The first day was largely uneventful, thankfully. I ended up dragging Bob through 50 miles of which the last 10 were excrutiatingly painful, mostly because I wasn’t aware the front pads were rubbing the brake disc. I spent the night in Ponce, where I managed to score a Couch Surfing host at the last minute. So no camping needed; real bed!

The second day I had no such luck. I rode the longest 25 miles ever.  All uphill. I went from Ponce to Villalba, all the way to the outskirts of Toro Negro, which unbeknownst to me is right smack in the middle of the highest peaks in PR. And when I say peaks, I mean peaks. None of this Colorado sissiness where hard gradients are 5%.  I’m talking 10%+. I’m sure the civil engineers who designed these roads couldn’t design a slanted sidewalk in a place with snow.

And yes the Bob weighs like I would imagine carting around a guy named Bob would, if you had to drag him uphill all day. At 3 hours (mostly) uphill, I decided to call it quits, when I realized the only
convenience store was all there was until the next mountain pass (ok, they’re not mountain passes, but with Bob slowing me down, they’re a lot harder than the Boulder molehills I did last summer).

So here I am in Divisoria, which is technically Orocovis despite what Villalbenses say. And I must say, good old traditional Puertorican values are alive and well in the center of the island. I am in make-shift
gas station that also doubles as convenience store, bar, restaurant, cafe, dance club, casino, and meeting place. This is what I envision Cheers would be like, if Sam would’ve ever gotten around to
diversifying.

Here mothers still bring their kids for alcapurrias after school (ethnic for deep fried treats), grandpas buy shots and beer for their grandchildren, dad’s train pool sharks posing as 15 year old girls, and most importantly, store owners let complete strangers camp in the cafeteria terrace
after hours.

Edwin, the store owner and empire manager for the entire Orocovis/Villalba frontier owns the cafeteria, gas station, bar, convenience store, rental cabins, and apparently half of the 12 houses
in all of Divisoria. The man is a credit to capitalism, and kind soul to boot. He has not only let me camp here, but has poured me endless cups of (free) coffee, stuffed me with all the leftovers from the cafeteria, and has given me enough financial advice to fill a senior level accounting textbook. With a man like him at the helm, Lehman Brothers would’ve never folded.

Yano was worried about this trip, mostly because of the exaggerated crime rates in Puerto Rico (well, and my propensity to fall off of bikes face first). But as I expected, the farther you get away from the coast, the kinder and good natured people are. I’ve been fed, clothed, given extra blankets, and given a kick ass (mostly) water proof roof to shield me from the 60F rainy and windy weather up in the middle of nowhere.

Welcome to “La Cordillera Central”, where at my current average in the mountains of 4mph, it may take me until June to get to get back home.  Yanory better hire a taxi  when she arrives on Monday.