It’s easy to take for granted that travel plans (any type of travel, including the mundane daily commute) will fall into place; after all, there are a myriad number of things that could go wrong. I suppose that’s why one heaves a huge sigh of relief after a successful trip, and there is a genuine sense of satisfaction and accomplishment when a complicated plan has been achieved.
That said, there are the odd occasions when the law of averages catches up with you (admittedly, this isn’t a sound mathematical statement but serves as a better literary device than a dull line about probability).
I sometimes take my bike (bicycle) with me when driving to a scenic location. On one such instance, the prospect of cycling around a lake was very enticing and, in my enthusiasm, I did not fully recce the bike route. I had briefly read about it online, and when I got to the place the information board there also mentioned the same loop around the lake. The lake and the environs were quite wonderful, and I happily set off on my bike. Halfway through, I noticed the path suddenly led to nowhere; there was a grassy meadow that was bounded by fences, and there was no indication that one could cycle through there and beyond. Confused, I looked around to see if there were people passing by whom I could ask, and spotted a family coming from the opposite direction. The man categorically said I couldn’t cycle ahead, as there was no path. This disappointed me as I desperately wanted to complete the loop and see the lake from the other side. Undeterred, I got off the bike and pushed it across the meadow. On reaching the other side, there was a brief rocky path that seemed to lead into a forest, and there were no boards or way markers to help guide me.
I started moving along the forested path, and quickly realised that it was the wrong way. I was relieved to spot a forest officer and enquired about continuing my bike ride. She confirmed what the man had said, and added that it was a rocky terrain that was only suitable for walking or hiking on foot, and certainly couldn’t be done by bike. Well, it was time to head back, and any sane person would’ve done so. But I was adamant, and undaunted. How hard could it be? Perhaps only a few sections would need carrying the bike I thought, and continued, my judgment clouded by a sense of superiority – the statements from two people were disregarded in favour of obstinate adventurism. I had barely cycled a few metres when it became apparent that the path wasn’t suitable for cycling. Too proud to turn back, I continued on foot carrying my bike, hoping that some semblance of flat ground would (magically) materialise. It would only get worse! There were several rocks and little streams that meant I had to carry my bike across them. And then the path began to ascend steeply; I found it increasingly difficult to carry the bike across the rocks.
My arms were hurting, my mobile phone was almost out of battery, and there was no one visibly around. Only the amazing scenery and views kept me going; but also, I had to get back before it got dark! It would take a while longer, though. Naturally what goes up must come down – and now the descent began! Climbing down with the bike was difficult but still easier than climbing up (as gravity was in my favour), but there were some tricky footholds to negotiate. I somehow made it in the end, after having taken about 2 hours more than I would’ve taken if I had done the trail by foot! One lives and learns, I guess.
On the other hand, things may not entirely be in your control, and so plans have to be adapted on the fly. I once had to drop off my car for the annual servicing, but unfortunately didn’t manage to get an appointment at the garage closer to my office. That wasn’t a problem as such, as I could reschedule the service to a holiday, and would take my bike to cycle around while I waited to pick up the car. However, on the morning of the day it started raining! This meant having to rely on public transport for the journeys in between; annoyingly the bus route was a circuitous one (more than twice the duration of the car journey), and the service was infrequent (once every hour). Anyway, the morning went fine; I dropped off the car, and almost immediately got onto the bus. I had lunch and after a while headed back to the bus stand – I was scheduled to pick up the car at around 4:30 pm, so was going to catch the 3 pm bus that meant I would reach the garage at around 4:15. This is where things started to go wrong: the 3 pm bus didn’t show up! I could now only catch the next bus at 4, which meant cutting things close as the garage was going to be shut at 5 pm. I received a call while on the bus telling me that the car was ready to be picked up; I informed the person that I was delayed thanks to the erratic bus service, and couldn’t reach before 5:15 at the earliest. I was told that a person would wait for me till 5:30, so that would be fine. The bus was running slightly late (as it had to!) and so I reached the garage at 5:25, just in the nick of time! (or so I thought) I met the person, thanked them for waiting, paid the bill and picked up my keys. While sat in my car, I spent a couple of minutes looking at the bill details and setup the navigation to plot the route back home. I was about to exit, when I realised that the bollards had been raised, preventing me from driving away! The security person stationed there mentioned he didn’t have the keys, it had been locked by the person who had been waiting for me. I frantically rushed back to the building but it had now been locked too! I tried calling the numbers from which I’d received calls but no one picked up. Resigned to my fate, I forlornly walked back to the bus stand, feeling miserable at the thought of having to make two more bus journeys. The next day, I related my tale of woe and asked as to why the person had locked the property without checking if I had exited. I was told it was a misunderstanding; they were in a hurry and just left, assuming I had too. I left it that, cursing the bus operator for my predicament.
As I write this, I have just discovered that there is a bulge on the sidewall of one of my car’s tyres, most likely damage picked up from hitting a pothole while I was driving back home the day before. The tyre will need to be replaced, but I am just thankful that it did not blowout immediately as that would likely have been catastrophic. One needs to count their losses, pick themselves up and move on, taking it in their stride. For that’s life, and living it means preparing for its vagaries and the probabilities of things that can go wrong.