DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: South American Skies

Peru to Columbia

It was colder than G-2's heart up in the Andes last night. Not as cold as Antarctica or the summit of Mount Impossible, but still pretty bloody cold. I was reluctant to get out of my sleeping bag. G-2 refused to move at all--at least until I threatened to warm him up over the flame of my camp stove.

I'm glad the only thing I ended up using the stove for was to roast some fresh Peruvian coffee beans and boil up a cup of the best coffee I've had on this bike tour. I can't possibly type enough of the letter "M" to describe how delicious it was, but I'll try: MMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

"MMMMMmmmmmmmmm," G-2 agreed, though he used fewer M's than I did. It was the last thing we agreed on all day.

************

We had only ridden a couple hundred miles when I heard a squeaking sound coming from my drivetrain area. I looked down and saw a frightening amount of rust. The snow and ice from earlier in my tour have taken their toll. So has the neglect I've shown since then.

While applying some chain oil, I noticed the rust had spread to parts of the frame. "NOT AGAIN!" I thought, though I shouldn't have been surprised. It's happened before. Rust has trashed a couple of my bikes over the years. I guess I just consider it to be the cost of year-round bike riding in the United State of Minnesota. What else am I supposed to do? Stop riding from November to April? Sorry, I just can't do that. Clean all the salt and snow off the bike after every ride? That, too, is apparently beyond my ability.

HOLY SAINT RUSTIPHER! Looks like I need a new chain and chain ring.

JUMPIN' JIMMINY CORROSION CRICKET! Looks like I need a new front derailleur.

SON OF MEPHIRUSTOPHELES! Looks like I need a new frame.

I try to be prepared for any eventuality, so it's a little embarrassing to say that I've been carrying none of those essential parts on this tour. I made a mental note to bring at least one spare chain, chain ring, derailleur, and frame on my next bike tour. You know, just in case.

Anyway, I cleaned up The Reckless Mr. Bing Bong as much as one can at the side of a minimally maintained, third world road. And I knew the nearest bike shop was . . . well, I didn't know HOW far away the nearest bike shop was.

Instead of fretting about the poor condition of my bike, I focused on the beautiful South American sky. The sky was a color that I can only describe as "sky blue," and it had big puffy clouds that looked like large clouds made of puffy cotton balls.

G-2 and I had been arguing and fighting all day. Then I came up with an idea that I hoped would help us to work better together as a team. "Hey, G-2, let's play a little game."

"What kind of game," asked my evil alter-ego?

"We can pick out a specific cloud up there and each of us can describe what we see in it."

"That sounds kind of stupid, but I suppose I could go along with that."

"Cool," I said enthusiastically, "I'll go first."

"That looks like a galloping albino bison," I stated. G-2 saw something else. "No, to me it looks like your stupid brain floating in the sea."

G-2 saw the next one. "That looks like a polar bear sliding backwards on polar ice," he said. I disagreed. "No, it's a Worldwide Wrestling Federation wrestler flying off the top rope and crushing his nasty cartoon alter-ego."

One thing I learned from our game is that cloud interpretation is all about perception. One man's "freight train cloud" is another man's "line up of toy trucks cloud."

The cottony clouds continued all the way across Ecuador. They were great, but I'm too ashamed to keep writing about the huge disparity between my cloud interpretations and G-2's. Instead, I'll move on to the cloud changes we saw as we approached the city of Medellin, Columbia.

At least we agreed a storm was moving in.

When it started raining, we took shelter in a small bus stop.

When the rain let up a little, G-2 tried to convince me we should continue on toward Central America. "I think we can get to Panama by sundown," he said.

"No way," I countered.

"Yes way," he retorted.

"Uh uh."

"Uh huh."

"Uh uh."

"Uh huh."

It was a back and forth that lasted several minutes. Finally, I relented and we continued riding northward. Before we even got out of Medellin, the storm opened up with a vengeance. We hunkered down under a canopy at a city park. That's where G-2's petty sniping came to a crescendo.

Unbeknownst to him, I made a video of our confrontation. I knew I could use it on my Cycleblaze blog to show how childish that guy is.

The "am not," "are too" dialogue continued for another five minutes. There is no arguing with G-2 so, once again, I gave up. We rode out into stormy Columbia.

G-2 laughed and laughed and laughed when I got struck by lightning a minute later.

He wasn't laughing so hard when it happened to him too.

I don't know how long I was unconscious after being zapped by lightning, but I woke up sometime later with a charred head and blackened feet. G-2 was in even worse shape. I had to slap him silly for ten minutes to wake him up out of his stupor.

There is no way a bike tourist like me should have to put up with stuff like heavy rain, lightning and thunder, an incompatible riding partner, and all of my Oxford commas. Heck, I didn't even mention the 60-mile-per-hour headwinds. Needless to say, we didn't make it to Panama after those ordeals. We camped in the wind and rain outside of Medellin.

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Bill ShaneyfeltSince I do not hear well, I watched the argument with CC...

You should do it! Funny!
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1 year ago

Bill ShaneyfeltBy the way, the snow is a nice touch of imagination!
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1 year ago

Rachael AndersonWhat an ordeal, I hope the weather improves!
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1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Bill ShaneyfeltYoutube's closed captioning sure did a poor job on that one. I should sue them.
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1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Rachael AndersonUm, the weather is a sore subject for me right now. You'll see why in the next post.
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1 year ago

Nancy GrahamYour coffee cup is proof that you are in a third world country because they are the smart ones there to not have those single use plastic/styrofoam things. I am surprised that they do have what looks like nice bus shelters. That was at least some respite from the dastardly weather you are battling. Ride on you two.
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1 year ago

Ron SuchanekI'm a big proponent of oxford commas, and will be utilizing them a lot in my journal, if I ever resume it.
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1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Nancy GrahamThank you for noticing that ancient coffee cup. Unbeknownst to me, G-2 stole that Incan vessel from Machu Picchu. I should have chastised him immediately, but that heavy cup sure did enhance the flavor of my favorite morning beverage.
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1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Ron SuchanekMy fifth-grade teacher was a nun. She insisted on those final commas, though she never referred to them as being Oxford commas. I have used them ever since. Could a nun be wrong?
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1 year ago

Gregory GarceauTo Ron SuchanekI just texted Sister Mary Rosemand about your upcoming journal. She'll be reading it to make sure you keep using those Oxford commas. Or else, you can expect a hard slap across your wrist.
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1 year ago

Ron SuchanekTo Gregory GarceauNuns, slaps on the wrist, and the expectations of my journaling peers should be enough to keep me in line.
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1 year ago