September 28th, 2009: Seconds away from renting a quality bike for the entire day…I hesitated. Instead of choosing a higher quality bike, I decided to look for something more…economical. Finding a shop that rented bikes for $10 a day instead of $20, I quickly said I will take it before even looking at it - only remembering my other bike experiences after the words exited my mouth. The old gentleman went in the back of the office and disappeared for a little bit. I am not sure if he had to steal someone’s unlocked bike that had the notion that nobody would ever steal such a “piece” to coincide with my special price, but out came something with two wheels and a seat. I am happy to say that the bike did have functional brakes. Paying the $10, I was not asked sign anything, give them a name or even tell them where I was staying – as I previously said…it was probably stolen and the guy didn’t want the bike to be traced back to him if I was stopped.Riding down the street on the bike which happened to weigh much, much, much more than myself, there was a lot of chatter coming from all over my economical tubular mode of transportation. Disembarking the bike I thoroughly made a delayed inspection and noticed that my headset that was loose…and a twisty thing next to the crank…and…and the main bolt that connected the rear shock to the bike also needed to be tightened. This work was all performed by my 10 little friends since I did not have anything that resembled tools except these fingers of mine.
I quickly learned on what gears not to go in when standing up due to the chain wanting to skip or leave the crank completely. There were also some gears that my chain did not like to shift into and would only listen to me if I would hold its links and manually place it on my desired gear of choice. I was still happy with my bicycle selection since I never liked having all those easy choices on what gear to go into anyhow.
Asking a woman for the directions to Puerto Chino beach, she looked at me as if I was crazy and waved her hand forward about 30 or so times to stress on how far it was. Smiling, off I went up the first hill that lasted for about 10km with a few miniscule downhill sections. I vigorously peddled for about the first 0.5km and it felt as if I walked the remaining 9.5km since it was easier to push the 140+ pound bike up the hills than to ride it. The remaining 10km were almost completely downhill, rewarding me for making it the first bit without quitting. I clearly remembered the condition of my bike and the haphazard maintenance I performed earlier in the day, choosing not to go too fast in this long downhill section incase my headset or some other important item decided to leave my bike without my permission.
As I was dropping down to a lower elevation, I was unfortunately completely aware that I was going to at some point, push my bike back up everything that was I passing. Calculating the time it was going to take me to get back to where I rented my bike, I figured it would be well after closing time. I decided to worry about it later, figuring that it will all work out and kept gliding down the road.
Making it to the National Park center that helps restore the tortoise population in San Cristobal, for some odd reason I locked up my potentially stolen bike in this abandon parking lot and made my way inside. Hiking on a trail that wrapped around the park I came upon several gigantic tortoises. Whenever I would approach too closely to one of these prehistoric looking reptiles, they would make this noise sounding as if this was the noise Steven Spielberg was trying to reproduce when Darth Vader would breathe.
Eventually, I made it to the end of the road. I spent more time on the mediocre beach than I should have because I knew that a long 20km road needed to be conquered in order to get back to my hostel. Leaving the beach, I began pushing my bike up the steep endless incline. The thought of how long of it took me to get down from the midway point would not leave my head. Playing some music on my iPod, I was hoping that it would help muffle my gasps for oxygen and to somehow keep me from passing out from exhaustion and dehydration. Prior to my bike ride I made the executive decision that I was not going to bring water. This was a well thought out moronic decision since I usually never drink it, and secondly, I couldn’t fit it in my camera bag. Each step up the hill became harder and harder as my body somehow began to operate on its own as I continued to move forward.
Exhausted, I wanted to just lie on the road so someone would stop and pick me up or just end my misery now and run me over – whichever came first…but the roads were silent. Swaying left and right along the road, I tried a variety of positions pushing the bike realizing that the weight was not going to change. Passing a small town with a house selling drinks I stopped for some ice cold thirst quenching lemonade. When sitting here, I decided that I was not going to ride my bike all the way back to town. Thinking that it would be nice to take a taxi, the cost from where I was would be about a $35…which I was not yet willing to pay. My plan was to hitch a ride, with a backup plan that if I had to take a cab…I would tell the driver to take me as far as $5 would get me - hoping my tears and pleas would get me to at least the midway point. From there, I would be okay since it is mostly downhill.
Finally, some cars passed by me going in the other direction…giving me hope, as a smile slowly came to my face. I knew they were going to have to come back my way at some point. I continued to walk just in case I was not able to get a ride. Still swaying, I noticed that I had the ability to move slower than the tortoises that I saw earlier today. Hearing a car coming up the hill in my direction, I got off the road and imitated the face of Puss in Boots (Shrek). It worked! A pickup truck pulled over on the side of the road as I somehow found enough energy in me to lift my bike in back without a crane. The woman told me that they were going town but it was going to be slower than a cab. Of course this was not an issue, as I sat in the back seat with a huge smile on my face. The smile was so big and was there for so long, I thought I was going to be left with some permanent stretch marks by the end of the trip. Up every hill my smile was somehow getting bigger, eventually looking like the smile of the Joker (Jack Nicolson, Batman).
I did not understand why we were moving so slowly along the gravel roads until we pulled over. The passenger in the front seat handed a guy sitting in back with me a plastic bag and one rubber glove. “Huh?” I thought. The man left the vehicle and crossed the road to pick something up…road kill. Putting the bird into the bag, he got back into the truck as we continued our trip back to town. After a while the bag seemed to be getting quite large with rotting birds and other small critters. I could not figure out why he kept coming inside the truck with the bag of death instead of placing it in the back of the pickup. Happy that I don’t have a good sense of smell, I sat there…continuing to smile thinking about all of the peddling I was wasn’t doing.
Eventually, I made it back to town as I painfully rode my bike, returning it to the shop I rented it from. Handing it over I felt as if I was just released from some prisoner of war camp as I wanted to kiss the ground knowing that is was over. Sitting down at my favorite local dive, as my legs throbbed… I was extremely grateful for being picked up…rather than run over.
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