Today was probably the day we were most worried about. Only three days out and Gene would be riding
through some of the most barren, arid, sun-beaten desert we’ll pass through on
our whole trip. And even more
distressing, there was that forty-five mile stretch between Brawley and Palo
Verde with absolutely nothing, not even a rest stop, for him to get water.
He had the bladder, which holds a liter, filled with ice and
three large water bottles. But the way
he’d been sucking down water on the first two days, we knew they’d never last
the whole stretch.
We carefully planned.
He rose early to beat the desert heat and was on the road by
5:45am. We were to follow at 7:15am so
we could catch up with him around the thirty mile mark, after about two hours
on the road, with three gallons of water and a cooler full of ice.
Imagine my panic when we awoke at 7:45am, a full half hour
after we were already supposed to have left!
The kids ate breakfast while I loaded the van, but it still took me 45
minutes to get us all out of the hotel and driving down Route 78.
My stress level built with each mile of deserted sand dunes
and each hour of unrelenting sun that had passed since he left. The only thing we went by was a Border Patrol
checkpoint, where the guards held back their contraband sniffing dog and
assured us that my husband hadn’t looked dehydrated when he’d gone through
there forty-five minutes earlier.
I breathed a sigh of relief but raced onward nonetheless,
picturing him hallucinating and heading out into the desert on his bicycle to
wander aimlessly until finally succumbing to the heat and leaving us to find
his bleached bones months later.
I’m very good at creating vivid doom-filled fantasies.
When he finally appeared in our windshield view, there was
much cheering and gathering of cold water bottles.
We jumped out of the car expecting an exhausted and
water-craving man. Instead we were met
by good spirits and the information that he had plenty of water because he’d
found a small place to refill his bottles, and his bladder was still contained half
its icy water.
I was both relieved and disappointed at the same time.
I mean, if he didn’t need us today on this most grueling of
rides where hydration could really mean the difference between life and death,
why were we here? We were supposed to be
his support team, his link to water and sustenance, his spirit lifter when it
all seemed too much for him. Instead he
was well equipped for all the obstacles that had come his way so far –
mountains, desert, long distances, heat.
I’m very proud of him for how prepared he is for this journey.
Now I need to find my purpose and reason to be here.
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