I was very productive at work, given that I promised myself that I would need to get what I needed to get done, before I could go explore the mountain bike trails available around town.
The sister towns of El Sargento and La Ventana in fact have two sets of world class mountain bike trails, maintained by LaVAMBA, the La Ventana Area Mountain Bike Association, a group of people who really put their heart and soul into creating hundreds of miles of trails. The trails are for all levels of riders, though to be honest, even some of the beginner levels can be tough.
On the La Ventana, Southeast side, is a network of fairly flat single track trails crisscrossing a beautiful cactus forest along some of the only coastal real estate in the area not yet sold for development.
Closer to us, on the Northern El Sargento side, are the more advanced trails, most of which require a vigorous climb up the mountain before revealing a descent that matches the color of your ability.
This is where I was excited to go today.
Excited for the work day to be over, I grabbed a water, threw my bike on the rack, waved bye without expecting acknowledgement and disappeared into the late afternoon dust.
It took almost an hour to wind my way through uncharted “streets”, often backtracking when I reached a dead end, or a driveway, scratching both sides of the car with a variety of chaparral to eventually arrive at what appeared to be a trailhead at the side of the road to nowhere.
With not a soul in sight, I parked the car and began the long climb up.
It didn’t occur to me until I was fully committed, more than half way up the mountain that the sun was two fingers from the horizon and dropping quickly.
Deep into no-man’s land with impending nightfall is not the time to think about who knows where I am, and what gear do I have. The best time to think about these things is before you leave. Having not done that, is the second best time now then?
So let’s take some inventory of the situation.
Communications. Lost phone signal, battery is running out, so let’s turn the phone off until we need it for GPS purposes. It would have been useful to bring the Garmin satellite texting/tracking device.
Clothing. At least I brought a sweatshirt for when the sun goes down and the temperature drops.
Navigation. If my phone dies, this is still easy. Assuming I’m not hurt then all I have to do is make my way downhill toward the water.
Lights. None.
Water, down to the last 1/3.
Food, a couple of fig newtons.
The worst case scenario is if I get hurt badly enough that I cannot move.
Mission 1 is: don’t get hurt.
I was pretty confident that I could manage the risk of getting hurt, so rather than turn around, I maintained my course, struggling up the hill to reach the upcoming fork in the trail that will take me downhill. I did so with an adrenaline fueled vigor that was not there before, increasing the rate of effort to match the sun’s accelerating decline.
I reached the fork in the trail right as the sun began hiding behind the ridge of the mountain separating Bahia de la Ventana from La Paz, giving me exactly 20 minutes of light to get down the hill.
I started down slow, getting used to the cadence of turns, most often forced by old growth cactuses, sometimes steeply banked sand walls.
As time went on my speed increased, eventually reaching the point of hurtling down sandy single track with delusions of control.
My sleeves were up, guns locked and loaded to respond to each turn, though at some of them steering input was only as effective as thoughts and prayers. With each turn a cactus bigger than the last, greeted me with a middle finger, hoping that I catch a patch of sand and eat needles.
Not today, cactus. Not today.
~
On my way home, I stopped in at the bodega around the corner.
As I’ve been apparently doing this often enough for the owner to recognize me, she immediately followed me with a bag in hand, knowing that I would need it going straight for the display of pan dulce.
When we lived in Los Angeles, Lisa would sometimes bring home some of this sweet bread whenever she would go to the panaderia, and it would be sniffed out and consumed before she could even sit down.
Getting back to the camp site, Lisa barely noticed that I was gone, unaware of the hi-jinx from an hour ago, and who was I to ruin her day. I sat down looking over the now moonlit bay, and quietly ate my delicious treat, grateful to be back at the camp site, and not still up there velcro-ed to a cactus.
Next time, I’ll be more prepared. Next time I’ll bring some pan dulce.
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