San Jose de las Palomas: When It Rains It Pours

September 7, 2014 ($330mxn)

Punta Baja – San Jose de las Palomas (220km)

I am a Registered Nurse, not a meteorologist, for good reason. While filling up at gas stations, I often overheard others talking about hurricane season and Hurricane Norbert, which apparently was hitting land some distance south of our current position. It was far enough that we decided, with our limited skills at meteorology, that it was safe to continue in the same direction. The heavy rain accompanying hurricane Norbert, however, would definitely catch us later that day. In my adventurous and invincible state of mind, I neglected to pay much attention to these details, or further inquire about them.

We were now on a dirt road off the main highway, going into the San Jose de las Palomas ejido, towards the Pacific coast.  As I was following Tom and Dominic on the trail, I noticed the clouds over us were dense. It was not raining yet, but it seemed bound to happen, soon. Despite the sky threatening to topple over, I was enjoying the low difficulty the trail offered. Although it was not a challenging ride, I seem to fall quite often, even in the easiest of terrains. I failed to pay attention to my speed and the angle of an upcoming turn and went down with the motorcycle at the rocky edge of the road. As I could, I got myself standing and instantly felt my left hand throbbing, removed my glove to see my ring finger with a minor tear, but painful upon movement. I managed to get my fully loaded motorcycle upright and assessed for damage; one mirror was broken and the handguards were bent. I thought the bike looked more adventurous with only one mirror, but the handguards needed to be straightened out. I had a broken mirror, bent handguards, painful hand, needed to bring out tools, and Tom and Dominic were too far ahead to notice I was no longer following. It was at that moment I felt a drop of water splash my face and, within seconds, those dense clouds decided to pour all at once. I took a deep breath; I had to, and convinced myself to remain calm and suppress the desire to shout in frustration. I calmly brought out my tools and began working on the handguards as I whistled a tune.

 

After fixing my problem, I continued to ride, under the rain, and eventually saw Tom and Dom waiting for me at the edge of the road. Dominic signaled me to go on first, leading the group. I must have gone 30 feet before the ground slipped from beneath me, bringing the bike and myself, once again, to the now muddy trail. As if the fully loaded motorcycle was not heavy enough to get up, doing so over a loose, muddy, surface was even more difficult. I am sure the image of myself trying to lift the bike without slipping back to the ground was amusing to Tom and Dominic, but now, I was not enjoying the trip, not one bit.

As we could, we continued riding despite the heavy rain and increasingly difficult terrain. My time as pack leader for that day had been short lived, to say the least, and was again at the tail. With minimal visibility, through the spaces in my goggles that were not covered with mud, I could see we were now riding with our tires inches deep in water flooding the dirt road and made a river of it. Unexpectedly, minutes late, the rain ceased and the skies were clearer, to the point that we dried out quick with a bit of riding.

Much of the day had lapsed already and I was not sure how much further to the coast; certainly, the storm and multiple mishaps had delayed us significantly. With about an hour to sunset, the ocean finally appeared in the horizon. We rode through vast, flat spaces of nothing but few hard packed dirt trails leading towards the coast. I purposely stayed behind for a few minutes to contemplate the quietness that accompanied such a nice view of the sun penetrating the now thin clouds meeting the Pacific in the distance. The view made me forget the hardships endured to get to this spot. While it may be true that after a storm comes a calm, it is not after every storm that one can enjoy such a particular calm as I did on that day.

I caught up to Tom and Dom and we got off the hard packed plains down to the sandy dunes of the beach, where we scouted for a spot to set up shop, choosing one in the middle of 3 tall dunes that would offer us protection from the wind. Because of the sandy terrain, we were camping on, Tom and Dom found it difficult to pitch their non-free standing tents, driving stakes into the sand was futile. Tom, however, would experience the beginning of a never-ending problem he would repeatedly encounter throughout the coming months. At some point throughout the night, Tom claims, someone from the mere two fishing houses we could see in the distance went through the trouble of walking to our camp and tossed rocks at his particular tent only. Tom would later realize the noise he had heard in his tent had not been some naughty child, but instead, one of his tent poles had snapped, causing his tent to partially fall in. This “kid”, as it will be noted in subsequent entries, was a recurring issue for Tom.

At the end of the day, I pondered on the idea that, for a moment, I was not enjoying the trip, falling, hurting my hand, having to fix the handguards under the rain, falling again and slipping on the mud trying to get the bike up. I came to realize something I had considered before this journey began but only gained meaning until this particular day, and it was the fact that the next few months would be an adventure, not a vacation. Of course I looked forward to having amazingly fun and bright moments, but the difficult and challenging experiences would inevitably come forth, and I had to assimilate that, be conscious of this latent possibility. Similarly, this concept could apply to the everyday life each one of us carries out; we seek to have joyous times, but we are also aware that demanding moments will present themselves, and it is the attitude we show during these taxing instances that will make a difference.