February 14, 2003
Finally arriving in the area we've been repeatedly warned about, I decide it is high time for our first flat tire. Yes, 100 miles in, my IRC tire (It's Really Crappy), pops open a one-inch gash. I thought it was a little odd when my foot brushed the pavement on the last turn. Dragging the pegs on a fully loaded KLR is not something usually encouraged.
Dripping under the midday sun I pushed a little too hard trying to put the repaired tire back on. Gear, bolts and radios take flight into the tall grass as the bike comes crashing down on its side. Steve points out that is may be easier to put the tire back on in its present state. Fortunately two Indians pity us and help muscle the bike into a more upright position.
More soon, as the trials of this day were far from over....
With the tire fixed, though quite fragile, we gently ride to Agua Azul, a beautiful cascade of turqouise amid a jungle backdrop. The sight was refreshing but difficult to enjoy knowing my tire could explode at any moment. Following some unusually logical discussion we reason that returning to San Cristobal is the smarter choice. Checking his watch Steve reveals it is highly unlikely we'll arrive before sundown. Perfect, riding in the night in Chiapas.
Plodding along at 30 mph we manage to scrounge 50 miles before another flat. Hmmm, unless our repair skills have speeded up considerably we'll be finishing this job in the dark. Pulling out our headlamps Steve reminds us that we're sitting ducks broken down on the side of the road, at night, in the Chiapas. 2 hours and 3 attempts later we stumble onto a very ghetto solution. With duct tape lining the inside of the tire and a diminutive patch sealing the tube it just may hold.
Though we have to stop every 10 miles or so to reinflate the tire we eventually limp into town. Needless to say I became quite adept at determining how much air was left in my tire. If you shake the handlebars and the bike responds sluggishly, you're getting low. When the rear tire goes in a alternate direction than the front, it is time for a pump. I created an interesting game that balanced covering as many miles as possible without driving a half inflated tire into a banana plantation.
History has shown that a common enemy soothes over a multitude of frustrations, and tonight we learned this first hand. When the road is mellow and the skies shine clear the external environment gives you no complaints. But we're programmed to find faults so we look elsewhere. Combing through the daily activities, searching for those little nuances that will surely annoy. Of course the microscope pauses over the most minute details. Like how long it takes to put on a glove, or the strap perpetually dangling off the back of my bike. Once or twice is unnoticeable but repetition has a way of placing a bullhorn on such trivialities.
Fortunately that is why God made rain, flat tires and dangerous countries. A brilliant technique to divert our attention to more pressing issues. Picking through the grass looking for lost bolts Steve and I realize that as of late, things were going a bit too smoothly. Smiling at our misfortune and the odd benefits it brought, we press on towards San Cristobal.
