Monday, November 17th, 2014
Somewhere in Mexico
Locked in!
Last night I thought I had found a good place to rest.
A dirt road that stretched for miles up the rolling hills that led to fields.
It looked perfect, and it seemed so, too.
I set up camp (read: put down a tarp and my sleeping bag.) and slept fairly well.
I only saw one vehicle on the dirt road, a pickup coming from the fields. It stopped at the intersection of the highway and the dirt road for a couple of minutes and after that I was left in peace.
In the morning, after eating an apple and brushing my teeth in the predawn light, I headed for the road and discovered why I hadn´t been disturbed: there was a gate, it was shut and it was chained to a post.
My stomach dropped and my sublime morning started to fade away, even as the gentle colors of a peach sunrise were beginning to seep out of the horizon.
Not to be deterred, I mounted the bike after thoroughly verifying that I could not circumvent the gate and went exploring down the dirt road.
At a crossroads, I explored first the left branch, but a quarter mile down the road it ended in a field of crops. Backtracking, I crossed the main road and went the other direction. That road dead ended at another locked gate.
I wobbled the bike back down the tractor tracks to the main dirt road and decided against going further in, as that direction didn´t seem to offer freedom from this fenced in field.
I found myself back at the locked gate, out of ideas and options. For a while I just waited, thinking that a farm hand would arrive soon and unlock the gate. I´d have some explaining to do, and I prepared my broken Spanish as best I could. I even prepared some money in case it came to that.
I wrote in my journal, took pictures and worried myself. Eventually, after an hour, I decided that there was no guarantee that anyone would come on this day, and even if they did, no guarantee that it would be soon.
Examining the fence, I noted some weaknesses between the first post to which the gate was chained shut, and the adjacent post. The barbed-wire fence could be cut, and pulled back. The bottom most strand was already unfastened. I would only need to cut one strand, and the others I could unwrap from around the post as they were not stapled to the gate post.
Out came the multi-tool. Out came the adrenaline. I detached the luggage from the bike, it would not fit otherwise. With a quickness I began unwrapping and pulling back the wire.
I did not want to be caught by a farmer taking down his fence. I´ve lived on a farm--fences are taken seriously.
In a few minutes the fence was open. I shuttled the luggage through first. Then I started the bike, and walked it to the opening. With some revving, a little slipping and one snag on the top wire, the bike was through. Now, I wanted to undo my damage.
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| Locked fast. This is after I had removed the fence and before I had repaired it. |
Before I began, I had determined I would be able to mend the fence in a manner consistent with how other sections had been repaired. I set to work, the almost finished feeling of a race coursing through me.
I re-wrapped the wire around the gate post, and the piece I had cut, I was able to twist with a spare section of wire and reattach to the rest of the fence.
In a few minutes the job was done and I rearranged the plants to make a better presentation.
No doubt, the farmer would notice immediately, but at least no animals would get in or out and anyone else casually observing would not notice.
I re-loaded the bike, started the motor, and--with elation--sped off into the rising sun.
I want to specially acknowledge the financial contributions from Alexandre Nguyen, Manny Rangel, Michael Pang, my mom, and my aunt Julie, as well as Kate Phillips and Ian Wheatland for helping make these words and pictures possible!
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