Wheels of Fortune: The last days of Blue Steel

Tuesday 21st May - Friday 24th May

The last days of Blue Steel were but few. I counted them from the day I decided to hang up my cycling boots - dirty old sneakers in my case - to the day I left Guadalajara on a bus. From that day, my bicycle would cease to be Blue Steel, and go back to being simply an old, blue, steel-framed mountain bike.

One of the big parks in GDL.

I rode the streets of Guadalajara, more than a little pensativo. I wasn't just giving up a bicycle, of course, I was giving up the way of life that came with it. Or at least, the one that had come with it for me. That may sound a little hyperbolic, but bicycle touring, as I hope I have at least partially shown, really is something else. Not just a mode of travel, nor a type of experience, nor adventure alone; it's both much more than these, and hardly these things at all. I think it's better described by where it takes you, and its effect on you, than anything else. Of course, this is also a very individual thing, and so ceases to be a useful description, beyond one's self.... I'm going to stop myself there. You get the idea.

What I was giving up was only half of the equation, and the more self-centred half. What I was leaving behind also bothered me: namely, the supplies I was taking to my chosen charities in Guatemala. This had become a somewhat defining motivation for me; to get the vitamins to Primeros Pasos and the spare parts for Quetzaltrekkers. What was I going to do? Just give that up? It felt a lot like failure. Probably because it was.

Taking my mind off failure with Gothic architecture in Guadalajara

One of the old gates to the city. Say what you want about the Spanish, but they did things with style.

So I did what any self-respecting quitter would do, and rationalised it. It was easier than I thought actually. Basically, it would be quicker, cheaper, and more convenient to simply post the supplies to Guatemala. So why not do that, and buy my ticket home? But that was not the point, I thought to myself. It was a little more symbolic than that, being an AngelMule, and this role had become central to the idea of the ride. And it still did not sit well with me that I had set out to do this thing myself, and I was giving up.

Perhaps it was during the via recreativa, perhaps some other time, I'm not really sure when, but at some point I realised that it mattered less how the gear got to Guate, more just that it did. And it didn't need to be me who delivered it - anything else was just my ego talking. It occurred to me that I was staying with a group of travellers, some of whom were bike tourists, and that I could simply ask someone else to take the gear to Guatemala; someone else to carry the torch. After all, AngelMule and OpenVolunteer were both born of and subsisted on good will. It made sense.

I found that someone else pretty quickly. Christian was an Argentinian guy, and another bike tourist at Casa Ciclista. He had been touring for many years, supporting himself purely by selling arts and crafts that he makes on the road. Amazing that he could do that! Christian readily agreed to take some things to Guatemala. He had plans to stop over at San Cristobal de las Casas in Southern Mexico to wait out the rainy season, but after that he was planning on cycling through Guatemala.

Via recreativa: some of Guadalajara's main roads are closed for a few hours every weekend for pedestrians and cyclists to enjoy.

Christian agreed to to carry the torch. This was not his reaction (no cyclist likes extra weight, no matter how little), but I like to imagine it so.

Christian at work. He cycles with all this gear. He makes small pieces of woodwork.

Having had resolved this dilemma, I felt much more relaxed about it all. In fact, when I thought about the goals I had set out for myself (you can see them above), I realised I had nothing to worry about. I had gotten caught up the details.

Things moved quickly from this point. I gave away my precious cargo, my gear, and my bike, to my fellow travellers and bike fans, and I was ready to leave.