Life in a different culture
Today I tried to jump my bike over the gutter onto the footpath. I almost made it… but I didn’t. The back wheel landed on the sharp edge of the gutter and left me with a square rim. Some stomping on my wheel, removing the brakes, and careful riding ensured that I was able to return home. The bike however, as you can see, needed to have a new rim sewn in before it was back to normal again.
The lesson from this? Jump higher and longer. 🙂
The successes, and failures, of trying to fix an expensive video camera with the wrong tools.
Looking for illegal software, riding a broken bike, and racing against time. Things did not start out looking so great, but I was very surprised at what I discovered.
I crashed my bike today.
The bike path that I take from our YWAM base to the township of Madryn, and the new road.
Riding to town I always take the small trail that leads through the big open spaces and weaves amongst the Calafate thorn bushes to get to the edge of the city. Recently the city started coming closer to us, with a new street freshly cut through the open land. It also cut directly across my trail.
Each day there is machinery working on this new road. The other day they dug a deep trench beside the road to lay water pipes, leaving large mounds of dirt beside the trench and the trail impassable. The next day it was filled in, but mounds of dirt were still there, and it was these mounds of dirt that caught me out today.
The new road cutting through my bike trail with the mound of dirt that “got me.”
I carried the bike over the first time. I should have carried it over today too.
Maybe it was the super soft dirt that kept filling my shoes when I carried the bike over. Or perhaps it came from one of those fond memories of my mountain-bike-racing days when I could make it over anything without getting off the bike. In any case today, instead of slowing down to get off, I sped up intent on getting over that dirt mound without stopping.
But I stopped. Suddenly.
I had not considered my made-of-every-cheap-part-you-can-find bike that was propelling me, nor had I considered that the loosely dumped dirt may be full of Calafate thorn bushes with their strong sharp spines. It also came as a surprise to discover that once I reached the other side of the dirt pile it gave way quickly to a hard surface that had not been there the last time I came past.
My bike went down, and hard. I followed quickly after it.
I was falling, with my feet clamped to the pedals – a great system except for moments like these. Somehow though I managed to escape the clutches of those pedals and the certain doom they spelled. With difficulty I lunged forward, over the rapidly sinking handlebars. My feet clumsily searched for a landing, hitting hard with the weight of a falling body behind them. Suddenly my knees give way, and I am on way way down into the Patagonian powder dust that rises to meet me in an impenetrable cloud as first my knees and then my hands thud heavily into it.
I had survived.
I turn around and pick up the bike to move on. It doesn’t move. A second attempt does nothing to convince it.
The buckled wheel, now partly fixed but needing much more.
Looking down, the wild buckle in the front wheel reveals the problem. It is bent wildly out of shape. The buckled wheel refused to even move through the front forks. Reaching a clearing I turn the bike upside down to work on it and hear the unmistakable hiss of escaping air. There was more than just a buckled wheel that would need to be fixed.
Wherever I go with the bike, under my seat are most of the tools necessary to fix it. Today I would need most of them.
Two large thorns protruded from the front tyre. Pulling the first one released a stronger escape of air. Pulling the next one allowed the now partially deflated tyre to deflate completely. It was like watching a balloon poked with a needle.
The buckled wheel proved a problem. Even after pulling every trick in the book to try and coax it back into shape, after an hour of work it remained a wildly wobbling mess with no front brakes. It was the best I could do. At least it now spun. After fixing the holes in my tube and pulling yet another deeply embedded thorn from my tyre I am ready to go. Climbing on to ride the bike reveals yet another problem. The forks have been bent back so much that the front wheel hits my feet as I pedal.
Fixing the mess that I had made of the bike.
Walking out of the local bike shop, I now have new forks and a new front wheel in my hands. This crash just cost me almost $100 pesos. The next time I will carry the bike over and put up with the dirt in my shoes. It will save me both time and money.
In this case, stopping was wiser than going.
I imagine that You are probably already informed of the volcano in
Chaiten, Chile that is currently in eruption. Well this smoking
mountain is only a few hundred kilometres from me on the other side of
the Andes Mountains. We have been fine in Bariloche, escaping the
ashes until today.
Today they have arrived. Instead of snow, ashes are floating down over
the city and environs, covering everything in sight. This ash affects
everything it touches, destroying some things, polluting others, and
clogging up the rest. It affects breathing, hinders road transport (my
current concern), stops flights, and closes down the city.
Right now I’m in Buenos Aires, with the hope that I’ll be able to
return Sunday night. Buses to our neighbouring city of Esquel were
cancelled while the ashes were falling. The situation is very
changeable so it will be the day before when this becomes clear.
Not only is it the ashes that may cause travel hiccups but for the
next 9 days farmers are blocking the mayor traffic routes around the
country. They are striking against government control over what they
can grow and export, and also to ask for higher meat prices.
During their talks with the government, when communication breaks
down, they take to the main routes and block traffic. Their main
target is the trucks, but as a result there can be large delays,
exceeding 6 hours.
So for now I continue working on fixing up this old house. My work
involves covering doorways with plaster board, building a mezzanine
floor with stairs and handrail, and helping calculate the materials
needed to finish the work here.
The work is extensive, with rendering, painting, repairs, and many
ceilings yet to be done. With only one week here, my work will be
focused on the most urgent things, that need to be done before people
can occupy this place. Already the bathrooms and kitchen are mostly
finished and usable, with hot and cold water. The rest of the work
will be finished once they are living here.
That’s my lot. Take care and have a great day.
Well, I should really be moving right now, but thought it was worthwhile sending off a quick message to you to let you know that within an hour I will be hurtling along in a double-decker luxury bus on the way north to Buenos Aires. The purpose? To fix up an old house that will be used by the Counselling ministry arm of YWAM Argentina. This house needs ceilings, floors, and divisions. Although the work appears to be much more than we can do in just one week, that is all the time that I have available to give them. This is part of the Mobile Hands ministry that I have mentioned before.
So with a nail-gun in hand, and lots of energy, we will be knocking over as much as we can possibly do during this time. There are others coming from other parts also for this time. And when the week is over, we all head back to where we have come from. So I get to return to Bariloche, a town that is very easy to fall in love with for its beauty.
Well, enough said, I need to make sure that I am on that bus. Have to go right now.