The PHurrowed Brow

I violated five important rules of adventuring prior to my two-day jaunt by motorcycle through parts of beautiful Puerto Rico. Through failing to heed my rules, and owing somewhat to the quirks of chance, I turned the Isle of Enchantment into the isle of my misadventures.

This post is one in a series stretching from Dec. 3rd forward to the 24th.
If the post seems to lack context, I’d encourage you for continuity’s
sake to go back and read earlier ones in order of publication.

The five rules, couched in both “thou shalt not” and “thou shalt” terms:

1. Don’t go without adequate means of on-trip communications. Know where you will or won’t have wifi, cellular data and/or voice service. And carry your emergency satellite messaging device for when you don’t have phone signal.
2. Don’t go without necessary gear. Make sure that you have all necessary safety equipment in the condition in which you need it to function. Equipment for basic comfort is good, too.
3. Don’t go without knowing what you’re likely to meet. Know your route options and the range of possible conditions (weather, road conditions, etc.) on it.
4. Don’t get greedy. Define your travel goals and make sure that your itinerary gives you enough time to accomplish them.
5. Don’t make your problems into hassles for other people. If/when your problems do turn into hassles for other people, minimize those hassles, express appreciation when others must deal with such hassles, and compensate them for their time and exertion, if at all possible.

I’ll tell you how I broke each of the rules shortly. But first, there is a Prime Directive for adventuring that arches over them all. It applies to motorcycling, hiking, and snowshoeing, and other forays outside the comfort zone. The Prime Directive reads:

• When your adventure is rougher than you intended it, aim to find the value in the roughness; if you can’t find the value there, modify the adventure as needed. Quitting before trying is the only unacceptable modification.

How I broke the five rules:

1. I did not verify that my plan with my cellular provider included coverage in Puerto Rico. You can interpret this as one of the less significant ways that institutional Americans (represented by corporations, Congress, a paper-towel-tossing Twitterer, etc.) treats Puerto Rico as a ‘lesser than the rest’ part of America.
2. I did not pack my essential riding gear (helmet, boots, etc.) and simply trusted that the fine owner at motoadventurespr.com (his name is Iván) would allow me to add suitable gear (suitable gear would fit me) to the rental of one of his bikes.
3. I had not done my homework. I failed to anticipate/ remember how proximity to or distance from the coast and altitude changes from sea level to 4,300+ feet will change weather. I railed to anticipate that the damage from Hurricane Maria (2017!) and subsequent storms meant that roads and other elements of infrastructure were in poor condition or partially closed for repair work.
4. I was greedy! I wanted all the coast I could get. North-, South-, West- and East-facing, yes to all! I wanted to ride La Ruta Panoramica, the heavenly twist-fest along and atop the island’s east-west mountainous spine (La Cordillera Central). I wanted to stop and hike the trails of El Yunque National Forest, smell its flowers and admire its trees, so different from those I see in Colorado. I wanted to stop for every great photo opportunity and hit every food stand in Piñones .
5. On the night of my ride out of San Juan, my throat began to tickle. I thought it was the hours of riding in the rain and five hours of riding wet that had brought on a cold. Overnight, post-nasal drip came on and had my worrying that my lax masking after touchdown would have unwanted consequences. A decongestant in the morning helped, but by the end of the second day, I had a full-on fever. The COVID test I administered back in San Juan flashed a positive response in under three minutes. My problem created hassles aplenty for others.

How I dealt with these messes of my own creation:

It’s terribly embarrassing when a meme shared with you by a student in your one-time Latin classroom suddenly becomes relevant to your post-retirement struggles.

For broken rule #1:
Options were to get a sim card for one of two prepaid service providers at CVS or Walgreens. Or go to the storefront of Claro, one of the island’s main wireless companies and see if they could help. I tried them all repeatedly. Claro’s people said that they couldn’t activate any phones for 24 hours, so even the extravagance of buying a new phone, using it for a week, then donating it was a no-go. For bookings and mapping, my workaround was to use wi-fi when I had it, download routes on Google Maps, and screenshot them for in case I inadvertently closed the app. (I must have looked very strange surfing my phone outside the AirBnB that my kids and I had checked out of several days before.) Away from wi-fi, I was up a creek, but at least I could use my satellite messenger for SMS communications. (And to contact emergency services with my coordinates, if needed. Happily, it wasn’t needed.)

For broken rule #2:
I lucked out. Iván had good-quality gear that fit me, which is a bit of a surprise given my shape and size. Also, his rental operation is a cottage business, not a big-inventory dealership. What’s more, he was a prince and included the gear rental in the fee for the motorcycle. I had been prepared to go by a motorcycle store and buy what he might lack, but he saved me that expense. When I go back to P.R., I will happily rent from him again.

For broken rule #3:
I settled on the route you see below. Lots of the northern coast, from San Juan west to Arecibo some of that stretch was on narrow two-lanes where tides had washed sand onto the road surface. Some of it was a mix of fine multi-lane expressways; divided highways, county roads and urban streets in various configurations and states of repair. From Arecibo south to Adjuntas, what began as divided highway narrowed as the road got further away from population centers and higher. Turning east from Adjuntas, I joined a section of La Ruta Panoramica. In several segments the road was throttled down to one lane due to washouts from flooding. Semis travel the high roads, too, but they make ‘hairpin’ turns that are more like an open parenthesis / ( / than a nice tight / c /. I didn’t want me and the motorcycle to be dashed against the parenthesis / (- / when coming into a blind curve too swiftly. That’s not the best way to come to a full stop. Period.

There was another danger and comfort factor in the highlands: tropically moist air blown over the sea by the south wind and was impelled up the face of the cordillera range. Moving up to 4000+ feet in altitude, that moist air rapidly cools. The air keeps going up, and its moisture comes down, down down. I had good gear on, but aside from my phone in its Ziploc bag, it was all wet. The saddle bags on the bike were treated fabric, but water permeated all the same. The rain diminished the scenic quality of La Ruta, and it also diminished my speed significantly.
 Funny anecdote: Iván had put a GPS tracking tag on the bike. The rain and splash-back from the tires had washed it clean away. When I contacted him the next day, he was worried that I had destroyed or possibly stolen his bike, since he had lost the tracker signal between Adjuntas and Villalba.

For broken rule #4:
Clearly, I had given into my greed almost completely. I had booked an AirBnB for that night on in Punta Santiago on the southeastern coast near Humacao, but the rains in the highlands meant that I could not comfortably stay on La Ruta Panoramica, much less make it to my lodging before midnight. So you can see that I cut south again towards Villalba and the coast. At that point, my screenshots of my planned route were useless and I had no wi-fi. But I did have a little 8”x24” foldable paper map that I had picked up in the airport, and it served me well enough. (And I have it still!) Even moving at 85 kph, the southern coast struck me as very different. The north had big population centers and industrial areas. The south was less populated, and much of it was put to agricultural use. Plaintain orchards and other cropland stood out, and there were also unfarmed grasslands and wooded areas on either side of the road. I had an unforgettable 30 seconds when a kilometer ahead of me a galloping white horse emerged from the woods 50 feet to the south of the road, continuing on into the grass on that side before crossing and disappearing on the north. As my eyes returned to the road before me four other horses at shorter intervals followed their leader into the plantain rows on the north side. Good thing there was no rider on that pale horse!

For broken rule #5:
COVID gave me top billing on the Hasslemania wrestling card. By the time I went to bed that night in Punta Santiago, I’d had the first sign that I was sick. I didn’t feel better after my sunrise stroll on the beach. (I noted superstitiously that it was the Ides of March.) Before checking out I informed the host and apologized, so that no one would inadvertently catch whatever I had when cleaning the room. I made sure that all my trash was in a sealed bag, and all the linens were stripped and in a single pile. I opened the windows wide, left a cash gratuity and a warm review. I won’t describe much of the rest of my ride, except to say that I did stop at El Yunque National Forest, knowing that I would not go inside any structures (yes, I peed in the forest rather than in an enclosed toilet). Much of El Yunque’s trail system was destroyed by Maria, and only a few limited sections were open. I decided I’d do the open portions of El Yunque Peak Trail to Los Picachos Peak, about 4km with an elevation gain of about 400 meters. The sprinkles, and then the clouds of the eponymous cloud forest had a wonderfully cooling feeling as I climbed. Until they didn’t. The COVID fever came on. Soon it was time to get back on the motorcycle. I eliminated my other planned stops, headed back to my rental in San Juan, and subjected more people to my hassles.

I’m not wallowing in guilt, but I don’t want to gloss over the fact that my actionson the trip affected others. I disappointed Anna, my fine friend from Latin world, when I had to cancel our planned dinner meet-up. I felt horrible returning wet, COVID-riddled helmet, gloves, jacket, etc. to Iván, who did the additional kindness of letting me keep the bike an extra hour so that I could acquire and lay in supplies for my recovery period. I had the same concern for Anyely, the host of my rental in San Juan, as I did when I left my one-nighter in Punta Santiago. She graciously let me extend my stay for the days it took me to test negative. I expressed my appreciation to Iván and Anyely and gave gratuities to help with any additional expenses they had owing to me. And there was time with my wife and progress on farm and home stuff that got lost in the sniffle.

Nevertheless, I did my best not to harm other people, and I didn’t die myself. And I got to see wonderful things. If it was an incomplete adventure, it’s only because I did not spend proper time getting to know some of the people of the island better. I guess I’ll have to go back and do it right next time.

If you’ve read this far, I apologize to you for your lost time and the strain on your eyes. Here are some videos and a clickable-to-enlarge gallery as an expression of my gratitude for your interest.

Videos won’t load onto this blog page, but you can click here to see a video album and play the four clips in it.

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