Bike: 9 miles, elevation gain 800ft. Hike: 6.5 miles, elevation gain 2,000ft. Bike (or hike!): 5 miles
Last night we fell asleep to what sounded like a cat on a hot tin roof. Turned out to be rain on a not so hot tin roof. And this time there was no mistaking it, it was pouring down. Optimistically, I engaged a face off between my trail shoes and the hairdryer but it didn’t achieve too much. When will I learn… wet gear just doesn’t dry here! At least we got some laundry done, so we had some clean dry clothes. For a few minutes, until we stepped outside.
Other than rain shards piercing my face horizontally as we rode along, this morning’s ride was short and uneventful.
What followed was one of those bike to hike transitions where you find a suitable bush to change clothes behind, albeit in heavy rain. Revolution in the ranks: out of the blue, someone suggested they were going to hike in their bike gear. After all – why get yet another set of clothes soaked through? I liked their thinking, my pink-starred Lycra bike shorts willing to give it a go as part of a group experiment. (If ever you are tempted, it’s really not such a bad option, pleased to report no chafing).
Through all of the rain and mud we’d encountered so far, I’d remained cheerful and optimistic. After all, you’ve gotta expect a bit of rain in the rainforest. Despite my longing for a bit of winter sun, of course I had expected some rain showers. Even so, this was the dry season. Darren had assured me. He’d done his google research (or he was telling me porky pies!). These were just uncharacteristic showers that were lasting a bit longer than expected.
But with no break to the torment in sight, I was getting cold and started shivering. I was tired, the exertions of the last few days catching up with me. I hit my low point. Everybody has one, the point at which you’re ready to break, you want to quit, you’re just so over it. For me, this was that point. My pace slowed and I dropped from the rest of the group, I just couldn’t keep up. Apparently the scenery was stunning on this section, if only you could see it. Instead I’ll take just one more river crossing, thanks very much.
But “I’m not the kind of girl, who gives up just like that”. (Me and Blondie, together as one.) What saved me was the sugar cane. That and the sight of our support vehicle, with the bikes ready to go. Our guide produced a machete from his backpack (at least we can rest easy if we’re attacked by wild sloths) and hacked us each a generous piece of sugar cane direct from the field beside us. The sweet nectar gave an instantaneous sugar hit, just what I needed.
Unfortunately the last downhill bike section was on gravel so loose, the front wheel was skittish in my inexperienced hands. Like a horse not quite broken in, with a mind of its own. Both my mental and physical state were not prepared to take that on. Cue more walking with the bike. Never was I ever so glad to get to camp!
The showers at the campsite were cold but at least there were showers – soooo relieved to peel off my rain-soaked gear. I was getting quite used to washing one appendage at a time so as not to immerse myself fully into cold water. Hokey Cokey style, you put your left arm in, your left arm out…
Another bizarre camping experience in a community center but Hallelujah, we had a roof over our heads 🙂 and actually substantially more space than the first camp. The coffee was brewed, the tents were up in no time, and we made ourselves at home, commandeering as many chairs as possible on which to ceremoniously drape our wet gear. Deja vu!
Finally warm and dry, it was a relief to sit and relax for a few hours with my journal and a glass or two of red wine. With warm food in my belly, I snuggled into my sleeping bag and was out like a light.