One Little Boy
Experiences at the Gran Premio de Guatemala
4 stages across 2 weekends: 13th - 21st March 2004
by guest writer Shawn Bega
Saturday, 13 Mar 2004
Saturday was the greatest mountain I ever climbed. 10 km time trial and over 1000 meters uphill towards San Andres Semestabal. Midway through, the trees cleared on the right side and across the vast span of the Lago Atitlan, 2 volcanoes smoked ominously while directly below me, over 600 meters down, was the city of Panajachel where I had started. I took 20th overall and 11th amongst the internationals, out of the points of course, but not disappointing in anyway. I had never raced anything like this and surviving gave me a deep satisfaction. Besides, the winner, Luis from Guatemala, failed to double time me which I thought he would. Sunday was a lap race, and I knew riders would drop at the restaurant that marked the start/finish. Longevity might mean something tomorrow, and I can ride forever, even if it's slow.
Sunday 14 March 2004
On Sunday we raced through the cities of Panajachel, Santa Catarina Palopo and San Antonio Palopo. 22 km per lap with rolling mountains: "sprint" climbs that rose 100 meters at 15% grades. Santa Catarina Palopo was entirely cobblestone. 20% grade with 2 switchbacks into the village and about 15% grade out. Of course, we had to do it both ways. The entire village screamed cheers at us as we rode by. On the climbs out of the village, the kids would run next to us. I had the same conversation over and over.
"Hola"
"Hola"
"Cómo es usted"
"Bueno. Usted?"
"Bueno. Gracias."
While I was slower than some others, riders kept abandoning after the laps, satisfied with the mounds of food at the finish line. Beer, coffee, wine, and vegetables like you wouldn't believe: enormous squash and fruits just picked from the trees in the hills. I kept going completing 3 laps (the race was 4 but I got lapped, so my race was over mercifully after 3). Stevie from Zurich had stopped after 2, but when he saw me continuing, he got back on his bike. It had been over a decade since anyone had to do an extra lap to stay ahead of me. My pride was swelled enough to last well through a small boy from Santa Catarina Palopo pushing my bike for me as I walked my final time out of their village. I eventually finished 11th overall and 5th amongst the internationals. That actually put me on the board with points in the international classification, meaning I'd at least win a t-shirt at the end of my time here.
The week between.
Monday I stared all day at a volcano waiting for it to erupt but it never did. Wednesday I rode to a hot spring fed by the volcano. I won the chili cook off Thursday night. There was a debate as to whether I would get race points for it. A volcano erupted for me early on Friday. Most scary and fantastic thing I ever saw. I believe it's the same volcano we ride up on Saturday. Racing on Saturday is uphill again: I'll take it as easy on the climb as I can and just try to preserve myself for Sunday, the supposed "flat" stage. Sunday could be a good day for me to do well, so I might let it out a bit if the "flat stage" doesn't get too steep.
Sat, 20 March 2004
15th today on the climb to Solola. Brutal climb with extraordinary views. The winner averaged 8.9 mph on the climb. I averaged 7.4 mph including the descent back to Panajachel. I stayed with the second group until the 18% grade that went for about 1000 yards and stayed with the third group until the 20% grade that went for just about a full mile. Finished alone but strong. Did the right thing - once I fell off the 3rd group I settled down and just rode as easy as possible up the mountain. The entire contingency is totally spent, but I'm actually feeling ok I think, but tomorrow will tell for sure. Tomorrow I'll try to hang with the front group as long as possible. There are only a couple of real sprinters here, so with a lot of luck, maybe I sneak in to the top 10. It's possible though that the pace will be too fast up the "sprint climbs". No one is really sure what the terrain is but the Guatemalians say its flat. We're not too sure if we believe them.
Sun, 21 Mar 2004
So Sunday starts off with the entire race taking a boat across the lake and doing a group ride around one of the Volcanoes. We then took another boat to the start line (we'd need a boat to come back to Panajachel after the race also). The race started relatively flat as promised, and I stayed with the front group over the first climb: a mere half mile at about 4%. The second climb went about a mile at 6%. I fought hard to stay close and caught the group on the descent following. Excited now that this might really be a good day for me as I sat on Luis's wheel, we came to the bottom of the third climb. I actually laughed out loud as I realized what flat meant. The climb ahead was 2 miles at 8%. To the Guatemalians, anything under 10% is flat. Now falling off the back and in danger of being stuck between the first and second groups, I struggled gallantly to stay with grupo primero. It was a fatal mistake and by the fourth climb, I was in the fifth and final group and struggling to stay with them. But it was the descent down after the fourth climb that changed my day.
Near the top, now riding alone with maybe only a few stragglers behind me, a little Guatemalian boy on a beat up bmx pulls up along side me. He talks to me for several minutes but all I can muster back is "si si la carrara bicicletas. Muey bien gracias". He laughed and at the top of the hill called for me to chase him down the descent. Showing off for me, he barreled down the mountain at over 50 mph. I sat a good 100 feet behind him, not really wanting to keep up at that speed. And then it happened. He tumbled, hitting the ground and bouncing 6 feet up before landing again in the bushes.
A ton of thoughts flashed before me. The officials telling us not to stop for an accident, the locals will turn on you if they think you are to blame. The police can arrest you. There is nothing you can do anyway. Gringos are not trusted and they will think I killed this pore little boy. Move on. Banditos will rob you if you stop. Needless to say, ignoring all advice, I stopped. I pulled him out of the bushes. There was blood across his entire body and his head had a gash 4 inches long. The rest of the race rode by, not even seeing us. Or maybe I was last already. Maybe I've already missed that Guatemalian, the friend of Inez who followed us every day on the motorcycle. Maybe I've even missed Navid, riding left handed and taking pictures with his right. A pickup truck came down the hill and I threw my body into the street stopping it. 20 Guatemalians jumped out. They started questioning the boy. He was screaming, but they didn't really care. They wanted to know if I was to blame. Then I heard the words distinctly. "No no no, gringo es bien, el es mi amigo". They turned to me and let me continue to comfort the child. The driver tore off in the pick up and in mere minutes retrieved the police. Again through the screams. "No no no, gringo es bien, el es mi amigo".
I tried to find where they were taking him, what his name was, but the police just told me to vamos up the road. I got back on my bike and took off. With only 3 miles to go, but now alone, shaken, tired and hungry, it seemed like an eternity until I finished. Knowing something must have happened (I was 20 minutes behind the last rider), the officials were just about to come look for me as I pulled into the finish. 30 Guatemalian kids rushed me welcoming me to their little town of Santiago Atitlan. I got off the bike and broke down into tears amongst them.
An hour later as we were getting onto the boat, the police who had driven off with my injured friend came screeching up to the dock. They spoke to the officials and then came to me. In broken English, one cop explained. Juan was fine. major scrapes, but nothing broken and was resting at home with his father. He lived just around the corner from where he crashed. He hoped I was having a good time in his country and that I would come back. He was embarrassed that he had fallen on his own mountain, and was sorry if he
ruined my race. I gave my jersey to the cop and he promised to deliver it to Juan.
By the way, despite my last place on Sunday, I finished the 4 stage Gran Premio de Guatemala 8th in the points amongst the internationals. I won a t-shirt which is proudly displayed in my trophy case next to items received for much better placings, but not greater accomplishments.
by guest writer Shawn Bega
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