Bonk

A week ago was SPRING BREAK (!).

I'm a teacher.  From now until the end of July, when I will get ten days off, it's quite a long haul. Before then we have report cards to complete, graduation, summer school and cleaning out my now-cluttered cubicle. My Felix Unger days left me after I had my third child. I gave up. Over the course of the school year the "I'll get to that eventually" pile has grown to be 8 inches tall. This summer,  I'll clear it out once more and come back after a week and a half off to begin again in the fall.

But a week ago, it was SPRING BREAK (!)

I was really looking forward to it this year. My youngest daughter would get her wisdom teeth pulled and though that procedure is never pleasant, I was looking forward to a little one-on-one time with her. Then half-way into the week I would depart for a bike tour along the Big Sur Coast of California, joining a group of friends. My daughter would be visiting her narrowed-down college choices with her dad for some special daddy/daughter time. She'd be in good hands. Her brother would be at San Diego State studying away and her older sister would be assisting in the the delivery of more babies in her newly minted career.

All was right in the world. The stars were aligned. There was that one glitch that the weather forecast called for rain, rain and more rain. Still, it would be an adventure this mom was ready to embark upon.  Have Gortex? Will bike anyway, was my motto.

That is...until my youngest's extractions led to an infection and daily visits to the oral surgeon. Again. And again. And yet again. Morning and (sometimes) night. My poor daughter. Not only was she in excruciating pain, she did not get to visit her schools and many of her friends were on family vacations together. I'm going to spare you any more details, but let me say this: my daughter is one tough cookie.
Let's suffice it to say it was not fun.

*Sigh*

She got through it, and so did I.

For the last weekend she ended up going to her dad's house to finish recuperating.

I decided to go ahead and join my biking posse of three.

Our plan went loosely like this: I would drive to Peiffer Big Sur State Park and park my car at a campsite I secured online. I'd then hop on my bike and head down the coast's Cabrillo Hwy. Eventually I'd run into them and head back to camp. They would be coming over from the other side of Nacimiento-Ferguson Rd. We guessed I'd ride about twenty miles to catch them, if not earlier.

Altogether I figured I'd be riding about 40 miles which is not a long ride for me. I had ridden to the Junction on Mt. Diablo the night before but it was at a leisurely pace. Plus, I'd relaxed at home all weekend with my daughter with a few early morning runs. I was physically refreshed and ready to ride.

I was SO excited. There was a break in the weather and it looked GLORIOUS that day.  I parked my car and quickly changed into my biking attire. Deciding what to wear was tricky because it was cool and brisk outside with the tease of sunny skies sprinkled with a splattering of gray clouds. It was also a little windy. I settled upon biking shorts, leg sleeves, a long sleeved shirt, a windbreaker vest and a fleece light-weight jacket over it. Normally I get very hot while bike riding but the air was still quite nippy. I pumped air in my tires. I made sure I had two water bottles, grabbed some Cliff Shot Blocks, a protein bar, my phone, car keys and sunglasses and I was good to go. I opted to not drink energy drink this once, I had other calories on board so it wasn't a big deal, right?

I headed up the hill and out of the campground. As I passed a bakery at the beginning, the thought crossed my mind that my bento box, or little carrier,  had no money in it. I ALWAYS carry money for emergencies but because my bike was on the back of my Jeep Liberty on the way down, I had emptied its contents.

No matter, it was not that difficult of a ride and not that far of a distance. I had an extra tube in case of a flat and I had plenty of water and fuel. Or so I thought.

The ride down the Coast was very beautiful. In fact, I stopped to take a few photographs. I was thinking how great it would be to take my son camping, borrow a bike, and go this exact route this summer. What wasn't to love about it? Easy pease-y.

I had worn my Garmin, which keeps track of mileage, how far and how fast, as well as approximately how many calories are being burned.

For breakfast, I have a confession to make. I stopped and ate something that was fattening, loaded in carbs but since I had planned to be riding, and this was my "big" vacation day, decided why not? I ate a sausage and egg biscuit. From (are you ready for this?) McDonald's (don't judge). I knew I would burn it off. No problem. Even if this wasn't a speed race, because my friends were traveling with all of their gear: clothes, food, cameras, tent, etc. I knew biking this distance would still burn calories. This carbo-laden breakfast would propel me forward.

I rode and I rode. No sign of the boys; Rick, Eric or Gary. No worries. I continued along the beautiful ocean's coast.  I pedaled for 28 miles. I stopped at the Kirk Creek Campground, just at the base of the  Nacimiento-Ferguson Rd, yet there was still no sign of the guys.

I decided to go to the restroom. I added more water in my bottles. I relaxed in the grass alongside the freeway, keeping my oh-so-goofy-looking helmet on, to keep me warm. And my bike gloves. I zipped my vest and fleece jacket up to my chin and lay back, looking up at the cumulous clouds floating by. One by one. It was so relaxing. I felt at peace. My mind was calm. I was on vacation. All was right in the world.

Time was ticking away. 15 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes. Now it was getting quite late. I was relaxed but began to think maybe something had happened to the guys and it would begin to get dark. I didn't bring my headlamp or bike light. I had no money. I'd polished off the rest of my energy bar and Shot Blocks and realized I only had one small sample bag of Sports Beans. I started adding the calories I'd eaten or brought on my bike and it only totaled about 400. Uh oh. I was beginning to realize I might need to turn back and could not count on the guys to throw me an extra snack or bar. I was really on my own now. I needed to think.

What to do?

I had no choice. There was no cell phone reception and even if something had happened to them my only hope of hearing it would be back at the camp, 28 miles away. With at most, 100 calories to carry me forward. And now nearly four hours had passed because I'd been lying in the grass and stopped to take photos on the way down.

I got on my bike and headed back.

THIS time there was a strong headwind. I was pedaling, pedaling and pedaling and not moving very quickly. I was beginning to feel like a fish swimming upstream. Or like I was slogging through Jell-o while cars whizzed by me. There was not much wiggle room riding UP the coast, no shoulder, just sandy hillsides.

I began to play the mind games you learn when you train to run a marathon. It goes something like this: I'm already half-way home. I have already biked 28 miles, I only have 28 to go. Soon I will have less than half-way. In time, I will only have 20 miles to go. There are only 16 miles left. 10 miles is not so far, that's a short ride to downtown and back, if I were at home.

Meanwhile, my body had already consumed every calorie I've carried. I'd gone beyond the shaky hungry feeling. But my mind was intact enough to know I only had about 8 miles to go. I started to watch the time, and was very aware that staying to the side of the road was getting more challenging.

I was starting to lose it. I had six miles to go, I'd ridden only 50 miles but because of the headwind I had travelled very slowly. I had been outside in the cold, the sun and the wind for over six hours. I felt wobbly. I was not in good shape riding along the highway.

My brain was fuzzy. I started thinking about death. My thinking went like this: I've lived a good life. I just had a week with my youngest daughter. This fall I had time with both my son and oldest daughter. They all know I love them. My mom does too. So do my siblings, nephews and nieces. My friends. I'm okay with dying.

My bike? Normally my bike is one of my most prized possessions. I love it. Other than my kids, I would save it if a fire threatened my home. But not now. It took every ounce of my internal fortitude not to shuck the damn thing to the side of the road.

Camping and biking this summer with my son? Forget about it. I now would have loathed the idea, if I had the energy.

Biking? I was thinking that I hated it. I was SO over it.

With only four miles left to go, I got off my bike. My reasoning was that I have a route near my house that I run a few times each week with a friend, exactly 4.4 miles. If I can do that, or if I can complete  a marathon, than surely I can walk up the friggin' big hill in front of me. Heck, I can crawl back to camp if I have to. If I die, I die trying. I do not care. I am so fuzzy-brained I feel like I'm nearly delirious.

I walk maybe 1/2 mile up a big steep hill. Barely. It and I are both ugly.

With about 3-1/2 miles to go I somehow convince myself to get back on my bike. I slowly pedal up and down the remaining hills headed to the campground.

I see it at last. I do not even feel relief. I am numb. I still have about 3/4 of a mile to get to my car.
I pedal down and around to the lot where I'd left it. I cannot even cry with relief. I am only thinking of survival right now. It is no easy task to get off my bike and locate the key and open my car. I can barely function. I open up the back of my Liberty and I consume:

an entire package of Cliff Shot blocks, maybe two, I was so fuzzy I can't recall
two Cliff bars
an apple
a giant bottle of water

And then I begin to shake. I'm now cold but it's more in sync with the reaction I had after just given birth to a child. I know, I've done that three times nearly a lifetime ago.

I continue to shake.

My brain's functioning slowly returns. I realize my three friends are still out there riding. I need to make my way into my car and go try to find them.

I feel safe enough to drive and about 13 miles out I see the first rider. He is relieved to see me as he too, has begun to bonk. As have the others. I give them some fuel, load up all their pannier bags in my car and take one of them back to a store to purchase a few dinner supplies and then back to camp with me.

That night we ate grilled salmon, pasta and vegetables followed by a giant slice of berry pie and a few Red Vines too. I got to hear all about their previous four days of biking. We laughed, drank wine and we had a roaring fire that burned past midnight. It was a perfect ending to an imperfect day.

I slept soundly in my one-woman tent, despite the uneven surface underneath.

The next day I chose NOT to ride. I packed up my gear and headed home to make it back in time for a friend's baby shower. And a nice relaxing movie.

However, as I was driving home alone,  I recounted all the lessons I had learned this past weekend related to bike riding:

1. Carry more calories than needed. Always. Without exception.
2. Bring money. Always. Without exception.
3. Drink water before. During. And after. Without exception.
4. Wear layers, bring more than you think you'll need so you can peel off layers, as needed. Always.            
    Without exception.
5. Bring lights in case it gets dark.
6. Carry extra tubes if your tire goes flat and at least have a general knowledge of how to change it
    when, not if, the time comes.
7. Wear sunscreen. Bring a little extra to reapply. Don't forget your glasses to protect your eyes.

If I were to "score" myself I would receive only 4 out of  7 points. For me? I only fail if I make this mistake again. I was very lucky. Others have not been and made these very same mistakes while hiking, biking or running and it has cost them their lives.

To bonk or not to bonk, that is the question?

I now have the answer.

My answer is to never bonk again.

Maui Bike Tour-The End of The Road, Part 5

After our early morning exploring of the sea caves at the Waianapanapa State Park, it was time to continue on with our self-supported bicycle journey.

It was overcast as we departed from our campsite and headed toward the end of the road to Hana. We were on the downward slope of our trip, with just a few days left of travel. We headed in the direction on the island where tourists do not go, generally speaking. The end of the road to Hana.

Somehow the weather seemed to mirror my mood. I felt torn. I was having such a magical, meaningful trip I didn't want it to end. It was as if I were a bit like Wendy with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. In the peripheral recesses of my thinking, I felt a little bit like I would be re-entering society and normalcy of routine living. 

 We stopped to look at some hand-painted coconuts at a roadside stand, fill our water bottles and empty our bladders at a small store selling a few trinkets.  I was bestowed with a beautiful fragrant Hawaiian lei by one of my traveling companions. It's bouquet camouflaging the sweet smell of sweat.

How to describe this trip? Each day held breathtaking beauty, tests of my physical abilities and an ease of friendship with one another. Each turn of the road displayed an oceanside setting that defies description, waterfalls, pools, and ponds. There were many little stores or displays of fruit, souvenirs and friendly locals selling their wares. Each day I marveled at all that we had encountered and experienced. The last two days would prove no different and test me in new ways.

We biked and came upon some pools of water. Though it was overcast I had decided early on that I would jump in whenever the situation warranted it. As a few of us entered the water and laughter echoed the landscape two small boys decided to join in on the fun and show us how the locals live. 

From there we pedaled our way to the Seven Sacred Pools. We hiked into a bit more remote spot in time to cook our lunches and swim, climb and explore a few ot the tiny falls. That particular pool was my favorite of the trip. I was able to float on my back, swim underwater and even performed an impromptu solo complete with a ballet leg or two in a nod toward my childhood's synchronized swimming performances.

Reluctantly I packed up my belongings.

We soon had a decision to make. Some members in our group wanted to continue on to set up camp. On this particular day we did not have an end destination and would have to "free camp" along the route. In the past members had camped near the remote St. Joseph's Church in Kaupo. We had recently been informed we were no longer allowed to do that and to plan accordingly. We weren't exactly sure where we were going but we did know the direction to go. As I've said, I used to be a "planner" and noted I had easily adopted the "hang loose" or "go with the flow" attitude of the island.

Myself and two of the men, Ken Mirell and Taylor Flynn decided to hike to the Bamboo Forest and the Waimoku Falls, starting at the O'Heo Gulch (Seven Sacred Pools). We read it was a 2 mile hike, or so, and would be 4+ miles roundtrip. We were pressed for time and knew we would be racing the remaining sunlight in order to make it back to camp before dark. Earlier I had dumped some more of my gear in the car that Vanessa had driven because we were doing a lot of little side trips that day. I had planned to get back to camp early so I did not have my headlamp nor my night light on my bike's handlebars. It was a tad bit worrisome. Still, we decided we could do the hike, ride like the wind to join the others and set-up camp, all before nightfall.

The hike was both a bit more taxing than I had imagined because  I was wearing my Keen bicycle sandals. They were the perfect shoe for biking on the island of Maui. My tan lines, months later are still visible. However, they were not meant for hiking and exploring. They have a very stiff bottom so that there is plenty of support while pedaling. The downside to that when hiking is that there is no flexibility and my knees took the brunt of every step up or down on the paths and stairway leading to the falls. I had just completed my first marathon and my knees were still smarting with each step. I winced a little inside as we moved both toward and away from the falls. Even so, I am glad I went on the hike that day.

We hiked from the tropical forest into the bamboo forest.

 

The knocking of the tall towering bamboo, as the wind wrestled the enormous shoots, sounded like a mammoth wooden windchime symphony. If you have never gone to this place, go. Soon.

We wound our way through the bamboo and continued our climb, inside my wincing was continuing, step by step. We headed around a corner and facing us was the most majestic cascading mossy-lined waterfall one could imagine. The sound of the water tumbling down the wall was deafening.

Immediately I started toward it. I wanted to stand beneath the fall and feel the water pounding upon my head. 

After Ken and Taylor captured my jubilant moment on film we headed down the path to our bikes as quickly as our now-weary legs could carry us.

A great deal of time had passed as we headed toward our destination.

I was hungry and out of food, thirsty, and out of water. I had no light or lamps and I had run out of cash in my wallet so the mere fact that there were no stores along the road didn't seem to matter. My rear bike derailleur was not cooperating and my chain kept switching gears as I was going uphill. My pedaling had to be done while standing and my feet were slipping from the pedals, despite the cleats. I had more bruises than could be counted and eventually I knew my slow pace had separated me from my two companions. I was traveling alone. I ignored the catcalls of local teens driving by but was aware I might find it necessary to put up a fight, if need be. I pressed on. 

I eventually joined one of the men, Taylor,  at the Kaupo Store. Thank goodness. I was empty-handed staring at a shop filled with food and drink. By this time I was so hungry I wasn't thinking straight. My new friend offered to get me something and I grabbed the nearest sports drink and an Almond Joy. I both ate and drank them in no time flat. I hadn't realized how depleted my body was until that moment. I knew then that I needed more food and more drink and my only thought was to get to our campsite. Now.

I continued onward with my chain dropping every fifth pedal stroke or so. Thankfully one of the others, Rob Swain, from the big group came looking for us. The darkness was fast approaching and we didn't exactly know where we were headed. We followed him back to a large grassy field next to the ocean. I got off my bike and into the open arms of the group who enveloped us. They offered to set-up my tent but if one thing I have learned on this trip it's that each person has to do that on their own. It actually saves time. I had located my headlamp by now and assembled my home away from home.

I pooled my food resources with Rob and together we made quite a tasty feast. It was not enough. I ate more from others' stores and continued to eat and eat and eat. And if the truth be told, I did not feel full, despite the large quantity of food I had just inhaled. Water was scarce and so we drank it sparingly. As it showered rainfall upon our camp again later that night, the irony of not having enough to drink was not lost on any of us I think.

The next morning we packed quickly. We headed to the main road. The earlier portion of blacktop was smooth and not at all what I had remembered on my previous trip twenty-five years earlier. This particular stretch was much like the Road to Hana from long ago: it was bumpy, had potholes and ditches and patched throughout. We were all giddy to get to our next destination, the Ulupalakua Ranch Store and the Tedeschi Winery. 

When we reached the main road a rainbow greeted us. It was very picturesque and we all took it as a positive sign.

We soon separated, all pedaling at different paces. One of the men, Rob, noticed my rear derailleur giving me grief. We pulled to the side of the road and with a rock lying alongside the road he pounded the troublesome spot while using a nail to keep the chain from breaking. I nicknamed him MacGyver from the old t.v. show.

A bit further down the road my bike was not happy. I had traveled for nearly a week with a heavy laden bike and my chain was in need of lubricant. The others were ahead and my Ziplock baggie with the aforementioned article was not with me. I did, conveniently, have a bottle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar in it. Olive oil is a wonder for our health and it is an acceptable means to lubricate a bicycle while on a tour of Maui. Or so I now know thanks to the quick thinking of "MacGyver."

Thankfully the travel was easy after that and we made our way to the famous Ulupalakua Ranch Store. I ate a grilled chicken sandwich, Maui potato chips and drank nearly a liter of water. We were a bit scruffy looking at this point. I'm certain I had a layer of dirty grime on my face. I didn't mind. My belly was full and we were preparing to celebrate Vanessa's belated big birthday bash later that evening.

We were blessed, and I do not use that term lightly, by a gracious host and hostess named Roger and Paula Hegele, the owners of Tedeschi Winery and Vanessa's dear friends. They allowed us to stay at their home for the evening.

We were given clean towels, hot showers and a spot to relax and enjoy a new and altogether different scenery...that of a working Maui Ranch. Their restored home was beautiful, the food plentiful and the party was like something out of magazine. We tasted wine, we heard stories about the ranch turned winery and met their youngest son and sweet-natured dog. I actually cried when I stood in the hot shower, washing away the dirt. I appreciated the near-ending of the momentous journey. I was touched by the generous way the Hegele's cared for us, doing our laundry, and providing a spot to rest our weary heads. In point of fact, I slept on their porch on an outdoor sofa with cool breezes allowing me to bury beneath a thick sleeping bag.

As we departed from the winery the next and final day of our tour, we headed back down the Maui mountainside. We rode through pineapple plantations with wind so strong I was swept sideways an entire lane line and somehow did not fall. As strong as our headwind was going up the mountain earlier in the week, it was twice as strong heading down. We were flying, loaded pannier bags and all! Wheeeee!

Our Maui trip had come to it's conclusion. 

My road to Hana redo was over, in the most excellent of manners. I had survived one week post-marathon, a trip around the entire island, climbing up hills on my bicycle with loaded saddle bags. It was the most amazing experience of my life. I tapped into my younger, carefree self. The beauty was more amazing than I had imagined, the food more flavorful and the comaraderie formed amongst a small group of relative strangers is to be fondly remembered for years to come. 

On the road to Hana I also learned I am strong, in all definitions of the word.

Friends and family ask if I would consider doing a bicycle tour of such magnitude again?

The answer, enthusiastically, is yes.