On the Spring's Challenges

Yes, I know I haven't been writing much what with one thing and another. On the other hand, Mummy has written about her takes on the first two Vélo-Québec Challenges (or Défis) of the year as well as the Tour de l'Île which I will include in this entry along with my take.


Défi Métropolitain
Regarding the Metropolitan Challenge (Défi Métropolitain), I found it not atypical of what I think of as the the Chateauguay circuit. While the precise layout changes, this is the third time I have done a Challenge starting in Chateauguay, the first one being the first one I ever did.  The route landscape is very flat and open which makes it prey adverse winds. The forecast had been for light winds, but unfortunately, there were some stiff headwinds on the outward leg. To add insult to injury, the winds proved relatively fickle later in the day, so I didn't get "my deposit back" on the homeward leg. Otherwise the weather was decent with only a little rain.  Unfortunately, as I set out, I discovered my rear tire was flat. This meant a quick inner tube change and a trip to a handy Wal-Mart for a new spare. I have been having bad luck with my rear wheel of late.

Mummy's take:

We had a party at Naisi’s on the Saturday night. Should we go into Daniel’s on Saturday, quite late, or leave early Sunday morning?  In the end we opted for early Sunday, which meant Daniel had to rent a car, but that seemed easier for him than tidying his condo for us! 

After having been rude to Daniel about his often being late, he was early and we were a minute late at the Tutti Frutti in Chateauguay. 

We had done practically no biking before this excursion, what with the trip to BC and other things, so we were a bit concerned about not being in shape.  But then it is always an effort, and we always get there.

We started biking at 8:15.  We 100 km people went anti clockwise, the 75 and 150 km people went clockwise.  Léry (it seems to me we always called it Ville de Léry) had some interesting houses.  And some that were awful.  It started to sprinkle.  I stopped to put on my jacket and said to a man doing the same, that as we were putting on our jackets, it was bound to stop raining.  I trusted the other bikers would be grateful to us. 

Lots of lovely lilac out.  Three trees at one farm were sadly downwind of a pig farm.  But often there was a lovely smell, oh yes, there are the lilacs.  There was a strong wind against us until we got to Ormstown.  My average at that point was 15 km/hr.  Ormstown was a very pretty town, with lots of old buildings.  I stopped in front of the church to take off my jacket and put on sunscreen.  Then we turned and went with the wind behind to Howick.  It was easy to do 30 km/hr.  We got to Howick and lunch just at noon.  By then my average was 17 km/hr.

I sent a text to Daniel.  A bit later I got one from him, ‘Where are you?’  ‘Under the white tent.’  So he was able to join us, which was very nice.  Poor him, the tire he had just replaced had a flat.  He changed the tube, then went to Walmart, which was right there, to get a spare.  I had been surprised that he wasn’t at lunch before us, as he had 70 km to go and we had done 60.  But that explained it.

The afternoon, although mostly downwind, had quite a bit of side wind, and almost headwind, so it wasn’t all easy.  Hugh and I had decided to skip one little bit up and back a river.  I was there first and waited quite a bit, a bit down the short-cut, so I wasn’t going to confuse people, until I saw Hugh come by.  He slowed, so I thought he was going to turn, but then he went by.  I would not have been able to catch him, so I biked on.  Then I thought of phoning him.  He answered very quickly, knew he had missed it, but it was not easy to communicate.  I biked on, till I stopped to rest and eat and drink on the church steps in Mercier.  I called him again, and he was just coming into Mercier, so I waited and he caught up. 

Last bit together.  The very last bit was beside a highway, hot, lots of cars, into the wind, tired, tough!  Finished 3:30.  Daniel showed up soon after.  He had to get his rented car back by 5 pm, so he couldn’t hang around much.  He and Hugh picked up t-shirts.  I have enough.  Chocolate milk and an apple.  Bathroom.  Find cars, change, and off home. 

Hugh drove, I dozed.  Baths, PJs for me, bagel and smoked salmon.  Asleep before 9 pm.

My statistics:  98.89 km, time 5:42, average 17.3 km/hr

Daniel: 123? km, average over 20

I noticed a few men who might have been over 70, but I didn’t notice any women my age.  I did pass a few rather plump young women.

Daniel suggests I negotiate to borrow a road bike from Laurent to see if I like it.  But a new bike for a few excursions a year seems extravagant.  I thought this bike would be my last bike.

Tired but pleased on Monday morning.

Tour de l'Île

Last year, I found the Long version of the Tour de l'Île took me through too many bits that I had already done and those bits weren't the most interesting.  Consequently, this year I opted to be a volunteer again as a "Bénévélo méchano" i.e. a volunteer bike mechanic riding with the crowd. As I don't have the training to be an "encadreur", this meant I was dealing with the 50 km version of the event. As the Parents were going to do the 100 km version, they left my flat a little before me. However, I caught up with them after a few street corners whilst they were putting on their rain gear.  We rode to the start on Parc Avenue where I left them to collect my volunteer gear and meet up with the rest of my group of volunteers.  One of these was JP, the friend who got me into the volunteering gig.  We collected the relevant bits, then as our start time was only in an hour or more, he invited me back to his nearby apartment for breakfast and to collect his nephew who would be riding with us. At least in theory.

In practice, it didn't happen. When we got to the start, I took out my big bike pump and walked up and down the line of waiting cyclists trolling for customers as inflating tires is the most common thing we do.  A little before the time to start came, I was asked to replace an inner tube on someone's mountain bike. After taking the old inner tube out I noticed there seemed to be a bit of sand inside the tire. As the guy said he'd had several flats of late, I thought I would make sure all the sand was out of the tire in case that was the issue. It wasn't as I soon and painfully found out. There was a sharp nail in the tire which cut my finger quite badly. That together with the fact that I have rarely changed 26" tires made the operation fairly lengthy.  Once he was on his way, I sought out a first aid volunteer to get a band aid for my cut.  By this time, our team's departure time had come, so JP and his nephew headed off, hoping I would catch up. Unfortunately, I never did.

In an underpass, I saw a water bottle fall off someone's bike and two other water bottles lying treacherously on the ground. I picked up all three and gave one of them back to its owner. The surface of the road was quite potholed and combined with the speed of the downhill, the water bottles had been jarred lose.  Less than a kilometer later, I stopped to help someone deal with a rack that was rubbing against a wheel. There were a couple more tires in need of inflation before I got to Westmount. I was startled to learn that several méchanos didn't have bike pumps with them, something I found very surprising given how often they are needed. Also, they are prominent in the list of things to bring for méchanos.  Coming down the Glen into St-Henri, I was unsurprised to hear warnings about an accident up ahead. I have been using the Glen on a daily basis for years. Like many Montreal streets, it is in bad shape and a flash flood a few years back didn't do it any favours. In fairness, the City of Montreal did patch a few of the potholes prior to the Tour: you can no longer see the old street car rails. There I found another water bottle knocked loose by the combination of speed and rough surfaces.  At this point, I made a detour of a few blocks to my flat for pit stop and to dump the water bottles. As I was coming out, I saw my downstairs neighbour Jacques and his girlfriend about to set off on the Tour!

The route then took me under the Lachine canal and then along beside it. A kid of about 12 or so fell off his bike more or less in front of me.  I stopped and diverted traffic around him while his father picked him up and with the help of another volunteer got him to the sidewalk. I tried my best to remember what I should do in such an event. I settled on asking a few questions whilst looking up the stream of cyclists in the hopes that a first aid volunteer would show up. Another méchano commented that the boy looked a bit dazed, but the father assured him that was the kid's normal look!

I set off again and started chatting with a cyclist from Ottawa who commented he had forgotten how back Quebec roads were.  A little later, I "alerted" a parent towing a bicycle that he seemed to have lost the kid! ;-) In fact, the kid had got tired and had opted to ride in the bike trailer hauled by the other parent!  I saw several such "events".

Coming back along the ride, I helped some more people, changing inner tubes, inflating tires. I came across one older man who was sitting out a leg cramp. I flagged down a first aid volunteer for what good it did. Somewhere in Old Montreal, I was asked to oil someone's very rusted chain.  I did quick job but it really needed more attention than I was really about or supposed to give.

At the end, among the displays was a dump truck with mats around it.  The intent was to educate the people about the significant blind spots big truck have. The mats represented the places the driver couldn't see from the cab. Members of the public were invited to sit in the driver's seat and have a look. In practice, people were getting in the truck with their small children in order to have their picture taken!

Mummy writes:

The usual suspects [i.e. Joey, the Mole, the Parents and Daniel] were all doing different things at different times this year.  Hugh and me : 100 km starting between 7 and 7:30.  Daniel : bénévélo - mécano, meet at 7.  Joey and Michael – the 50 km, starting at 8:30 or later.  So there was no rendez-vous on the Charlevoix Bridge, nor breakfast together.

Hugh and I had breakfast at Daniel’s.  Daniel figured he’d get his instructions and then find breakfast.  In fact, he ran into the friend who had got him into volunteering and was invited to his place for breakfast.  We biked together to the start.  Ours was a bit on St Laurent, to get ahead of the polloi lining up for the 50 km

Saturday had been very hot and muggy.  So it was a surprise that Sunday was so cool, 8° at times.  We started as soon as we got there, at 7:20.  Raining a bit, I wore my rain pants for warmth, even when the rain stopped.  Goretex jacket the whole way.  My hands were cold at the start, but soon warmed up.  I could have used a buff around my ears.  So many different neighbourhoods!  Some horrible pretentious huge expensive new houses.  Some pretty old ones.  A few lilacs.  North up Parc Avenue, wiggle in Park Extension, TMR, Ville St Laurent, Cartierville, Dollard des Ormeaux, Ste Geneviève, Pierrefonds, Roxboro, Senneville (sheep!  MacDonald College?), Ste Anne de Bellevue (nice old narrow main street, oh, that’s where John Abbott Cégep and MacDonald College are!), Baie d’Urfé, Beaconsfield (How nice, Lakeshore Blvd is one way west, with the other half reserved for bikes and pedestrians.), Pointe Claire (nice old narrow main street), Dorval – lunch (provided by Vélo Québec, which is new) at last!  We’d done 75 km by then, although it was only 11:30.  I was hungry, although I had nibbled a bit.  Chilly, but we put on more clothes and ate outside.  We’d been passed by a couple on a tandem, with ‘Jane and Dave, Seattle, WA’ on the back.  I saw them as I was going in to the bathroom and chatted.  They had come partly for a week of bike festival, had been in ‘Un tour la nuit’ and said it was great.  Next year!  They found the tandem great for staying together and communicating.  They didn’t seem to have the troubles some have!

All day I heard quite a bit of English.  Anglos or Americans up for the event?  Some of each, I guess.

Leaving lunch, I saw that we were just opposite the Yacht Club.  I guess I was focused on lunch on the way in.  Just before lunch, we passed the Forest and Stream Club, which I remember my father being a member of.  Now that I’ve looked it up, I don’t think hunting and fishing play any part of its focus today.  It looks like a social club only.

Lachine, La Salle and into the closed roads, lots of people, last section of the tour.  In fact it seemed less dense than usual.  Daniel thinks it thins out the further you go.  Verdun, Pointe St Charles.  We stopped at Joey’s since we were going right past on Wellington.  Only Lucy at home.  Right past Michael’s house.  I had contemplated turning back to Daniel’s after the old port, but in the end I went to the finish.  It wasn’t even 2 pm.  Hugh turned to Daniel’s at Notre Dame St.  We didn’t go right to the old port, but we did go past Notre Dame Basilica, which was nice.  Just before it, a woman to my left called out a ‘merci’ to a volunteer on the right hand side walk.  As I was thinking, how nice, she and a man crashed into each other and landed on the sidewalk in a heap.  I couldn’t tell if she veered left because she was distracted, or was the man too close anyway on her left.  Whatever, it looked painful.  But I didn’t stop and get in the way.

Going up Berri, I thought of saying to the young woman beside me, ‘We can do it’.  But then she said it to me.  A father on my other side was encouraging his son, who looked a bit plump.  When we got to the top, I said, ‘Bravo pour nous tous!’

I moseyed a bit at the finish, got a chocolate milk, would have been glad to have a banana something that looked good, but the line was too long.  Started to Daniel’s and at the corner of Parc and Pine saw Jennifer Roberts biking towards me!  She was on her way home from a weekend in Sherbrooke and Magog.  She had left her bike at Lionel Groulx where she got her Amigo lift out.  And was relieved to find it still there on Sunday afternoon.  We chatted quite a while, then I suggested she join us for supper at Joey’s.

Back to Daniel’s, shower and rest.  Supper at Joey’s:  mushroom lasagna and fennel and apple salad by me, caesar salad and bread by Joey, cheese by Jennifer, tiramisu bought by Michael.

Joey had started out, got to the canal, and decided that it was no fun, spitting rain, cold, and she was alone.  I feel badly abandoning her to do our 100 km circuit.  I’m sure she wasn’t properly dressed.  Michael had done it all, until it went past his house. He wasn’t properly dressed either and was cold.  Daniel had had a good day, multiple tires pumped up, handlebar adjusted, man on crutches helped across the street, chain greased.

Denis Coderre, the mayor of Montreal, was featured in the media.  He had promised last year that he would participate this year.  He had trained, lost 45 pounds and did the 50 km tour with a bunch of his colleagues.  Good publicity for him, but also for a healthy life style and getting in shape, as well as making Montreal bike friendly.  The media says there were 25 000 participants.  I wonder how many on each version.  We were never crowded, just the right density.

I was less tired than last week.  All in all, a very good day, in spite of the weather.

My statistics:  111.97 km, average 17.5 km/hr

 

Défi de Lanaudière - Mauricie

For no reason(s) I can figure out, I acquired a pain around my tailbone which while it didn't prevent me from partaking in the Défi I was leery about pushing myself too hard. In addition, we were invited to a barbecue at James' afterwards. Consequently, I wasn't very ambitious.

The night before, the Parents and I watched a DVD of an episode of a francophone TV series about general stores in Québec. This one put the spotlight on LeBaron's store and featured interviews with Joey (the owner) and Mummy as well as other locals. In addition, there was a segment about North Hatley's popcorn cart which featured two little girls in Dreamland park getting popcorn, one of whom was Désirée!  In my opinion, the episode featured too much about the various antiques on display in the store and not enough about the incredible selection of stuff available in the store, the efforts Joey puts into getting said exotic stuff and more context including the fact that despite the name the LeBarons are an English family hence Joey's accent. In addition, the filmmakers were a little naughty in using some stock "olde tyme" footage that didn't relate to LeBaron's.

This is relevant, as just after lunch, I stopped at what was labelled a "general store" in the hopes of buying a banana or two. It turned out that it was in essence a recreation of an "olde tyme" general store and that I was out of luck regarding bananas.

A further on, I came upon the municipality of St-Cuthbert which was proudly declaring that it was turning 250.  I have recently been reading a series of novels set in Alfred the Great's day and therefore noted that Saint Cuthbert was an English saint and therefore a relatively odd choice for a place name in Quebec.  I did the math (2015-250=1765), remembered that the Treaty of Paris ceding New France to Britain was 1763, and concluded that choice of saint was likely due to the place being settled by demobilised British soldiers or in order to flatter the new British masters of New France. Mummy later told me that she had seen a sign that said the name was because the land was in a seigneurie assigned to a British officer/administrator. When asked by his French tenants for a land grant for a church, he agreed provided they dedicate the church to Saint Cuthbert as one of his names was "Cuthbert". I wasn't far off!

Mummy's take:

On Friday, Hugh and I had been going to do a loop near the north end of the Richelieu river, but the weather didn’t seem promising and my knee was very sore.  So we did odd jobs at home and left after an early lunch, and tootled around Granby, which I had regretted not having time for last September.  Interesting.  15 km.  And my knee not sore a bit!

Daniel made us a good supper of fusilli and Italian sausage and wine sauce.

We got up at 5:45, out of the house before 7, on our bikes in Berthierville by 8:10.  A gorgeous day, sunny, but not too hot.  We kept our jackets on for a short while.

Such an interesting and pretty trip!  Leaving Berthierville we were on a narrow street with old houses, all well kept.  That was the tone of the whole day.  Village after village with attractive houses, pretty church, no suburbia!  I figure it is beyond commuting distance from Montreal.  Prosperous old farm houses, some brick, with verandahs, well painted.  What a discovery!

Berthierville, Maskinongé, Louiseville, St Léon, Ste Ursule, St Justin, St Viatur, St Barthélemy, St Cuthbert.

Daniel did a bit extra, just 8 km more than us, and sent a text that he was at lunch, when we were 3 km away from it.  So we were able to eat lunch together.  The afternoon extras didn’t tempt him so he was relaxed about his afternoon, and stopped to buy us bananas.

There was a bit of wind against us when we were heading west.  I managed a few kilometres close behind Hugh, but it is always scary!  Either he or I can so easily make a false move.

St Cuthbert was our last village before the end.  I was curious about why it was called St Cuthbert.  The answer was on a plaque.  James Cuthbert, aide de camp to Wolfe, was seigneur there and gave the land for the church stipulating that it had to be named St Cuthbert.  At the end I asked Daniel if he knew why it was St Cuthbert.  He had been speculating that as the town was obviously celebrating its 250th anniversary (signs on every house), it must have been founded just after the Battle of the Plains of Abraham and so the English had named it.  When I told Joey about my findings and Daniel’s near guess, she said it should have been the Défi of the Librarians.

Back at the car at 2:30, to find Daniel waiting for us.  He went for chocolate milk, while I went to pee and change.  Slow drive back.  Getting out of the car at Daniel’s Hugh and Daniel were obviously having trouble.  I gaily said that I was not feeling stiff, nimble Sue would hop out.  And when I did I had a painful cramp in one leg!.  Quick showers, barbecue at James’, home by 9 pm.

A great day!

My statistics;  97.38 km, avg 18.5 km/hr
Daniel: 103 km avg 23 km/hr

On my trip around Puerto Rico, reflections

If truth be told, I should have written this months ago, but life got in the way.

I am not sure that I acheived my goal of understanding what makes Puerto Rico tick, but I know I have a better idea than I did. Admittedly, that is not hard as I had very little knowledge of Puerto Rico when I left Montreal!

I was somewhat surprised and slighty worried by the relative lack of printed material (books and magazines) for sale. Admittedly, I wasn't looking that thoroughly, but I saw little other than a few newspapers and celebrity gossip magazines for sale in the various shops I went into. As a librarian, I have an eye for these sorts of things. I had been hoping to buy a map book of Puerto Rico and never found one. I navigated instead using a freebie map I chanced to acquire in the Tourist Information Office in Old Puerto Rico and my iPhone.  I had assumed that good road maps would be available for sale in gas stations as they are in Canada.  Therefore, I looked into a number of establishments such as gas stations and pharmacies in the hope of finding a better map. As maps are printed material, I looked for the magazine sections of such stores and thus was somewhat surprised to see the paucity of the selection. Maybe I wasn't looking in the right places, but the lack of reading material surprised me. I couldn't help wonder if there was some sort of unfortunate dynamic making reading material scarce.  My thinking is that as part of the United States (more or less) Puerto Rico is subject to trade barriers which hinders it from receiving Spanish language material from the rest of Latin America whilst the American publishing/distribution industry doesn`t cater to the Spanish speaking market for various reasons. I couldn't help worrying about the level of true literacy in Puerto Rico and the level literary culture on the island.  Conversely, there is a very active culture in radio, television and other such medias.

From a biking perspective, I would say that the dangers as described by several sources (including Puerto Rican cyclists) are overstated: I found the roads to be fairly good and I didn't have an issue with drivers.  (However, I do live in Montreal, Quebec, where poor quality road surfaces and crazy drivers are the norm.)  You do have to be careful, especially in San Juan, but otherwise, I wasn't particulary worried.  Where Puerto Rican roads did concern me was in the mountains where they tended to be steep and poorly laid out going up and down more than seemed necessary.  )If I were to go back to venture into the mountains, I would get disc brakes and a lower Granny gear installed on Leonardo.)  In addition, signage in Puerto Rico left something to be desired as I lost my way a few times.

On vicarious adventures

My parents, especially my mother, are among the most ardent readers of this blog. They get a vicarious thrill reading about my bike and travel adventures. The Clearwater trip was a particular high point as it involved taking the Canadian across most of Canada. My mother had taken the train across Canada at least once in her youth and from the discussions we have had, at least one time it was on the CN service, which the Canadian now follows. I don't know if she ever took the Canadian back in the CP days.  Both before and after my trip, we talked a lot about the thrill of long distance train travel.

Back in December, Alice initiated a process that will result a family reunion on Salt Spring Island next week. In the lead up, I dreamt of getting a certain number of the Quebec contingent to B.C. by train. However, what with the Puerto Rico trip and other realities, it wasn't an option for myself or Philip and his family. It was an option for my parents, especially as I alerted Mummy to a sale at Via Rail which convinced her to take the plunge even if Pappy was a shade reluctant with grumbles along the lines of "Do I *have* to be sociable on the Canadian?"

Over the last couple of weeks, I have been giving them advice on what to bring and the like. I took today off work in order to see them off on the train to Toronto as well as borrow their car for a few days.  I will be flying out to Vancouver on Friday. I will rent a car at the airport, spend the night with Margo and then meet the Parents at Pacific Central Station! As it turns out, Alice and her gang will be getting on the same train in Clearwater!

Just my parents got enjoyment about of my adventures on the Canadian so to I am getting a kick about dreaming about what they will experience. I just hope Pappy doesn't get started talking to a Hindu about Dorothy Day or something equally problematic. ;-)

Of course, if it all goes wrong, I might end up being the Designated Blame Recipient (DBR) and as luck would have it, apparently, the Canadian will be 4 hours late leaving Toronto! ;-)

On wasting away in Cheesesteak-a-Ville

The mobile version of US Airways' website didn't want to check me in as my flight connection in Philly was only about 70 minutes. It took a phone call to the airline to determine my best course of action was to go to the airport and get checked-in manually this morning. This worked but it robbed me of the chance of getting an aisle seat. Instead, I got window seats.

Ironically, my flight landed at Philadelphia about half an hour ahead of schedule and then had a very short taxi to the terminal. This early arrival and quick taxi may have been due to an in-flight medical emergency, which delayed disembarking as paramedics examined the patient and then removed him from the plane.

Once in Terminal A, I found out that my flight to Montreal was in Terminal F which involved a shuttle bus ride across the tarmac. Then I found out that my flight to Montreal has been delayed by about an hour!

I had loaded a Jimmy Buffet album onto my iPhone for this trip. The last song on it is called "Volcano" and features the line "I don't want to land in no San Juan airport". This was written a long ago (in 1979 in point of fact). This can be determined by the presence of Air Margaritaville Restaurant and Bar once past security.

Margaritaville is the name of Jimmy Buffet's most famous song and the name of a chain of restaurants he licensed. I can't help wondering if changing the lyrics of "Volcano" in live performances was part of the airport's conditions! ;-)

"So I'm wasting away in Cheesesteak-a-Ville/
but I know it's US Airways' fault."

With apologies and thanks to Jimmy Buffet.

On my current location

On board my plane out of San Juan.

On my last days in Puerto Rico

As previously mentioned, yesterday's final section was fairly short and ultimately sweet. I might have done better to include some more coastal sections, but as I would have had to go back inland, I opted to stick to to the main road of urban sprawl until route 688 which took down to the coast. I was surprised by a relative lack of beach bars and the like though perhaps I shouldn't have as one of the municipalities I went through was called "Dorado" and had that feel of wealth about it. There was a long stretch near the ocean untouched by significant development. One the inland side, iguanas had burrows in the sand. Evolution seems to have worked faster here as there were far more live than dead iguanas around and live ones seemed more readier to flee than elsewhere. Either that or the local government was faster at road kill removal! ;-)

Somewhere, I failed to make a turn that would brought me past a Bacardi museum which would have been fun, though potentially dangerous! ;-) I found the ferry terminal and thereby closed my tour around Puerto Rico. As previously mentioned, I arrived early by about two and half hours. Viejo San Juan is many things but it is not much of a place to explore with a laden touring bike on a nice Saturday. I found some lunch from a street vendor that allowed me to keep an eye on Leonardo and the bags. My Puerto Rican readers should not think that this is any form of prejudice against them, merely my standard practice in large, busy cities, especially in tourist areas. I wouldn't leave a laden bike out of sight in Old Montreal.

Anyway, I eventually made my way to my hotel in Contado. By that time, I was sufficiently hot and sweaty that all I really wanted was a shower and a toes-up.

Today was spent doing various touristy things, especially the fort system. On odd thing I noticed in the Museo de las Americas was a very inconsistent policy regarding language. Some exhibits had signs in Spanish and English, others were Spanish only. If there was a logic to it, it escaped me. As well, in at least one gallery, the Spanish signs were about twice the size as the English ones.

On the benefit of having not worn the red shirt

If I had the advantage of the insight into Puerto Rico that I have now at the beginning of this trip I would have spent two nights in Arecibo instead of the nights in Hatillo and Manati. This would have allowed me to leave a significant amount of weight behind on the trip into Karst Country as it is known. If I recall correctly, and doubtless Father will correct if I am wrong, karst rock formations are limestone upon which time and water have had time to play. Depending on the region, they can take on pretty spectacular forms. In Puerto Rico, this means sinkholes and related structures.

As my skin was at the bubble stage of sunburn, I wore my long-sleeved jersey to protect my forearms. Otherwise, it would have been the turn of the red Star Trek jersey I wore in the Mango Cycling interview.

I set off up hill along relatively gently rising farm roads before joining a slightly bigger road which had the advantage of more carefully thought out hills and a wonderfully wide paved shoulder. This brought me to the Cavernas de Rio Camuy. At the gate there was a list of vehicle fees which only got as small as motorcycles. When I rolled up, the man jokingly inspected Leonardo as if searching for stowaways. There was no charge but he handed me a numbered ticket the significance of which I wasn't altogether clear on.

The Cavernas de Rio Camuy is run by a profit-oriented company which is a pity as it could be done so much better. After buying my entry ticket, I found out that the numbered ticket was they order in which I would get on the trolley to go to the actual site. At the time I arrived, this involved an hour's restless waiting, thankfully in the shade. Had the company been more enlightened, it would have some panels explaining the geology of what we were about to see.

My turn came and I got on the trolley (two trailers of seats pulled by an airport luggage tractor). My unasked question of why don't they have a walking path was answered by the sheer depth of the sinkhole we went down surrounded by lush vegetation with mostly unseen birds crying out in the background.

 We got off and entered the damp and cool cavern. I had brought my rain jacket with me and was glad of it. The entry tunnel was relatively low, only slightly higher than me but it soon opened up into easily the largest cave I have ever been in. Moreover, it was a cave of stalactites, stalagmites, and flowstone. It also had a population of bats, crickets, spiders and crabs. It was lit by artfully located lights, though I wished I had brought my headlamp in order to inspect some the details. Our route led to another sinkhole, deeper and with much steeper walls than the first. There were tremendously long roots hanging down from the trees above. At a guess I would say at least 400 feet.

Our guide was enthusiastic, but to me he was undereducated in the subject matter. For one thing, he said cavern was about twenty million years old. My impression as a geologist's son is that such caverns are ephemeral in geologic terms, a notion reinforced by a very large rock that had fallen from the ceiling in relatively recent times. The guide said it was before his time which meant little as the cavern was only fully explored in 1958. For all we really know, there could a crushed conquistador under that rock.

A trolley ride later, I was back on Leonardo and heading of to the Radiotelescope. It clearly isn't as popular as the roads weren't as well laid out. It was cattle country. (Hatillo has a sign giving the population as thirty-eight odd thousand and thirty odd thousand "vacas"!) I came around and down a bend to see a large bull with some very large horns. The horns were thick and went up rather than sideways like a Texas longhorn. I stop to take some pictures of the nearly motionless beast. As I watched it chew its cud, I had the silly thought: "It's a good thing I didn't wear the red shirt today as I would've it to charge me!"

The road that led to the observatory was tough with steep up hills and downhills. I had to push Leonardo several times. On one such incline, my phone rang. It was a call from the place I was to spend the night in Hatillo. The timing was unfortunate as I was out of breath, tired and being barked at by dogs. Consequently, I didn't get as much information from the people as I should have leading the trouble finding the place later on.

The observatory was very impressive. One more surprising uses they have put it to is to radar image asteroids! The short film they showed us made me suspect that new uses for it will be found in the years to come.

My trip back to Route 2 led me onto quite a small road that apparently doubled as a dump for the locals. I could hear a car behind me as a big truck appeared in front of me. I decided the best course of action was to get off the road and into the concert gutter as there was barely enough space for the two of them! The truck and car sorted themselves out. As he drove past, the young man in the car gave me an appreciative thumbs up in thanks.