Travel Log Contents
Blogroll |
 Rock BottomBack to It's Still RainingBy Mike Beris - 2009-03-15
Most of my optimism has vanished, diluted by the raindrops that saturate my clothing from my wool hat to my Gore-Tex shoes. What used to be excitement and anticipation for the next chapter of our journey has become misery, and the gray blanket hovering over the mountainous terrain is mirrored in my expression. Days and days of rain have narrowed my perspective. Where I previously appreciated just being outside, not at work, without a boss, not hiking with a heavy backpack, not having a mortgage or rent to worry about, the only thought throbbing in my brain is to minimize the immediate discomfort. And what is worse than the current dripping state of every single piece of gear I have is the lack of hope that anything will improve in the near future. We got off of the Lago O’Higgins ferry, warm with the glow from the wood stove and the comradery of many other adventurers eager to begin the Carreterra Austral. Night had fallen during the three hour boat ride, and the rain was more fierce than before. In the dancing beams of headlamp lights, bags passed from hand to hand, everyone hoping to end up with what they started with. By the time all our gear was loaded on the bikes, all the hitchhikers had gotten busses into town, the other cyclists had taken off, and even the American professor/fisherman had found a way to cover the five kilometers into the town of Villa O’Higgins. The comradery was gone for now. We were alone again, four cold, wet souls. The next twelve hours or so were the most difficult for me yet. The previous day’s hike along the muddy trail resulted in my brake pads wearing down to nothing but metal stubs. Attempting to use brakes would almost certainly damage the rims of my wheels, a much more expensive replacement than a few new brake pads. The only immediate solution: I can’t stop. My headlamp is losing battery power, and the dense rainfall further limits its effectiveness. My sweaty face steams my glasses from behind while the rain coats them from ahead. The result: I’m blind. As I speed along the rocky road, unable to dodge potholes or grapefruit-sized stones, I rely on my other senses to guide me. I can hear waterfalls tumbling from the shear rock face to my left every twenty meters or so, and the dark abyss on the other side of the narrow road could be the lake or a steep drop into nothingness. I’d rather not find out now. I ask Chris to ride about 15 meters ahead of me. The only way I can gauge the ascents and descents of the road are to observe the strips of reflective tape on his pannier covers. I’m forced to dismount and walk the downhills, fighting my heavy, bucking bicycle with every step. After a few minutes of reminiscing about Wildwater Kingdom, a waterpark back home that has nothing on my current runaway log flume, we find a grassy patch that leads right down to the lake. Our options are pretty limited, so we set up here and hope for the best. I unroll my wet tent, blow up my wet sleeping pad, and plop my sleeping bag in the puddle in the tent. My only refuge is the cocoon of my sleeping bag, magically keeping me warm despite being wet. I peel off my wet clothes, crawl in, and drift off to sleep. Morning. I’m out of my tent, about 25 feet away, talking to Chris, who has managed to sleep through the night in just his tarp. I glance up and realize that above the treeline is a deep blue morning sky. I let out a whoop at the first lack of clouds in days. Could it be that the weather has turned? “Mike, I’m going to put my backpack under your rainfly.” It’s Dan. My eyes open. I’m lying in my sleeping bag. Raindrops tap on the tent above my head, and the overcast sky keeps my tent’s interior a dreary blue. It was a dream. “It’s the crappiest we’ve seen yet out here,” Dan assures me. I drag my hand through the puddles on the tent floor and locate my glasses. Looking straight up, I can tell something isn’t right with my tent’s ceiling: it’s crawling. Glasses in place, I realize the entire ceiling is coated with a dense layer of mosquitoes, and I’m met with a new quandary: do I adulterate the sacred dryness of the inside of my sleeping bag by pulling my sopping wet clothing inside to dress, or do I attempt to exit the tent completely naked, grab my clothes from the puddle in the tent and put them on in the frigid rain outside? Either option promises to disturb my unexpected guests a few inches above my head and alert them to the feast of my flesh. I decide on the latter option, darting out into the rain, pulling on my wet clothes before too many mosquitoes have their breakfast. I am defeated. Packing up wet gear yet again, knowing that it will probably be raining all day, I’m at my lowest point. Daniel emerges from his sleeping bag. I can tell he’s had a similar night. There are no exclamations of “We are adventure cyclists!” or even “This is the life we have chosen!” this morning. Our faces say all that we need to express. I don’t know how many more mornings like this I can take, but I hold my tongue. Getting through this part of the trip will somehow say more about each of us than all of our macho slogans and chest-thumping. 
Peanut Gallery(No Subject)Anonymous 2009-03-16 00:57:59 UTC
Keep ya all in my prayers no one but youAnonymous 2009-03-16 00:58:07 UTC
(No Subject)abanyai 2009-03-16 01:13:09 UTC
You’re actually doing quite well. For the rest of your life you’ll have a steel-eyed apathy towards discomfort where most people would have died long ago. Resume chest thumping! WowAnonymous 2009-03-16 01:13:44 UTC
Dude… wow. Hang in there. It’ll get better. It has to. God will pull you through. Stay the coursefrancoisdevlin 2009-03-16 01:19:09 UTC
It is stories like this that make me proud to know you. Sean sunshine amidst the rainnursebonnie86 2009-03-16 01:24:03 UTC
Yes Gentlemen, this is lowest I have seen (heard) you since your journey started. But then, you anticipated a "down" moment when you were in orientation training for this arduous event. All of you are doing well. You are alive and still healthy. Take in each moment. Even these "down" moments are part of your adventure. These too shall pass. Keep your faith Guys. You need to remember these details for the book you will be writing. Chin up Smiles are bright. We keep our faith Thru night & thru light. We know we are strong We know we are right. We push forth with courage With all our might. Much love to all of you from Art & Bonnie in Newport, R I. You encourage us alldowntheshore 2009-03-16 02:53:44 UTC
I am 72 years OLD and my husband is 76. A few days ago we had the opportunity to, maybe, climb Stone Mountain, GA. We knew it wold be hard, but after reading what your four souls have been doing, it gave me the courage to gave it a try and we did it. Be safe and stay well. Friends of Dan Wallace’s parents Gaining PerspectiveDonaldWRodgers 2009-03-16 03:31:50 UTC
Dear Michael, I can hear your pain loud and clear. I had jungle survival training w/ the marines in the South Pacific. At least there it was warm and wet (even if the sun was shining). The thought that hit me as I read your story is twofold. One: You guys write really well. Makes one feel like you are actually there (except for the fire crackling in the wood stove behind me :>). Two: You guys are doing this by choice BUT there are litterally 100’s of millions that live in similar or even worse conditions with no choice or avenue of escape. It is a great lesson in compassion that I am sure you are all learning. May God continue to use you to shine His light and build in your lives all He desires throught your journey. Don Niceits_nigro 2009-03-16 14:46:27 UTC
Keep telling us the truth! No candy, no popcorn. All truth. Thanks for this. -an Praying For A BreakAnonymous 2009-03-16 15:06:16 UTC
Mike et al Your story has me cold, shivering, and looking for mosquitos inside my cubicle at work here in Houston, Texas. It’s funny (or not so), we’re behind on rainfall this year…sounds like you hit the middle of the rainy season down there. I just prayed that the team might be given at least one day of complete sunshine and warmth…to renew your spirits. Don’t lose hope. What you are going through now is training you for the challenges you will face in the future. We learn the most during our most trying times. In Christ Cousin John. congratsAnonymous 2009-03-16 15:28:45 UTC
well, I am offering my congratulations for this reason: you have reached a bottom. A dark, wet, pessimistic bottom of which you can triumph over and continue on in your journey. Dont let the weather get you down, you will overcome this slump, after all you are a adventure cyclist ;) and this is the life you’ve choosen. Dont regret your decision, have faith. (No Subject)hetzel_d 2009-03-16 15:30:25 UTC
wow. stay strong guys. ps. would you like to go camping when you get back dan? dave hetzel (No Subject)Anonymous 2009-03-16 15:53:59 UTC
There will be a rainbow… Aunt June/Uncle Bus (No Subject)lins.esther 2009-03-16 19:14:40 UTC
You guys are absolutely amazing! You’re literally one in a million or billion even! What will you think when you look back on this? (No Subject)Anonymous 2009-03-17 23:34:55 UTC
keep your hopes and spirits up and stay strong. there is light ahead. I pray for you all. Joe (No Subject)Anonymous 2009-03-18 18:31:20 UTC
Hi Chris and all, The pictures are glorious, especially the hummingbird and the lake. However, the misery is palpable. It makes me want to rescue you and bring you home. Love, Nan & Grandfather PAINmrfuzzy19968 2009-03-19 14:19:36 UTC
GOD uses pain for all kinds of reasons. Your rain and mud, Brents cancer, the wars in Iraq and Afganistan… It is up to us to choose how we will react to our pain. I can only point to Chris’ Dad, Charles and also to Job. These are men who have felt real pain. And yet through it all they keep worshipping our GOD. Boys, I can’t imagine what you are going through, but, I can only imagine how proud our SAVIOR is of what you will continue to do in HIS name. Take rest and comfort in HIM who loves you and died for you. Be BLESSED Love MrFuzzy FORTITUDE...........bdette75 2009-03-19 16:53:28 UTC
that is the word that comes to mind…..it’s a great word and you all are showing us, your audience, how to live it. This will make a great scene in the movie!! :) xo Mom Wallace Keep on smilin'Feelgreen 2009-03-19 20:43:25 UTC
All your followers back home are praying for you and want you to know, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! You guys rock for being so brave, adventurous, courageous, the list goes on! Keep on truckin’ friends! (No Subject)Anonymous 2009-03-19 23:12:22 UTC
Men, 2Corinthians 4:16. "...we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our inner strength in the Lord is growing every day. These troubles and sufferings of ours are, after all, aquite small and won’t last very long. Yet this short time of distress will result in God;s richest blessings upon us forever and ever. vs 18. So we do not look at what we can see right now, the troubles all around us, but we look forward to the joys in heaven which we have not yet seen. The troubles will soon be over, but the joys to come willlast forever. What more can be said than what has already been said….Winston Churchill said…"We never give up. We never, never, never give up." We are more than conquorers…You are more than conquorers. "This light affliction worketh…" Thank you so much for sharing the truth of how you are feeling and the truth of your environment. We are going through difficulties also, your sharing is encouraging to me. Love you men and pray for you. Daniel’s Mom Power of PerspectiveDaniel's Dad 2009-03-22 19:00:18 UTC
Daniel, Mike, Chris & Dan, Maybe these adventures will prepare you all for the big adventure— "marriage"! Hey, miss you guys, but then again I am probably more in the know about my son Daniel’s life now then when he was jouneying on the paths of the University of Delaware. Here’s a thought I just read and will pass on to you. "Paradigms Power Perception, Perception Powers Emotion". You can ponder that while painfully peddling in the rain.(or any other time). With sincere respect and love, Daniel’s Dad |
