TCH (TransCentral Highway, Balamban)
The great wall, the great divide
November 5, 2017 Sunday 5:00am
I don’t go out much to take a spin. I rely on my trainer (roller) as my source of strength and endurance. I take pride of my record as the king of the trainer. I can sit on it longer than anybody reported. As for my personal record, I did a 4-hr roll non-stop on my trainer 12 years ago when I headed the first C-130 in 2005. And that was the peak of my biking career as I pushed some bonked bikers doing the Insane Tour back then.
Now it is different. My strength is waning and only for myself. Surely I can push but endangering myself to bonking. Nowadays I can only ride the trainer 45 minutes maximum.
I thought my hard days are over after last year when I brought along my only son Billy who miraculously spearheaded the tour, but it is far from over. It started when I was informed that my nephew Samsam will participate in this year’s tour. And he wants to be at my tail always. I feel old to babysit, and moreover, I was planning to cut my time of arrival this year. But I agreed anyway, and took the job.
To make things more complicated and harder for me, my nephew Nino expressed his desire to do the same. What the heck. So I accepted the additional job.
The only easy day was yesterday.
I will be riding shotgun for these two young believers.
So I started the education and training of the normal youths who want to go insane. Inch by inch I brought them to the threshold of insanity in biking.
When I arrived at the station for our TCH tour, it was 15 to 5, and was still slightly dark. I was searching for my team among the silhouettes of bikers who were busy talking while some are seemingly, as always, on a products seminar- a never ending discussion of the latest gadgets of bicycles.
Then off we went. I was focusing on my two precious bikers only. Billy was responsible enough, he is a certified tourmaster. He can now help teaching them both of the touring trade.
As it got lighter, I saw familiar faces. And it was crystal clear that I was the most senior biker of them all. I was 4 times older than the youngest biker. I was proud for my anti-ageism stance but I shuddered to the thought that we will be traversing the great wall, the great divide…. hours ahead. If only my age can be translated to kilometers per hour then I won’t be worried.
“Lord, give me a thousand flat kilometers, and deliver me not to this wall.”
I was left behind during the climb in Apid, Uling with Dondon in front of me. Apid climb was his only aim that day and he backtracked leaving me alone but managed to catch front lead before they arrived at Magdugo. I have an 84 kph on my odometer long time ago on a downhill. And I kept reminding myself in times liked that.
Christian, the VECO contractor biker, is always a playful guy, and was doing his thing on the stretch to Balamban. Everybody seemed happy that he was in the peloton.
My first meeting with Christian was when we were in a peloton towards Uling, and he was always changing lanes and seatmates. I planned to talk to him in private but I was so angry that I confronted and reprimanded him instead upon arriving. Lessons for him were harsh that first meeting. I felt guilty, though.
Once, while halfway in a climb towards the big downhill of Aloguinsan mountain, I forcibly stopped the climbing peloton. I was itching to lower the seat post of Christian, and had to do it there, no matter what. I shouted for a hex screw, and told him not to complain. The next adjustment was to be after the downhill, so as to gradual the effect. He should be thankful to me after that.
Later during our climb in Media Once, I had no more gas, as always in any climb. I am a lousy climber. I, Christian, and Dondon were dropped by everybody. And we became instant comrades by circumstance. Again, Christian was in his playful mode that he was trying to wheelie while we climbed as if he was not bonked too. I shouted, “I have enough of this. Let us walk.”
We walked and we talked. Christian seriously said that he was a contractor. I said, “How is that so?” He said, “I am a contractor because I signed a contract as a maintenance serviceman with VECO.” I, and Dondon could not help laughing. I said, “You mean you are a Contractual.” Then we became friends.
Nearing Balamban, we forgot for awhile the wall ahead as everybody was joining the joking, taunting, teasing, and friendly competition that was going on, and Christian was at the center of it all.
After our breakfast, we stopped by for our provisions for the big climb. We can’t carry enough water, so we drank much what we bought. No amount of water is enough. We need more, more, more water.
As I prepared to climb, I took a pee. Everybody was gone in a flash, except those who lingered with me, Samsam, Billy, Kevin, Denden, Sandy, and Allan Pujida. Nino flew with the stronger ones. I was looking for reasons to slow down, and found one big and enough reason to stop. I thought my rear tire was pinched. Kevin inspected and concurred. I was delighted. I bought time.
Then off we went. My aides were gone too in a flash. I was alone, but I was alright for awhile. As I was approaching the infamous Cansomoroy, my pedaling drastically changed from worse to worst to impossible. I had to push upward. I summoned what was left of my power but was humiliated by the hill.
I can’t bike anymore. Whoa, whoa….but I have to go on.
There was only one way to do it. Walk the bike.
In all my years of climbing this mountain, it was always on foot. I have always conquered it but through walking. I felt no honor was lost. I always have great respect to this great big hill.
It was not a simple walk. You walked pushing the bike while climbing, travelling 1-3 kph. Pedaling using the granny gear propel you to at least 4kph. So, logically it is better to pedal than to walk. Why walk when you can granny? Ok, tell that to a dying or maybe dead biker walking.
I thought I was the last man walking but a hundred paces behind me was Allan struggling, one step at a time. I heard the sound of metal of his cleats against the pavement in that distance. I never stopped to wonder why a bonked biker is happy to see another bonked one. It is not brutality in a person. It is a mystery on misery. Misery loves company.
At last, a hundred meters I saw the DPWH building. I sighed, relieved for awhile. It was small heaven for tired travelers seeing a haven.
There, all was waiting except Gaya who pushed more distance. We shared jokes, worries, food, but not water. There was none left to share. We hired a habalhabal to get us some water far uphill. Minutes went by, when we heard news from another habalhabal that a biker far up ahead had an accident. He was wearing a “somewhat-Pnoenix-jersey”, the report said. We were startled. I told the strong bikers to check it out.
The order of the chase commenced right away, and they were gone in a flash leaving a small flock, my circumstantial flock of six tired bikers.
We really struggled uphill. We biked when we can, we walked we can’t bike. Biked, walked, biked, walked, biked, the action-mantra was the order of the day.
Woe we were but we were determined to go on despite of our misery. Nino who jokingly shouted, “Mama, fetch me. I want to go home now.” I said, “Yes, we will be going home alright but we are taking the long uphill way home.” By that time, we hadn’t taken our lunch yet. It was past 1pm, and still we were looking for food.
Finally, we had our ears of corn at Cantipla. It was another heaven.
Having passed all the up hills of the great big hill, having lunched as well was a joy that sent us whee-ing all the way down. We were like 10-year-old boy on his new bike again. I could not help propel faster than my little flock so I opted to stay at the middle. Denden, who was following Nino’s wheel, did fistful of brakes upon seeing he was about to touch wheel to wheel thus sending him down on the middle of a winding slope near Willie’s. We were doing 35-40 kph. He was in front of me, so collision was inevitable, if I don’t do something. Automatically, I did the fistful of brakes too but seasoning the front with the rear, my wheels stopped inch from him and his bike. To avoid impact, I let myself dropped sidewise (my right side) upon stopping. I was not able to bail out, with the grace of God, no damage on us and on our bikes.
Then our TCH tour practice was done. We were like “a woman who gave birth” forgetting all the pain afterwards, and all was only joy.
Next: The round north practice ride story.
