Wind and shoes

A friend of mine was asking for bike advice. We spent the past week communicating on what type of bike she should get and what to look for. Just this weekend, she purchased a new bike for herself. There were some kinks to be worked out in that process: rude customer service in one bike shop and an uncomfortable saddle when she finally rode.

But then she told me about how refreshing it was to be on the bike, to have the wind run through your hair. And oh, how I missed that feeling.

Review: Larga Commuter

I had the chance to test the prototype of Larga's new commuter pack. It's a roll-up bag with 2 major pockets for your clothes, laptop, or shoes and one smaller pocket for smaller items. The material for the major pockets are fairly lightweight and I love the double zippers. Unfortunately, they aren't waterproof.

Review: Larga bags

One major consideration when planning a bike tour is choosing what bag to bring. If you were to look at bike touring blogs and cycling specific online shops, there is a huge range of options to choose from: rear and front racks with panniers, frame bags, saddlebags, handlebar bags, bike trailers, etc. etc. Time and location are two major factors when choosing the right bag. Traveling a remote area over a period of several months would usually mean carrying more things than a highly populated week-long trip.

Test Ride: Banaue - Sagada

It was drizzling when we arrived in Banaue. The streets were quiet as we set up our bikes for the ride to Sagada. The mileage was fairly reasonable: a total of 60kms. But this was the Cordilleras. There are no reasonable kilometers in the Cordi.

Trumpets and Rain

Happier times earlier that day

I fully expected a hero's welcome in Siem Reap after biking 150kms that day: trumpets sounding, people cheering upon our entry into the city. What we got instead was a downpour. Our first downpour of the trip.

I looked up at the sky and said, "Seriously?" 

Eight Hundred Kilometers Later: Siem Reap to Surin

National Highway 68: The Road to Uncertainty

November 9, 2013. There is this newly paved stretch of road from NH6, about 52kms after Siem Reap. It's so unknown that if you search for it in Google Maps, the road stops and leads to nowhere. This was the road to the Osmauch/O'Smach border of Cambodia, which would lead us to Surin, Thailand.

A few kilometers on NH68, I felt something snap from my bike. The shock made me lose control and I ended up crashing into Pen. We both fell on the side of the road. Luckily, neither of us were injured. LA, who was pedaling behind us, saw the whole thing. My pedal detached itself from the crank! He tried to remedy it as best as he could but the bearings were frozen stiff. I was afraid that if I clipped myself on again, another crash would be imminent, so I removed the cleats from my left shoe.

The aftermath of our crash. LA is trying to fix my pedal, while Pen looks on.

Eight Hundred Kilometers Later: Lists

How difficult is it to write about a two week bike trip across Southeast Asia? Every day there seems to be a highlight of the trip and trying to compress it in one entry seems extremely challenging. Yet creating separate posts for each day pose their own challenges as well. 

How long can I keep this up? Editing pictures, creating infographics and writing half-baked entries that may or may not be posted? It's worth a shot to write something memorable. Or maybe just to sit down and write.

Practical Stuff on the Road
1. Your gadget should have a wordless travel app. Or better yet, pictures of things you will really, really need on the road, like: eggs, water, ice, toilet, guesthouse.
2. Never cross a border on your own or else be scammed like Pen. She was charged 50,000 dong upon entering the Cambodian border of Bavet for God knows what reason.

Caught on camera: scammed at the border!

3. Tell your bank you're traveling abroad so you can withdraw from your ATM. Otherwise, be prepared for a frustrating process of unsuccessfully trying to withdraw from your ATM or searching for a money changer or a bank that's open on a late afternoon on a weekend. Yeah. Exactly.
4. I don't care what anyone says on how gadget dependent we were. Wifi rocks. Gadgets rock.
5. Do not look at your Garmin/whatever gadget you are using to measure your mileage/kilometer signs. You will go crazy. Especially if your expected mileage for the day is 90kms and you're only on KM 30.

Do not look at your Garmin! You'll go crazy!

6. Instead of taking the Poipet border to enter Thailand from Cambodia, take the Osmauch border instead if you have time. What a hassle-free/people-less experience it was!
7. Get a Brooks saddle. Instead of suffering through saddle sores, and weird blisters from cycling shorts and uncomfortable "performance/racing" saddles.
8. There are always little roadside stores where you can stop for a meal or a cold drink, but always bring comfort food. For this trip, we brought a whole jar of Nutella.

Beer and Nutella were lifesavers

9. Extra clothing is overrated. Doing our laundry became a regular occurrence and big cities always gave us an excuse to shop for clothes.

We spent a lot of time doing laundry. We were so used to seeing each other's undies hanging all over our room.

10. Just put your bike in an effin box. We were confident that airport check-in counters would allow us to roll our bikes in (without any packaging whatsoever) simply because we've done it before. Airports have strange rules sometimes. So to avoid the hassle of nearly missing your flight (or just to avoid the hassle), just get a decent bike box and pack your bike in.

We got away with unboxing our bikes in both Manila and Bangkok but not without endless pleading. Next time, we'll just put our bikes in boxes.

11. Do not take a late night flight out of Manila to HCM. Otherwise, be prepared to sleep outside the airport.

We got kicked out off the airport and spent the night on benches outside waiting for sunlight.

Cambodian Guesthouses Rock.
1. Wifi all the time (except in the tiny town of Samreoung, 60kms away from the Cambodia-Thailand border).
2. Rooms that can comfortably fit 2 queen size beds, huge wooden chairs and tables and still have space for your luggage.
3. Bathrooms that can fit a queen size bed.
4. Speaking of bathrooms, bidets in EVERY bathroom.
5. Toothbrushes in every guesthouse. (Quality wasn't so great though. Every time I used one, my gums and tongue would be scraped raw.)
6. Extra towels and blankets
7. Hardwood bed frames.

Our Gadget List
2 iPad minis
1 iPhone
1 Sony Xperia
1 Samsung Galaxy Note 1
1 Kobo Reader
1 (non-functional) Nokia
1 GoPro Hero 3
1 Lumix LX7
1 Garmin Forerunner 305
1 extension cord
A lot of cables/chargers

How to Keep Yourself Entertained on the Road
1. Tell yourself over and over you can do it
2. Think of new business ventures to topple existing ones
3. Sing songs from the Sound of Music and Disney movies
4. Put your earphones on and listen to your iPod (er, not recommended)
5. Take out the GoPro and ask your companions stupid questions.
6. Daydream..
7. Pray/meditate.

Eight Hundred Kilometers Later

How difficult is it to write about a two week bike trip across Southeast Asia? Every day there seems to be a highlight of the trip and trying to compress it in one entry seems extremely challenging. Yet creating separate posts for each day pose their own challenges as well. 

How long can I keep this up? Editing pictures, creating infographics and writing half-baked entries that may or may not be posted? It's worth a shot to write something memorable. Or maybe just to sit down and write. 

What I remember the most was the nonstop pedaling. The road was so flat most of the time (except for a rise in elevation upon approaching the Cambodia-Thailand border), there was barely any opportunity to coast/freewheel.

I remember the intense heat as crisp morning air slowly gave way to the burning midday sun. I remember how refreshing it was to gulp a can or a 1.5 liter of Coke. Something I would never do back home but seemed like a necessity on the road.

I remember the children frantically waving and shouting "Hellooooooo!!!" at us as we biked along the highway. At some point, we even had an escort of schoolgirls on their bikes as they accompanied us for a few kilometers along the Cambodian highway. I remember wanting to return every greeting but there were some days when we were so tired that the simple act of waving or shouting a greeting back took so much effort on my part.

Schoolkids on bikes were a common sight as they biked and laughed with us along the highway.

Where in the world did we get the discipline to wake up everyday at 5:30am, have breakfast before 7 and be on the road before 8? We would pedal until the midday sun would scorch us, then we would stop for a snack or a meal, and then pedal again until the afternoon. Our rides the first few days would take us to a town by early afternoon. The last few days of our ride however meant long afternoons and sunsets on our saddles

Teresa Experiences

There was something different about my bike. For several years, I had tolerated its slightly bigger-than-me frame, with my back and arms stretching forward. This position never bothered me during long rides, maybe some back pain, but nothing too uncomfortable. Downtube shifting took a while for me to master but I liked the vintage feel of it. It felt clattery and bumpy, especially on poorly maintained roads, but on long rides, I knew it wouldn't let me down. All in all, I had grown to love this old road bike with all its imperfections. 

Today was different. I could feel the chain struggling to hit the gears. I could feel the bearings slowing down and I felt like I was in a more stretched out position. The strange synergy I felt that nobody else could feel whenever others would ride my bike was missing. It felt... old.

I blamed this all on 2 recent crashes. The first crash was when the car hit me and I had to have my handlebars replaced. I'm now on wider (42cm vs. 40 cm) handlebars and have pretty blue and yello camo handlebar tape on. My second crash happened a few weeks later as I descended a hill with a flat front tire. As I braked, the wheel slid out in front of me and fell facedown. Thank God again for my helmet. I ripped my pants and skinned my palm. In the few seconds that I lay there, I already felt the bruises forming.

What was wrong with me? Was I biking too much? Was I taking too many unnecessary risks? Was I becoming complacent in my riding? I contemplated taking a break from riding but I knew that I would only look for it.

But I still rode. However, there was a new sensation. It was fear. I no longer blazed through downhill sections, instead I gripped the handlebars and brakes tightly, imagining all sorts of scenarios, mostly where the bike would spin out front of me and I would get crushed by an incoming truck/bus coming from Teresa. And that was what I felt that Sunday, as LA and I did another semi-long ride (60km~). My riding position was so stretched out and I had to reach farther down my brakes.

LA and I had our lugaw, and as I was explaining my situation to him, I realized my handlebars were all wrong. I thought back to the time the bike mechanics installed my semi-new handlebars and told them to place the brake hoods further down. No wonder I felt stretched out. I was literally stretched out. I was leaning so far forward as I braked that I was off my seat, placing all my gravity on the front part of my bike. No wonder it felt like I could topple any second-- it was only a matter of time before that could actually happen.

Orange-tinted life

As we headed back and went through Antipolo, I felt frustrated as we made our way down. Now that I knew what was causing the problem, I made my way down slowly and cautiously. I was frustrated as other bikes passed me downhill. And turns frightened me, as if I suddenly forgot how and when to brake.

That day was a bit eerie as I felt myself getting stronger uphill (that 3km stretch from Teresa to Antipolo no longer frightened me as I thought it would), yet somehow lost my confidence going downhill.

Rapha Women's 100

(I wrote this thinking I did a century ride as women all over the world were celebrating the Rapha Women's 100. It was only after some research that I realized I did this ride two weeks too late.)

My knee was in pain after several consecutive Saturdays of playing floorball. I desperately wanted to ride the weekend before but my knee could barely make it up the gentle hills of our village. It would be very painful trying to make it up Antipolo. 

As is always the case, every time I say "No" to a ride, I always wish I said yes. If there's anything that biking has taught me, it can make anything better, even throbbing knee pain. It might seem counter-intuitive to give your knee more pain by subjecting it to a 100km ride.

So this Sunday, I resolved not to say no again, despite the nagging knee pain and despite not putting enough mileage the previous weeks.

A 6:30 call time turned into an a 7:15 ride as LA and I couldn't wait for our friends any longer. My lack of training showed as I felt the familiar discomfort of going up Antipolo--

I could write all day about how physically unprepared I was for this ride. But the truth was, I was excited to be there. Just feeling that familiar discomfort and welcoming the heavy breathing, the hot sun, the sweat streaming down, and the burning pain in your legs were like old friends. Friends that you haven't seen in a long time and there is that initial awkwardness of strange hi's and hello's, then you relax and hit that familiar stride of meaningful conversation.

We hit Pisong Kape in about 2 hours. The flats that I dreaded after the Teresa downhill were surprisingly tolerable, helped in part by the tailwind. Shortly after, Cess, Dennis, Luis and Morris arrived, after setting a blistering pace from Masinag to Pisong Kape. Lugaw and egg will always be the best post-race reward.

Waiting for our post-ride meal

Bike friends, old and new.

The backs of friends

As we headed back, our group started to dwindle little by little. Morris forgot the turn to Teresa, Luis took a wrong turn from Antipolo and LA got a flat somewhere between Antiplo and Masinag. By then, midday was approaching and the sun was out in full force. It seemed as if every time I tried to get into a good rhythm during the ride, there was always an interruption. I headed back home solo just in time for lunch with the family. And just like that, another century experience in the bag.

Monsoon Season

I used to avoid biking in the rain. It was a hassle being caught in the rain without the proper rain gear. I'd arrive in school/office/wherever dripping wet, without the proper change of clothes and just feeling absolutely miserable.

Unfortunately, the only other option was commuting, which seemed like a horrible alternative. It was impossible to get a ride in rush hour, traffic is horrible, jeeps are impssibly hot and stuffy, MRT crowds are pushy and impatient. In other words, it would be a miserable experience.

But I always knew that every time I'm not on my bke, I'd look wistfully out the window at some biker in the rain and wish I was out there, dripping wet and all.

So I made some adjustments. I got myself heavy duty rain bags (a Timbuk2 messenger bag and an Outdry backpack), a lightweight waterproof rainjacket and carried 3 extra sets of clothes with me.

Except for wet butt and striped back moments from the rain spray, wet season became my friend. I cleaned and regreased/oiled my bike more often but I didn't shy away from the rain anymore.

Until my wet butt and striped back started to bother me. I want to arrive in my destinations with a nice, warm butt. I needed bike fenders. Unfortunately, the pretty bike fenders online were expensive and I didn't want to wait 

So, I searched for bike fender tutorials. Bike hacks and instructables gave me some inspiration, and my friend gave me the suggestion of using plastic folders as fenders.

On one rainy Wednesday, I rummaged through old school supplies and found an old plastic folder that I could use. I made some rough measurements The result was 2 flimsy pieces of plastic that I attached using zip ties. They are ugly to look at and look extremely flimsy, but guess what, they did their job well. My butt has now remained rain-free the past few weeks.

Plastic folder fender prototype 0.000001

Bent then broken

The crash was painful. Seeing this was a painful reminder. 

Not enough bikes

Add caption

Crash

Early morning ride. The reason why I brought this bike that day.

The bruises have almost faded now. A few deep and dark bruises near my knee were the only evidence that I was hit by a car. Hard.

I was approximately 200 meters away from my destination. And from where I was I could see the car at a standstill. I proceeded straight ahead, yet he somehow must not have seen me as he went straight ahead too. I tried turning away from him, but by then it was too late. The right side of my body smashed into his car and I hit the asphalt painfully. I felt my head bounce several times and for the nth time, I prayed and thanked God I had my helmet on.

This isn't the first time I've been hit. Over the past five years of bike commuting, I've been hit by wayward doors, jeepneys, cars and even a truck that tried to squeeze me out of the road. I've carried my bruises like proud battle scars or accessorized them with a sheepish grin when the accidents were my fault.

This, however, felt different. Perhaps it was the way my body felt as it hit the ground. The impact was more forceful than any crash I could remember. For a few moments, I thought it was an extremely serious accident, since I couldn't move any of my limbs. As I lay on the asphalt and tried to ignore the gathering crowd, I listened to my body and knew that I would only have a few bruises.

It took me longer than usual to get to my senses. All the anger that I was supposed to throw at the driver dissipated as I lay on the ground trying to recover. Several helpful individuals assessed me quickly, checking if I had a concussion or asking where there was pain.

I couldn't stand on my right foot and I was brought to the infirmary. The x-rays showed I had no broken bones but I was shaken up inside. I was unable to get the driver's contact information and I only had his plate number as my reference.

Wheelchair at the infirmary. 

What shook me from my dazed state was seeing my handlebars all bent out of shape. It really had to be the classic road bike. This is one of the reasons why I got a cheap single speed bike-- for moments like this. I shook my head at the irony.

A more aerodynamic handlebar position?

The next day, I took public transportation to all my destinations. Yet I found myself staring wistfully at all the bikers that passed by the vehicles I was in. The day after, I was back on my bike.

I'll never know what will make stop biking. Or even why I continue to do this. I feel like I am a smarter and more careful biker than I was a few years ago. The sad part is (and this goes for motorists in general), no matter how careful I am, it doesn't matter if there is one wayward driver.

Summer nights

The summer heat has been unbearable the last few weeks or so. It's been quite impossible to go out on long rides just because thinking that the day will be scorching takes extra energy.

Then unexpectedly, I received a text. "Want to do a sunset ride?" It was a Friday and I had no other plans that day and for the weekend. I would gladly take any chance I could get to squeeze in a quality ride that did not invlove Manila's streets.

"Just one thing. It's a sunset ride up Shotgun."

Gulp. Despite my extensive riding experience (well mostly within Manila), I've never biked up Shotgun. I've gone up the Wall, I've ridden the trails of Maarat, and I walked/hiked Shotgun, but I've never gone up there by bike. There's always a first time.

So late afternoon we set off from UP and headed to Timberland.

I could quickly see the perks of riding late into the afternoon. The cool afternoon breeze (something sorely lacking during the day) was refreshing. It helped that as we went up, the road gradually disappeared into the night, so I had no sense of incline or of distance. All I knew at that time was to put one foot in front of the other and to listen to the steady pounding of my heart and my heavy breathing. Like the sunset, the city life gradually faded into the darkness.

 The road wasn't an easy feat. We were the only bikers heading up but similarly, motorcycles and dump trucks were heading up as well. I felt the hair rise up on my arms every time a dump truck passed us, always a silent prayer on my lips that we'd be safe.

Some of our rest stops along the way to watch the sun disappear.

By the time we reached the top of Shotgun, the trucks had freaked me out so much I couldn't think of going down that same route.

Halo belt. We watched the city lights flicker on.

"Let's go through the trail. That will take us back to the Wall."

You're crazy. But what choice did we have? The trail was fairly easy, may be a quick 2-3km stretch of dirt road, with occasional singletracks. I could imagine that this wouldn't be difficult at all during the day. But it was late, maybe 7 or 8 pm? Even with our headlamps and bike lights on, the trail was still rather demanding.  At one point, during a very short downhill, I had to unclip just because I felt a really nasty semplang coming if I pushed on.

We finally made it to the Timberland gate without any harm but with my nerves all shaken up. Thankfully nothing serious or paranormal happened. So would I do this again? Well, we ended up back there the following week.

Rustic Mornings, Marikina

Because this quaint little garden/house is such an appropriate stopover after a hard morning on the hills.

Instagramming everything

Coffees and bikes. They offer 1 free refill for every cup of Americano.

Pinterest-able!

Homemade longganisa

Banana nutella sandwich with a side of potatoes

Rustic Mornings by Cafe Ysabelo, Marikina

Easter

It was a short ride. I had a birthday and Easter lunch to attend to. But a late night text was enough to prep me for today's ride.

It was a short ride. We spent a lot of time talking about bike touring plans, bike gear and gossip.

hipster socks

It was a short ride. A lot of twisty, single-track downhills, and steep uphills, where not enough bwelo will send you falling. 

It was a simple ride, where we had most of the trails to ourselves and we found ourselves turning this way and that, never minding where we end up, but always finding our way back. We appreciated the fresh morning wind that's a rarity these days because of the summer heat. If our ride was any longer, we'd suffer under the midday sun.

Biking Dawn

The plan was for the department to meet early in the morning to avoid the traffic rush, head to Tagaytay for breakfast at Bag of Beans, then drive to Nasugbu for some R&R. My plan was to wake up extra early that morning and bike all the way to Nasugbu.

Whenever I ride solo, I never wake up early enough. That day was no exception. I woke up a bit late and had to rush out the door. I didn't want to be too quick on the road though--there were too many trucks at that ungodly hour.

The Daang Hari stretch kept me on my toes as the lack of street light was freaking me out. I had a quick breakfast stop (which seems to be a popular bike hangout, as evidenced by the bike racks SEPARATE from the motorcycle parking), where I watched the sun peek through the dark.

The past few days have been hot and humid, where I would wake up with my sheets drenched in sweat. The Cavite/Aguinaldo Highway route was a welcome change from the heat;  the cool wind was refreshing company. It felt like Christmas all over again. Unfortunately though, Aguinaldo Highway was deceivingly uphill and and I felt my strength sap away as the morning wore on. My patience was being tested. And I wasn't used to solo long rides anymore so motivation to keep me going was wearing off.

I hit the Tagaytay rotonda at almost 8am where I made a phone call to my officemates. Just my luck. They just hit Tagaytay and were on their way to BoB. I pedaled onwards, stopping only to take a picture of this monstrosity that was threatening the Tagaytay scenery. Ugh, you are not the good guys.

Thankfully I made it to breakfast with the colleagues where I ended up eating the remains of my colleagues' plates. I wanted to bike Tagaytay-Nasugbu since it was all downhill but I think I would get to the beach too late to enjoy it. So regretfully (not really, just save it for another day), I packed my bike in the car and headed for some much needed rest and relaxation.

Like-minded individuals

A few days ago, I attended a friend’s event in Makati where a mix of mountain bikers, weekend warriors, hardcore bikers and bike commuters were present. I made my way through the crowd and found some familiar faces. We started discussing how differently we viewed transportation in and around Manila. Ever since I started riding my bike, I rarely take public transportation if I can avoid it. It was only recently that I took the MRT again. The long lines, cramped cars, and the non-intuitive directions left me feeling disoriented. Granted, there was a welcome change: no longer did entering the ladies’ carriage feel like a stampede; instead, there were lines on either side of the door to facilitate entering and exiting.

Daily passengers may laugh at my ignorance. Ganun naman siya talaga ever since eh. How could I have forgotten? Yet it is because I take my bike with me everywhere that I have forgotten. And that I see transportation in Manila from another perspective. When I’m on my bike, I’m in control. I control my speed, the roads I take. When I commute, I am hampered by my lack of decisions. I get dropped off because this is what the jeep/fx/bus/MRT dictates. I am at the mercy of my fellow passengers who dictate the pace of the travel. I am at the mercy of my pocket, which decides if I shall commute or say, screw it, let’s just take the cab.

On the bike, the possibilities are endless. I could choose to do a u-turn, take the flyover or take the pedestrian overpass. I could stop at the first sari-sari store and get my pan de coco fix or buy pina or buko from the street vendors when it gets extra hot.

This is no advocacy of mine. This is my choice. As much as I want to see people drive less and bike more, I know there’s a certain level of risk-taking and badassery needed to bike here. Our roads are not built for bikers, an urban planner would say. Yet in these streets, daily bike commuters would say screw the rules and do exactly what these urban planners wish for city streets: sharing the road. We just don’t know that we’re doing it.

 Eventually, the conversation topics shifted as the night wore on. I used to think I was alone in ranting and raving about bike commuting in Manila. Lately I’ve seen that like-minded individuals are now easier to find.

Knobbies and Rustic Mornings

We traded our slicks for knobby tires Saturday morning and headed to Timberland. For once, we didn't bike going there but had the pleasure of taking Nokman's car to the entrance. We met up with some UP Mountaineers who were there for a trail running clinic. They went ahead while Nokman and I stayed behind to address some mechanical issues on my bike. What a day for bloopers!

1. I was trying a new set of pedals and Nokman struggled removing the (almost) corroded cleats off my shoes.
2. I suffered a pinch flat within 100 meters of starting the trail. LA had a spare tube that he let me use so that I wouldn't need to patch it up on the trail.
3. Whenever I attempted to shift quickly, the chain refused to cooperate getting caught on the derailleur several times.

Poor Sandy left me frustrated. She's got some issues that a simple maintenance checkup at the bike shop just won't fix. This means upgrade!

We tried  several trails that morning searching for the runners, but unfortunately were unable to catch up with them. We finally saw a text from them, saying they were back at the lugawan.

On the trail 

We left some of the runners behind and decided to call it a day. On the way home, we chanced upon this lovely brunch place called Rustic Mornings in Marikina. Situated across the Johnnie Wilkie bike shop, it was a perfect post-ride hangout.

French toast, hash browns and bacon for P220

Mango waffles

All meat omelette.

Rustic Mornings in Marikina

They're open from daily til 4pm. Then they only accept dinner reservations.

Mid-week

The lady at the Dunkin Donuts counter was surprised to see me. "Miss, di ba every weekend kayo nagbibike?" I was just as surprised to hear this from her, as this was only the second time that we met up at the Dunkin Donuts in Masinag. When asked why we were riding in the middle of the week, I told her we weren't able to ride last weekend and we were trying to make up for it by riding on a Thursday.

Such is how these days turn out. That weekend rides and daily bike commutes are never quite enough and if you do miss a weekend ride, somehow you feel that urge to ride in the middle of the week. It helps that you have company who have schedules as erratic as yours and can afford to give up a few hours in the early morning to ride.

So here we were, going against the daily grind: avoiding swerving vehicles, impatient motorists, rushing commuters, etc. etc. No matter how many times we do this, the road to Antipolo always greets our bodies rudely. Hello there, burning thigh muscles, heavy breathing and pounding heart. Welcome to my town.

We finally reached our destination, where the gradual descent, trees and fresh breeze were more cordial to us. Not surprisingly, we encountered some cyclists (bikers?) who had the same idea. Triathletes were training and hardened cyclists had their morning coffee and tsismis.

Three's not a crowd.

Bike-versations

All too soon, it was over in a matter of 2 hours. We bade Antipolo farewell as the Metro Manila skyline got closer, where the rest of the day waited for us.

A century later

Another Saturday. Another century. Sampaloc-Capinpin route. A supposedly fun ride turned incredibly difficult as the day wore on. The ride was relatively benign and relaxed until we reached the Tanay-Sampaloc intersection. From there, it was a gutty 7kms to the Momarco resort/Bathala Bike Park. We thought our troubles were over but heading to Sampaloc from there was another story: heart pounding, lung-busting, pedaling slowly and looking for that extra gear (literally and figuratively), all the while praying your chain won't snap in the process. We reached the Sampaloc-Marikina intersection just in time for lunch, then headed up the Sierra Madres on the way to Marikina. The "rolling hills" were deceptive after a relaxed lunch, thankfully the cool breeze and relatively free roads made the ride a bit more enjoyable. Things went downhill (not literally, all I remember during that ride was uphill) when we hit Cabading. Those last 1.7kms uphill were incredibly difficult. Reaching Cogeo was a mixed bag. On one hand, it was great to realize we were nearing home, on the other, the traffic and rough roads made for horrible biking. It was a relief to finally hit Marcos highway.

Civia Cycles

Beauty is all around you. Find it on a bike.

Late night reading

Here's a growing list of biographies, how-to's and magazines on two wheels purchased from bookstores in the Philippines and abroad.

Paperback and hardbound

Halo Belt

I got my Halo Belt through a good friend of mine months after it was released on Kickstarter. Night rides have never been more fun with this on. I stuck with the green one and Jojo decided to purchase the red one. I feel like I'm about to start a party every time I have it on.

Halo Belt

 Two gripes: One, the sizing left me feeling a bit confused. It supposedly fits a size 0 women up to 38 men comfortably. However, even at its tightest setting, it still slides off when I wear it like a belt. Then on its most loose setting, it fits too snugly when I wear it around my bag and body. It's a minor gripe though, as there are endless ways to put it on. Second gripe: just because it's so darn attractive, I can't stop staring at my reflection at night!