Heat Exhaustion or just Seat Exhaustion
I drank 8 liters of water yesterday and only saw one cup of urine. It was definitely a hard day.
Laura decided to run and I took the tour guides suggestion of a long mountain bike ride which he had originally said was 60 k.
Laura and I assumed that kilometers on mountain bikes were equivalent but after factoring in the 20 K hill; the 110 degree heat; trying to find bottled water in a sparsley populated desert; asking directions from people who spoke french worse than i do; pedaling an old bike without clip pedals; and spending half an hour pumping up a flat on hot black asphalt with no shade I think the conversion wasnùt equivalent:
Not to mention that the ride was actually a metric century:
I began the day early and enjoyed breakfast in the shade of the enourmous rocks that were re,inicent of j tree, one of my favorite places to climb. I had two yogurts, two bananas and orange juice.
I then spent at least an hour pedaling uphill with three literes of water on my back and an extremly heavy bike. I figured it was good training for the week im planning to spend cycling in France with a bike racer.
At the top of the hill I was happy to see that someone had spraypainted the arabic road sign with western alphabet and i was able to use my map to find my way to the first oasis:
I knew it would be a hard day as i was on top of a dry mountain and assumed that there was no way I could find an oasis without descending a huge hill: I was right and as i went down the hill I did some calculations to see if I had enough water to make it back up as Iùd gone 30K without seeing anywhere with water.
As i decended into a canyon green plants with purple flowers appeared signallying a drastic change in landscape. I entered into a lush green oasis with shady palms, people smimming in the river and little houses. One house had a coco cola sign and I tried in vain to buy water there. I asked some villagers in French if there was a store with water and they brought me some in a cup from the stream. I explained that I wanted to buy bottled water and they appeared with a bottle and filled it up from the cup. I panomimed sickness and they showed me the hole where the water had come from. The spring looked safe, I could see the source and I decided to take the bottle in my camel back figuring that Id rather get sick later than pass out from dehydradion. I little ways further down the road I passed a stand selling fresh squeezed orange juice and tajines and stopped a moment. They spoke better French and told me I could buy water 15 K down the road. I realized i was already one giant hill and many miles from home but the landscape was changing so dramatically and every bend in the road revealed a new village, canyon or surprise that I didnt want to turn around. I resolved to turn back at Soua Hassad Issni if I couldnt refill again there and made note that the oasis had some bottled water piled in the floor of their shop.
On the way to the Soug I was slowed down behind a woman fully cloaked in black herding goats down the road. I tried excusi moi with the goats but apparently they didnt speak French. I wondered if she thought I was a heathen dressed in spandex and was glad when she smiled at me. Sattalite dishes looked like strange additions to their mud and brick abodes but I figured they had been exposed to worse on TV.
I found the town of Souq and and while waiting in a small store for water saw that they sold salted nuts. The little boy waiting for his father to finish looked at my red face, blonde hair, spandex and the tube extending from my mouth to my camel back and grabed his fathers hand in fear.
The shopkeeper did not know the French for almond or at least couldnt understand my interpretation of it so I ran the man down grabbed his bag and pointed to the nuts and asked for the arabic word. The salt was worth the effort.
I felt well stocked and ready to continue the journey. On a long barren strech of desert I stoped to take a picture of the mountains that had been folded into waves when a truck filled with bottled water, coke and fanta stoped to ask if I was okay. I was glad I did not have to beg him to upwrap his shipment for me.
On the turnoff to the town that marked the halfway point on the grand loop I saw a sign saying Tafroute 49 K and realized that I was at the point of no return. I was going to ride a metric century today or face the alternative of staying in an inhospitable desert.
I felt confidant that I had enough water to go back the way I came because I knew I could buy more and hoped that the next town on the map 25K down the road would have some because if it didnt id be forced to turn around and extend the trip. As I pedaled across the dry stream beds through a canyon I was alone and began to realize that no one was out here to rescue me. The strength of my legs and my mental toughness was all I had to keep me safe. I reminded myself of sufferfest in Las Vegas where Id ridden 113 miles in extreme heat and told myself I could do it. I rested under a tree, ate some cookies and felt strong.
As I rested by the tree I hoped in vain that someone would pass by as the sign in front of me was only written in arabic and a wrong turn would be hugely demoraling and potentially dangerous.
I faced another turn in the road and hoped that the kerin was placed by someone heading in the same direction that I was going. If I could not find my way around the loop and had to backtrack I was faced with over 100 K of riding.
I chose correctely and was overjoyed when an hour later I saw a man working outside and asked him the way to the next town on my map. Athough I still had water from the six liters Id had so far I bought another large bottle and rested in his store and ate more nuts. He told me that it was 40K to Tafroute and 3 hours by bike. I wondered how I would pay for the long downhill into the oasis. I decided to buy yogurt, another water cookies and juice. They were facinqted by the camel pack and I explained to the one who guided in the sahara that we called it a camel bag in french. I still had my wits about me well enough to remeber some vocabulary. I was surprised that no one seemed surprised at my journey. When he said I had three hours to go I thought he might be concerned. So far everyone had thought I could do it. I knew I could.
I paid for my long desent into the oasis with an unrelenting gradual hill in full sun through creekbeds. I made mini goals for myself and decided to rest when I saw shade. I was so tired I redefined shade as a prickly bush and pulled over and sat on the dirt to rest. I knew I was wearing out because I ignored the flies aroud my face and did not at all care what happened to the pretty white on my bike shorts.
I forced myself up knowing that I couldnt just sit all day and dehydrate on the side of the road.
I almost started crying when I saw the thorn in my tire. I cursed myself for not checking the flat repair kit because I knew better than trusting Morrocans for things like that. I pulled out a tube covered in patches and hoped that I wouldnt have to learn how to use a patch kit on the road alone at 113 degrees.
I wondered how long I would have to wait until a car passed that I could pay to drag me home.1000 pumps later I was still on the side of the road thinking that Id pay good money for a CO2 cartridge and wondering just how many pumps it takes a tiny awful handpump to fill up a mountain bike tire. When my PSI was probably around 40 I decided that my legs were stronger than my forearms and that maybe Id make it back the next 30K with a mushy front tire. Just as I got the wheel back on and figured out how to use mountain bike brakes a van loaded down with people passed with a wave probably thinking, incorrectly, that I knew what I was doing.
Moving again felt good and I felt somewhat accomplished for fixing the bike. I thanked God for sending some cloud cover and Sam for his very thourough tire changing lesson Id recieved years ago.
I made another goal. When I made it to the top of the first large hill and could see tafroute in the distance I would eat the cliff bar Id carried with me from Seattle and was saving for emergencies. I couldnt think of a time when a cliff bar would taste better. As I ate it looking over the valley I was very pleased that the next 22K were downhill. Of course downhill after 8 hours on the bike with a front tire with little pressure wasnt as easy as id hoped. After the longest decent of my life I returned home and chastised the bike shop for suggesting that ride. If I hadnt done sufferfest in Vegas Im not sure I would have made it. He didnt seem impressed until I told him it took 11 hours and 8 literes of water. His friend piped in, people dont ride that whole way; they drive to the top of the 22K hill and finish there as well. Good to know.
Laura of course was about to send a 4WD vehical after me and promtly took me to dinner. My endorphin high faded as we ate and walking home was a struggle.
I wont get into details but Id never felt the need to use so much antibiotic cream on my skin, or what was left of it after 9 hours in the saddle and 11 of chamois time.
I went to bed shortly before the sun set thinking that literally all that Id done all day was eat and ride bikes.
Laura decided to run and I took the tour guides suggestion of a long mountain bike ride which he had originally said was 60 k.
Laura and I assumed that kilometers on mountain bikes were equivalent but after factoring in the 20 K hill; the 110 degree heat; trying to find bottled water in a sparsley populated desert; asking directions from people who spoke french worse than i do; pedaling an old bike without clip pedals; and spending half an hour pumping up a flat on hot black asphalt with no shade I think the conversion wasnùt equivalent:
Not to mention that the ride was actually a metric century:
I began the day early and enjoyed breakfast in the shade of the enourmous rocks that were re,inicent of j tree, one of my favorite places to climb. I had two yogurts, two bananas and orange juice.
I then spent at least an hour pedaling uphill with three literes of water on my back and an extremly heavy bike. I figured it was good training for the week im planning to spend cycling in France with a bike racer.
At the top of the hill I was happy to see that someone had spraypainted the arabic road sign with western alphabet and i was able to use my map to find my way to the first oasis:
I knew it would be a hard day as i was on top of a dry mountain and assumed that there was no way I could find an oasis without descending a huge hill: I was right and as i went down the hill I did some calculations to see if I had enough water to make it back up as Iùd gone 30K without seeing anywhere with water.
As i decended into a canyon green plants with purple flowers appeared signallying a drastic change in landscape. I entered into a lush green oasis with shady palms, people smimming in the river and little houses. One house had a coco cola sign and I tried in vain to buy water there. I asked some villagers in French if there was a store with water and they brought me some in a cup from the stream. I explained that I wanted to buy bottled water and they appeared with a bottle and filled it up from the cup. I panomimed sickness and they showed me the hole where the water had come from. The spring looked safe, I could see the source and I decided to take the bottle in my camel back figuring that Id rather get sick later than pass out from dehydradion. I little ways further down the road I passed a stand selling fresh squeezed orange juice and tajines and stopped a moment. They spoke better French and told me I could buy water 15 K down the road. I realized i was already one giant hill and many miles from home but the landscape was changing so dramatically and every bend in the road revealed a new village, canyon or surprise that I didnt want to turn around. I resolved to turn back at Soua Hassad Issni if I couldnt refill again there and made note that the oasis had some bottled water piled in the floor of their shop.
On the way to the Soug I was slowed down behind a woman fully cloaked in black herding goats down the road. I tried excusi moi with the goats but apparently they didnt speak French. I wondered if she thought I was a heathen dressed in spandex and was glad when she smiled at me. Sattalite dishes looked like strange additions to their mud and brick abodes but I figured they had been exposed to worse on TV.
I found the town of Souq and and while waiting in a small store for water saw that they sold salted nuts. The little boy waiting for his father to finish looked at my red face, blonde hair, spandex and the tube extending from my mouth to my camel back and grabed his fathers hand in fear.
The shopkeeper did not know the French for almond or at least couldnt understand my interpretation of it so I ran the man down grabbed his bag and pointed to the nuts and asked for the arabic word. The salt was worth the effort.
I felt well stocked and ready to continue the journey. On a long barren strech of desert I stoped to take a picture of the mountains that had been folded into waves when a truck filled with bottled water, coke and fanta stoped to ask if I was okay. I was glad I did not have to beg him to upwrap his shipment for me.
On the turnoff to the town that marked the halfway point on the grand loop I saw a sign saying Tafroute 49 K and realized that I was at the point of no return. I was going to ride a metric century today or face the alternative of staying in an inhospitable desert.
I felt confidant that I had enough water to go back the way I came because I knew I could buy more and hoped that the next town on the map 25K down the road would have some because if it didnt id be forced to turn around and extend the trip. As I pedaled across the dry stream beds through a canyon I was alone and began to realize that no one was out here to rescue me. The strength of my legs and my mental toughness was all I had to keep me safe. I reminded myself of sufferfest in Las Vegas where Id ridden 113 miles in extreme heat and told myself I could do it. I rested under a tree, ate some cookies and felt strong.
As I rested by the tree I hoped in vain that someone would pass by as the sign in front of me was only written in arabic and a wrong turn would be hugely demoraling and potentially dangerous.
I faced another turn in the road and hoped that the kerin was placed by someone heading in the same direction that I was going. If I could not find my way around the loop and had to backtrack I was faced with over 100 K of riding.
I chose correctely and was overjoyed when an hour later I saw a man working outside and asked him the way to the next town on my map. Athough I still had water from the six liters Id had so far I bought another large bottle and rested in his store and ate more nuts. He told me that it was 40K to Tafroute and 3 hours by bike. I wondered how I would pay for the long downhill into the oasis. I decided to buy yogurt, another water cookies and juice. They were facinqted by the camel pack and I explained to the one who guided in the sahara that we called it a camel bag in french. I still had my wits about me well enough to remeber some vocabulary. I was surprised that no one seemed surprised at my journey. When he said I had three hours to go I thought he might be concerned. So far everyone had thought I could do it. I knew I could.
I paid for my long desent into the oasis with an unrelenting gradual hill in full sun through creekbeds. I made mini goals for myself and decided to rest when I saw shade. I was so tired I redefined shade as a prickly bush and pulled over and sat on the dirt to rest. I knew I was wearing out because I ignored the flies aroud my face and did not at all care what happened to the pretty white on my bike shorts.
I forced myself up knowing that I couldnt just sit all day and dehydrate on the side of the road.
I almost started crying when I saw the thorn in my tire. I cursed myself for not checking the flat repair kit because I knew better than trusting Morrocans for things like that. I pulled out a tube covered in patches and hoped that I wouldnt have to learn how to use a patch kit on the road alone at 113 degrees.
I wondered how long I would have to wait until a car passed that I could pay to drag me home.1000 pumps later I was still on the side of the road thinking that Id pay good money for a CO2 cartridge and wondering just how many pumps it takes a tiny awful handpump to fill up a mountain bike tire. When my PSI was probably around 40 I decided that my legs were stronger than my forearms and that maybe Id make it back the next 30K with a mushy front tire. Just as I got the wheel back on and figured out how to use mountain bike brakes a van loaded down with people passed with a wave probably thinking, incorrectly, that I knew what I was doing.
Moving again felt good and I felt somewhat accomplished for fixing the bike. I thanked God for sending some cloud cover and Sam for his very thourough tire changing lesson Id recieved years ago.
I made another goal. When I made it to the top of the first large hill and could see tafroute in the distance I would eat the cliff bar Id carried with me from Seattle and was saving for emergencies. I couldnt think of a time when a cliff bar would taste better. As I ate it looking over the valley I was very pleased that the next 22K were downhill. Of course downhill after 8 hours on the bike with a front tire with little pressure wasnt as easy as id hoped. After the longest decent of my life I returned home and chastised the bike shop for suggesting that ride. If I hadnt done sufferfest in Vegas Im not sure I would have made it. He didnt seem impressed until I told him it took 11 hours and 8 literes of water. His friend piped in, people dont ride that whole way; they drive to the top of the 22K hill and finish there as well. Good to know.
Laura of course was about to send a 4WD vehical after me and promtly took me to dinner. My endorphin high faded as we ate and walking home was a struggle.
I wont get into details but Id never felt the need to use so much antibiotic cream on my skin, or what was left of it after 9 hours in the saddle and 11 of chamois time.
I went to bed shortly before the sun set thinking that literally all that Id done all day was eat and ride bikes.
posted by Cammie at 2:14 AM
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