I may need to consider renaming my blog, considering I don’t actually own a purple shirt. Or at least I didn’t bring one on this bike trip.
So here I am, almost a week into the greatest trip I‘ve done. I think it’s a good time to look back through the sweat and the kilometers and reflect about the lessons learned and some park ranger evasion tactics.
On April 29, I set out of my dear beloved Bariloche with a heavy bike and a heavier heart. The weather behaved itself quite nicely for a Patagonian autumn bike ride, but my mind was busy elsewhere. It wasn’t long before I was busy talking to myself. When I had said all that I needed to to myself, I started talking to my bike.
For those who are curious, but would never ask, Yes, I talk to my bike in Spanish.
I can’t say that the first few days were particularly enjoyable. They weren’t. I wish I could blame it on the weather, but I can’t. The weather was flawless. I wish I could blame it on the bike, but I can’t. Despite a tightly misaligned brake pad, the bike was perfect. I wish I could blame it on cars or trucks or buses, but I can’t. First of all, there wasn’t much traffic. And second of all, in general other vehicles respected my right to also transit Route 231.
I have no one to blame but myself.
I was somewhere else. Mentally of course. I was sad to have left my boyfriend behind. I was upset because things ended badly with another friend. I was worried about the uncertainties that the trip presented me. I was caught up in my head. Twirling thoughts around like a one-handed circus elephant juggling Siamese triplets. I was a mental mess.
And of course, mentality is everything. In every sense of the word everything. Mentality affects physical performance. I travel by bike. Physical performance is key. Mentality affects how you interact with others. If you give off positivity, others will receive it and return it. If you give off negativity, you tend to receive it. Boomerang style. Mentality affects how you view every situation. There are some events in life you can control. There are some you can’t control. However, what you can ALWAYS control is how you view a situation.
Let me present you with an example. You have been planning the vacation of a lifetime. You’re going to the lovely picturesque beaches of Costa Rica to lounge in the white powdery sand and work on your tan as an attractive bartender serves you piña coladas. You’ve planned it all, vacation time, plane tickets, sun tan lotion, even the itsy bitsy teenie weenie bikini. The date approaches, you hop on the plane, arrive in Costa Rica… and an unexpected hurricane keeps you in your leaky beach cabin eating tuna from a can for the entire vacation.
You have two options. You can complain. You can whine. You curse. You can scream into the wind. You can pout. You can have a no good very bad miserable vacation.
Or.
You can say, “You know, that really sucks. But it is what it is.” You can accept that there are some things you can’t control. And you can be at peace with them. And make the best of an otherwise unfortunate situation. You can get really good at knitting, for example. You can read a good book. You can write an epic novel. You can sing. You can dance. You can immerse yourself in art. And perhaps my favorite, you can laugh out loud at the situation and how you managed to get tangled up in it.
You can have hopes. You can have plans. But also it’s important to be flexible. And to have a sense of humor.
So, leaving Villa la Angostura, I gave myself an ultimatum. This trip can be the best trip ever or the worst trip ever. It all depends on me. No one else can have such power over this trip. So what’ll it be, Alisa?
Now I digress from the mental. Geographical matters also are of importance. The foothills of the Patagonian Andes are breathtaking. In the sense of beauty… and lung capacity. There are uphills and downhills. There are forests, there are marshes, there are lakes, there are valleys, there are rivers, there are majestic view points.
On bike, you’re in the middle of it all. You are a part of your surroundings. For better or for worse. You feel the impact of every pebble in your path, every crack in the pavement, every breeze, every drop of precipitation, every horn honked, every up and every down.
But I’m in no real hurry and my goal is not just to arrive to some previously determined destination. It’s to enjoy the moment, be open to adventure, live the beauty of where I am and what I’m doing. And sometimes I have to remind myself that, especially when I find myself getting frustrated on a never ending particularly steep section. If the world was a flat place, it wouldn’t be an adventure to try and bike it. So, stop and rest for a while. Drink some water, eat a cracker, nap on a particularly inviting beach… take your time, breathe, and enjoy!
As I’ve no doubt mentioned previously, and much to my parents’ dismay, I’m traveling alone. My decisions are my own. My path is my own. My schedule is my own. There are many many forms this trip could take… I am excited to carve my own path. It is an opportunity for me to spend some quality time with…. Me. It is an opportunity to be ok with being alone. It allows me time to sneak into my own head and meditate. It also gives me motivation to seek people.
I find that people tend to treat cyclists differently. They are curious. They will strike up conversations. They want to give you a hand. Especially if you are a girl with a very heavy very colorful bike, traveling alone.
It’s amazing the kindness of people. Whether it’s a wave, a friendly honk, a word of encouragement, a hot mate and a handful of cookies on a cold day, a comfortable bed, a game of cards, a hot meal, a smile… it’s the kind of gesture that gently warms your heart. People go out of their way to help someone in need. Especially country folks. And especially to bikers.
So, to sum it all up, I think the three most important lessons I’ve learned over the past few days are:
1. Attitude is everything.
2. Whatever goes down... Must eventually also go up.
3. Never underestimate the kindness of strangers.
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the following people:
Memy in Villa la Angostura graciously shared her apartment with me for two days. Along with her dog and two other couch surfers, Agustín and Maru, we had an enjoyable experience sharing meals, the small apartment, interesting conversations, and a few bottles of wine. This picture was taken upon waking up the morning of my departure… hence the sleepy faces!
Man who lives near Arroyo Rucamalen in the National Park. I don’t know his name nor have any pictures of him, but I am eternally gracious of his help to find a place to pitch the tent when dusk was fast approaching. He also gave me great advice on how to avoid the park rangers.
Roberto, Miriam, and Rubén. I owe them much more than a thank you. They first offered me a ride on a particularly tough muddy uphill. Then they filled my thermos with hot water. Then they offered me dinner, a hot shower, and a very comfortable bed. We played cards until late into the night. I lost. Lunch the next day. They helped fix my brakes. Let me make a phone call. We played dice. I lost. As a consequence, I washed the dishes. They took me in, nourished me, and sent me back into the world. I am forever in their debt.
The manager of Dublin Restaurant in San Martín de los Andes for letting me use the internet even though I had no intention of spending any money. (Sadly no picture...)
No comments:
Post a Comment