On a day of firsts

Some firsts for the day:

Swam in the Caribbean;

Saw a live wild iguana, as opposed to the much more easily seen road kill iguana;

Snorkeled in the Caribbean;

Tried Medalla Light, a Puerto Rican beer of no particular merit but suitable for hot humid weather; 

Chatted with some Puerto Rican cyclists of the Weekend spandex subspecies;

Had flat tire in my brand new rear tire caused by a large piece glass (I could have done without that one);

This caused me to shop at Walmart for the first time in order to get a second spare inner tube;

Wrote a blog entry in a hammock strung between two palm trees with the Caribbean breaking on a reef to my right.

The peloton of Puerto Rican cyclists passed me with cheery shouts shortly after leaving Fajardo. I caught up with after they had stopped in the shade of an overpass. I chatted with them and asked them to verify which of the several possibilities in sight was Puerto Rico Highway 3. (Puerto Rico has a shortage of proper signage and it is sometimes quite easy to lose ones way. I have been using the map functions on the iPhone a lot.) Anyway, I started to chat in a mix of English and Spanish. They were fairly impressed by what I was planning to do today and warned me about a pass on Highway 3 I would have to face. One of them said it would take me until 5 or 6.

A little later, at about Ceiba, I heard the sound of a loudspeaker. I went around a corner to see a baseball game about to start. It was sparsely attended with fewer spectators than players in the elaborate stadium. I later passed another better attended baseball game. 

I went through a beach town of Playa Húcares with some old and quite elaborate old houses (Victorian era). One was a burnt out stone shell, whereas the one across the street was immaculately painted in pink with white trim.

A little around Playa Naguabo, I witnessed a parade of tricked jeeps making a lot of noise under police escort. Thankfully, it was going the other way. Puerto Rico has a car culture that I hope I am undermining by my example and that of large group of ordinary cyclist including lots of kids I saw riding the other way about 10 minutes later. They waved and cheered at everyone in general and (I think me) in particular.

Not too long after lunch, the Route 3 pass out of Yabucoa valley into Maunabo valley came looming up. There were several blessings associated with it. The first and most important was that an autopista with a tunnel had been built so traffic was relatively light and trucks were banned from it. The second was that the sun was nearly on the other side of the ridge so there was much more shadow than had been going the other way. (I discovered that going down.) Thirdly, there was a roadside drinks stand about two thirds of the way, which is an admirable arrangement. Fourthly, the road rose consistently winding its way up a mountainside covered with luxuriant tropical vegetation complete with lianas handing down. It was not for the faint of heart as there was little in the way of roadside barriers and I was on the cliff side.

The descent was fun though not full blown "whee". Disc brakes would be good here.

Beyond was a small valley with another ridge beyond. Thankfully, Route 3 bypassed it by going next the sea on a cliff road. This had a roadside bar where I stopped and checked my time and distance coordinates. As it was about 2:30 PM, I had less that 9 kms to go and check-in was only after 3 PM, I decided it was Medalla Light time.

One beer later, I ventured forth and found my beach side destination. It was barely past 3 PM so phooey on the cyclists I had met this morning. ;-)

On a mountain road

There are bad places to discover that two of the bolts holding your front rack on have wandered off but thankfully going up a mountain road in El Yunque National Forest is a much better place than going down such a road. However, it is a not a good place when you discover that your supply of spare bolts was accidentally left on your living room floor. I took off my third bottle cage and used those bolts to secure the rack. My theory is that I had been in such haste to get out of the firetrap hostel that I assembled Leonardo in too much haste and failed to tighten the bolts sufficiently.

I used the opportunity to get use a zip-tie to secure a bike computer wire that was too loose. I then noticed my sunglasses were missing. I rode back down the road for less than a kilometer before finding them intact.

It was a poor road choice brought on by bravado felt necessary by the previous days events. Also, the ride out of San Juan had been very nice with bike paths along the coast and through a mangrove swamp. I passed a couple being photographed for their shotgun wedding photographs. I saw a number of spandex cyclists going the other way including a fully supported tour. At a gas station in Loiza, the first town East of San Juan, I was surprised to see biker munchies on sale along with CO2 cartridges! I suspect it catered to wealthy cyclists out of San Juan.

I joined Highway 3 where a flashing sign warned of possible congestion ahead and aforementioned bravado led me to take the suggested alternate route. This was a narrow, twisty mountain road with poor altitude economy, i.e. it went up and down for little reason. It was also very steep and I got to push very often. When the road entered the National Forest, the only "American" tropical rain forest, it became much better with more altitude discipline and the vegetation cut well back from the road. It also began to rain fairly firmly which led me to take off my sunglasses and let them hang on their strap.

I had thought to go further up El Yunque, but by the time I got to the turn off to the really exciting bits, I went the other way.  I was damned if I was going to do any climbing more unnecessary climbing today. Also, I had started at sea level and the road would go up into the 2000 foot range.

Going down wasted the climb as there wasn't the whee factor as the road was too winding to allow me to let loose. I alternated using between front and rear brakes to avoid the rims overheating. I also stopped a couple of times.

I got Luquillo for slightly late lunch at a kiosk in a long line of beach restaurants. While maneuvering Leonardo, I became aware there was some weird with the front brake. Upon examination, my heart sank: I had put on the zip-tie in such a way that it was compressing the front brake cable. I scrambled to grab my jackknife and cut it off. I shudder to think what it might have caused.

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly. The hostel in Fajardo was very nice, safe and friendly. I managed to locate a bike shop in town that had more bolts. They gave them to me for free. I returned the favour to Universal Bike Shop, A-51 Ave. Conquistador, Monte Brisas, Fajardo, owned by Antonio (Tono) Rivera, by getting the Moon Light Bay Hostel to include it in their list of local services. They didn't have a bike shop listed this afternoon.

A better day, all the same. Oh, I saw a frigate bird.

On the last twenty-four hours

I was the first one out of the plane in San Juan.

Things went badly after that and involved a relatively expensive change of plans on account of the hostel being a dangerously cramped firetrap. An alternate solution has been put into effect at some effort. I am too tired, grumpy and embarrassed to go into details.

On the trip down

The flight attendant on the YUL to PHL called the aircraft a "Canada Air" CL 65. As we taxied along, she walked past my seat whereupon I pointed out that the name was "Canadair" and she should get it right as "the factory was right over there" and gestured vaguely to the left hoping my geography was right.

Now that I reflect on the matter, I hope that she was even more wrong as Canadair is now deeply a part of Bombardier and has been for a while. While I was studying aircraft engineering, Bombardier already had its paws on Canadair. The point of my fear is that the plane might have been old enough to vote or even buy booze in the U.S.!  I might have sat in it when it was being built the weekend Denise F. died.

On further examination of the data, Bombardier refers to the planes as CRJ-200's.

Then again, Bombardier is still building Regional Jets whereas Boeing is no longer building 757s like the one I am currently sitting in. This jet could be older that the "Canada Air".

US Airways/American Airlines makes Air Canada and WestJet look very good. In flight entertainment is an overhead screen showing a movie I have no interest in and there are no power sockets for recharging electronic devices. Then again the age thing might be at work. One of the panels in the lavatory near my seat was held in place with masking tape and it took them nearly two hours of flying time to turn off the seatbelts sign.

The online check-in process for the second flight initially put me in a "B" seat, i.e. a middle seat, neither window or aisle. There didn't seem to be a free (using two senses of the word (no cost and available)) aisle seat for me to pick. Then I began to wonder what the red seats near the front were. They were exit row seats which didn't have an actual cost attached to them but were reserved for people who could meet the physical and mental requirements. The first was being able-bodied. The second was two-fold: you had to be smart enough to operate the door properly and be fairly fluent in English. * As I met these requirements, I leapt at the opportunity to get an aisle seat. As well, it was near the entry door.

The plane loaded in good time and the doors were closed and armed. Then we waited for a time before it was announced that some one hadn't serviced the lavatories and we would have to wait a bit. We ended up taking off nearly an hour late. In theory, clement weather patterns mean the plane should be able to take up for some lost time. However, we will still be late and there is something of a cut-off time for check-in at the hostel. Originally, I had about two hours after arrival. Now, it is a darn sight tighter.

The cheesesteak I found was very tasty, though ultimately an exercise in beef, fat and salt. Unexpected pleasant surprise was the Yards India Pale Ale.

Update: at 8:45 it was announced we will only be about 15 minutes late. Still not impressed.

* On the safety card, there was a full panel devoted to exit row procedures which began with a warning blurb to this effect in English, Spanish and French. The rest of the panel was in English only.

On the American wing of Trudeau Airport

After a "beware of spring break travel" article in the news, I opted to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare. Robin was happy to oblige, so he and Benjy the dog showed up at 10. We drove out, Robin making his now traditional joke about how Benjy would be coming with me.

Security seemed particularly slow, partly because only about three of the dozen or so slots were open. However, the real cause was a family ahead of me who didn't seem to know how to get through security efficiently. The unused lines amplified the sense of delay.

The Americans let me through into the preclearance area with what turned to be about two hours to spare.

Trudeau seems quiet at this hour. The effect though is an illusion as the American wing doesn't have a runway view. It also looks out at the International Wing which sees most of its traffic in late afternoon and evening. The planes in sight have mostly been Canadian- or Brazilian-made regional jets. This meant that when I saw a larger Air Canada jet being towed in, I took it for a twin aisle plane rather than the little Airbus 319 it was.

My plane to Philly will be a Bombardier Regional Jet made right here at the airport or at least assembled as the parts are made all over the World.

I am feeling much calmer now.

On a near miss

My cousin Kristine posted on Facebook that she and her family were taking a cruise to the Virigin Islands this week.  Out of curiousity, I looked up where those islands were and was surprised to see they are the next islands to the East of Puerto Rico.  I inquired of her if her ship was going to stop in San Juan on Friday.  Alas, it stopped in San Juan today (Wednesday)!  It would have been so much fun to see them in such an outré location!  To my knowledge, this is the only time the two of us have been or are going to Puerto Rico and we miss each other by less than 48 hours!

On planning how to spend time in Philadelphia airport

To my vast lack of surprise, there are no direct flights between Montreal and Puerto Rico.  As far as I know, the only direct flight from anywhere in Canada to Puerto Rico is a weekly Air Canada flight out of Toronto. The flight is timed so as to be able to go out and back in one day. This means that it leaves early in the morning and gets back late. Aside from the inherent fact that six days is too short a time to do what I want to do, the timing of the flight means I would have to spend one or two nights in Toronto in order to catch the flight.  This very quickly led me opt for an American airline.

The choice of airline involved a surprising amount of fiddling around with various American airline websites.  The experience involved some rather baroque itineraries being proposed by their computer algorithms.  One was flying from Montreal to Miami, then changing planes and flying to Philadelphia, changing planes again, then flying to Puerto Rico.  That wasn't even the worst proposal! One airline wanted me to go through Dallas. Another one went through Chicago O'Hare which I am reliably informed is an airport worth avoiding at all cost.  As well, my sources tell me that if possible, when travelling with a bike, it is best to fly with as few airlines as possible. Ideally only one.  This was actually a bit of a benefit as it meant I was spared having decide whether to use a website travel agent like Expedia (which I am of two minds about) or book directly through an airline website (which I prefer to do).  One thing I found frustrating about Expedia was that while there is a "direct flight only" filter option, it isn't useful when there aren't any direct flights!  While I accept this, I would rather not have to scroll past "multiple change" flight options in order to find the "one change only" flights.

I eventually settled on US Airways. Strangely enough, it is the only American airline I have flown on. It used to be called USAir.  It featured in the Montreal to Miami leg of my trip to Bolivia back in 1992.  (Lloyd Aero Boliviana (a.k.a. LAB, a.k.a. Llamas Are Better) didn't fly to Canada and Air Canada didn't fly to Bolivia.)  It won't be around for much longer as it is in the process of merging with American Airlines.  The resultant airline will be called "American Airlines."

Anyway, my flights involve changes of planes in Philadelphia. On the way down, I have a three-hour pause which should be enough for Leonardo to change planes.  I idly wondered what I might do in that time. I came up with the notion of partaking of one of Philadelphia's culinary delicacies, viz the Cheesesteak. At lunch time at work, I decided to look up where one might acquire one in Philadelphia airport.  A quick Google search revealed that I was far from the first person asking that question!  What a time to be alive!