Goodnight, bad morning

Feb 15th-16th

After pitching my tent at the Red Cross ambulance station, and hearing that the director of the clinic was working that evening, I decided to cycle the couple of kms into town to talk to him, find something to eat, and get some cash. Dr Ricardo Bonilla was very helpful and told me about what they do there in San Quintin, and the minimal resources they run on. It seemed their greatest need was in buying medicines, so I suggested they could list that on Angel Mule, and fingers crossed some travellers could help.

La clinica Cruz Roja San Quintin

After our chat I went in search of an ATM, some tacos, and some wifi. The only ATM nearby was busted, and I didn't want to ride the 5km to the next one, so money and tacos were off the agenda. There was no wifi to be found outside of hotels, even if I had cash. I glumly started cycling back in the dark towards my tent a few clicks away, when I saw a restaurant, and thought they might have wifi. They did. They even let me get a little cash out there, and I was set. The owner, Oscar, came and chatted to me about what I was doing and was really friendly. It turns out he knows the doctor I met not an hour before, because el doctor had tended to his mother in law. Oscar also helped out the Red Cross by letting them use his function rooms cheaply. Things were looking up again.

Oscar went away, then came back after a while and said I could use a spare room they had out the back if I wanted. I said I'd love to, but my tent was already set up at the Red Cross, and I thought they might worry, and that I shouldn't leave my tent alone for the night. So I had to say no, and he said no worries. After thinking about it a bit, I figured my tent should be safe enough at the Red Cross, and besides it was well-hidden out of sight. I also didn't like the idea of cycling back the few kms in the dark. Plus, I had made it a rule to never refuse hospitality, kindly offered such as this. So I found Oscar and said I had changed my mind. He gave me a discount from the bill from my meal (!) and showed me to the room. Things had quickly gone from disappointment to unexpected good fortune. I was grateful for the bed and slept well. It was a good night.

Oscar's restaurant

I got up and found Oscar for breakfast. He insisted on buying me breakfast and we had a good chat. He's a stand up guy. I said I should probably go and check on my things, and thanked him for his generosity. I cycled back to the Red Cross, thankful that I didn't have to do that in the dark the night before. I think I may have actually gasped in horror, and in shock, at the sight of my tent torn open and my things scattered on the ground in front of it. So many things rushed through my mind at that moment - what the hell happened, is all my stuff gone, how could I be so stupid, I can't afford a new tent, is this the end of the trip, etc. That was not a happy moment.

It was a bad morning. Goodnight, bad morning. The Kills had been singing that to me recently, but rarely had it seemed more appropriate.

The horror...

After inspecting the damage, it became obvious that an animal had done it. I had had everything of value with me the night before - passport, camera, phone, etc - but there were still things that would have been stolen, if it were thieves. It was only my food bags that were messed with. Also there pawprints literally on top of the tent. A bit of a giveaway. I had had my panniers with food in them rolled up tight and in the tent, and have had no problems with animals before. However, a dog must have smelled the food, and then it literally tore the front of my tent to pieces to get in and at the food.

Chew toys

So my initial horror was alleviated slightly, knowing that nothing was actually stolen. But the tent was shredded and a pannier was missing. I needed that pannier to ride. Luckily I found the pannier some distance away, a little chewed, and missing all the food, but still serviceable. I was also relieved to find that all my other gear was essentially untouched - clothes, sleeping bag, etc. My foam mat was a little chewed, but fine. The tent was a different matter. Large parts of the fly were shredded, and there were holes in the inner tent. I wasn't even sure it would stand up anymore, let alone be of any use. However, once I showed the guys in the ambulance station what had happened, they went to work with some rolls of tape, and to my delight they managed to patch it up to looking almost like a tent again. The image of the ambos ministering to my tent like a patient was rather amusing.

A now more storied tent.

The team. Legends!

I thanked them profusely, but had to pack up quickly and head off, because it had taken time to fix the tent and find my things, and I still needed to get into town again, get some cash, buy some food to replace the dog's breakfast, and get on the road to El Rosario. By the time I got those things done, and was on my way out of town, I realised, with a sinking heart, that continuing would be foolish. It was already 2pm and at least 60km to the next town with nothing in-between. Normally, I would be confident camping out in the desert, but with a tent held together with tape, if the weather turned bad, I'd be pretty boned. I also realised that I was still a bit shaken up by what had happened. I was pissed off at myself for leaving the tent unguarded for the night, stressed about the possibility of not getting to El Rosario, and still reeling from the feeling, if only fleeting, that my trip might have been over that day.

Mid-brooding, I remembered that the place I had had lunch with Karly the day before was nearby, and that there was an RV park there, where I could camp. At least if I camped there, I could test the tape tent out, and if things went wrong, help would be close. I turned right at the sign for Don Eddie's RV park, and skidded and slid down the dusty dirt road to the west.