A Half-way Tour

It began oh so well, my last week away from work until my Mom and Dad where to visit just before the end of my service. Myself and two friends, both former Peace Corps volunteers, embarked on a 8 day tour de Negros. The Negros is an island just SE of the island I live on, Panay. The original plan was to bike around the whole island, with a separate day trip on a small adjoining island of Siqiour.

The trip started out fantastically. Three days of riding brought us to the opposite end of the island, 365k from where we started. 120k the first day, 80k on the second, and on the third we managed to bike 165k (102 miles). The last day’s distance was a personal record and it was on a fully loaded bike. At the end of the third day we arrived in that province’s capital city, Dumagette. There we enjoyed a rest day of down home Texas cooking courtesy of two awesome volunteers from Texas stationed there and of long cheap massages.

The rest day left me feeling fantastic for the fifth day of the tour, our fourth day of biking. This day was to be spent taking a short boat to the neighboring island of Siqiour for us to ride around its coasts, a short ride of 79k. From the get go it all went wrong. We had trouble with the boat company bringing our bikes aboard. All three of us, having spent a couple years in the Philippines, were worn out by each person trying to “get their own” from us. After we paid the boat company for a cargo fee of our bikes we were than told we had to pay an optional porter fee to load our bikes on the boat. Seeing we were young and somewhat fit we thought this to be silly, we could easily do it ourselves, not to mention we had already paid a cargo fee. After a lot of arguing, due to the fact that none of us seemed willing to walk away without explaining how poor their service was, we were on the boat and a bit frustrated. Than the boat company sprayed the top of the boat, including our bikes and bags with seawater. When I talked to the captain he didn’t seem to understand that salt and bike components don’t go well together. The whole boat ride was a fiasco of us being forced into the American stereotype of difficult, self-centered, loud men. We than noticed four other wide eyed “Ameri-kanos” on the boat, turns out they were Peace Corps trainees heading to their site visit, and they seemed to be a bit uneasy and shell shocked from the scene that myself and my two friends seemed to be causing. We had a short conversation with them, wished them luck and told them after 2 or 3 years here they too may have moments where they are a little jaded.

Once on the road on Siqiour, which by the way is considered the black magic capital of the Philippines, the day continued to be troublesome. My bikes rear derailleur kept consistently skipping. I would fix it and it would than start skipping again. Once a derailleur is set it should take either a crash or a lot of miles before it starts skipping again. Than my friend Jeremy’s bike started doing the same and his was all but brand new. It was very frustrating and a bit boggling.

At lunch I fixed my bike one last time. Climbing on my bike is the last thing I remember until I awoke on the side of the road. It was like coming out of the deepest dream I had ever had. My eyes were open but I couldn’t focus; I could hear but not words. It was weird. There were a bunch of people crowded around me. I had no idea where I was, what I had been doing, or what had happened. My head was spinning in every direction but I didn’t feel any pain yet. Than came the pain. I realized my face was throbbing, I couldn’t move my neck, my leg was in spasms and my chest felt like it was being crushed every time I took a breath. A memory; I was here with friends. Where are they? Someone get my friends!

Once Jeremy and Thor arrived at the scene they took charge, which is good because I still had no idea what had happened. It turns out I was well behind the two of them because after lunch I continued to have problems with my bike. As best as can be assumed; I was following a Sam Miguel Beer truck down a hill and must not have been looking ahead. I think I must have been looking down at my bike. The drivers of the truck said they stopped and a short time later I rammed, going about 30+kph, into the back of the beer delivery truck. Yes, as my friend and fellow PCV stated, you can insert dumb Homer joke here….hmmmm….beer…..whack!

Jeremy and Thor, as well as Peace Corps, did an amazing job of taking care of me. I was really scared for a while; it took me almost an hour to gain back fluid rational thought. I don’t know what I would have done without them. Jer and Thor organized a jeepney to rush me to the pier where Peace Corps had a boat waiting to take me to Dumagette.. Upon arriving at the Dumagette pier an ambulance was waiting and I was taken to the hospital. Lots of X-rays, MRIs and Cat Scans later it turns out I am one very luck boy. Without my helmet, which suffered in the crash, I think I would be one dead boy. No breaks, but I did get some fun but painful whiplash, a pinched nerve in the neck, bruised ribs, nerve damage in my right leg from the impact, a swollen face, and lots of minor cuts and bruises. After two more days in Dumagette, Peace Corps had me flown to Manila where I saw some specialists that said I would be fine in a few weeks, but I would need to do some Physical Rehab for my neck and leg.

Fast forward another two weeks and I’m back at my home in Miagao. Still very sore, particularly my neck and leg, but I will be fine. I’m happy to be back and even happier to be in at work and doing something productive again. I’ll be taking it easy for another two or three weeks; just focusing on work and working on getting my bike fixed. Oh and I will be buying another helmet.