Looking back on my 10-day bike trip through Sichuan
province, there is one day in particular which stands out. After biking 150km in two days, and
hiking up 10,000+ stairs, my legs were just two jelly tubes hanging off my
torso. Our first day after the
hike to the summit of Emei mountain, we only biked about 10k and decided to
rest for the night in a nice hotel… we deserved it.
And then there was the
5th day…
It all began nicely,
we had a good breakfast and plotted our route for the day. We figured if we left at around 10,
then we could ride the 100km of relatively flat road to Ya’an before
dinner. Everything was on track
until it started to rain. I had
planned for this and strapped my plastic 99 cent poncho over my backpack. I figured I’d rather get wet with rain
than with sweat, so I didn’t wear any raingear myself. Momentary delay and I was back on the
road. After the first 50k, things
were right on schedule for us to arrive by 4:30 – 5:00. I was a little hungry at this point,
but I figured if I just continued strong, then I’d be able to feast early with
some Peace Corps friends working in Ya’an. The girl I was traveling with,
fellow volunteer named Brianne, was not at all hungry, so we kept on
truckin’. Our French and Chinese
counterparts had fallen well behind and called us with news that they’d
hitchhiked into a nearby town and will just take a bus to Ya’an where they’d
meet up with us. Brianne and I high-fived to celebrate Americans winning out
over the French and Chinese, but we had no idea how our victory would be
severely tarnished by the end of the day.
Then… everything went
downhill… figuratively speaking of course, because literally speaking, things
went uphill. We rode up some hills
as more and more road construction made our paved country road into a slop of
mud and rocks which cars weren’t even allowed to drive on. We keep biking, intermittently asking
for directions and confirming that this “road” would lead us to the right
place. Knowing that each pedal
brought me closer and closer to my destination and a warm bed, I kept hammering
away despite thirst, fatigue, and hunger I haven’t known since high-school
wrestling tournaments. My drive
waned drastically when the townspeople’s estimates became more and more
arbitrary. “20km to go” would
become “27” and then “15” and back up to “22.” The one thing I knew for sure was that we were making
progress, so I kept on going.
BOOM! Flat tire. The
shining moment of luck in a day of misery, Brianne happened to pop her tire in
the only good place we would pass the whole day. We were directly next to a
bike tire repair man, who put on two patches for less than a dollar, and we
were back on our way in 20 minutes.
To add to our luck, the rain stopped and I felt a short bump of
energy. Then our muddy strip of
road ended in a full-on roadblock. We could’ve picked up our bikes and walked
around, but a helpful man told us he’d lead us to a detour. We acquiesced and I
thought, “Gee, how nice… a detour!” IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN THAT the detour was an
extra 30km up one of the steepest hills I’ve ever ridden a bike on. Trudging
became walking became strapping our bikes to the back of a moped and riding to
the top. It was during this clownish
accent to the top that my body gave up on me. Well it would have if it wasn’t
for the lollipop that Brianne offered me as my eyes were rolling back into my
head and my twitching legs gradually stopped moving all together. We made it to
the top only to find out that our benevolent aid wanted payment for his
“assistance” in driving us 30km out of our way. I would have gladly given his
some gas money and even a little extra for the trouble, but the form of the
request was entirely out of line.
He stopped on the side of the road and said, “before we continue, give
me money.” I proposed that we’d give him a quarter of what he was extorting,
but he countered with the ever so comforting truth, “You don’t know where you
are or how to get where you’re going. Without me you won’t get there.” My brain
had the neuronal attendance of an un-aired senate filibuster on kitten-puppy
relations… or in other words, I was so out of it that I couldn’t even make up a
good analogy to describe my exhaustion. I managed to persuade him to accept our
25% offer, and after we reached the top, I realized that during our ride up the
mountain, my rear bike tire got bent.
Giving no $h!+ at all that my 18 dollar bike was halved in re-sale
value, we rode our bikes UP the mountain following the road indicated by our new
guide.
Once again, riding
became walking became standing still and staring down at my lifeless legs. To
the surprise of only those who don’t know her, Brianne saved the day again.
Pears and peanut butter!!!... But no knife! I devoured the pear in Viking
fashion, and with juice running down my chin I began thinking of some
acceptable way of getting the peanut butter out of the jar and into my tummy.
Fingers? No. Too filthy, even for me. Stick? Cleaner, but there might be some
bark coming off into the PB. Turn a plastic grocery bag inside out and us it as
a finger condom as I scoop out the PB like a starving badger? OK. I got my
energy back up and began the 30 minute countdown to my next crash.
Finally, some downhill! And the
bystander estimates are regularly in the teens! And it’s only… oh… sunset. We
continue in the dark as our mud road becomes paved again. Well, partially
paved… and therein lies the problem. Turns out that though she’s a superstar at
many things, Brianne’s nightvision is less than stellar. A large hole claims
her front tire, and we roll into the next village as a raggedy bunch of failures.
I ask a policeman how far to Ya’an, and the estimate is back up over 20.
Apparently southern Sichuan has a network of wormholes which not even Stephen
Hawking could navigate efficiently.
All the bike shops are closed, and we decide to just try and hitch a
ride to the city.
A really nice couple picked us up
and we made it to Ya’an at 9 o’clock, when I stuffed my face with food and
passed out on the floor. A half-decent close to the longest eleven hour bike ride of
my life.