Day 4 Stats:
Distance = 64.88 km
Elev Gain = 1,091 m
Time = 4h 24m
One of the toughest days, was day 4, but my god, was it beautiful. It was mostly off the main road and would cut from the coastline to the mountains for most of the day, zig zagging between the two. There were a lot of instances of hike-a-bike on very slippery, muddy ground, but despite this it was still really beautiful even though I would curse quite a few times whilst trying not to slip and fall.
Ultimately I would fall. Roughly 4 kilometers (2.5 miles) from La Isla. I was riding along the cliffs to the north, a beautiful view to my right, people out and about walking their pets or just enjoying a nice day out. I wasn’t going fast and that was partly the problem I think. I lost concentration for just a second and the next thing my front wheel went into an overgrown hole or rut and I went over the handlebars. Luckily I landed fine and wasn’t hurt. I could not say the same for my bike. Of course it would fall on the drivetrain side and my rear derailleur would be completely bent. F**k! Just what I need.
I hobbled my way to La Isla with a busted derailleur and atrocious shifting because of it and about 400 meters from my Albergue, shifting down the derailleur it shifted into my spokes. I wrestled the chain out from behind the cassette, dejected, frustrated at myself and the situation. Would this be the end of my trip? 4 days in? The town didn’t have a bike shop and the next town that did was 22 kilometers (14 miles) away.
I waited for the Albergue to open and just sat there on a bench trying to call some friends back home so that I could just talk to someone, but no one was available and that made me feel even more alone if I am honest. So eventually I called my mom. Mom’s are the f**king best and of course she answered. I just needed someone to listen to me rant for a moment so that I could figure out what to do next.
The next big town/city was Gijon and my destination for the next day. I figured I would ask the man that runs the albergue if he knew someone in town who could give me a ride the following morning. Unfortunately he wasn’t of much help and said the best bet would be Villaviciosa that has a bike shop. There was no way I was walking to the next town with a busted ass bicycle. What do I do? I had checked into the albergue, had a shower and then at some point before walking to the grocer it hit me.
Tomi! I went on to Instagram. Tomi, from La Pindia had followed me on Instagram, so I immediately messaged him, hoping he would reply and he did. He shared about 6 profiles, of people he thought would be able to help me. I messaged each and every one. First I got a reply from Pedro, who said he was walking on the beach and if I could give him an hour he’ll get back to me. Great! Something. Hope.
At this point I had walked to the grocer to go and get some food supplies to make myself something to eat. A little bit of stress eating perhaps. I am not sure. Then I received a reply from Ele a.k.a. Elena. She had a friend that could quite possibly help me and she was checking with him AND I was in luck. They had their bike rack in the boot and if he couldn’t help, she and her partner Jurgen (whom I also messaged, not knowing they are dating) would drive to come and rescue me. An hour later they arrived. I told the albergue operator to keep my money and give the bed to someone else who may need it that evening.
I was completely overwhelmed with emotion. How did these complete strangers just drive out of their way to take me back to their home town? Like who am I even to receive such kindness and grace? Two strangers became my greatest friends for a short period in time.
I couldn’t fathom asking Ele and Jurgen to also host me for the evening, so I paid for a private room in a hostel. It was nice to have my own space for an evening, but it was not worth the money. Loud neighbors made sleep not THAT comfortable, but luckily again, having the earplugs helped me out a lot.
Ele suggested 2 or 3 bike shops that I could go to the following morning to ask if they could get me on the road again. After I had checked into the hostel and collected my bicycle and luggage from their car, they asked if I wanted to go for a cider. I was in the Asturias region of Spain and cider is part of the culture. (Editors Note: From Wikipedia: Since it is natural and bottled without gas, it produces a weak carbonation, and when Asturian cider is served, it is poured in a particular way, el escanciado: the bottle is held above the head allowing for a long vertical pour, causing the cider to be aerated as it splashes into the glass below. After drinking most of the content, it is customary to splash a little out onto the ground, as a way to clean the glass of any lees for the next serving. Traditionally, the same glass is refilled and passed around, with everyone drinking from it in turn).
Afterwards we went to a different bar closer to the hostel as well as their car and had another beer each. I offered to pay and they said no. I offered to pay for the transport and they said no. Again, just thinking back to this now I am tearing up a little bit, trying not to cry on my keyboard. Their kindness was just too much. Afterwards I gave them each a big hug and they were on their way and so was I.
I went for a little walk along the promenade, had some Pistachio Gelato and sent a very emotional voice note to a friend back home. Looked at some people taking photographs in the shallow waves along with a few other onlookers and just once again marveled at how fortunate I was to be standing in Gijon when just a few hours ago I felt completely defeated and helpless.
Strangers can be friends is what I learned on this day. And I don’t think I can ever say thank you enough to Tomi, Elena and Jurgen. I am eternally grateful.