Today was a tale of two voyages. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times (not really), it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…”

Gio and I had different days today.  Mine I can tell in one photo (no, it’s NOT the cliche ocean / poolside feet-on-a-beach-chair photo – it’s way more unique and cool than that which makes it totally different, if you were wondering):

I need a day, and I’m taking it.  I decide that I am going to drink coffee, write, take pictures, drink more coffee, take a swim, read in the hammock, and of course go birding.  Thankfully some of these activities involve lying in a hammock, drinking coffee and watching hummingbirds. I might just dream my day away. All I hear are a seemingly infinite collection of bird calls and the moving river we crossed to get here down in the valley. I have this entire place to myself – literally. The only thing that rattles me every time is the big male peacock screaming for attention. SUCH a damn dandy. I get it – you’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous, and you want everyone to know.  But, this shameless begging for attention is, quite frankly, below you and somewhat compromising your inherent beauty. Beautiful things should not have to ask for attention.  I’m fine with the feather spreading, the strutting around, even the whole shaky twerky thing.  If you must.  But the screaming to announce it?  Too much my friend.  Too much.  Caillate.  Por favor.  Caillate.

Anyway, I got distracted.  Back to our story…  As soon as we arrived at Hacienda Venecia, I looked at Gio and said, “Dude, you’re going to have a hard time getting me on a motorcycle tomorrow.”  Translate:  there is no fucking way I’m riding anywhere tomorrow.  We had just had one of the most epic days of riding in my life, and I just needed a break.  I think my second day of riding here (Day 3) took more out of me than I had given it credit (maybe more than I’d care to admit).  As much as I wanted to go with Gio, I felt like my tank was empty and that’s not a good way to ride.

Thankfully, Gio is a real rider.  He knows you should never try to talk someone into a ride if they’re just not feeling it.  Bad moto karma.  And that’s appreciated.  A large part of me really doesn’t want to miss out on the adventure, and another large part of me feels like I’m letting my partner down, but this place is calling me, and I’m going to follow that.  Gio is ok with that.  That’s how good travel mates survive almost two weeks of hard riding and all the challenges along the way together.

I think that Gio just had a little further to go in his journey.  His spiritual tank wasn’t dented by the insanity of the Alto de la Linia, and he had an itch that needed some more scratching.  I think his day gave him exactly that.  I watched him leave the hacienda all big eyes and sprightly in full gear as I sipped on one of my half dozen coffees for the day, and the next I saw of him was about 5 hours later.  His walk was shaky, his clothes were dirty, his energy was down, but his eyes were alive.  The man accomplished something today.

Now, I was not there on this journey, so I can’t tell you the full story.  What I can tell you are the bits and pieces I heard over coffee and then dinner.  His plan was to ride to the volcano – Nevado del Ruis.  The ride turned out to be anything but easy.  While I was getting sunburned poolside, and my biggest challenge was working the espresso machine, he took almost 3 hours to ride less than 30 miles along rocky terrain and river crossings under pouring rain and impenetrable fog while the temperature dropped to 40 degrees and at times the road turned into a river.  He was forced to depends on his Italian to communicate to some (I’m pretty sure illegal) gold miners.  Somehow they understood him enough to tell him, no gringo you don’t want to go that way.  So he made it to the end and had to turn the bike around on a wet, sloppy hill, and this process included dropping the bike but dismounting gracefully (or so he says) and THEN found his phone dead, which is a challenge now that you cannot listen and charge, and he needed to listen because he could not see his phone!  I’m pretty sure he used the force.  He also, thankfully, found the volcano escape route.  Whew.  He wasn’t able to actually see the volcano through all the fog, but judging by his demeanor when he returned, we both had great days.

I’ll let his photos tell more of the story:

We’re watching you gringo.

Yes, that says volcano escape route.  He’s basically Walter Mitty, and coming from me, that’s a huge compliment. But volcanoes never erupt in the rain, right? Everyone knows that.

I think this was the end of the road for him.

Fog, what fog? I don’t see any fog. He’s taking this photograph with is nose because it’s so cold and wet he can’t take his gloves off.

There is a bike there. The road on the other hand…

I don’t need to see the road. That would be too easy.

Am I on the road, or is this now the river? He was unsure at this point seeing as how the route was currently serving as both.

Juuuuust a bit twisty.

These guys were legitimately afraid of him at first, and then he talked, and one of them turned to his friends and said, “Esta bien. It’s ok, it’s just a gringo.” Not sure what they thought, but a little Italian, and all was fine.

The miners doing their thing.

Gio had two choices as to where to cross the river – the right way, and the wrong way. THANKFULLY he chose the wrong way, which is the direction of this photo and was passable. The right way would have had the entire bike submerged.

The wrong way. It’s hard to tell from this photo, but just behind where the tuck is now, it was sunk up to the door handle. Might have been tough on a bike. Even one of these machines. And it might have been a bit chilly at 40 degrees.

Fuck yea I did.

So our day ended with another great dinner, and we turned in early.  We were both exhausted from our huge days.

“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.”

I just love it when a plan comes together.  If you don’t know the reference, find an English lit major (and a fan of the Hannibal – the A-Team version).

Tomorrow we ride to Cali.  Our last day.  What could go wrong?  I mean, it’s not like Gio is going to dump in his bike over after spinning out in the mud and then get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere.  That would never happen…