Scraps & Crap

14 Jan

We returned the horses to José, asked Erin if she could help us sort out our no-gas-or-hot-water situation, pet the farm dogs, played with the kitties, declined another offer of beer, and made our way back up the hill. Upon arriving “home,” we looked dolefully at our mtbs and at each other: I declared an immediate and urgent need to nap due to the stress/trauma brought on by the pelican situation; he gratefully seized the opportunity to finish his book = win/win.

We curled up on opposite ends of the couch and I enjoyed ~35min of blissful unconsciousness, brutally disrupted by a very elongated CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH Clip Clip CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to will myself back to sleep even as I puzzled over whatthehell he might be eating. Not avocados or bananas, clearly. Not the always coveted salt-n-vinegar almonds either (those make a more subtle grunch grunch noise). Poppycock also does not make such an obnoxiously loud sound. What is he ….

Oh. 

Oh.shit.

He found the Brownie Brittle!

Damn. I love that stuff. I so want to show him that I am awake and make him share it with me, but I’m pretty darn sure that he’s never had this treat before and it will be a fascinating little experiment to see how much he will eat before he realizes what he’s done and then hate himself for his lack of control, so I will continue to “sleep”…

CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH Clip Clip CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH.

CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH Clip Clip CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH.

CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH Clip Clip CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH.

and on and on…

Holyshit. He’s been nomming for 15mins! There won’t be any left for me!

I woke up and gave him the stink-eye. He sheepishly proffered me a piece and said:

Holy shit, CZ, these are GOOD! Why didn’t you warn me?

You put me in charge of snacks for a reason. I do not mess around when it comes to snacks. You know this from prior experience: I pick addictive snacks. Period. End of. Now, you’re welcome and let’s go for a ride.

Sidebar: Anytime you wake up from a nap and a boy is there to offer you brownies, you pretty much feel like the luckiest girl in the world, even when that boy is just your coach/business partner.

We kitted up and headed out. One of the good things about where we stayed was that all the roads were made of dirt: we were immediately off on our adventure as soon as we lugged the bikes down the stairs. We had 100% ZERO idea about where we were going or how we might get there, but we had good bikes and full bellies and 4+hours of sunlight on our side and no obligations whatsoever. Ride on, Bike Boss, and I shall do my best to follow and not fall over!

We found many dead ends and quite a few dead bodies–well, technically skeletons, and just of animals, not of people, we don’t think, but still… ☠️

I don’t think we ever found any “legit” mtb trails, but that was fine by us. What the dirt farm roads lacked in technical features they more than made up for in charm and beauty. We continually marveled that this remote, beautiful, secluded, largely unspoiled place could be just ~3.5hrs from our homes. Mountain bike riding in Mexico needs to be in regular rotation in our lives. We laughed (nervously/angrily) that the Cheeto-elect has expressed such fear and disdain for Mexico and Mexicans. We joked (at least I think it was a joke) that we ought to consider opening our business down here instead…

And then we got chased by a dog. 

I WAS SO SCARED when I heard it coming after us and barking like a Hell Hound. 

I was so chagrined when I saw what it actually was:


We named him Scraps and he ran alongside us and kept up with us for a good 20min until we reached another dead end where we decided to just chill and enjoy the view and play with the pup and continue to marvel about how unexpectedly great this totally unplanned trip was turning out…

At this point we could either go back home and log some quality hours reading books and playing UNO–which was quite alluring given the looks of the sky…storm coming, for sure–OR we could go try to find that cemetery we both spied when we were riding among the farms.

Given that our friendship was essentially cemented when we discovered our mutual affinity for cemeteries, it was pretty much a no-brainer which option we’d choose…

Along the way toward what we thought might be the path to the cemetery we encountered a large, very busy, promoted-with-English-language signs, colorful, happy-sounding orphanage. Didn’t expect to find THAT out here in the Baja farmlands! We took the opportunity to ask for cemetery-finding directions from the orphanage staff but my Spanglish was not robust enough to query what the orphanage’s background, purpose, goals, and needs might be. Next time. 😬

The directions they gave us didn’t “make sense” as far as we could tell (based on our baseless assumptions and conjectures), but we’d learned the hard way too many times on this trip about trying to trust ourselves. We’d leave it up to the locals and the Universe to sort things out for us. And just as our self-imposed “find the cemetery by 3:25” timer wound down to its last minute I spied the large white cross on top of a nice little lung-buster climb. Score! This will make for some nice #333project material:


We spent more time exploring this place than we intended (some fascinating history there, but this post is running long already) and suddenly found ourselves with a quickly setting sun and some seriously fast-moving storm clouds. Wordlessly, he threw down the hammer and I hung on for dear life.

Goodlawd that boy can ride! 

Holy donkey I am out of shape.

Thank jeebus that he’s agreed to resume coaching me AND he still tolerates my subpar nonsense during this extended season of deconditioning.

Also, you’re welcome, coach, that I know exactly what you’re doing and why you’re doing it and I’m not complaining in any way, shape, or form despite the fact that you are clearly brutalizing me…

But wait.

No.

For reals? 

The river trail? 

Do you even know where this goes?

Do you remember that awful little steep-ass cow path we had to tippy toe up and and down after we returned the horses? There is NO WAY we can ride that and there’s even LESS of a chance that I’m tromping up that thing with my bike…

Uh. Ok. I’ll trust you on this one. You did it for me this morning. #goteam

And, sure enough, BB figured out a way to get us back up to the house from the river trail without having to navigate the cow path and just in time, too, because the rain was starting to come down hard and fast…

He unclipped and pushed his bike up a slippery, steep cobble section. I followed suit.

About halfway up, he reclipped-in and resumed riding. I was not able to copy that maneuver. I kept pushing my mtb up the short slope until I saw him at the top, grinning at me like a Cheshire Cat.

What are you grinning about???

Oh.

Oh. CRAP!

You rotten bastard. You did this on purpose didn’t you???? 

He swears he didn’t and I guess I believe him, but let it be known that I attained one of the necessary miracles for Sainthood that day when I did NOT kill him for leading me right into the path of a goddamned EMU.

I hate you, Bike Boss.

I know, CZ.

TBC…

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