I had many small failures, as one does, on any trip. I ordered a stupid tourist frozen food item at dinner, bought too much non-alcoholic beer, said the wrong thing to the person I was trying to engage in conversation.
But, I had two major failures, both involving loss, I will have to flesh them out later when I have more time, but here is a first telling.
Sunday, 4/7, I took my longest ride. I went out to the surfing restaurant at Zavial. I have been there many years and indeed have had some of my most enjoyable conversations with other diners. Last year I rode out to the general area but was smart enough to call before riding the last hilly miles in and found out they were not yet open for the season. I had an interesting lunch instead in the town at the head of the exit to Zavial from the N125 but this year looked forward to actually making it down. I suffered. I met a great group of older women on electric bikes and could not keep up. I had to walk my bike more than once, but finally made it. No great lunch companion but a nice dinner.
I am not looking forward to the ride home. I am already tired. I have even been walking my bike up some small hills! Again employing some such walking I make it back onto the N125. I suffer my way up to the road that leads into Boca do Rio. Proceed in, This is the valley I talk most about. It is my favorite place in Lagos and one of my favorite places in the world. I have decided that even though the hill out of Boca is a monster and will require a lot of walking, taking this “inland” route, which is the same as what I have just come out, is preferable to the up and down torture of the N125.
I pull over by the small bridge crossing the river. Park my bike and get ready to enjoy a little rest and appreciation of nature.
There is one VERY small difference. Only the most decering would notice the thin gray straps on my shoulders. They hold up the backpack. I go to get out my binoculars. Wait for it… The pack is not there. No, I have not put it next to the bike. It just is not here!! Could I have taken it off other times on my way here from the restaurant when I stopped to catch my breath? After many moments of contemplation, I come to the conclusion that it is most likey back in Zavial. I have been so consumed by the pain of the journey that I have never notices the lack of burden!
Soooo. I correctly conclude that the next step is to call the restaurant and confirm. I have my phone, it travels in the pocket, right pocket always! of my 3 pocket biking shirt. The challenge is to operate it. My idea is to use Google Maps to show Zavial and then hopefully I can see the name of the restaurant and either click on it there or use google to search for it and come up with a phone number,
I won’t go into a lot of detail here but I have eye problems. I can see to bike fine and even drive but reading and seeing screens is another matter. My special glasses and headlamp are in the pack. I have tried to set the phone more to “hard of seeing” but I really do not have it completely working. After not even being able to see Zavial on my phone’s map, I approached a single man who had parked by the river. He spoke English! Turns out he was English, Understandably, he was more than a little reluctant to get involved with this crazy old bike rider.