Poor Planning

So the snags continue and my confidence in G Adventures plummets.  Instead of getting to Medellin last night,  we took a hotel in a dangerous neighborhood in Bucaramanga.   We left for the airport in the morning,  but our midday flight flew to Medellin without passengers for mechanical issues.  Apparently it is on the way back here now.  However we have effectively lost a day and a half of our vacation.

I lay  the blame squarely on poor planning.   The CEO (guide) had to wait for an alternate plan and we wasted hours.  Now the alternate plan is full of holes.

I am a bit frustrated and want to digitally vent.   Anyone care to comment on their travel woes?  Anyone have good stories of compensation?

Surf’s Up!

Ever since I was young, I have thought surfing was cool. I saw it in movies and TV; everything from Beach Blanket Bingo to the North Shore, Point Break–I could go on and on….actually, come to think of it, I believe the Brady’s went surfing in their Hawaiian adventure.  There is something amazing about being able to ride a wave and catch a curl.

Now, living nowhere near the ocean, the best I could come up with is snowboarding. Sadly, I had already become a skier and worried that I wouldn’t be able to make the change.  So, I never even came close to it.

When I booked the trip to Costa Rica, I saw that there was a half-day surfing lesson included in the trip.  Awesome.  Of course, I went into the venture with my eyes open.  I figured that with only a half day lesson, just standing up on the board would be difficult.  I expected to maybe stand up once–and expected to fall shortly thereafter.

On our second day in Puerto Viejo, we went to a local beach break called Playa del Negra (black sand beach) and got instructions by the Happy Days surfing company. They were all accomplished surfers–one represents Costa Rica on the national stage–and really passionate and fun people to be around.  We spent some time getting instructions, stretching, and practicing getting up.  Then we hit the water.

Wow! The first time the surfboard launched ahead was magical.  The speed was incredible.  Needless to say, I got up and managed to fall off rather quickly.  The fall was not painful, but the waves were strong and definitely worth respect.

The next bunch of attempts did not yield a great result, but the instructors said I was getting closer each time. They offered lots of spot corrections and tons more encouragement.  By this time, several members of the group had managed to stand.  A few even showed more promise.  I, on the other hand, was growing tired of paddling out to the instructors.  My arms were still store from both rafting and canyoning in the previous days.

Then, it happened. I actually stood up on the board, maintained my balance and rode the board into the shore.  My group clapped for me.  I was so pumped at this moment.  It was amazing.  It was like the first time I hit a homerun.  It was like the first time I threw out a runner trying to steal second.  It was like the first time I served an ace.  It was like…well, you see what I mean.

I went out again. The instructors congratulated me and told me to keep it up.  I managed to stay on the board again.  I even managed to steer it a little when it was slowing down.  I felt like a giant.

I took a moment to soak in the joy. It was then that I realized that I was completely drained.  I could barely pick up the board.

Would I try it again. Definitely.

Riding with Eagles

Yesterday was supposed to be my first ride. I blabbed to everyone at work that I was going out on Saturday.  Unfortunately a harder than normal work schedule and a windstorm that knocked out the power conspired against me and waking up Saturday was an impossibility.

So, early this morning, I headed off to meet the club. Sunday rides are not as heavily attended as Saturday rides.  However, since I have not had any luck meeting single female cyclists, this isn’t really important.  Hopefully with a bit of training and a bit more discipline, I will go out both days.

This morning four of us: a couple of newbies and myself–though since I didn’t ride with the club much last year and despite my time in Asia, I felt like a newbie, headed off on the classic Musselman’s Lake ride.  It’s about 45 to 50 km–depending on who you ask and whose electronic devices you trust most.  I tend to put it closer to 50.  We were scheduled to ride an average of 24kms per hour.

It felt great to be back on the bike, but it wasn’t easy. We had some strong wind.  When it was in front of us, I was slowed considerably.  When it was at my back, I flew down the road.  Obviously, you know which one I prefer.  The air was warm, but not too warm to make me sweat.  Almost perfect.

I also made the conscious decision to join Strava. I don’t think I will be breaking any records, but it will be nice to see my overall mileage for the year, and hopefully I will go a little faster.

I may be a little sore now…and I might be a little sore tomorrow, but I feel pretty good about calling this Today’s Perfect Moment.