Look who discovered instagram. Haha.
Last Wednesday was Bonifacio Day and it seemed as if everyone biked out. Our group rode out at around 630am from Eastwood. We got on Marcos Hi-way, up to Cogeo and Boso-Boso, and connected to Mt. Maarat and Timberland via the Roxas route. The plan was to descend from there and have lunch in Marikina.
It took us almost the whole morning to get up to Timberland, and I have no doubt that I slowed the group down. I was the newbie but these guys I biked with were great. The group had a relaxed, easy feel. The sense of humor was sharp, and everyone was supportive.
Being the guy trailing everyone else, I made friends with the sweepers, Art and Greg, - these hilarious, wrinkled men in their late 50s with legs of steel, and who'd smoke while I took my frequent, long rests. Great guys, I immediately added them up on Facebook when I got home. Haha.
The sun was out, but it wasn't burning. The wind was a gentle breeze. And it was epic, for the most part.
I learned a bunch of things on this ride. First, I can endure long, gradual climbs - and this gave me confidence. Two, I die in short, steep climbs - confidence crushed. Three, descents scare the shit out of me - self-doubt replaced by naked fear. And four, I'm not too shabby at changing flats.
I know this fourth one because at the end of this one glorious descent (see third photo), the road sweeps right, then makes a quick left, where on the elbow of the curve, there sits a huge crack/hole in the middle of the road. Right on the line I wanted to take on the left turn.
I saw it, but couldn't go around it. I hit it hard, bounced in the air, managed to stay upright, and recovered. I blew my tire and this nice dude, Buboy helped me change my flat.
We made it to Timberland, made it through the off road bit, and began, as planned, our descent down to Rizal, on the way to lunch in Marikina. However, this downhill ride is where fear was planted in my heart. It was just too fast, too steep, and way beyond my skill set. It was as if, even after every quick squeeze on the brake levers, I was about to reach terminal velocity again. After managing to slow down the bike to a creeping halt, I gingerly got off it, and decided to walk down until I got to a flatter part of the road.
It was so steep that even walking down was difficult. My toes were pushing down on the inside of my shoes. The bike was pulling me down and out of balance. I called our support vehicle (my car and driver), who was waiting for us on The Wall - as they call this part of the road up to Timberland. As I loaded the bike into the car, an ambulance passed me by coming down from the top. As I was rounding the bend, I saw my group standing around, bikes were on the ground. I saw my friend Jun, the guy who invited me to this group, waving his arms in the air.
I didn't really look into the ditch that our guy crashed into. So I didn't realize it at first, but it was Buboy in there, the guy who helped me change my tire. The paramedics had to figure out a way to pull him out. Since I had a car, I carried his bike, and for awhile, his helmet - bloodied and in pieces. The ambulance ran off, and we regrouped at the nearby biker's cafe. I threw away the helmet.
After resorting to gallows humor to cope, the group eventually got its collective wits together and decided to bike to the hospital. I chose to say goodbye and separated from the group to head to the church where some of the bikers I know attend. I left Buboy's bike there. I spent part of the drive home calling everyone I knew. I was alive and I wanted to know if they were too.
Word spread around the next day that Buboy was discharged, and all he had to take with him from this crash were bruises. CT scans and X-rays showed for negative injuries or breaks. Fucking crazy.
Anyway, the group wants to ride from Manila to the Pacific Ocean via Quezon Province early next year. I'm already signed up.
