Puro Pinoy

The climb up to Hamburg road is absolutely beautiful when it's shrouded in fog. I pull over to wait for the rest of our group. One by one I see riders breaking through. Ambiguous and almost imperceptible at first, then suddenly, the shape of a helmet, arms, and handlebars. "Hoy, malapit ka na sa toktok," I offer encouragingly, "konti na lang." I can barely get the words out myself with my teeth chattering and my muscles shivering uncontrollably. I've been on rides where the air temperature was much colder, but with my clothes completely soaked, I'd never felt so cold.

Tagalog always sounded funny to me when it's spoken on the trail. In my mind, it's reserved for big family get-togethers where it's usually spoken through mouthfuls of lechon and between draughts of San Miguel beer. It's rare that I find myself with a big group of Pinoys out on a ride, but there we were at the Watershed in the pouring rain-- a big group of eight including six PISSERS and two Pinays (both also PISSERS).

Everyone in the group were Watershed virgins, except for Rickyd and me, who are Watershed whores. So with the bad weather conditions we thought it would be prudent to introduce them to the more beginner friendly trails in the area, e.g., the suicide rocks next to "Little Canaan" and the "Death March." All in good fun. Despite the obvious suffering, the cold rain, slippery sharp rocks, and a close encounter with a speeding truck in the fog, everyone made it home alive and probably had fun too. Oh yeah, we almost lost Gina on the last leg back to the cars. After a search and rescue mission by bike, and later by car, we found her and all was well.

Sige na mga kasama, magkita tayo ulit.