On reactions to the interview

En primer lugar, muchas gracias a mis amigos puertorriqueños.

Firstly, I would like thank all the people in Puerto Rico who wrote to me today.

The interview was published last night and I got a number of emails and comments from readers. I have yet to answer all of them. My apologies for any tardiness. Please know that I am very touched by your good wishes.

I must confess that I have not had the time to read the interview in full as my Spanish is limited and the screen on my iPhone is small. ;-)

I did note I had made an error in stating my daily mileages. I have checked my spreadsheet and to date the range of distances I have ridden (including getting lost, side trips and the like but excluding the rest day) is 74 to 92 kilometers with three of the five clocking in at about 85.

On being interviewed

I left Ponce on Highway 2 which had become an autopista whilst I was relaxing. There was a nice wide shoulder for me. The choice was that or a very circuitous squiggle of roads well inland. It wasn't a bad choice though the presence of circling turkey vultures was disconcerting. ;-) One choice I did regret was doing a "whee" on the shoulder in an area where rumble strips separated me front the regular traffic. A patch of gravel on the pavement came into view and I had a nervous few seconds as I slowed down as much as I could then released the brakes and lifted myself up slightly to better take the impact of the debris. No harm was done and I continued on. I later found I had been doing about 66 km/h before braking.

I made a mental note to use a traffic lane the next a "whee" came up on an autopista morph of a Puerto Rican highway.  The same highways can go from quasi superhighways to narrow streets laid out more than a hundred years ago to winding "jungle mountain" roads. These multiple personalities are typical of Puerto Rico where the speed limits are in miles per hour, but the distances are in kilometers. In much of the Island, addresses are determined by the kilometer signs. For example, the hotel I will be staying in tomorrow night has the address of Highway 2, km 84.6.  I am not sure what they do when they change the routing of a road which might shorten or the lengthen the distances from "km 0.0" of a particular highway.  A further complication emerged when I saw a series of signs giving conflicting distances!

I left the 2 at Guayanilla. I took the quieter and more picturesque 121, through hills, forests and small cities. At the intersection of 121 and 332, I stopped in a shady spot opposite a plant nursery to check my map. I knew that I was going continue on the 121, but I wanted gauge my progress as well as work out what I would do when the 121 came to an end. A voice called out with an American accent asking me "Why use a map when you can talk to someone?" One of the people at the plant nursery was evidently offended at my "snobby" behavior. Or at least pretended to be.

I rolled on to San Germán (pronounced "San Hermán"). This town was founded in about 1511. Its original location was on the coast, but after a few too many raids by French pirates, privateers and the like, in about 1573, it was moved to its present location. One of its church, Porta Ceoli dates from 1606. I visited the town's museum.

As I was leaving it to go to Porta Ceoli, I was approached by a group led by a fit looking man who I believe was older than my parents. He asked about my trip in unaccented English. He wanted to know if I would be going to the mountain bike race in Boqueron that weekend! His wife(?) revealed that he was a doyen of triathlons and such. She then invited me to spend the night with them! Unfortunately, it turned out that they lived somewhere up in the mountains well out of my way. Nice though. I asked them where a good place to have lunch would be. They directed me to Punto Frio.

It was muy frio inside, almost too cold for comfort in hot weather biking togs. I ordered a turkey sandwich which took a bit too long. I chatted a bit with one of the employees. Just as I was about get up to go, he gave me a desert on the house which took the form of sherbet, sliced bananas and strawberry with a touch of chocolate sauce and some seeds on top. (It was a yuppy place.) The confection went down well.

I rolled along highway 114 which was in need of some weed whacking as the vegetation was encroaching on the roadway. A little before Hormigueros, a car pulled alongside me. The driver called out and asked me if I was prepared to be interviewed!!!

He was involved with an organisation call Mango Cycling (website mangocycling.com) which I understand is a local cycling group. (I have looked at the website a bit but it isn't iPhone browsing friendly.) Apparently, he had seen Leonardo in San Germán and was curious as to who was bike touring as this form of tourism is fairly rare in Puerto Rico. Anyway, he recorded the interview on a tablet computer. He noted that I didn't use a GPS. He asked a question about how I found the roads and the heat. I gave a bit of groan and said I didn't know how the locals coped as I have been finding the heat a challenge. He laughed and pointed out that this is winter in Puerto Rico! I agreed but did add that my body is acclimatized to a particularly cold Montreal winter. He asked about mileage per day. I revealed that I keep track in kilometers, but that I had been doing about 60 or 80 kilometers. He enquired about my reaction to Puerto Rican drivers who aren't used to cyclists. My honest reply was that I hadn't any issues. He then warned me about "rush hour" drivers who supposed to be particularly bad. He (Fidel) took a picture of me (slathered in sunscreen) and said the interview would on the website in a few days.

I feel a bit chuffed!

On the South Coast

The trade winds blew me along quite merrily along the South Coast which is drier and somewhat flatter. As I have already got too much sun, I donned my only long sleeved jersey, the bright yellow one I am wearing in my portrait at the right.

In Guayama, I stopped to buy a banana from a street vendor. When he saw that I only wanted one, he refused to take my money in return! I was a bit embarrassed. We chatted in Spanglish and mime as neither of us had much mastery of the other's language. I think he wanted to know if I was afraid of being hit by a car. I tried to convey my philosophy on the matter which that if you worry too much about having an accident, you don't get to live life to its fullest.  He seemed to get my point and gave me a second banana!

Having stated the above, I find myself sounding a mite hypocritical as I am a world-class worrier. My defense in the matter is that I am rarely worried about traffic. Also, while I do worry about some things, I do go out and do them. As well, one can have an ideal and still fall short of it. Douglas Adams wrote after finding himself going gorilla watching with a dozen porters worth of stuff: "I believe in traveling light. I also believe in shopping early for Christmas and giving up smoking."

Shortly before entering Aguirre, I saw what looked like green parrot with a length of vegetation fly overhead. Subsequently, I have read that the endemic and endangered Puerto Rican parrot doesn't live in that neck of the woods but that other species of parrot have escaped to form small colonies.

I made a side trip to a nature reserve next to the old town of Aguirre. This had been a thriving sugar refining and exporting centre until the bottom dropped out of the market in about 1960. There was evidence of an old railway complete with a small cranes at the edge of fields to lift the sugar cane onto railway cars. The old section of the town was full of older wooden buildings with high peaked roofs, as opposed to the newer flat roofed concrete houses. The old houses looked sad and dingy. On the edge of this was a coastal ecosystem reserve something or other. There is a herd of manatee in the waters offshore and a mangrove swamp to visit. However, the only company I saw were a trio of feral dogs.

Puerto Rico has a lot of stray/feral dogs. They are fairly sorry-looking lot, especially the bitches. Thankfully, they are generally pretty leery of people. The dogs that bark are usually pets!

I stopped for lunch on pollo asado y yucca at the edge of Salinas at a roadside stand. Before me in the line was a Puerto Rican National Guardswoman who was apparently about to bring lunch back to her buddies. A mongrel lurked in the shade of a lamppost nearby watching casually in the hopes that something would come its way. Sure enough, one of my table mates eventually threw it a bone.

As I was leaving Salinas, I came across Bertos Bicycle Shop. It was a very low-key establishment run out of Bertos' garage. I stopped to see if he had a proper inner tube as the Walmart bought one was slightly too small. Despite the language barrier, we managed and I got a proper replacement. If I am any judge of bike shops, then I think Bertos caters to the local population's everyday bikes. Puerto Rico has a significant population of low-end, "going around the pueblo" cyclists. These tend to be male. One sign of this was a ordinary refrigerator with a hand written sign giving the prices of the soft drinks therein. To me this suggested that the locals would hang around and chat as per the Puerto Rican custom. Bertos wanted to know what I was up to, so I pulled out a small map, and sketched out my travels and planned travel in broad strokes. He was interested. He also admired Leonardo.

Between Santa Isabel and Ponce, there was a long stretch of fairly straight road with bushes on either side and a depressing amount of road kill. Iguanas, dogs and mongooses were all present. Possibly the dogs were killed trying feed on the road kill iguanas. I saw one live dog looking as if it was about to eat a freshly killed iguana.

Ponce is named after the famous/infamous conquistador Ponce de León. The City has drawn the emblem of the "Lion" from his name to use as a civic symbol. Currently there are a dozen or so lion statues at two corners of the main plaza each painted differently by various local artists. (This sort of thing goes on a lot across the world. I wonder if it is a named art form?)

Today, I rode out of town a short distance to the Centro Ceremonial Indígena de Tides. This archeological site was discovered in 1975 after flooding from a tropical storm revealed the site. It consists of a series of ceremonial plazas edged with stones. The culture has been dated to the period of about 600 to 1200 AD. It seems to have been one of the more elaborate cultures in the Caribbean though nothing is known about it outside of the archeological remains.

I have spent the rest of the putzing around the city centre. Ponce has kept much of its Spanish colonial architecture.

One weird bit is the Parque de Bombas which sounds rather alarming to English speakers until it is remembered that Bombas refers to fire trucks. It is an eccentric red and black stripped building and houses a small museum to volunteer firefighters and a tourist information office.

Next to it is one of the most surprising things I have seen in this trip: a bike repair estacion. There is a pump for tires and a selection of bike tools attached to metal cables. I didn't see anyone use it, but I must inform Vélo-Québec that Ponce has one upped them! (Outside Vélo-Québec's office in Montreal, they have pump which gets much use.)

Part of me regrets that I didn't take two full weeks off for this jaunt as there are some places I might have gone but for a lack of time. Such is life.

On a quick entry

I don't feel like writing something elaborate right now so a short summary of the day. It was a good day and I am now in Ponce where I will spend two nights. I may have seen a parrot.

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.