I don’t always know when to quit, which is exacerbated by the fact that I have been known to set unrealistic goals for myself. This has resulted in some very extreme outcomes in my life. One such event involves me collapsed on a fire road, shivering under an emergency blanket unable to get back to my car. The story of how I found myself in this situation is as follows.
When I was 23 my friend Craig and I decided we were going to go for a bike ride at Henry Co, the second largest state park in California. The park is comprised of seemingly endless deep valleys and sparse oak trees sitting upon, what is known as, the Diablo mountain range, which some people would refer to as foreshadowing.
Craig had a nice mountain bike that he kept in decent condition. I on the other hand had an older bike that I had let fall into disrepair. This did not deter me and we began to plan our day trip. We poured over a map of the park and various lakes that we could visit. Soon after we began egging each other on. The small pond that was 3 miles from the ranger station wouldn't be much of a ride, surely we could ride another 5 miles. Another 5? Why not 10? By the time we set out we were planning to reach a lake 15 miles into the park. What could possibly go wrong we said!
The morning started out a pleasant ride along the ridge to the first pond. The 3 miles were indeed laughable. That was too easy we agreed. It was definitely the right idea to go deeper into the park. Down from the ridge we quickly made our way along small windy rocky paths. Up out of the valley we rode...then walked...then struggled. The heat of the day had begun to set in and the temperature in the park quickly broke 100 degrees. By the time we traversed the first valley I was running low on water and we were only 5 miles into our 30 mile total ride. This is the time where smart people would have turned around and headed back... smart reasonable people, people who were not us. We continued to egg each other on. In our heads we had already completed 1/3 of our journey to our destination. Why turn around now? So we forged on.
The temperatures became shockingly hot. Our water ran low as Craig shared what he had with me, and the hills ground each of us into a sweaty miserable husk of a human. By the time we reached our destination we were beyond exhausted. I had started to feel extremely nauseous, which we would eventually understand was heat exhaustion setting in. This would not be our biggest problem of the day.
After a short rest on the lake we started our ride back. This was when my bikes handlebars began to wiggle loose. No longer could I turn or even maintain a straight line without the front wheel turning sideways in the opposite direction I attempting to steer. Craig had a multi-tool but it couldn't begin to fix my bikes loose neck. I eventually used some wire I had brought and tried to attach the ends of each handlebar to the corresponding side of the bikes fork. This worked as well as you would expect. Within an hour I had gone over my handlebars multiple times. We were eventually forced to walk.
I began to feel sicker and more fatigued, so I asked Craig for a break and laid down in a dry riverbed. I immediately fell asleep. After a short while I awoke and it was clear that if we didn't press on we would be attempting to find our way in the dark. The sun was setting and we still had 8 miles to go. We had not brought warm clothing and if we couldn't make it back to the ranger station we would be in for a very cold night. I had brought two Mylar emergency blankets but it was unclear how much warmth they would provide.
This was the death march. This was when I realized that up until this point in my life I had never pushed my body to its limit. I had been fatigued, burnt out, or simply unwilling to continue something but nothing compared to this. Now, in the dark struggling to walk and sick and getting cold, every time I would have normally stopped I continued. The sun set and the stars came out and I eventually collapsed. I apologized to Craig. We were two miles from our cars and I simply could not continue. Craig politely pulled out the emergency blankets, we lay down in the middle of a fire road, and went to sleep in the increasingly cold night.
Suddenly I opened my eyes to a blinding light. As I came to my senses I realized I was watching an older tan Ford Bronco slowly make its way up the road. Unknown to us there were some small parts of the park that were privately owned and we were encountering some of these residents returning from hunting on their property. It must have been a shocking sight for them to be driving in the pitch dark, then turn a corner only to see two metallic lumps in the center of the road. I can't imagine their surprise and confusion when the lumps began to move.
When the car pulled up, and the window rolled down, we saw three men in the front seats staring back at us. This is when I began to throw up everything in my stomach. Craig immediately began to beg for a ride, while simultaneously trying to convince the men that I would not throw up in their car. After briefly talking among themselves the driver turned to us and said "As long as you don't mind ridin with the dead pig”. In the back was indeed a large dead wild pig and neither Craig nor I hesitated for a moment. Our salvation covered our biking equipment in boars blood and delivered us from those hills. A stroke of luck ended the day I pushed my body harder than I ever have since.
Why tell this story to start this blog? As I stare down one of the most physically demanding experiences of my life I will have to keep in mind that just because I have set a goal to walk 1700 miles does not mean I have to push myself further than is healthy or safe. In essence, this post is a reminder that I don't get to decide what this journey will be. I'll walk as far as I can and if my knees give out after four days, or I only make it halfway, that's okay.
I'm going on an adventure and we will see where and how far it takes me.
