We are largely navigating with the use of Google maps. I don't know how anyone did anything before Google maps. (Obviously I do, and in other moments I lament the passing of that world, but for our purposes on this trip, I don't!). It helps us pick the most direct route, or a quieter back road, a scenic road, places where we might camp, villages where we can top up on water and food. It's brilliant. We do have paper maps too, and a cursory glance at one this morning sewed a profoundly important seed in setting our expectations for the journey ahead.
We've heard great things about a road in Belize called the Hummingbird Highway. Riding it meant going somewhat out of our way, but there is a Coastal Highway that loops down the east of the country which would give us two sides of a triangle in order to take in the Hummingbird Highway. What I noticed on the map just before we set off, but which hadn't been obvious on Google maps, was that this road was not as major as the alternative, and shorter, highway that we were foregoing. When we turned onto the detour after 3km yesterday morning, we discovered it wasn't actually paved.
We've ridden a lot of unpaved road before so we are pretty familiar with having to seriously readjust our expectations of how fast we might go and the knackering level of concentration required. We pushed to the back of our minds the jaguars, pumas and oceolots we’d admired in the Belize Zoo the evening before, and the work going on around this area, as a ‘conservation corridor’, to help these endangered species move between the north and south of the country. The absence of any other people, cars, building or any sign of life for several hours didn't help this. But the road was beautiful, and we had it to ourselves so we savoured(ish) the moment and kept pushing.
We’ve not ridden roads like this fully loaded before, and as the unpaved section went on and on, our panniers bounced and our bikes shuddered. What small inkling the paper map had earlier provided that the road was unpaved also indicated that this might go on for 40 km; the unseen behind each corner promises the potential of something not yet known - yesterday, we filled that void with images of beautiful smooth tarmac.
We routinely lie to ourselves. We give ourselves certainty where we have no real evidence to presume. But we do. So when, with our tolerance for the bone jarring and wrist clenching at rock bottom, we hit upon the junction where we’d expected the blessed tarmac to appear and it didn't, we were outraged. Well, mostly we were exhausted, but there is no space for being exhausted when you still have another 40 km to ride, so it's better expressed as outrage!
We pushed on another 20km before the tarmac rose to meet us. We've ridden routes that were much tougher than this, but as we discover again and again, when we're hot, tired and hungry, managing our expectations of how tough it will be is so important. Yesterday it was the gulf between our expectation and reality that made it so hard. Until 5 minutes before we set off, we had no inkling we wouldn't be cruising along (probably bumpy) tarmac for the whole journey.
We finished the day tired, but we set up our tent with a fantastic view down a beautiful valley ready for a good night's sleep. We often underestimate how astonishing the rejuvenating impact of shade, rest, water and salt is. In many ways yesterday was great, and not just because it is over. We conceived of this trip knowing that it would be tough and challenging in moments. But you don't know when then those moments will emerge or will how they will manifest. These are the most satisfying and rewarding, that we know we’ll remember.
We've heard great things about a road in Belize called the Hummingbird Highway. Riding it meant going somewhat out of our way, but there is a Coastal Highway that loops down the east of the country which would give us two sides of a triangle in order to take in the Hummingbird Highway. What I noticed on the map just before we set off, but which hadn't been obvious on Google maps, was that this road was not as major as the alternative, and shorter, highway that we were foregoing. When we turned onto the detour after 3km yesterday morning, we discovered it wasn't actually paved.
We've ridden a lot of unpaved road before so we are pretty familiar with having to seriously readjust our expectations of how fast we might go and the knackering level of concentration required. We pushed to the back of our minds the jaguars, pumas and oceolots we’d admired in the Belize Zoo the evening before, and the work going on around this area, as a ‘conservation corridor’, to help these endangered species move between the north and south of the country. The absence of any other people, cars, building or any sign of life for several hours didn't help this. But the road was beautiful, and we had it to ourselves so we savoured(ish) the moment and kept pushing.
We’ve not ridden roads like this fully loaded before, and as the unpaved section went on and on, our panniers bounced and our bikes shuddered. What small inkling the paper map had earlier provided that the road was unpaved also indicated that this might go on for 40 km; the unseen behind each corner promises the potential of something not yet known - yesterday, we filled that void with images of beautiful smooth tarmac.
We routinely lie to ourselves. We give ourselves certainty where we have no real evidence to presume. But we do. So when, with our tolerance for the bone jarring and wrist clenching at rock bottom, we hit upon the junction where we’d expected the blessed tarmac to appear and it didn't, we were outraged. Well, mostly we were exhausted, but there is no space for being exhausted when you still have another 40 km to ride, so it's better expressed as outrage!
We pushed on another 20km before the tarmac rose to meet us. We've ridden routes that were much tougher than this, but as we discover again and again, when we're hot, tired and hungry, managing our expectations of how tough it will be is so important. Yesterday it was the gulf between our expectation and reality that made it so hard. Until 5 minutes before we set off, we had no inkling we wouldn't be cruising along (probably bumpy) tarmac for the whole journey.
We finished the day tired, but we set up our tent with a fantastic view down a beautiful valley ready for a good night's sleep. We often underestimate how astonishing the rejuvenating impact of shade, rest, water and salt is. In many ways yesterday was great, and not just because it is over. We conceived of this trip knowing that it would be tough and challenging in moments. But you don't know when then those moments will emerge or will how they will manifest. These are the most satisfying and rewarding, that we know we’ll remember.
Inverse foot tans are so hot right now...
ReplyDeleteInverse foot tans are so hot right now...
ReplyDelete