blown away before taking the photo. One of my biggest fears is my gloves or other warm clothing blowing away. I would rather loose my camera than my gloves.

BONNET: Sean speaking to a reporter on the roadside. Now back to JP.

McCRAICKEN: Thanks Rob. I've Sean in the studio. This week you've been riding north on Route 40.

KANE: Yes indeed. In the far south of Patagonia: the Province of Santa Cruz, so called because Ferdinam Magellan, the first to sail through the straits now bearing his name, thereby navigating a sea-route from the South Atlantic to the South Pacific round the bottom of South America. On the way south he made landfall in a sheltered bay, where a port town called Puerto San Jullian is now. Here he celebrated the first Christain mass in what is today Argentina, and so the place and eventually a whole province is called "Santa Cruz" translated literally as Holy Cross.

I've taken note of the Santa Cruz provincial flag widely flown on flagpoles together with the light blue and white Argentine flag at estancias (sheep farms). It's a play on the national flag. There's the sun on a light blue background with the bottom a wave pattern representing it's maritine coast. A province that was only easily accessable from the sea until well into the twentieth century, when roads where built into the hinterland, most of which followed already established wagon tracks from the coast to estancias close to the Andes, in other words from east to west, being a route for taking wool to market in the coastal towns and for bringing home purchased household items from overseas on the return from market.

However, the roadbuilders saw a need to build a north-south road linking the lateral routes. This came perhaps with the increase use of motorcars in the 1930s and 40s. The road nominated the number 40, Ruta40, or La Cuarenta (The 40).

You could perhaps fit four Irelands inside the area of Santa Cruz. And cycling north on route 40, I got a real feel for the long distance and it's sparse, empty of human habitation in places, makes it an extremely lonely place. The vast openness, treeless and often eerie surreal landscape, with ever changing light makes it a memorable ride.

There are a couple of dull, very long straight road sections toward a level horizon, where the road ahead blends into the sky, but these eventually end dramatically, such as an eighty kilometres stretch north from a place called "Las Hornquitas" which ends with the road descending to a vast hollow at Bajo Caracoles. Also, the long stretch that ends with the surreal volcanic landscape to the east of Lago Cardiel.

I camped at the abovementioned lake. On all maps it looks like the lake reaches the road, where in reality it's well away from the road. It actually doesn't look too far until you atempt walking to the shore; when, having set up camp early, I set off walking to the lake in what would become a demostration of how distance can be decieving to the naked eye. What looks to be just over there, is many kilometres away, perhaps five kilometres or more.

I marched purposely along guanacho trails over sand and through head-high bush wilderness, with sights set on a line toward a large lake, with waves crashing on the shore. It was turning out to be a long long way. I didn't seem to be getting closer to the lakeshore, even though I'd been walking an hour from leaving the tent. Eventually though I come to a big sand-dune ridge that the roaring tide seemed to be just beyond, until I scramble up on top of the ridge and see the shore still over a kilometre off across a desolate seabed landscape. The ridge I'd just climbed over was where the lake once reached is obvious at this point. The lake having receded to a much smaller lake than once was the case. But having crossed the seabed that was formally under water, I reach a second sand-dune ridge that I scrabble up and am dismayed to see the lake's roaring tide still a way off ahead of me, across a second more desolate seabed. In the end I reach the water's edge shortly before sunset. The thunder of the tide rolling in and open water ahead of me, and the remoteness of the location felt a little intimidating, as well as needing to get back safely to the tent before dark.

I make good progress on my return to the tent, heading toward a hill as a guide and make it safely to the tent just after the last embers of the day have gone out and the ground and bushes around are syhouetted black by lingering light.

McCRAICKEN: Thanks Sean for telling us so elegantly about your experience on route 40. And Barry Best is sitting there looking very elegant in his warm jacket. He's going to tell us all about the weather now. The weather has turned cold again with fresh snow on the hills, even though it's Summer. Barry, what's happening?

BEST: Well JP, it's nothing unusual this far south. Rain, sleet and snow in mid-summer is fairly normal. It's extremely changable, so a couple of weeks ago, there was a heat-wave. And early this week strong wind blows from the south-west, blowing in dark cloud cover with unbearably cold wind-chill. Then from mid-week on, the wind swings to the north-west, bringing clearer skies with warmer weather, but not much joy for a northbound cyclist struggling in that wind.

McCRAICKEN: Right! Enough said, as we've coming to the end of the program. There's just time to read this text plucked at random from the mailbag.

"Sean's is my favourited journal on Crazy Guy On A Bike. Please keep up the good work" signed P Malone.

That's it. Bye for now, or Happy Christmas, I should say.