But Day 14!
We left the town of Tamasopo in the misty dawn this morning by rattling for 8 kilometers over rocky tracks deep in the secret world of sugarcane. A bit better read of Google maps might have intimated that these little thread roads would not be paved and wouldn't do more than link sugarcane fields together. But there we were, deep in them, stuck going slowly. I felt frustration at eating away our early rise to see the sun come up and not have made more than a picker's progress gingerly navigating terrible roads. Frustration, yes, and also the fairy-like delight in the mists and the green stretching fields of this mystically foreign crop of sugar sweetness (sugar is a plant! and it is so not a vegetable). Emptiness of cars or other humans, morning stillness and the heavy mist. The aggravating bumps of rocky dirt. How both positive and negative are interwoven together.
Just like going the wrong direction all the way through an unpaved town. A potentially negative thing, but allowed us to successfully notice a little hut that served coffee, which we hadn't identified on the first pass. So coffee it was, in real clay mugs too, us dipping a beloved cinnamon bun into it, dribbling all over like children.
We decided to get a re-fill in our beautiful clay mug. I pushed my chair back to fetch it and bounced smartly off the cushiony Mexican lady sitting behind me. Oopa! Desculpe! Pardon! We all giggled. Imagine being wacked from behind by an awkward pole-shaped alien with sculpted helmet hair.
We rode through sugarcane almost the entire day. Low mountains rimmed our gloriously flat ride, palm trees dotting their looming faces. We pedaled through this trough all the way from Tamasopo to the town of El Naranjo. It was amazing to ride like this. It felt like a scenic day ride, as if we were cyclists for the fun of it. So different from the rides when we are on highways: We Are Traveling.
At one point we inexplicably passed out of Sugarcane Candy Land and thru a tunnel of rainforest. Shade! Palm shadows, like fans of sharp knives, were visually arresting on the road surface. The trees draped over us from above. Epiphytes and vines and wide-load leaves leaned into the road. Delicious.
Hours and hours of sugarcane. So green. Pedaling past young fields, the cultivated soil between the green rows made stripes like driving past a cornfield. We also kept being passed by enormous trucks with unwieldy towers of the brownish long sticks, all aligned lengthwise. We finally passed a huge belching factory, with hundreds of these stacked trucks waiting outside it. The air smelled of dry fall leaves mixed with molasses. I can only imagine how much sugar is processed there. So much sugar! Sugar is in almost everything. It certainly helped us on today's 100 kilometer ride.
We could not find a single road sign or route name or number for our roads today; we traversed anonymous roads all day. Some were viscously potholed, making for swerving and bumping and going slowly and feeling like Humpty Dumpty.
But in places the pavement was fresh and smooth. Where the road stretches pothole-free in front of you and you are a race horse now, flattening out and relaxing into the power and stretching into your full stride. Where my mind can be free from navigating doozies. And somehow free from other thoughts, as the speed is mesmerizing and hypnotizing. On these long flat fast stretches, my mind is a big cloud of fluffy wool being spun into a single pointed string of yarn. This feels amazing, and after a time of so many potholes and rocks, incredibly welcome and special.
Almost all dogs ignore us as we pass; they're asleep in the road, asleep on a pile of gravel, busy chasing each other around, or--rarely--chained up. But today, a fierce snarling rager came charging at us, guarding his property. Teeth bared jaggedly, hair on scruff in spikes. He chased us long enough I knew he was serious. Ellie, in front, yelled her sharp "hey! hey!" The dog was not deterred and the snarls continued. Rise to next level: Ellie got out her Kickin' Leg. Her bike shoes can be meanies when needed. Much better than my sandals. The toothy beast did not respond to the Kickin' Leg, however. Situation just got REAL. So I roared my Protection Roar at this creature from behind.
The first time I heard my own Protection Roar was in Thailand, with my buddy Elise, on my first bike tour. "Where did that COME FROM?" asked Elise, astounded, after the dog had subsided. I didn't know myself. I had surprised, scared, and impressed me as well.
My Protection Roar comes out as words, words I do not premeditate, and thus often are a bit off the mark. The words might be only partially threatening phrases like "BACK OFF", or a misplaced "GO AWAY", but they are nearly fully camouflaged in the intensity of a demonic expulsion of human sound. The timbre of the roar itself is truly stupendous. It is a lion, amplified through a bass bullhorn. My throat usually hurts for about an hour after creating one. I couldn't actually create one without a terrible dog to yell at. My Protection Roar comes from a very deep and untouchable place.
So I Protection Roared at this dog who was continuing to chase after Ellie. It flattened with the roar, then turned to see there was another thing to chase, and started after me. This was the ideal development. I carry The Pepper Spray, holstered by my right hand. Quick draw! Quick aim! No animal shall sink teeth into my friend or me! This dog stopped in it's tracks, then bolted into the yard to wipe it's eyes in the grass. Victory! After we surfaced from this event, we had a giddy laughter fest over ourselves. Ask any cyclist: there is such a special fear to be chased by a dog. It is a universally terrible experience. Besting one is incredibly satisyfing.
A taxi drove past us, slowing down till he was alongside. He yelled out the window something..... did we need bottles of water? Oh my goodness, how kind! Ellie responded we had our own, but thank you. Serendipitously, this same kind taxi man was in the town of our destination when we were out for an evening stroll. He remembered us, and us him, and we had a charming chat. What sweet kind people we encounter.
Towering sugarcane load.
Entering the tunnel of rainforest, leaving Sugarcane Candy Land.
Had to get the 5 peso popcorn at the fiesta. Topped with spicy sauce even though it makes it soft. It's the way here!
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