It was another one of those surreal moments as we pedaled onto Santa Monica pier at sunset, having made it down to LA. Whilst waiting for an old triathlon friend now doing a masters at UCLA, we started chatting to a small Mexican guy called Cesar who couldn’t believe that two women could have cycled down from Canada. After multiple photos he invited us to join him for “taco tuesday” the following week…more on that later.
It turned out that Audrey’s old next door neighbours from her Mexican days lived in Santa Monica, so we’d more or less planned the previous two weeks to allow us enough time to hang out with them for a good few days.
Miguel and Mariana were so generous and instantly likeable. We had a fantastic 5 days with them, exploring the contrasting areas of LA and roadtripping out to climb in Joshua Tree National Park which was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Mariana is Mexico’s best female climber and I was in awe of her strength and agility on the rock.
Arriving at the Taco Tuesday rendez-vous point in a darkened park we were met with tattooed, mostly hispanic men, drinking excessively. As the minutes passed, more and more people arrived with an encyclopedia of bikes, from carbon framed racers to BMX.
There wasn’t a woman in sight and we started to wonder what we’d let ourselves in for. But, it was yet another proof that we shouldn’t judge people solely on appearance; here was a multicultural group, united by one aim: to have fun on bikes, avoiding the police in the process.
We pedalled around the streets of LA, music blaring out and people dancing on their bikes we couldn’t keep the smiles from our faces. However, after a little guy called Peanuts had a bit too much beer and flew over his handlebars and landed on his head we decided it was probably time to leave…
The next destination was San Diego, which is where I’m writing this from.
On the way here we had a couple of interesting nights; one night was spent on the floor of a public toilet – it is called a restroom after all and we enjoyed having our own ensuite facilities until we were awoken by the police at 4:30am. That was an early start to our thanksgiving day.
Then after many random acts of kindness by complete strangers we found ourselves camping in a closed campground next to a nuclear power station, Audrey unwittingly erecting her tent in a river bed meaning she was unfortunately yet again defeated by the elements as she found herself floating in the early hours…
And now we’re in San Diego, where we slept in a four poster bed on Coronado, with a yacht floating in the back garden, had a second thanksgiving dinner with our second hosts, and managed to get free tickets, transport both ways and amazing company at an American football game…
but it’s the end of the road for Mademoiselle Mollard and the start of the next stage of the trip for me.
Americans have a bit of a bad reputation back over in Europe but over the last few months we have met some of the kindest, most hospitable, generous people imaginable.
Although I’ve learnt less about other cultures and history than I might have done in a “very different” country, I’ve learnt enormous amounts about myself, my interactions with others, and have had the time to reflect on many aspects of life which I had never before considered.
Audrey is flying back to France tomorrow and I have taken the decision to continue pedalling down into Mexico. Countless people have told me that it is a very bad idea to be a solo female cycling through the Mexican desert, and admittedly I am apprehensive about what lies ahead.
However, I wonder whether the same warnings would be made if I were male. Although gender equality is supposedly on the up, it is unfortunately still the case that women suffer threats which men never have to experience.
I was advised in all seriousness by one man to ride with a fake beard and have been told to carry pepper spray and tape a screwdriver to my bike frame, though I’m struggling to imagine myself hacking any potential assailants to death with my screwdriver.
I have never allowed my gender to stop me from doing anything and I don’t want this to be an exception. Of course there is a risk that I come across somebody who poses themselves as a dangerous threat to me, but I’m not prepared to relinquish the opportunity to explore a beautiful part of the world and meet the by all accounts kind and friendly people of Mexico just because of this risk.
As I’ve always said; the greatest risk in life is not to take risks, and so tomorrow I will cross the border to Tijuana before continuing my journey south.
Challenge. Explore. Learn. 