It is amazing how incredibly important stretching is. I'm back on the road, my knee is feeling much better, but still not 100%. It's a good reminder that I need to continue stretching daily.
Thanks again to Alex and everyone at Costa Azul, and of course to my uncle Don for arranging my stay. Great place to heal up proper before getting back on the bike. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have them to stay with, when my knee was in dire straights. I might have had to bike back to Cabo to stay at the house "Carlos" owns, or camp on the beach...
Thanks to Peter (of OSS, outdoor sleep systems, my buddy from Moab that gave me a protype tent that he's making. Be sure to check them out here: http://www.ossbag.com/ )and the folks at Goal Zero for my new solar panel! I'll post some pics soon once I figure out a good place to charge while I ride.
So I took a good week off from riding to heal, but I wasn't seeing any progress in the healing of my knee. The pinnacle was going to the fair one evening with the usual people: Sarah, Tio, and Roy. I was limping around, and the pain only got worse. I had to finally sit down and take a break. I was feeling bothered not by the pain, but more of the fact of how detrimental my current condition was, to the trip.
I realized while I was at the fair, that I was being really careless in the healing process, and knew I should be doing more. From that point on, I knew I had to take more rest. The following two days, I followed the R.I.C.E method best I could (rest, ice, compression, elevation). So I sat in bed the following two days, leg elevated. My Mom gave me a book to read before I left San Diego, Endurance , that I never even opened (usually have barely enough time to do my journal in my tent before falling asleep). So fortunately I had the book, and read it over the next two days. This rest helped tremendously with the pain, but I still had an uneasiness in my knee afterward.
It felt like my knee wanted to buckle, and I still had a little pain. One evening I decided to go online and do some more research and found out about chondromalacia (like I mentioned previously). People mentioned a lot of different things that help alleviate it. One of the treatments was stretching the IT band. It was so amazing after doing one stretch for my IT band, noticing that the pain was lessened in my knee and felt a bit better (albeit small). My uncle Don's wife June had shown me some good stretches for my IT band a while back, and I never kept up with them because I was lazy, and usually on the road I don't have much time.
Over the course of the next few days, I started an intensive rehabilitation routine. Several times a day, I would do front leg kicks, all sorts of leg stretches, and IT BAND STRETCHES (so important!). One that helps a lot as well is taking a foam roller (I used one of my metal water bottles) and laying on your side with the roller in contact with your IT band, and rolling on it. This hurts tremendously, but every time I do it, standing up, my knees feel soooo much better. After making leaps and bounds in the progress of my knee, it looked like I continue the trip on the bike (fortunately). I was back on the bike a few times, riding to the store, to the shop, and my knee felt a lot better.
The day I was leaving, I was feeling pretty nervous. I had to stop a few times and stretch thoroughly because of some pain I was still feeling, but it was feeling good. It was a rush to get to Los Barrilles because of how late I left, and I arrived in the dark to the sound of flopping in the water. I think it was fish, large fish, jumping out of the water (but never found out what it was). I found some palapas on the beach, after asking some locals at a hotdog stand, that said I could camp there for the night.
Waking up to the sun rising over the ocean, I made a quick breakfast and got on the road because I knew I had a long day. It took me 8 hours of actual pedaling time to get to La Paz. I only remember one other time I pedaled for 8 hours, that was with Karl and Felix in the Yukon, to get to Dease Lake. Pedaling for that long in one day, is a LONG time. Most of the day, I had a 10km/h average - that's dreadfully slow. I was going uphill for basically the first 30km. I was happy though that my knee held up strong. I stopped to stretch several times, and it was hot as usual. I think I went through around 7 or 8 liters of water.
In La Paz, I went to the marina to see if I could get onto a sailboat to get over to the mainland. I went for two consecutive mornings, and it wasn't looking good since everybody was going north, but I met an interesting older gentleman. His name is Andrew, and he's got a 38ft boat that he's reconditioned. He's looking for someone to go with him across the Pacific, to the Marquis islands and beyond. He needs help from someone to crew and fund some of the supplies (a few hundred bucks he tells me). I was thiiiiiiiiiiiiisss close to going with him (motioning with my fingers). I have thought about this many times before, and recently was thinking about how I want to crew on a boat across the Pacific when this trip is through. However, I knew I had to continue this trip, and hopefully I'll find somebody like him a year from now.
I hung out at Peter and Suzy's apartment for a couple days in La Paz, with another couchsurfer Hannes. The four of us had a great time together. One night I went with Suzy where she practices "silks" had a great time stretching and practicing silks. (I didn't have my camera handy) Hannes left this morning for a flight to the Yucatan, and tonight I get on the ferry for the trip to Mazatlan.
It's amazing that I'm finally leaving Baja, and a new leg of the adventure continues. I have so many fond memories of Baja. I encountered such kind people, locals and tourists. I hope, and I'm sure, that this will continue. Overall, I'm happy that I can continue to ride, and the adventure continues. I just need to make sure and stretch.
Lastly I want to say a huge thank you to my lovely mother that sent me a package of goodies. What a pleasant thing to arrive to in La Paz, open a package, and discover a load of treats to keep me motivated after long days on the bike. The box was filled with delicious sunflower seed butter (can't find any real nut butter in Mexico. Basically the "Jiff" variety.), all sorts of assorted fine chocolates (including varying levels of dark chocolate), chocolate candies, coffee...
Some Thoughts While Rid[healing]:
Now I reflect on the days long ago. I look over longingly at my bike, and remember all the places we've been. All the different smells come to mind: fertilizer near farms, fresh clean air in pine forested mountains, dry earthy fragrance of cactus covered deserts, the salty pacific, the putrid stench when passing rotting carcasses, and more recently the sour, over-bearing exhaust from ill-maintained vehicles.
To think that I ever had thoughts of loneliness seemed a little absurd. Once I get the feeling again, all I have to do is recall the time that my knee pained me sufficiently to stop riding.
I'm fortunate that I found out how to heal/rehab my knee, soon as well. While doing research online, I heard of people with far worse cases. Some can no longer ride at all, they get a crunching sound from their knee, have had surgery...
Reading Endurance was a fascinating story. I could relate a lot to the men in the simple pleasures they enjoyed, like being warm, food they desired, and other things. It was interesting reading the character traits describing Shackleton, the leader of the expedition. I could see several traits describing him, that accurately describes myself. Many times on my trip, I have thought of pioneers, such as these men, who explored bravely through uncharted areas, with little equipment.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Me Duele
A lot has been going on since leaving La Paz, some good, and some bad. I've been having an incredible time meeting people, almost on a daily basis. Lots of these people exhibit great generosity (as with most on my trip) and kindness, helping me on my journey. However, I have been having significant pain in my left knee that may force me to cut the adventure short...
Leaving La Paz was just another, typical, brutally hot day. As usual, the sun was beating down on me, searing my flesh and cooking me alive, as if to punish me. When I reached the turn-off for San Jose, or the direct route to Cabo, something very strange happened.
I noticed a couple bugs flying, moving towards me. A millisecond later, it turned into a swarm of bees. Before I had time to do anything, I was getting pelted by bees all over my arms, face, and body. I yelled, expecting an onslaught of pain, and possibly an ensuing crash. Somehow, I emerged unscathed, with not a single sting. I rode on, perplexed.
I arrived in Todos Santos a short while later. The main road, or carretera, cuts right through town. I was soon lost in the maze of streets, and unsure of how to get out of town (I was trying to get to Pescadero and camp at Pedrito that evening). There was some construction on one of the stop lights in town, and some of the roads were blocked, making things even more difficult. With dwindling light, I hurriedly asked around and found my way to the road I needed.
As I rounded the corner, and started up a hill to get out of town, I heard some guy leave the pub and say loudly "Woah! That's such a load! Hey come look at this guy!" He was so animated, and so shocked to see what I was carrying on my bicycle. I knew he was going to want to talk to me, and when I stopped a little further up and turned to tell him I didn't have time, he said "yeah, pull over up there!".
I pulled to the side and started talking to him and his wife. They were enthusiastic about hearing the details of my trip, and were so blown away. I didn't even have to mention that I needed to go, because before long, Ron, and his wife Anna, invited me to stay with them at their vacation home for the evening. At this point it was clear I'd be riding in the dark to Pedrito, and it was a good idea to stay with them. Plus, it's hard to say no to a place to stay by the beach where a warm shower and a bed was waiting for me. We packed my things into their jeep, and headed down the dusty dirt road towards their beach get-away.
Ron and Anna are two bubbly, animated, people. They are a lot of fun to be around, and are so generous. It's people like this, and everyone recently, that I encounter that keeps me motivated and recharged, when times get tough.
I hung out with them the following day as well, and met some of their friends JP and Carol lee who are vacationing in Cabo San Lucas.
Making my way to Pedrito at Pescadero, I was looking forward to camping out and enjoying some surf. I heard that Pedrito is one of the better breaks in the area, and more technical - my cup of tea. I had to cross nearly 3kms of dirt, with occasional sand sections pushing my bike. Ron and Anna visited after I made camp near the water, and Ron took photos of me surfing (thanks again!). An old friend, Wyatt, whom I met at punta Santa Rosalita weeks earlier, showed up as well (we talked about meeting there, but nothing sounded definite). He's on a surf road trip in his truck.
I almost left, but thought better of it, and took another day off there (smart decision). I had a couple of good surf sessions, and relaxed with Wyatt and his girlfriend. The break is a sketchy spot, with plenty of rocks and urchins to ding you good, and breaks closer to shore (especially when it's smaller and a lower tide). The nice thing is that it keeps the beginner surfers down the beach and thins the crowds.
Leaving Pescadero, is when I really started to notice some pain in my knee. I've had plenty of pain, throughout my body, throughout the trip. As with most pains, my tendency is to fight through them, because a lot of times, they pass. This one persists.
Riding from Pescadero to Cabo, there were many, short, sections of construction. Baja Sur is in the process of widening the highway between La Paz and Cabo, to four lanes. I think it's to increase tourism. I had a few people (as people always like to do) tell me how bad the roads are. I usually think nothing of it, because what can I do anyway? I have to ride the road either way. After I passed a bunch of short sections of alternating dirt, to pavement, I hit the big one.
This section of dirt road was longer, a little rockier, with lots of traffic both ways. The road turned up hill, a long uphill, and a perpetual cloud of dust ensued as I scrambled up. Coughing and choking on the fog of dust, cars whizzed past, kicking rocks and intensifying the dirt cloud. I stood pedaling most of the time because of how steep the hill was, and my rear wheel slipping a lot. With all of this difficulty, I had to also use my right leg mainly because of the pain in my left knee. [Interestingly, it was this hill that Alex and Sarah had passed me, as they drove to San Jose. They're the people I'm staying with.] I made it over the hill, back onto some pavement, with more paved hills.
The last hill I came over, boom, I get a view of the Pacific looking south. A feeling of pride washed over me because I could see the coast wrap around the corner, and now I was looking at the Baja peninsula facing South. It was the moment that it felt like I had finished riding the Baja peninsula.
I had a long, fast, downhill into town, passing trucks and buses in the other lane. I found the Estancia Hotel, and caught up with JP and Carol lee (the couple I met earlier with Ron and Anna). They had invited me to stay with them at their fancy hotel overlooking the ocean. A quick walk to the beach and a shower, then they took me to a fancy dinner (thanks!). I slept in a comfortable bed that evening and had a restful sleep.
They left town in the morning, and I felt like sticking around Cabo. I wanted to see why lots of people travel to the city, and of course take some time for my knee to get better. I lined up a place to stay for the evening via couchsurfing, so I headed to the place that everybody goes to Cabo for... the beach right? Arriving at the main area, I realized I probably wouldn't be able to push my bike over the sandy hill, and there were a lot of people... I didn't see any good places to safely keep my bike and belongings. So I just sat on my bike for a while and figured I'd enjoy the coastal breeze and sunshine.
It wasn't long until I heard a guy in a white Expedition ask me, "Hey man, you want a beer?". Free cold beer in the hot sun - pretty tough not to accept, so I rolled over and had one. I got to talking with "Carlos" and his friend Jorge. Carlos speaks English fluently (as well as Spanish), and is a local in town. Over the course of the next hour or so, we talked about a lot of different things. One of them was a cyclist that was in town a couple years previous. Carlos hosted the cyclist (Jessie) for about a week, trying to help him on his way to Argentina. Carlos mentioned that he's got an empty house I could stay at, and take a shower in. As usual I accepted since the spontaneous moments like these are what make my trip so interesting. He took me to dinner, then dropped me off at the house. I enjoyed a night on the town with Jorge, and spent the following day relaxing at his house.
I packed and left the following morning, and biked to San Jose Del Cabo. I had pain in my knee for the entirety of the day, and a week later, I know it was a mistake not taking more days off in Cabo. The day after riding to San Jose, the pain took a turn for the worse.
Chondromalacia Patellae
I'm holed up now in San Jose trying to rest my knee, no surfing, biking... I can barely walk without limping. It's a terrible feeling to have my trip in question, and see no improvement in the health of my knee. Fortunately, I'm staying with some terrific people. Alex ("Alejandro") is a customer of one of my uncles, and mentioned long ago that I could stay with him when I arrived. Alex has a surf shop, Costa Azul, and shapes boards, offers surf lessons, and everything surf related. Everyone else I've been spending time with, works at the shop as well, and frequents the house because of the large storage and shaping/glassing rooms.
I don't know what I'm going to do at the moment. All I know is that I can't bike, surf, or anything. I'm going to try and rest (whether here or back in Cabo) for a few weeks and see if there is any improvement. I haven't seen a healthcare provider because 1) I've had enough broken bones, injuries, etc to know that since there was no traumatic event and 2) No swelling and/or bruising - that it probably isn't something demanding surgery, or immediate medical attention (I hope!).
I've been in this place too many times before: playing the waiting game. Everything tells me to keep going, except my knee. Everyday I wake up and think "wow, it feels a bit better." Then I walk around for a while, and feel the uneasiness and discomfort. After all that I've been through on this transcontinental expedition, all that I've dealt with and fought past... now there's something I can't fight. As with everything in life, the future has great uncertainty. All I can do is rest, and hope to heal up, so that I can get back on the road.
Now I'm sitting around wasting time, but more importantly, money. At least I have access to the internet, so I can expand my library of music, and keep myself entertained. I'm practicing my Spanish, including the bad stuff (with my slang/cuss cheat-sheet that Suzy made me, ha thanks).
Unedited, and word-for-word, an entry from the cyclist Jessie, that Carlos had told me about. It's quite strange for me to read this because I can relate to a lot of what he says:
"December 8, 2010
Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico
The last two weeks have possibly been two of the most important of this entire trip for me, although I'll admit they don't make for stories quite as exciting as some I've had in the past. The importance is mostly within me. If this were a movie, I'd also want Morgan Freeman to play me. He's one of my favorite actors and is a great narrator. I'm going to do my best to explain what's happened. Try to read with a Morgan Freeman voice inside your head...
I was bummed when I left the hotel where I had stayed in Cabo, and where I had sat to type my last update. I was leaving the place where I had shared great times with great friends, and I didn't have any great friends on the horizon. I've been bummed in the past when leaving places where I had a lot of good friends, or had made a lot of new ones. I was bummed to leave Boston, bummed to leave Chicago, and bummed to leave a lot of places in Colorado. It's really just part of the traveling gig. But I've certainly learned that all it takes is one good person to come along and wipe away all of the sad feelings and remind me that I'm on an adventure, and what's up ahead is as exciting as what's behind. Unfortunately, I'm in Mexico. In Mexico people speak Spanish. Mi Espanol no es bueno (my Spanish is not good), so it's difficult to make deep connections with people as I've mentioned before. Luckily, the next best thing to people, in my opinion, is the beach. So I set off from Cabo San Lucas eastward, looking for the first beach that looked like the sort of place I could live for a few days while I wait for my package to arrive at the hotel. On the way out of town I passed a Wal-Mart, so I stopped in to get a few days' supply of food and potable water so I wouldn't have to leave the beach.
Deep down, however, I knew that stewing in my own thoughts on an isolated beach wouldn't help me kick the melancholy that had set in. This was a little more severe than in times past, because I have no close friends on the road ahead, and I knew it would be a while before my Spanish was good enough to make new ones. It reminded me of the fact that this trip really is about the people I meet. So for anyone reading this because I bumped into you somewhere along the way, however briefly, thanks for making this such an excellent and enjoyable adventure for me. Anyway, when I came out of Wal-Mart, there was a man admiring my bike. This has happened many times before, some of which were in Mexico, so my Spanish was at least good enough to handle the questions that always come up in this situation. To my surprise, this very Mexican-looking guy spoke perfect, unaccented English. I soon found out that Carlos was born in Mexico, but raised in southern California, and moved to Cabo about twelve years ago. I explained that I was looking for a beach to live on for a couple of days to kill time, and Carlos invited me to stay with him. I took him up on the offer, but told him it would only be for a day or two, and that I would really enjoy the company on Thanksgiving.
I ended up staying with him for an entire week, which we spent watching a lot of movies and eating delicious food. I haven't really been able to watch many movies since the trip began, and Carlos was good company, so I was more than happy to kick back in front of the TV. There were a lot of personal things which I'd rather not get into, but suffice to say that Carlos was in poor health, and at one point had been told by doctors that he had less than a year to live. We're both fairly confident at this point that he can stretch that year into quite a bit more, but imagine the change in perspective on life that gives you! Carlos also happens to be the exact same age as my father, who also has some health problems that I won't get into. It was an interesting coincidence, but I made nothing more of it. I was just excited to have someone come by in my time of most need and break me out of my emotional slump.
One night Carlos and I were watching a movie, as did every night. This night it was "I am Sam". In it, Sean Penn plays a mentally challenged father whose daughter gets taken away by the courts. At one point in the movie, Carlos says to me, "That happened to me once." Thinking he was talking about some small event in the movie, I jokingly replied, "What? Get your kid taken away because you're retarded?" My eyes were still fixed on the screen, since it's a powerful movie, and Carlos replied, "No, get my daughter taken away because the courts said I was unstable." I was surprised, to say the least, because in the few days that we'd known each other we'd talked about a lot of things, and he had never mentioned a daughter. I looked at him and could see his eyes welled up a bit. This was obviously a sensitive subject, since he hadn't talked about it before, so I just put my foot in my mouth and watched the movie. Carlos mentioned quickly that he had a daughter who was now twenty-four who was taken away from him, and who he's being trying to reconnect with for some time now, to no avail. That was pretty much all that was said for the next day and a half on the subject, because I didn't want to bring it up. But it was on my mind all the while. As soon as he had said that, I knew I had to try and help some way. Carlos was the exact age of my father, with deteriorating health. I was the exact age of his daughter who he hadn't seen. I just didn't know what I could possibly do.
The day I was about to leave, the subject came up again. I found out that Carlos' lawyer had been in contact with his daughter, and that the ball was pretty much in her court for getting in touch with him. That made it easier for me. I wrote a letter to Carlos' daughter, hoping to dispel any fear she had about reconnecting. I explained how he saved me on Thanksgiving, bringing me back to my usual self. I explained how I had gotten to know him, and how he's a good guy. I've found I've become a decent judge of character over the last seven months. I gave the letter to Carlos and told him that I would send it when he wanted me to, and no sooner. But it obviously had to come from me. After that, I packed up my things and headed out of town, feeling good that I may have just committed my biggest good deed yet. I pedaled through San Jose Del Cabo, and into the desert. I had intended to reach La Paz in two days to catch the ferry to the mainland, but then found out the next ferry wasn't until three days hence, so I had no reason not to take my time. I set up camp early, and had a phenomenally serene evening cooking my dinner over a campfire and watching the stars come out. I put on some calm music and fell asleep just outside my tent looking up at the sky counting shooting stars. I was up to four before the sandman came and ushered me into the nocturnal world of my dreams.
When I woke up the next morning, something very, very strange happened. I couldn't explain why or how it happened, but I just didn't feel like doing this trip anymore. It wasn't that I was lonely - I"m pretty self-sufficient in that regard, and with the exceptions of leaving towns with a lot of friends like I mentioned, I haven't yet felt lonely on this trip. I wasn't missing my friends and family too much (which is different than being lonely). The day before had been a good one, and the night before was excellent. I had slept well. While my legs were a bit sore from riding hills after such a long break (two weeks is the longest I've been in one place since this trip started!), it was a good kind of sore. I wasn't thinking about all the other things I could be doing instead of traveling. I just wasn't excited. The thought of biking to Argentina, or even any further than I already had just didn't interest me. But the other weird part was that nothing seemed to spark my interest. Not the life I could have if I stopped, and not any possible path that I could take on this trip. It was puzzling and unsettling, to say the least. But that morning I really didn't have much of a choice. I was in the middle of the desert and couldn't just sit there. besides, being stationary didn't appeal to me either. I thought if I just got back on the road and got the blood pumping and endorphins flowing, things would take care of themselves. Getting on the bike has a nice way of doing that. But twenty miles down the road, things weren't any better. I looked at the map and saw that the road I was on would be going along the beach far enough away to make for a good stopping point. Maybe a nice night on the beach would solve things. I got to the beach just outside of a small town called Los Barriles, and rolled my bike to a palapa (thatched-roof hut) a few meters from the water. I cooked some pasta for dinner and listened to some music while enjoying the pristine beach, interspersing wit ha bit of studying Spanish. The perfect evening, really. I slept directly under the stars, doing the music-while-counting-shooting-stars thing, but this time only made it to three. I wished on each one of them."
- Jessie
Some Thoughts While Riding:
It's difficult for me to eat well/healthy while traveling. It's even more difficult traveling by bicycle. I live a hard life by bike at times, and one of the pleasures I find comfort in, is indulging in food.
More so than ever before, I've been getting asked if I'm going to write a book. Here or there I would get the question, but now I get peppered with it in Baja.
It's funny how much more comfortable I feel around surfers a lot of times, than cyclists or other travelers. Some of the other travelers I meet, just seem spacey, weird, or out of it or something... I can't really explain it, but it's clear at times there's an awkwardness. When I'm with surfers, there's like an instant connection to something deeper and different it seems like. I hate to use the word (but it seems like the only relevant word to use), but a lot of the surfers I meet seem 'normal'.
I mentioned to some of the folks at punta Santa Rosalita, how it's difficult for a lot of Mexicans trying to understand my name. See, David is a common name in Mexico, but Devin, is nonexistent. When I introduce myself, people automatically assume it's David, and a process of clarification always follows. So somebody mentioned I should just use my middle name, Michael (Miguel). (I always thought middle names were useless, and never include it when filling out forms.) So that's what I've been doing since, and having an easier time.
Kilometers ridden so far: 9,569.9
Leaving La Paz was just another, typical, brutally hot day. As usual, the sun was beating down on me, searing my flesh and cooking me alive, as if to punish me. When I reached the turn-off for San Jose, or the direct route to Cabo, something very strange happened.
I noticed a couple bugs flying, moving towards me. A millisecond later, it turned into a swarm of bees. Before I had time to do anything, I was getting pelted by bees all over my arms, face, and body. I yelled, expecting an onslaught of pain, and possibly an ensuing crash. Somehow, I emerged unscathed, with not a single sting. I rode on, perplexed.
I arrived in Todos Santos a short while later. The main road, or carretera, cuts right through town. I was soon lost in the maze of streets, and unsure of how to get out of town (I was trying to get to Pescadero and camp at Pedrito that evening). There was some construction on one of the stop lights in town, and some of the roads were blocked, making things even more difficult. With dwindling light, I hurriedly asked around and found my way to the road I needed.
As I rounded the corner, and started up a hill to get out of town, I heard some guy leave the pub and say loudly "Woah! That's such a load! Hey come look at this guy!" He was so animated, and so shocked to see what I was carrying on my bicycle. I knew he was going to want to talk to me, and when I stopped a little further up and turned to tell him I didn't have time, he said "yeah, pull over up there!".
I pulled to the side and started talking to him and his wife. They were enthusiastic about hearing the details of my trip, and were so blown away. I didn't even have to mention that I needed to go, because before long, Ron, and his wife Anna, invited me to stay with them at their vacation home for the evening. At this point it was clear I'd be riding in the dark to Pedrito, and it was a good idea to stay with them. Plus, it's hard to say no to a place to stay by the beach where a warm shower and a bed was waiting for me. We packed my things into their jeep, and headed down the dusty dirt road towards their beach get-away.
Ron and Anna are two bubbly, animated, people. They are a lot of fun to be around, and are so generous. It's people like this, and everyone recently, that I encounter that keeps me motivated and recharged, when times get tough.
I hung out with them the following day as well, and met some of their friends JP and Carol lee who are vacationing in Cabo San Lucas.
Making my way to Pedrito at Pescadero, I was looking forward to camping out and enjoying some surf. I heard that Pedrito is one of the better breaks in the area, and more technical - my cup of tea. I had to cross nearly 3kms of dirt, with occasional sand sections pushing my bike. Ron and Anna visited after I made camp near the water, and Ron took photos of me surfing (thanks again!). An old friend, Wyatt, whom I met at punta Santa Rosalita weeks earlier, showed up as well (we talked about meeting there, but nothing sounded definite). He's on a surf road trip in his truck.
I almost left, but thought better of it, and took another day off there (smart decision). I had a couple of good surf sessions, and relaxed with Wyatt and his girlfriend. The break is a sketchy spot, with plenty of rocks and urchins to ding you good, and breaks closer to shore (especially when it's smaller and a lower tide). The nice thing is that it keeps the beginner surfers down the beach and thins the crowds.
Leaving Pescadero, is when I really started to notice some pain in my knee. I've had plenty of pain, throughout my body, throughout the trip. As with most pains, my tendency is to fight through them, because a lot of times, they pass. This one persists.
Riding from Pescadero to Cabo, there were many, short, sections of construction. Baja Sur is in the process of widening the highway between La Paz and Cabo, to four lanes. I think it's to increase tourism. I had a few people (as people always like to do) tell me how bad the roads are. I usually think nothing of it, because what can I do anyway? I have to ride the road either way. After I passed a bunch of short sections of alternating dirt, to pavement, I hit the big one.
This section of dirt road was longer, a little rockier, with lots of traffic both ways. The road turned up hill, a long uphill, and a perpetual cloud of dust ensued as I scrambled up. Coughing and choking on the fog of dust, cars whizzed past, kicking rocks and intensifying the dirt cloud. I stood pedaling most of the time because of how steep the hill was, and my rear wheel slipping a lot. With all of this difficulty, I had to also use my right leg mainly because of the pain in my left knee. [Interestingly, it was this hill that Alex and Sarah had passed me, as they drove to San Jose. They're the people I'm staying with.] I made it over the hill, back onto some pavement, with more paved hills.
The last hill I came over, boom, I get a view of the Pacific looking south. A feeling of pride washed over me because I could see the coast wrap around the corner, and now I was looking at the Baja peninsula facing South. It was the moment that it felt like I had finished riding the Baja peninsula.
I had a long, fast, downhill into town, passing trucks and buses in the other lane. I found the Estancia Hotel, and caught up with JP and Carol lee (the couple I met earlier with Ron and Anna). They had invited me to stay with them at their fancy hotel overlooking the ocean. A quick walk to the beach and a shower, then they took me to a fancy dinner (thanks!). I slept in a comfortable bed that evening and had a restful sleep.
They left town in the morning, and I felt like sticking around Cabo. I wanted to see why lots of people travel to the city, and of course take some time for my knee to get better. I lined up a place to stay for the evening via couchsurfing, so I headed to the place that everybody goes to Cabo for... the beach right? Arriving at the main area, I realized I probably wouldn't be able to push my bike over the sandy hill, and there were a lot of people... I didn't see any good places to safely keep my bike and belongings. So I just sat on my bike for a while and figured I'd enjoy the coastal breeze and sunshine.
It wasn't long until I heard a guy in a white Expedition ask me, "Hey man, you want a beer?". Free cold beer in the hot sun - pretty tough not to accept, so I rolled over and had one. I got to talking with "Carlos" and his friend Jorge. Carlos speaks English fluently (as well as Spanish), and is a local in town. Over the course of the next hour or so, we talked about a lot of different things. One of them was a cyclist that was in town a couple years previous. Carlos hosted the cyclist (Jessie) for about a week, trying to help him on his way to Argentina. Carlos mentioned that he's got an empty house I could stay at, and take a shower in. As usual I accepted since the spontaneous moments like these are what make my trip so interesting. He took me to dinner, then dropped me off at the house. I enjoyed a night on the town with Jorge, and spent the following day relaxing at his house.
I packed and left the following morning, and biked to San Jose Del Cabo. I had pain in my knee for the entirety of the day, and a week later, I know it was a mistake not taking more days off in Cabo. The day after riding to San Jose, the pain took a turn for the worse.
Chondromalacia Patellae
I'm holed up now in San Jose trying to rest my knee, no surfing, biking... I can barely walk without limping. It's a terrible feeling to have my trip in question, and see no improvement in the health of my knee. Fortunately, I'm staying with some terrific people. Alex ("Alejandro") is a customer of one of my uncles, and mentioned long ago that I could stay with him when I arrived. Alex has a surf shop, Costa Azul, and shapes boards, offers surf lessons, and everything surf related. Everyone else I've been spending time with, works at the shop as well, and frequents the house because of the large storage and shaping/glassing rooms.
I don't know what I'm going to do at the moment. All I know is that I can't bike, surf, or anything. I'm going to try and rest (whether here or back in Cabo) for a few weeks and see if there is any improvement. I haven't seen a healthcare provider because 1) I've had enough broken bones, injuries, etc to know that since there was no traumatic event and 2) No swelling and/or bruising - that it probably isn't something demanding surgery, or immediate medical attention (I hope!).
I've been in this place too many times before: playing the waiting game. Everything tells me to keep going, except my knee. Everyday I wake up and think "wow, it feels a bit better." Then I walk around for a while, and feel the uneasiness and discomfort. After all that I've been through on this transcontinental expedition, all that I've dealt with and fought past... now there's something I can't fight. As with everything in life, the future has great uncertainty. All I can do is rest, and hope to heal up, so that I can get back on the road.
Now I'm sitting around wasting time, but more importantly, money. At least I have access to the internet, so I can expand my library of music, and keep myself entertained. I'm practicing my Spanish, including the bad stuff (with my slang/cuss cheat-sheet that Suzy made me, ha thanks).
Unedited, and word-for-word, an entry from the cyclist Jessie, that Carlos had told me about. It's quite strange for me to read this because I can relate to a lot of what he says:
"December 8, 2010
Mazatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico
The last two weeks have possibly been two of the most important of this entire trip for me, although I'll admit they don't make for stories quite as exciting as some I've had in the past. The importance is mostly within me. If this were a movie, I'd also want Morgan Freeman to play me. He's one of my favorite actors and is a great narrator. I'm going to do my best to explain what's happened. Try to read with a Morgan Freeman voice inside your head...
I was bummed when I left the hotel where I had stayed in Cabo, and where I had sat to type my last update. I was leaving the place where I had shared great times with great friends, and I didn't have any great friends on the horizon. I've been bummed in the past when leaving places where I had a lot of good friends, or had made a lot of new ones. I was bummed to leave Boston, bummed to leave Chicago, and bummed to leave a lot of places in Colorado. It's really just part of the traveling gig. But I've certainly learned that all it takes is one good person to come along and wipe away all of the sad feelings and remind me that I'm on an adventure, and what's up ahead is as exciting as what's behind. Unfortunately, I'm in Mexico. In Mexico people speak Spanish. Mi Espanol no es bueno (my Spanish is not good), so it's difficult to make deep connections with people as I've mentioned before. Luckily, the next best thing to people, in my opinion, is the beach. So I set off from Cabo San Lucas eastward, looking for the first beach that looked like the sort of place I could live for a few days while I wait for my package to arrive at the hotel. On the way out of town I passed a Wal-Mart, so I stopped in to get a few days' supply of food and potable water so I wouldn't have to leave the beach.
Deep down, however, I knew that stewing in my own thoughts on an isolated beach wouldn't help me kick the melancholy that had set in. This was a little more severe than in times past, because I have no close friends on the road ahead, and I knew it would be a while before my Spanish was good enough to make new ones. It reminded me of the fact that this trip really is about the people I meet. So for anyone reading this because I bumped into you somewhere along the way, however briefly, thanks for making this such an excellent and enjoyable adventure for me. Anyway, when I came out of Wal-Mart, there was a man admiring my bike. This has happened many times before, some of which were in Mexico, so my Spanish was at least good enough to handle the questions that always come up in this situation. To my surprise, this very Mexican-looking guy spoke perfect, unaccented English. I soon found out that Carlos was born in Mexico, but raised in southern California, and moved to Cabo about twelve years ago. I explained that I was looking for a beach to live on for a couple of days to kill time, and Carlos invited me to stay with him. I took him up on the offer, but told him it would only be for a day or two, and that I would really enjoy the company on Thanksgiving.
I ended up staying with him for an entire week, which we spent watching a lot of movies and eating delicious food. I haven't really been able to watch many movies since the trip began, and Carlos was good company, so I was more than happy to kick back in front of the TV. There were a lot of personal things which I'd rather not get into, but suffice to say that Carlos was in poor health, and at one point had been told by doctors that he had less than a year to live. We're both fairly confident at this point that he can stretch that year into quite a bit more, but imagine the change in perspective on life that gives you! Carlos also happens to be the exact same age as my father, who also has some health problems that I won't get into. It was an interesting coincidence, but I made nothing more of it. I was just excited to have someone come by in my time of most need and break me out of my emotional slump.
One night Carlos and I were watching a movie, as did every night. This night it was "I am Sam". In it, Sean Penn plays a mentally challenged father whose daughter gets taken away by the courts. At one point in the movie, Carlos says to me, "That happened to me once." Thinking he was talking about some small event in the movie, I jokingly replied, "What? Get your kid taken away because you're retarded?" My eyes were still fixed on the screen, since it's a powerful movie, and Carlos replied, "No, get my daughter taken away because the courts said I was unstable." I was surprised, to say the least, because in the few days that we'd known each other we'd talked about a lot of things, and he had never mentioned a daughter. I looked at him and could see his eyes welled up a bit. This was obviously a sensitive subject, since he hadn't talked about it before, so I just put my foot in my mouth and watched the movie. Carlos mentioned quickly that he had a daughter who was now twenty-four who was taken away from him, and who he's being trying to reconnect with for some time now, to no avail. That was pretty much all that was said for the next day and a half on the subject, because I didn't want to bring it up. But it was on my mind all the while. As soon as he had said that, I knew I had to try and help some way. Carlos was the exact age of my father, with deteriorating health. I was the exact age of his daughter who he hadn't seen. I just didn't know what I could possibly do.
The day I was about to leave, the subject came up again. I found out that Carlos' lawyer had been in contact with his daughter, and that the ball was pretty much in her court for getting in touch with him. That made it easier for me. I wrote a letter to Carlos' daughter, hoping to dispel any fear she had about reconnecting. I explained how he saved me on Thanksgiving, bringing me back to my usual self. I explained how I had gotten to know him, and how he's a good guy. I've found I've become a decent judge of character over the last seven months. I gave the letter to Carlos and told him that I would send it when he wanted me to, and no sooner. But it obviously had to come from me. After that, I packed up my things and headed out of town, feeling good that I may have just committed my biggest good deed yet. I pedaled through San Jose Del Cabo, and into the desert. I had intended to reach La Paz in two days to catch the ferry to the mainland, but then found out the next ferry wasn't until three days hence, so I had no reason not to take my time. I set up camp early, and had a phenomenally serene evening cooking my dinner over a campfire and watching the stars come out. I put on some calm music and fell asleep just outside my tent looking up at the sky counting shooting stars. I was up to four before the sandman came and ushered me into the nocturnal world of my dreams.
When I woke up the next morning, something very, very strange happened. I couldn't explain why or how it happened, but I just didn't feel like doing this trip anymore. It wasn't that I was lonely - I"m pretty self-sufficient in that regard, and with the exceptions of leaving towns with a lot of friends like I mentioned, I haven't yet felt lonely on this trip. I wasn't missing my friends and family too much (which is different than being lonely). The day before had been a good one, and the night before was excellent. I had slept well. While my legs were a bit sore from riding hills after such a long break (two weeks is the longest I've been in one place since this trip started!), it was a good kind of sore. I wasn't thinking about all the other things I could be doing instead of traveling. I just wasn't excited. The thought of biking to Argentina, or even any further than I already had just didn't interest me. But the other weird part was that nothing seemed to spark my interest. Not the life I could have if I stopped, and not any possible path that I could take on this trip. It was puzzling and unsettling, to say the least. But that morning I really didn't have much of a choice. I was in the middle of the desert and couldn't just sit there. besides, being stationary didn't appeal to me either. I thought if I just got back on the road and got the blood pumping and endorphins flowing, things would take care of themselves. Getting on the bike has a nice way of doing that. But twenty miles down the road, things weren't any better. I looked at the map and saw that the road I was on would be going along the beach far enough away to make for a good stopping point. Maybe a nice night on the beach would solve things. I got to the beach just outside of a small town called Los Barriles, and rolled my bike to a palapa (thatched-roof hut) a few meters from the water. I cooked some pasta for dinner and listened to some music while enjoying the pristine beach, interspersing wit ha bit of studying Spanish. The perfect evening, really. I slept directly under the stars, doing the music-while-counting-shooting-stars thing, but this time only made it to three. I wished on each one of them."
- Jessie
Some Thoughts While Riding:
It's difficult for me to eat well/healthy while traveling. It's even more difficult traveling by bicycle. I live a hard life by bike at times, and one of the pleasures I find comfort in, is indulging in food.
More so than ever before, I've been getting asked if I'm going to write a book. Here or there I would get the question, but now I get peppered with it in Baja.
It's funny how much more comfortable I feel around surfers a lot of times, than cyclists or other travelers. Some of the other travelers I meet, just seem spacey, weird, or out of it or something... I can't really explain it, but it's clear at times there's an awkwardness. When I'm with surfers, there's like an instant connection to something deeper and different it seems like. I hate to use the word (but it seems like the only relevant word to use), but a lot of the surfers I meet seem 'normal'.
I mentioned to some of the folks at punta Santa Rosalita, how it's difficult for a lot of Mexicans trying to understand my name. See, David is a common name in Mexico, but Devin, is nonexistent. When I introduce myself, people automatically assume it's David, and a process of clarification always follows. So somebody mentioned I should just use my middle name, Michael (Miguel). (I always thought middle names were useless, and never include it when filling out forms.) So that's what I've been doing since, and having an easier time.
Kilometers ridden so far: 9,569.9
Media
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| For 50 pesos (about 4 bucks) I get my clothes washed, dried, and folded. Yeah, that's great |
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| There's businesses that sell just purified water |
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| Ressel, putting new bearings in my trailer wheel. Great guy, gracias amigo! |
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| "Ressel's" |
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| The tallest mountain in Baja - close to 7,000ft |
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| Ron and Anna, and their cozy vacation spot |
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| Didn't think I'd see this again any time soon |
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| Turns out this is a spoof on the song (not actual place), but people still flock to see it |
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| Morning of surf exploration with Ron |
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| Loads of farm land around Todos Santos |
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| JP and Carol lee on left, Ron and Anna on the right |
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| Ron and Anna's dogs. They don't have email, so I can't send it to 'em, but hopefully they'll still get this picture somehow. |
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| The road to Pedrito - past the rock quarry... |
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| Down a lengthy dirt road... |
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| Squeeze between the wall and bushes (there was an easier exit when I left) |
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| Then you strike gold, and nobody out |
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| Whales close to shore |
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| My own half-palapa |
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| Evening surf. Thanks for the pics Ron! They caught me just as I was waxing my board to head out |
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| Avoiding the rocks |
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| Around the corner, for the next section |
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| Went to get some tacos with Wyatt and Meme, then suddenly a bunch of other people came in that knew each other. Had the place to ourselves and had dinner together. The waiter/owner Felipe (standing), said I"m the "mensajero de la paz" - the messenger of peace on my trip. |
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| The morning was hollow, and only couple guys out. I lagged and missed barrels like these |
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| Cleaning up some of the urchins from the rocks, and having fresh uni for lunch |
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| Wyatt's Baja rig |
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| Relaxing in the shade. Huge palapa shared with some other people, later we had to ourselves... at no cost. |
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| Wyatt and his gangster stance |
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| To Cabo, before the mayhem |
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| Imagine riding on this? Just around the few corners was the long-dusty-terrible hill |
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| I wondered how Mexico generates power, here I found one. This looks like a oil fed gas turbine |
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| View of Cabo, and looking South from Baja |
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| Riding around Cabo San Lucas |
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| "Land's End" and the tip of the Baja peninsula |
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| View from JP and Carol lee's room |
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| Fancy steak/lobster dinner. JP and Carol lee next to me (thanks!), and couple other hotel guests. (The waiter is making bananas flambe - I never had before) |
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| Breakfast with Jorge and his kids: tasty chicken mole with rice |
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| Cabo San Lucas |
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| Looking out over "Zipper's" |
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| Tio, Roy, Sarah, Alex with their massive storage space behind them, and the shaping/glassing area to the right. |
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| Night on the town with Sarah and her friends |
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| With all the broken bones and other injuries, I've become quite good at mind-surfing... but NOTHING compared to the real thing. Zipper's, a fast, punchy looking wave. |
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| Sunset over San Jose |
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| Chillin with the crew |
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| Tio fixing a stick |
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| Where the magic happens |
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| My first Mexican cine experience |
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| View of the Pacific from my room |
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| View from the house |
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| Awesome room Alex let me use |
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| Alex's beautiful home that he built |
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| Hanging at the shop, surfing the only thing I can: the net |
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