Saturday – the big slip

I arrived at the ramada at 11:30. I ate for 15 minutes, then took a nap for about another 15. I got up relaxed and energized, wished the family a happy afternoon, and took off again. I was concerned about the time – the day was going to begin to get very hot! – but, after eating and resting, I found I had a new vitality!

I took a draw on my hydration pack, and it was empty!! I was momentarily delighted (I had drank 3 litres of water, double what I normally might) and then momentarily alarmed (I was out of water for the return trip). But, my concern didn’t last long when I observed my speed. I was averaging 16 mph, with bursts up to 20, and lag down at 12. At 16 mph, I should be back to my car in just over 1 hour. I could survive that. It would not quite be hot yet, and …yeah! I smiled to myself, and clicked it along a little faster. “East Bound and Down” (that is the title, right?) , the Jerry Reid theme song from Smokey and the Bandit was my cruise music in my head. I was making great time!

…until that first underpass….

My approach was too fast when I saw the drying silt. I burned off as much speed as I dared until my tires hit the mud. Speed-wise, I might have been okay, but my attack angle was off, and I was going to pitch into the creek unless I turned. I pulled on the handlebars just a touch, and felt the whole bike start to go over….

I knew I wasn’t going to recover, and I didn’t want my bike to eat me or drag me into the creek, so I pulled my right leg (downside leg) from under the bike, tucked it under my body, and proceeded to simply “sit down” on the ground. I hit fairly squarly, back straight, right hand in front of me to stop me from pitching forward. My bike hit the ground and stopped moving.

But I didn’t. It was clear who had the inertia in our relationship! I proceeded to slide out for another 12 feet. I did a graceful turn, sitting almost indian-style, with one hand on the ground. I came to rest facing my bike, both of us in the shadow of the bridge.

A moment of shock, a quick diagnostic, and I burst out laughing. I sat and giggled for a couple of minutes, just releasing my anxiety, and appreciating the humor of my situation. This was the other moment I so wished that Trynity had been along. I have a history of dramatic goofs and bumbles. She knew how to appreciate them, and help me appreciate them. She would also harrass me about this one for years! How I miss her companionship.

As it was, when I stopped giggling, I had no choice but to sober up to the reality of the situation. I slipped up to my feet, tried to slake the mud from my hand. I lifted my bike, and saw where the mud had protected the landing of my derailure system by encasing the entire chain and gear system. I lifted my bike, and started a long, slow walk.

I tried jesting with the passing bikers about my accident, but they only had pity for me. No one else laughed or appreciated the humor of it – at least not to my face. *sigh*

I walked for about a half mile. I first thought that I’d just walk to the first backyard that butted against the trail, and ask if I could wash off in their garden hose. But then I remembered how far the first homes were, and, that these neighborhoods didn’t water their own lawns, let alone leave a garden hose lying about.

Instead, I fortuited upon another bridge, this one the path going OVER, which had a blind approach from both sides. I computed the odds of walking, of being out of water, and of how fast an inch of silt would dry on my butt without assistance, and decided on my only recourse. I pulled my bike off to the side, and went under the bridge to do laundry.

I first had to wash my right calf, and my shoes, before I could slip my shorts off. Then I thrashed them about in a eddy pool, and threw them on a rock in the sun to dry. For fifteen minutes I stood in the shadow of the bridge, turning my shorts every 5, hoping no one would steal my bike, forcing me to run after them in my underwear.

No one bothered my bike.

After 15 minutes, they were as dry as they’d be with me in a full-sweat. I carefully slid them back on, reloaded my pockets, then went up to investigate the mud drying on my bike. I could pedal, and could shift the rear gears, and all other systems were fine. So I mounted up, and started making up for lost time.

The fall itself didn’t hurt me aside from a slight spinal compression, but it did steal my “umph”. I only averaged 12mph. My song now was Starship’s We Built This City. It was now 1:15p. I was growing concerned about not having water in my pack, and there were no convience stores anywhere close until I got back to my car. But, I rode on.

(cont’d)