California I
Ride till I Die - Part 1
"The moment you say you're too old to do something, start digging a hole." - Marcus Luttrell
Most of my life takes place around the I-20, I-65 intersection, in a city on the foothills of Appalachian Mountains called Birmingham, Alabama. Much of who I am comes from this place, yet my experiences in life go far beyond it. I’ve had the benefit of time spent in other places such as Canada, Utah, and even as far as the West Bank of Israel, but the most recent foreign land I have resided in is Northern California. In the four years I lived there, I grew up, and the more time since leaving the more I reflect on the changes I made while there. I picked up some new habits and lost a few as well (for example I found more than one way to enjoy a cup of coffee). Though most significant were the experiences that seemed limited in time yet continue to reverberate into my life and person…especially the more difficult ones.
One of these experiences was a 109-mile biking trip through some of the most captivating landscapes Northern California has to offer, one being the Redwood National and State Park. The trip starts in the middle of Klamath National Forest and ends at a campsite on the Pacific Ocean called Patrick's Point, known for filming a scene from the Jurassic Park sequel, The Lost World. It sounds amazing, right? How could I not have a wonderful experience? Well, did I also mention we covered the 109 miles in two days, 65 miles the first day and 54 the next. On top of that, I was on a team of seven adults leading 40 high school students. Lastly and most notably, I was in the worst shape of my life.
Growing up in Alabama, I didn’t know cold mornings existed in July, yet on this day in July, our trip began on a cold early morning on a top of a mountain in the Cascade Mountain Range. Consider it my youth or my ignorance, but I never felt I had to train for a two-day physical activity especially doing something I’d done since I was five. Here I was holding my bike looking to the west over a vast mountain range that stretched toward the Pacific with complete wonder yet completely unaware of what I was about to put myself through. The sun began to rise as we pushed off one by one, disappearing into the shadow of the mountain into a forest of endless pine trees. We cruised through the downward twist and turns like a youth group arriving at an amusement park, laughing with joy and childish behavior unhindered by the possibilities of danger or failure. The grandeur of the morning only contributed to my incomprehension of what was to come, and any confidence would become a distant memory.
I had forgotten a pivotal universal truth of “what goes up must come down”, and apparently, this truth applies in reverse because the ride moved from downhill to rolling hills, and soon after, the “hills” stop rolling and became uphills. The day continued away from my favor as the temperature turned to hot, and we approached the thirty mile mark and stopped for lunch. I thought to myself, “I hope the worst is over” because we had 35 miles to go and the temperature was only rising, making each hill seem steeper than it should. As a way to pump myself up, I said, “it is just a dry heat, it’s not like the humidity I am used to.” Little did I know, unlike a hot humid day in Alabama, you have no idea the amount of sweat you excrete because as it pours out of you it dries. Most people recognize this and choose to drink water before they become thirsty. I am not sure of the scientific name for this “complex” idea, but I believe it is called "staying hydrated”. However, I am not a doctor.
As we rode into the afternoon pushing through a gradual incline, the struggle became real as one person after another passed me as if I was standing still. My legs felt like I was waste deep in sand, each pedal became a mile, and my face, to put it mildly, felt on fire.
As the day “seemed” like it was coming to an end, we stopped for a break, and relief came as I sat in the shade and inhaled water and gatorade as if the substance would turn my bike into a self driving motorized vehicle equipped with a pillow and centralized air conditioning. Alas, Tesla nor Elon Musk was aware of my location or condition, but I thought we must be near the end. However, as I made my assumption, our trip leader reminded us of something he told us in the days leading up to the trip, that we were entering a ten mile section called “Hell’s Furnace”.
To be continued…California II
