A Transcendent Day

Haujaupan – Nochitlan, State of Oaxaca, Mexico

For the past forty years I’ve been a cross country ski racer. I love ski racing. There’s something about it – how alive you feel when you’re out there – pushing your body to the limit. You’re competing with the people you’re skiing with, but, more than that, you end up with a sense of camaraderie with your fellow skiers and the whole experience is almost spiritual. 

Of course, to achieve that feeling you need to train a ton beforehand. It doesn’t just happen – you have to put the time in so that when the race starts you can really push yourself to your limits. Otherwise it’s just a ski – and probably a painful one at that . . .

I guess we all strive for feelings like that in life. Some people get it from meditating. Some from yoga. Some from cooking or camping or paddling. Some get it at church. Doesn’t matter. 

The point is that those moments of transcendence are precious and few. You don’t achieve that feeling every time you race. Or every time you meditate or paddle or go to church. But we’re all willing to keep at these things – because we believe that we might reach that state where you forget yourself, you forget your troubles, you forget about your mortgage, and whose turn it is to make dinner or take out the garbage. You lose yourself in the moment. And the moment is all that matters.

One of the great things about this trip is that those moments have not been rare. Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like one big continuous acid trip or something (I guess I really wouldn’t know because I’ve never done acid, or, really, any other mind altering substance other than a little alcohol – I’m just too straight-laced for that stuff). I mean, yesterday was not exactly transcendent. Just a long slog without any of those truly amazing moments.

But today, now today was a different story altogether. I’m not going to try to describe the scenes. Words can never do justice to that feeling of awe we all have in those moments. I’ll just say that when you’re heading down a mountain – and the world stretches out before you – and you don’t have to pedal or do anything but breathe it all in, it’s pretty magical. 

Of course, those moments don’t last long – and there is about a hundred-to-one ratio between the effort and time of the climb and the time on the descent. But it doesn’t matter. All the effort is worth it just to achieve a moment or two like this.

And, like I talked about in the ski races, it’s pretty special to share those moments. Pretty sure moments like those have brought Diana and I even closer together. 

Alright, that’s enough mooshy stuff. Point is that, while challenging again, it was a pretty special day. 

On a more practical level, one of the other elements necessary for these great moments is food and water. I know we talked about how much elevation there was yesterday – and the scenery wasn’t as nice. But, in retrospect, I think there was another problem as well.

The day started with Frosted Flakes. That’s right, that terrible sugar-coated cereal that gives you maybe a five minute rush before sending you into the depths. You see, the town we were in didn’t have a big bodega – just all these little convenience grocery stores – like the one where we had to check in at the hotel. Let’s just say that there is no fancy granola at these places. I think the choice was Frosted Flakes or Cocoa Pebbles. And, despite what Tony the Tiger says, they’re NOT great . . .

So that didn’t help. And then, later in the day, we were kind of caught out on that long climb at the end of the day with no supplemental lunch or anything. Ran out of water. Ran out of calories. By the time we reached five-mile-hill we were not only in oxygen debt, we were in calorie and liquid debt as well.

I say all this because Diana pointed out that we actually climbed almost as much today (5,600’) as we did yesterday (6,000’ (in my delirium I had this number wrong yesterday)). The difference – other than the beautiful scenery – was, I think that we did a much better job eating and drinking today.

Another little side note here. Learning our lesson, we stopped at a big grocery store (one of the Walmart-run places that are pretty common here) this afternoon. As we stood in line we observed the grocery carts of a few of the other shoppers. Both big families with several kids and babies riding in the carts and hanging around. Dr. Liu was a little appalled by the contents of the carts. All processed foods. No fruits and vegetables. No granola. Juice boxes. Three-gallon tub of ice cream. Ramen noodles. Hot dogs. Soda pop. Our sense is that there is some pretty great Mexican food for sure – tacos, enchiladas, mole, etc. – but the average Mexican diet is probably not lending itself to moments of transcendence in the mountains.

More like a giant public health crisis. I guess that goes along with the financial condition of these families. But it’s tough to see the American-ization of what used to be a pretty amazing diet based on corn and grains and native fruits and vegetables.

Changing gears, one of the other benefits of a trip like this is the time you have to think . . . As we’ve been biking through the mountains I’ve been thinking about Montezuma (the leader of the Aztecs (Mexicas) before the Spanish arrived) and his forays to Oaxaca. As I understand it Montezuma and the Aztecs took over Oaxaca at one point. 

I mention that because as we’ve been biking from Mexico City to Oaxaca I’ve been thinking about how difficult this must have been. I mean, you couldn’t catch a quick flight. And before the Spanish arrived no one in North America had horses. The only option? Walking. Or, I suppose, running. (The book Born to Run – a good book that I read a long time ago – talks about a tribe in Mexico that could run forever. Maybe they were assigned to attack Oaxaca?)

Either way, it’s about 300 miles. And it’s not like there was a paved road. Nor could it have been easy territory to walk through. Presumably Mexican civil engineers used sophisticated mapping to find the best way through the mountains. The Aztecs were undoubtedly following whatever path they could – through cactus and mesquite and bushes and brush. And I’m guessing they didn’t have proper hiking boots and there were very few taco stands along the way. 

Which reminds me of something else I’ve been meaning to mention. Since entering Mexico we have seen zero deer. Zero! No feral pigs. No other mammals of any size either – except for domesticated animals – dogs, cats, cattle, goats, sheep, horses, donkeys, etc.

Maybe there was more game around back then. But the point is that this journey from the Mexico City area – where Montezuma and the Aztecs were based – to Oaxaca – must have been brutal! 

Five days for us on bikes on paved roads – with bottled water and taco stands along the way. I’m guessing at least two weeks to go this distance on foot – without any supplies. 

They must have really wanted the land and people around Oaxaca. Crazy. But I guess they have great mole in Oaxaca. So I suppose it was worth it . . .

Or maybe it was the cool oasis type places along the way that made it worth it. We found a nice creek today – with water as refreshing as Lake Superior (is there snow melt around here?).

Okay – I wanted to add one proviso on yesterday’s MS 150 story. For years I’ve been unclear on whether I was ten or eleven when we took that trip. I guess I just assumed that I was eleven because it seems like a long way to go for an eleven year old, let alone a ten year old. 

But a month or so ago Diana and I watched the movie The Champ – with Jon Voight. We mentioned this to my Dad, and he asked if I remembered seeing the movie on that bike trip – the night we stayed in White Bear Lake. I don’t have a great recollection of that – but this fact helped solve the age riddle. Because The Champ came out in 1979 – and I was born in 1969. 

So there you go. The fact that my Dad brought me to see a somewhat age-inappropriate movie (lots of adult themes) on that bike trip conclusively proves that I was ten when we went . . .