Tara, Kuya! (Magic hour, cycling and that wonderful lightness of being)

I had previously backed out of joining a mass ride to the area some weeks back - I just couldn't imagine myself being able to make my way back on a bike along Loakan from the airport area back to South Drive. But the other day, I found myself making my way down that very area, confident that I would be able to make that slow climb back up, no matter how slow.

Past the Camp John Hay entrance, Scout Barrio, that dip before going back up towards Voice of America, and there I was in Loakan. I stop to take a couple of photos of the magic hour light on the road.

I stopped to catch my breath. I stopped to take all that calm in, disturbed every now and then momentarily by a passing car, then it comes back. I took a sip from my water bottle, and then I start pedaling my way back.

It's a gentle ascent, not as treacherous as I once thought it would be. I struggled a little until I was back in the Voice of America area where the road goes into a downhill, flat for several meters before going into an uphill again. I decided, no, I had no choice but to rest my legs for a while before shifting to a heavier gear so I can push the bike faster right before the downhill. And then I heard the unmistakable cadence of someone pedaling a bike right behind me.

In a flash he was right beside me, slowed down and turned to face me with a big smile on his face, then he said with a sideways flick of his head in the direction of the approaching downhill, "Tara, kuya!"

And off he went, arms tucked in close to his crouched body, head down and I watched him zoom down the road...

I finally accepted Sigurd's offer to lend me one of his bicycles to get me started. He was out of the country at the time, but has arranged for someone to wait for me at their house to pick up the bike. I don't know much about bike brands - I know what a BMX is, I had one as a kid, and the ones that are bigger than those and have thicker wheels with straight handle bars are mountain bikes, and that the ones with thinner wheels and handle bars curved downwards that look like reverse bull horns are racers or roadbikes. That's all I knew. The lady pointed to a green bike. It was a green mountain bike. It looked really nice.

We were still staying in Mines View then, down Modesta Street that's so steep most taxi drivers refuse to go down there when it's raining and the road's wet for fear that they won't be able to get out. It took a few more days before I finally donned that helmet and took that bike out for a ride.

There was no way I could ride it out of Modesta riding it, so I pushed it up to the main road and by the time we (the bike and I) got to the top I was already panting and sweating heavily. I didn't look forward to a leisurely ride that first time. The first and last time I biked around Baguio was almost two decades ago - I and my wife, on borrowed bicycles, had to stop around five or six times to make it from the Teachers' Camp bridge on Leonard Wood to the corner of Brent Road (a mere elevation gain of under 30 meters).

Down I went Gibraltar Road, then from the Pacdal Circle I turned left towards Baguio Country Club then up Outlook Drive, supposedly down towards Pacdal Circle again via Mansion House... but wanting to strain a bit less, made a right turn towards Wright Park to just ride around the flat road around the lagoon instead. The image of the climb back up to Mines View via Outlook Drive (elevation gain: just under 40 meters in a less than one-kilometer distance) was not encouraging.

I tore a ligament (MCL) in my right knee some years back, and since I couldn't afford the surgery to repair it nor was I willing to undergo a full year's rehabilitation program, I just took the advice of both my doctor and some friends that the next best thing I could do was to strengthen the muscles in the knee to compensate for the damaged ligament. Biking, they said, was the best option to do that.

I didn't have a bike, so I ran. While I enjoyed running, every now and then I would take a wrong step and hurt my injured knee. So one day, I sent Sigurd, an avid biker who had a bike to spare, a message and I finally went for it.

So after a few rounds around the lagoon I started to feel like a child on a rented trike in Burnham Park, so I decided it was time to make that climb up to Mines View.

That first time and a couple more times after that, I had to stop three times. Then that time when I only had to stop once. Then one day, I finally made it in one go. But I knew I still had a long way to go before this thing, cycling, stops being an excruciating undertaking.

 
Then I was inundated by work, and the rains came, and I stopped again. Then we moved to a new house - down in Tuding, Itogon Benguet. That was over a year ago. I didn't get on that bike again until a few months after we moved - our place was over a hundred meters lower in elevation than my starting point on Outlook Drive when we were in Mines View, and if it took me a few attempts to conquer Mines View in one go, I didn't even believe I could ever climb out of Tuding on a bike. So when I finally got on the bike again, I pushed it and walked the one and a half-kilometer distance from our house to Outlook Drive. The need to walk that far before getting on the bike, not to mention how tired I got after that I hardly had the strength to go very far anymore, was discouraging, so I stopped again.

Then several weeks ago, I gave it another a go. I got on the bike and pedaled my way up the road - one and a half kilometers, elevation gain of a over a hundred meters = five stops, including walking the bike up certain areas that was just too steep for my middle-aged legs. I kept on trying. One day there was no more walking, and there were fewer rest stops.

And then it happened, unbelievably - I conquered the Baguio-Itogon Road from Tuding to Outlook Drive in one go, no walking, no stops, and I didn't finish up my bottle of water during the climb. I'm far from being an Indurain, but I was so proud of myself. That was a feat, and it was encouraging. On my next bike ride, when I got to the top without stopping again, I felt that I had more energy to keep on climbing so I turned towards Mines View and climbed the extra 40 meters or so of elevation gain and nailed it.

The next couple of weeks had me planning out routes around town. I also started biking to meetings and other errands I needed to do in town. I loved the workout riding gave me, and the freedom that came with being the engine of the means of transportation that brought me to where I needed to go. Parking was not a problem - you lean it against a railing, padlock the chain, done.

I got an odometer to track the distances I covered and the time it took me to cover those distances. I also got a rear rack for luggage so I could bring with me small things I needed for work - notepad, pen, phone, an extra shirt. One time I found myself in the middle of town towards noon and realized there was no lunch at home, so I went to the satellite market on Engineer's Hill to buy grilled fish and some vegetables, tied the bags securely on the rack and made it back home in time to steam the veggies and cook some rice.

About a week ago, after checking the weather forecast which said some 30% chance of 1mm rain, I decided to go for a ride. I was gonna farther than I've ever gone since I started riding again. From the usual 15-kilometer average that my South Drive-Loakan-Camp John Hay route covered, I planned to cover around 25 kilometers from Tuding to Bunrham Park to Naguillian Road up Quezon Hill down Tacay towards Pinsao on to Trancoville then up Leonard Wood then back to Tuding.

It started raining when I got to rotunda at the top of Kennon Road, so I stopped under the flyover to let it pass. 1mm only, Accuweather said. It'll pass. It did let up after a few minutes so I rode on only to get drenched as I got to Burnham Park. I stopped at the Melvin Jones Grandstand for a while and when it stopped raining again, I was so sure that that was it, so up I went towards the Baguio City Hall, then to Naguillian Road and then the climb up Quezon Hill. Again, the rain started as I was nearing the top of the climb, so I took shelter in a waiting shed and only continued riding down Tacay Road when the downpour slowed down to a drizzle. I reminded myself to get fenders/splash guards as I felt the sprinkling of water coming from the tires on to my legs and my face. I stopped for a while again somewhere in Trancoville, and then again under the Teachers' Camp bridge as rain had become much stronger making it difficult to see. I watched the torrent of muddy waters rushing down the creek, obviously, Accuweather got its forecast very wrong that day. It was already getting dark, and while the rain has slowed down a bit, it didn't look like it was gonna stop soon, so I got back on the bike and just rode in the rain.

Forgot to turn on the tracking app when I left, so the first 7-8 kilometers of the ride wasn't recorded 

It was just me, on a bike, the cold wind and rain in my face, water splashing against my legs, I was drenched and water squeezed out of my shoes when I pushed hard against the pedal, the twilight and a faint hint of some sunlight shining somewhere far, but not here, here everything was blurred out by the rain, I hear my breathing, and the rhythm I played on the pedals...

"Tara, kuya!" With that smile on his face, what I heard was come on, let's fly together! You can do it! I found myself shouting back to the rider, "Go ahead!," I thought I'd take my time. But watching him zoom down that road made me pedal a little harder and soon I was zooming down myself, found myself tucking my arms close to my body too, crouching lower... it was exhilarating. When we reached the bottom of the downhill where it plateaus for several meters before going into a climb again, the rider looked back and flicked his head towards the uphill road ahead and started pedaling hard, I slowed down. Really, not yet, not today, I thought... go ahead.

I looked to my right and part of the Camp John Hay unspoiled yet by hotels, tacky white mansions and call center buildings glowed in the magic hour light. I pulled over to the side to take a sip of water, and take it all in...

A bend in the road and the rider was gone from view, and I thought that maybe, one of these days, I'll join one of those group rides that this club regularly organizes. But for now, I'm liking the solitude that riding offers and the freedom that comes with that solitude. For an hour or two, there are no deadlines, no graphic layouts to finish, voice-overs to record, papers to write, scripts to be re-written, clogged drainage pipes to de-clog, bills to be paid, meetings to get to on time... no distress... no heartaches... no roles I haven't had the chance to portray, nor stories I never get around to telling... just this beautiful liberating dance between me and the bike on Baguio's winding roads where my mind flies.

And then the ride ends, but before it does, I play this one song on my earphones... at just the right moment so it serves as the final soundtrack to the final stretch of a beautiful moment...

...then that last downhill ride from Outlook Drive down to Tuding, that's when I truly soar.

I stop at our gate, get off the bike, and heave a happy sigh... I hope it shines tomorrow.