If all events had unfolded as originally anticipated, the World2 Tour would have reached its conclusion sixteen weeks before now, some time in the middle of June, 2021. Despite my usual predisposition against modifying any publicly-stated plans, there had always been a possibility that the Tour, at some point, would be shortened by an unknown amount, if I felt that its accomplishments up until then had been sufficient. In fact, during the first year of the Tour the likelihood of that actually happening often seemed to be increasing, as I was not always sure that I would continue to be as committed to continuing for the intended duration. However, the now-familiar global disruptions that arrived in March of 2020, which I have already written about on several occasions, suddenly intervened in my decision making process with regards to the immediate future, as they had also done for everyone worldwide. Therefore, almost before I knew what had happened, the Tour was reorganized, and with its ultimate destination being closed for almost two years, and counting, its continuance was significantly extended, by default. While that resulted in a considerable amount of confusion, a certain amount of logistical mishaps, an unwelcome decrease in cycling distance completed, and, most notably, a significant budgetary overrun, there were also some silver linings around that minacious cloud. Primarily, I would then have the opportunity to see certain places that I never expected to visit, observe some unanticipated sights and creatures, and, in general, experience a number of things for the first time in my life.

Two days before I was scheduled to leave Guam, destined for other islands in the western Pacific region, I indeed was a participant in certain occurrences that were heretofore unexampled during my reasonably-long life. My first ride in an ambulance. My first stay in a hospital.

These followed yet another first for me, one that I certainly would have preferred to avoid. So far during this century, I have ridden a distance of well over two hundred thousand kilometers, with a substantial additional amount in the last decades of the previous interval. Throughout that period, I can only count a few instances where I unexpectedly lost control and impacted the surrounding pavement, all of which occurred while I was living in a location with areas of substandard cycling conditions. Those few events, while all less than pleasant, were basically low-speed mishaps that caused only relatively minor bumps and bruises. Some years ago, I endeavored to make a list of all the major hills and mountains that I have ridden over during my cycling history and was quite surprised at how many entries were included, probably close to one hundred, with a certain number having been added during this Tour, of course. It was definitely a reassuring thought to consider that all of those fast descents had passed without any troubles whatsoever. However, as I have said in the past, when a particular activity takes place continuously over a long period of time even low-probability events will eventually occur. In this case, that was, therefore, what caused my recent troubles, specifically, my first high-speed crash.

Compared to all of the mountain descents mentioned above, this occurrence involved a terrain condition that was totally lame, almost embarrassing. On the morning in question I was returning from an overnight visit to the southern tip of the island, utilizing a road that was in excellent condition and was one of Guam’s only quiet examples. With all day available to cover the mere forty-six kilometer route, my plan was to take it easy and make a few stops along the way. At the start of that section were a couple of small hills, the largest of which only involved a two hundred meter climb and descent. There were several sections of that hill that were quite steep, however, and, after spending some time stretching out beneath a relatively uncommon shade-producing tree near the summit, I was distinctly enjoying the cooling breeze produced by that speedy descent on an increasingly hot morning.

The relevant section of landscape appears in the StreetView image shown below, though in real life the normal viewing angle created a somewhat more ominous appearance. Immediately prior to that location I suddenly noticed my course drifting inexplicably to the right. I instantly realized: Uh oh...Feeling dizzy! There are a few possible reasons why that circumstance may have manifested itself at that particular moment, however I will save a discussion of those until another post to be written after the end of the Tour. The subsequent microseconds went like this: Need to compensate...Uh, nothing’s happening… This is not good!!, as I continued to drift right, towards that uninviting cement culvert, which was, in reality, significantly deeper than it appears in the image. Though I was light-headed, all of my senses seemed to be operating and almost instantly my next perception was dropping down into the culvert and the rapid approach of that perpendicular cement wall, which, unsurprisingly, led to the thought: Oh, Shit!!! I remember seeing my front wheel about to hit the wall, and then my last recorded impression was hearing the sound of the impact, which, somewhat oddly, made me think: That didn't sound the way I expected it would. The subsequent consequences occurred too rapidly for me to perceive them.

Two weeks later, once the bike was back in my possession, and after I had a chance to look at my GPS data, I was able to examine the damage to myself and my equipment and do some forensics on how the event had unfolded. The graphs shown below display the last few seconds of that morning’s ride. What was instantly infuriating to me is that I hadn’t realized at the time just how close I was to the base of that relatively unimpressive hill, with just a few meters left to lose over another fifty to one hundred meters of travel before things settled out. So if I had been able to hold myself together for just a few seconds more, nothing, or at least something less severe, would have happened. It is also seen that the roadway at the location in question was quite straight, further verifying that my light-headedness was the primary cause. Nevertheless, the road conditions at that point were enough to create significant unpleasantness just moments later. My maximum velocity in that vicinity was about fifty-five kilometers per hour, just prior to the impact site, at the red marker on the map and the vertical black line on the graph, and seconds later, with sixty meters left before the point of impact, I was still at about that speed. By the time I started to drift, at around the last twenty meters of travel, I had slowed slightly, but only to the low forties, and at that velocity crossing that final distance took less than two seconds. The impact, of course, brought my velocity to zero almost instantaneously, but since the GPS records an average velocity over a short distance, the time required to stop fully looks longer than it really was.

Fortunately, my body took the brunt of the damage and, somewhat surprisingly, the bike avoided any catastrophic impairments. Of course, it did not escape entirely unscathed, and that meant that I would need to manage a set of repairs while stuck in a relatively remote area of the northwestern Pacific, and not in a good condition myself. Thankfully, being a US territory, shipping items to Guam was generally reasonable, though not as fast as I might have preferred. Upon impact, the front wheel came to a stop right at the cement wall, and the rear end of the bike, with all of my gear attached, rotated upward about the front axle, rising up to about the two o’clock position, before falling back down and settling back into an upright position in the culvert.

Two components were the most visible and critical of the subsequent damages. Both shifter levers impacted the pavement just beyond the wall, and were totally demolished. In the image below, the various levers and parts of one set, pointing in several directions to which they normally shouldn’t be, reveal their permanently inoperative status. The model of Campy levers I use are several years old, and while I have a few sets in storage with the rest of my belongings at home, those are currently inaccessible to me. However, it was not very difficult to locate a NOS replacement set online. Before the crash they were overdue to be replaced anyway, so I was not particularly upset about that loss. A more bothersome situation was that the fork was also essentially destroyed, or, at least, not worth trying to repair. I was able to locate a mass-produced equivalent with similar specifications online, which would get the bike moving again while I have my original framebuilder make a new replacement sometime during the next few months. However, obtaining that part was typically annoying. I thought it would be faster to buy one I saw listed as brand new on eBay, but when it arrived a couple of weeks later I discovered that someone had already shortened the steerer tube beyond what would be appropriate for my bike, making it useless for me. A second version, purchased from a more traditional online store, arrived later on, which actually did the job properly. Beyond that, the only other damages were a small dent on the front rim, which was relatively simple to remove, and its rear counterpart being knocked severely out of true. I was able to get the latter wheel back to a reasonably good state, but since it had been starting to show its age before the crash I decided to replace the rim anyway, just to be on the safe side.

As far as my condition was concerned, the situation was certainly not pleasant. When the back end of the bike rotated upward, I went in the same direction, with angular momentum being conserved, of course. The initial impacts with the pavement were made by my chin and left forearm just below the elbow. The former broke my jaw in three places, and the force from the latter traveled upwards and broke my left shoulder. Additionally, at some point, a blunt-force impact hit my right thigh, which did not rip my almost-worn-out shorts, but thoroughly crushed my quadriceps.

The lack of any new scratches on my helmet of any kind—even the flimsy snap-on Sun visor did not detatch—indicates that I then bounced into the air, to an unknown height. At the same time my shoes had unclipped and their momentum had my feet continuing forwards, so, at some point, my head was just above the ground, while my feet were pointing up into the sky. After the briefest of intervals, I again impacted the ground, flat on my back, with my feet pointing away from the bike, not sliding or rolling, whatsoever, but coming to an instant stop on the pavement of the entryway to the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses. My thoughts shortly after mainly focused on the fortunate circumstance that no one had been in the area recording video with their phone at the time, a somewhat unusual situation these days. For, if they had been, my comically-acrobatic crash would probably have lived on via YouTube, in infamy and indefinitely.

Two surgeries, and two months of convalescence later, both the bike and my body are in reasonably workable condition, though I must say that the bike is slightly ahead in that process. My damaged thigh was initially the most debilitating, keeping me from walking more than a few steps for a while. However it healed on its own fairly quickly, though in fits and starts. The most unpleasant aspect of that whole period was having my jaws wired shut for over a month, necessitating an all-liquid diet, which had me feeling very atrophied and anemic.

Time lets nature repair itself, though a little assistance may be beneficial, of course, and so by now I am beginning to feel that it is time to begin to restore my level of fitness a little. That is fortunate, because nothing could possibly be more distasteful to someone like me than to have a long Tour, even though it had already been completely disrupted and revised multiple times, end unceremoniously with a D.N.F. after crashing out. Shortly, I will move on to one of the neighboring islands, one to which I had previously planned to travel to, which will hopefully be a place that is quieter and less developed, and will provide me with a few choices of pleasant routes for short rehab rides. Furthermore, if there is any conceivable benefit to having to suspend the Tour for over two months, it is that, after seemingly interminable closures, one or two neighboring countries, which had originally been important destinations near the end of the Tour, apparently now have near-term plans to allow some vaccinated visitors to enter again. So the long, unanticipated, delay may yet allow me to actually make visits to those compelling places after all.

The Sun also rises. If I can get myself slowly rolling again, and if one or more of those destinations does become available, I should be able to bring the World2 Tour to a more appealing close. I would certainly prefer that.