Yesterday was not as tough as we followed the 101, even riding legally on the shoulder for one stretch. It was still hot, but the hills weren't much. We got a couple more water bottles and found more opportunities to refill them. After a brief heated discussion about why an 11-yr-old opinion doesn't carry the weight of an adult in the decision making process, Tala was being more cheerful and cooperative.
Then I did something dumb. Caught up in conversation, I let my front wheel get too close to Michele's trailer and my right pannier hooked. I over-steered to compensate and when it broke free, the wheel went ninety degrees to the road. Somehow, I kicked out of the clips and did a perfect somersault over the handlebar, landing without a scratch or bruise. We took a while to adjust and access, determining that my front wheel had taken on the shape of a potato chip, but the tire was retaining air.
I rode my injured machine tentatively, looking intently to see where it was rubbing. Almost immediately I slammed into the rear of Michele's trailer. She had stopped to see if she could determine my problem. The rubbing issue was an easy adjustment, but the pedal bite on Michele's ankle will take some healing. Luckily the rest of the day's ride, a total of about 45 miles, was relatively easy, except for some very rough road surfaces, especially tough on a warped wheel.
The last hill to the only motel in San Miguel is a 16% grade. Somehow, as she transitioned to push it up the hill, Michele's rear wheel slid in the dropouts, locking her brakes. I struggled my over-length rig to the crest, sighted the motel, and fell back to help Michele and Tala with her rig. Even with the brakes disconnected, the wheel wasn't rolling well. It was hard to access anything on the hillside fully loaded. I thought it might be a broken axle. We unhitched the trailer with the babies and limped the last block as three units.
As I climbed onto the motel driveway, I looked up at a big red pickup. A man in full camo climbed off the back bumper as the back-up lights came on. I called out to find out if I was impeding his intended path. As I backed out of the way he hollered, "We're going that way." Since I couldn't see him, I couldn't tell which way 'that way' was until he narrowly missed me. Disaster averted, I went on to discover that the only motel in town cost more than twice what the one the night before had cost. But "it is what it is."
We are where we are, inadequate planning and all. We've been frequently blessed but unexpected kindness. Marty, diagnosed with terminal cancer, invited us into his home with spontaneous generosity. His sharing gave us much needed respite, and his wife was delighted with the change in his character in the presence of the babies. Guess we really are catalysts of hope.
The community discussion in San Jose was worthwhile, even though it was a community of agreement, rather than one of proximity. We're continuing to get closer to the envisioned journey, even though the physical reality sometimes kicks my butt.