Day 8: Shantou to Jiazizhen

Day 8 Totals:  100.76km, 259m, 23.3km/h

On the ferry from Shantou

There will be no Day 9. The ride is done and for the unfortunate reason that I seem to have a bicycle that is unable to withstand repeated, long distance rides. Granted, it is a road bike and not intended to carry heavy weight. But I don't think it's overloaded. I weigh 85kg and I've got about 10kg of luggage, which together represents the high end of average weight for a male my height. So, I don't think the issue is  overloading. Perhaps the problem is cheap wheels.

I left Shantou feeling refreshed and relieved after a day off and having the missing spoke replaced. I took the ferry across the river and started out on some great road, a 6-lane highway with a shoulder nearly a lane wide and with a smooth, easy-to-ride finish. If only I can continue like this for the entire day, I thought.  Wishful thinking.

The route then turned onto a road under construction across which I had to pick a path. It wasn't long before I felt movement in the rear and found I had a puncture, or at least a blown tube.  It had been forever since I had changed one of my own.  I had always lived somewhere with a garage nearby staffed by someone who can do the work a lot quicker and not force me to get my hands dirty.  But I didn't seem to be anywhere near such a place Saturday, so I pulled off the road in front of a row of old houses.  One guy was working out front.  It looked like he was clearing accumulated junk, like old construction materials and other detritus of living, like a rusted bicycle.  I got out my tools (I was carrying a spare tube and tire), set to work and impressed myself by changing the tube and getting the tire reset within 30 minutes.  But as I was tightening the screws of the wheel to the frame, I noticed a bulge where one section of the tire hadn't fit properly under the rim.  So I took the wheel off again, deflated a bit, and got everything right.  I began reinfltaing with my hand-pump when the worst possible thing happened -- the stem broke. Now I had two useless tubes, and while I was not in the middle of the proverbial nowhere, neither was I within easy walking distance of help. Or so I thought. 

While I had been changing the tube, the woman of the house came out and took pictures of the foreigner that had ended up on her door.  She was amiable and even made suggestions about how to go about my work. After explaining my situation, she suggested I walk to the nearest town, about 5km away.  Great.  Do you know anyone with a truck who could take me and the bicycle? And then she had had enough of me and disappeared into her home.  

A petrol station just down the block seemed like an obvious target. Maybe the guys who work there can help, or know someone who can help, or I can thumb a lift from someone who stops for petrol.  I started pushing my bike in that direction and passed a mechanic's garage.  It looked like it was set up for work on scooters and motorbikes, not for bicycles.  I thought at first it wasn't worth asking, but the old man out front made eye contact, so I stopped.  He thought I just wanted air, to pressurize the tube, and set out looking for an adapter.  He even inflated the tube, which just as promptly deflated.  

By then younger members of the family had come to see what was going on and we sorted out the actual problem, the broken stem.  The young man of the family suggested the nearby market, probably the same one the woman had suggested.  I repeated my question about a truck and at first there was head shaking and averted glances, but then the young guy pointed me to a pickup truck parked out front and after getting my bike in, he drove me straight to a bicycle repair shop, where we had to go through much the same drama, though this time the repairman assumed I had a puncture and began preparations to patch the tube.  

When he found out the real problem, he spoke in an agitated voice went inside to fetch his bike helmet, and took off on his scooter, leaving me to drink tea with one of his buddies.  About 30 minutes later he returned with the same tube onto which he had grafted a new stem, about double in length the old one.  Presumably, that was the only length available to him.  Within minutes of his return, the bike was good to go.  He wanted 40rmb, about US$6, and I gave him a 50rmb bill.  He returned 10rmb and though I insisted he keep it, he wouldn't.

I rolled out of town seriously behind schedule but with still enough daylight hours to make my destination, baring anymore problems.  One was coming up soon enough, a long patch of road that was no road at all, but broken concrete, rubble, dirt, and one small patch of mud.  To save my tires, I rode slowly and carefully, trying to avoid the worst and find what smooth patches might be available.  This went on for a few kilometers and probably wasn't as long as it seemed.  

Then I got back onto smooth road and it was easy riding the rest of the way.  Having lost so much time with the tire and the poor road, I was anxious to move as quickly and with as few breaks as possible.  It turns out I made my best average time this day, a combination of motivation not to be out after dark, as well, I think, of having gotten used to the load, as well as having had a day of rest.  

Everything was just great.  I pulled into the hotel in a dumpy little town that I was glad I'd be staying in for only a few hours when I noticed I'd lost another spoke on the rear wheel. I knew right then that was the end of the journey. This little town would not have someone capable of fixing it and I dare not ride a disabled tire that might lose another spoke or two before I got to the next town. I could try to find someone to take me to the next biggest town, but there is no guarantee there'd be anyone capable of the work before Shenzhen or Guangzhou, so I set about thinking of how I was going to get my bike out of here.  

That's a story for the next blog post.  

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