The Pan-Eurasian Bike Trip

It is with heavy hand that I write about the last adventures of my incredible friend Cobaka (Sobaka), and her incredible powers that I have documented these past months.  But before she gave in she conquered some incredible final challenges.

We got up at dawn, willing to brave the freezing morning air just for an attempt at crossing O'Cebreiro, the hardest climb on the Camino.  Everyone had told us the roads would be clear and we should be able to ride it, but of course these things are easier said than done.  Last time Levi and I crossed O'Cebriero Levi was so hung over he couldn't hold down water and I was not far behind in that department, luckily the incredibly steep climb, and the hurricane that was waiting for us at the summit distracted us from our agony.  This time there was no hang over and no need for distraction, although there was the cold.  It was a beautiful climb into Galicia, the western province of Spain, most known for it's never ending rainfall, but we were lucky, when we got to the top of the mountain and looked into Galicia, all we saw was sun.  The sun was deceiving though, by the time we descended (for about 25 minutes) none of us could feel our extremities, and I was positively creeped out by going over so many mountain highway bridges.  We reached a hotel with teeth chattering and adrenaline racing only to discover that the hotel room was colder than outside and there was little enthusiasm coming from the hotel staff to defrost the windows.  It was a rough night, one of those “How am I still doing this?” nights.  And it was Sunday to boot, meaning nothing was open and we found ourselves drinking 2 dollar gas station wine and eating Shell brand chocolate chip cookies. 

It is a strange feeling to be at the end of a long, physically intense trip, you can’t really see yourself stopping until you are finally done, Adrian kept saying “Wow, I can’t believe it is almost over” and all I could think was “not yet”.  We had big ambitions the next day, to get to a hotel that had heat, maybe 80 km away.  We got out the front door and knew that was not to be.  It was freezing rain and fiercely windy, amazingly it still seemed warmer than our room.  We have been developing a new riding system to deal with the cold conditions, I call it “Race and Drink” we go 20k or so  (sometimes the first café is farther away) to the first café you see and have either a wine, coffee or if particularly cold a hot chocolate.  This session was one of the worst, we crossed over a mountain and were welcomed to the downhill with huge gusts of wind carrying tiny pellets of frozen rain, it was a pull down your helmet, close your eyes and just kind of guess where the switchbacks were kind of ride.  I got in and drank 2 hot chocolates.  We cut our day short finding a nice pilgrim hostel with heat and a wonderful hearth where the pilgrims gathered in the evening apparently to swap war stories (it was just us though, it being December, so the war stories were mostly about restaurants and house painting).  It took us 2 more days of riding, less hills and better weather to reach Santiago, the end of the Camino, where Annette, Adrian’s wife met us.  Levi and myself collected our second Camino de Santiago diploma, even this, knowing that the Atlantic Ocean was only a few miles away, did not convince me that the end was near, not until the bike stops moving and the morning packing is finished will I believe. 
We spent Christmas in Santiago, Levi and I had been talking about “Our Christmas Together” for a long time, we spent it in a “look the other way bar” it was empty, but not because as I would assume it was too late and Christmas Eve, but because it is Spain and no one goes out until 2am, as we were walking home the city was coming alive, young and old on Christmas Eve. 
We exchanged Christmas gifts in the morning, and ventured a knock on Adrian and Annette’s door a bit later, they were recovering from a typical Spanish Christmas Eve, they had gotten home at 5:30,  “you wouldn’t believe how many people where coming home from the bars” Adrian said. 
Adrian was still hungover when we started out from Santiago heading south 2 days later, an ironic twist of fate.  It was the first time I got that little tingle that you get at the end, there were 3 days left and no more time off, until Porto.  It was sunny and beautiful, we cruised for a couple of hours stopping only at a gas station café, something we hadn’t done since Ukraine.  Suddenly we came up over a ridge and there it was, something I had been dreaming of for so long, a symbol of the end and a treat for the salt spray deprived nostrils, it was the Atlantic.  It started as an inlet, but slowly we wound our way out onto the peninsula by mistake, a detour that led us to be surrounded by the ocean we were supposed to be “saving for Porto”.  Adrian’s knee gave out soon after, we had to find a hotel, we found one right on the water. You couldn’t help but think that this was the true end of the trip, Adrian with a bum leg, the ocean right out the window and for some reason the Lord of the Rings playing in Spanish on the TV.  Levi and I went out and “looked the other way” on the beach, watched our first ocean sunset in 8 months.

And that was it, the rest of the trip to Porto was neither glorious nor on bike, we rode 5k the next day, but Adrian’s leg was bumming, so we hopped on a bus, planning to ride triumphantly into Porto the next day, just for our parents.  Levi and I stayed alone in a hotel in the center of Porto, Adrian went to the apartment his family had rented, and reunited.  We went out, and celebrated preemptively alone, just one more pack and ride.

I guess I didn’t explain things very well to Cobaka, my bike, because when she got to Porto she said “okay no more riding!”  The next morning she had a flat tire in defiance, I changed it and got on, then an act of God (or more likely a mechanic malfunction, but I’ll never admit to that) came, I think Cobaka even barked in anger as the chain seized to the wheel and ripped the derailleur into a position that I didn’t even know possible.  The frame was finished, we waited in Mcdonalds until Adrian and Annette came to pick us up in a rent a car, I had a big mac and a coffee before taking a cab to “triumphantly” reunite with my parents. 

They were almost delirious with lack of sleep, and they were tired and cold standing in the middle of the street in the rain holding a "Bravo Idiots" banner, but they were certainly a sight for sore eyes (rare you get to use that phrase to it's fullest extent).  Certainly your parents don't get less crazy than when you left, but after a 10 month adventure across Siberia, you at least feel you have leveled the playing field. It was a great reunion, and finally I put my bike down in a place, knowing full well that the next time I moved it, I would be going home.
It would be difficult to describe what the feeling of being off the bike was like in Porto, you were off, but it really gave you no relief, the bike trip was still going, only now your "bike" part was over, and your family had joined the "trip" part.  But we did have fun, and many laughs, we even dared to get the whole crew back together in the car and go out sightseeing, the scene of many "memorable" times in my childhood, often similar to scenes out of "Planes, Trains and Automobiles".  But this time things went fairly smoothly, if loudly, perhaps we are getting better (probably best not to test this theory with another trip though).

All of a sudden I was in a bicycle shop looking at a box that was Cobaka's temporary home for the ride to the US.  That strange sensation was quickly followed up with my last night on Eurasia, a landmass I was really beginning to feel attached to, and saying goodbye to Levi, a person I was really beginning to feel attached to as well.  It was as everyone knows anti-climatic, he came home late from sightseeing, I was going to sleep before a 3am wake up call. 10 months later it was a quick hug and a "see you on the other side". 
Then I was back, looking at a sleeping 14 year old basset hound, wondering whether it was worth waking her, I did, and she seemed vaguely to recognize me.  And that was it, the bike trip was over, I sat down in a big comfy chair with a cup of coffee, just like I dreamed of on those worst of days in the cold, it was all that I imagined and more.  But shortly after, I got up and wandered over to the computer, did a little surfing and ordered a replacement touring frame for Cobaka, I guess I got restless.
ellski