The night we left we began to look for a place to stay as it got dark. We pulled over to a side road and searched for a place to camp. A couple was walking down the road so as I struggled to pick up my bike which had fallen over from me stopping, Danny asked them if they knew of a place. “Si, si,” the woman responded. Right behind us was her mother’s property. They helped us lift our bikes over the fence and led us back to a protected area, saying if we needed water or anything to let them know. Once they left, we looked around. It was almost too good to be true. They left us in the most perfect camping spot I have ever slept in—soft flat dry ground, shaded by trees, protected from sight.

We immediately questioned whether it was a good idea to trust what had just happened. Remembering an experience of my mother’s, I looked around for poison ivey. Finally we decided it really was almost too good to be true.

Danny and I set up camp and de facto established the roles that would remain for the rest of our trip together. Danny got to work on his greatest need—food, and I on mine—warmth. These remained our priorities, so the roles set in. I had a dream that some kids ran by our campsite with water guns. I followed them to find a full public bathroom with showers and all. Exploring a little further, I found a whole YMCA. It turns out that the couple had also told us that there was an outhouse on the otherside of the property that I came across when I was looking for a place to go to the bathroom. It really was the full deal.

As we left, they offered us water and chatted with us for a bit. Just a wonderfully generous family! We got back on the road, and continued in the most unbelievable headwinds.

Then reality set in. We were still by the coast, but rather than scenic and enjoyable, in the overcast grey sky, the beach became my enemy. I assumed it was the source of the winds and couldn’t wait to get away from it. A huge gust of wind wiped my bike out in the middle of the road. Terrified, I threw the bike to the side and mangled my knee as the bike twisted around it. I discovered the night before that I couldn’t physically lift the bike myself with all the gear on it, so stopping generally meant the bike would be on the ground. Falling meant that there wasn’t much I could do about it. Before falling in the road though I was already working through my regret about my decision. Collapsing in the road though was too much—it was truly life threatening. It was clear that I had gotten myself into too much. And now I was stuck. I could turn around, but Danny and I had mixed our gear up. And I had a bike. I was going. I sat in the wind on the side of the road and cried, partly from the pain in my knee and partly from anger at myself. And the day had just begun.