Riding for ROMP 2010: Near Accidents, a Broken Chain and the Everest Climb

Without Supplemental Oxygen

Two nights ago we were cut off from civilization, with good reason. The ride from Chichicastenango to Cunén started off like the day before ended. Rain, fog and cold. We all thought, “Will the bad weather cover the most beautiful part of our ride?” The divine power heard our question, interpreted it as prayer and quickly sent the sun to burn off the fog and smite the rain. We paid for these climactic miracles with flat tires a near accident and the first broken chain of the now more than 4,000 mile ride.

Near accident? Unfortunately. We’re entering a small town. It’s still raining and we are early on in the day on Friday. I’m trailing Greg, Pat is just ahead. The highway turns into a cobblestone road. We need to cut through town to reconnect with the main road. All of a sudden a little yellow Ford cuts across traffic from my left hand side to enter the street we are about to turn right onto. The car passes in front of Greg, gives him a split second to brake and turn alongside the car. It’s too late. They sideswipe one another, thankfully at 8mph or so. Greg puts a foot down and stays upright; there is nothing I can do. Amazingly, the driver keeps on going. I’m now chasing this little Ford Focus through town with this gigantic Mitsubishi Montero with tinted windows. Water splashing up from puddles and I’m laying on the horn and flashing the lights. Nothing. The road opens for a block and I manage to squeeze my way in front of the car where I wedge myself in the road and block the driver. That was a real deal hit-and-run. It took quite a bit of berating to make this woman understand that she was driving like a jackass and in the midst of me yelling in Spanish quite a bit of English was slipping out.

Thankfully, Greg was fine just shaken up a touch and pretty angered by the fact that the lady didn’t even stop to ask if he was OK.

Now the broken chain incident.

The pain of having no chain

Greg is on a long descent. I’m following behind. All is good and great in the world. The rain is letting up, and the adrenaline from the near accident is wearing off. We round a corner. The climbing starts again. Greg shifts to a low gear and throws some serious torque into the gears. Bam! (Onomatopoeia).
Chain link busts open. We find ourselves bathed in sunlight, surrounded by cornfields changing a chain. This is where we discover how cool the multitool bike tool really is.

Bridge knocked out of service during last night's rains, good thing we didn't have to go that way

As I said, we paid for the nice weather.

On the elevation map we are looking at this long, killer descent into a valley before the 3000 foot climb jammed into 4 miles of distance. The climb is so steep that the color markers for the 12% and 13% grades are indicated with dark purple and practically impossible killer ninja black. I watch Greg and Pat man-up for just over an hour straight climbing. Their legs are pumping away, spinning wildly at a high rpm that translates into jogging speed. Sunbeams are breaking through the clouds lighting up the shrinking town in the valley below. We reach the pass and cruise down into Cunén past sundown. Greg says, "No matter how hard that climb was it pales in comparison to what so many amputees have to deal with everyday living without a prosthesis."