Stage 5: San Diego – San Jose Del Cabo. 7 - 14 December 2003
7 December. Ensanada, Baja California Peninsula, Mexico. 79 miles. Passed 7,000 trip miles. Happy Birthday Pete.
The border crossing this morning was very easy. Too much so really. I left the US without even realising it, certainly without getting my passport stamped so I don't know what's going to happen when my allowed time in the US runs out. Plus if I hadn't been prepared before hand I would have driven straight through Mexican customs as well. Most traffic barely slows down. The are very lax here because a lot of Americans come down here for weekends and short breaks. Things like tourist visas can actually be picked up 100 miles inside Mexican soil. Even I don't need to worry about putting my bike through customs until I take the ferry to the mainland about a thousand miles from here in La Paz at the southern end of the peninsula. However I know I had to pull over as the customs holding area is where Jon and I had agreed to meet up. I got here much earlier than I thought I would (I was actually staying last might barely 5 miles from the border), so after getting my tourist visa and Mexican insurance sorted, I has a long wait for Jon to arrive around noon. On top of that the insurance had sucked up all my cash and I could find nowhere that would change my travelers cheques, so I was without money.
Jon turned up on time and we headed into Tijuana, the Mexican border town which is virtually a part of San Diego, but a lot poorer. You can see the difference immediately. Lots of street sellers, roads overcrowded with traffic and people and a much more run down feel. It drizzled lightly all day, and we soon discovered another major difference. The roads were really greasy with spilt oil and diesel. I pulled up near a bank to get some cash, and could feel my rear wheel sliding away, fortunately slowly enough to control it. There was so much oil on one part of the pavement nearby that the rain just wouldn't puddle there at all.
There are two main roads heading south from Tijuana. One is the 'scenic' toll road (brand new freeway), the other isn't. We took the free road of course and for a long time struggled along with the local traffic before we got out of the city, still slipping around a bit on the greasy, rutted surface of the old road. It got much better as we got clear of the city though. Jon was leading as he had gone further than me today and was less used to the miles having been stationary for a month or so. He went a bit slower than my natural pace but considering some of the conditions not a lot. I think they have a bit of a cheek calling the toll road scenic as for a lot of the time we ran practically beside it. And in fact when we did split off for one 30 mile stretch, I think we got the better deal through the mountains, if only it hadn't been raining. We passed a rather strange procession at one point. Coming along the other side of the road, a single decorated float and a load of people walking along behind it. I couldn't figure out if it was a demonstration or a celebration, but it felt somewhere in between. There were a couple of nuns there, but that could have been fancy dress, it certainly didn't seem to have any religious feel to it. There was a police car in front, another behind and marshals waving warning flags at the oncoming traffic. Cars were backing up behind but they did not seem too bothered about it. Even though there appeared to be nowhere nearby for the procession to turn off – so they could have been in for a very long wait.
We pulled into the centre of Ensanada, a sizable port city, around dusk, and rode around looking for hotels. However unlike in US cities where they are easily visible and signposted along major routes, we saw very little evidence of any. It was all shops and market stalls, and bars. Looks great to me but I think Jon prefers a quieter sort of place, and besides he is used to camping most of the time. But he admitted the need to get rooms tonight because he was rather wet through. In the end we pulled over and Jon got some advice in a shop. There was one just round the corner on a side street, and this is where we are, Rudi's Motel. Its based around a central courtyard where the bikes should be safe, and at $14 a night is cheap as chips as far as I am concerned. My room is basic and small but clean and I have my own bathroom. So I'm happy with it. There is also a pool hall right next door so although I am keen I think Jon wants an early night. So we shall shortly be going out for a beer and a bite to eat and see what happens.
8 December. A beach 10 miles outside El Rosario. 170 miles.
We ended up having a Chinese of all things on our first night in Mexico. Very quiet as Jon said he was tired. This morning we had a delayed start while I sorted out sending a parcel home – bits from the US leg that I no longer needed, plus small souvenirs. Cost me sixty bucks!
A mixture of inland and coastal roads. Stopping quite a lot so progress was slow. We had a late lunch in San Quintin, I braved a street taco stall, with some meat that might ave been pork. We stocked up with some fruit and nibbles (Jon is a self-confessed grazer and eats snacks all day but no really any big meals) from a market, then back on the road.
There was a long stretch where we could see the sea but not how to reach it, although there were a few dirt tracks leading off the main road. Jon wanted to camp – he likes it and his budget necessitates it, and I was up for the fun of it. So after stopping in El Rosario for beer and petrol, we back tracked so a point where we could see a bit of coast. So we had our first off road stretch, following a dry river bed to the 'beach', not exactly white sands but it was a good enough location, and the remains of a fire told us it had been used before. We set up as it began to get dark. I collected enough scraps of dry wood to start a fire, which we then kept going for a few hours by feeding it almost constantly, there was little wood of any substance. Luckily it was also a full moon, so even without the fire we could see pretty well.
Then round about 7pm we got a visit from a group of soldiers in a four by four, all carrying automatic weapons, but mostly they were just kids. It was all very relaxed, they asked a few questions and in what Spanish and English we had in common we gave them our story – and they one in charge seemed quite interested, but I noticed he was keeping us talking while a couple of others were looking around. There was no sense of threat however and they soon went away happy. It was getting very cold and we ran out of wood so turned in around 8.30 or 9.
Jon around the campfire.
9 December. Guerrero Negro. Baja California Sur. 257 miles.
I was oh so cold last night. Wrapped up in layers, shivering away. Of course I didn't get round to buying a sleeping bag so I was in the silk liner Mum and Dad gave me. Add in the fact that I haven't slept on the ground for so long and despite a good few beers I hardly got any sleep at all. So I was up and around about dawn, took a wander up a big sand dune to have a look around and warm up a little. Lots of overnight condensation meant we wouldn't be in a huge hurry to break camp this morning. A Canadian bloke on an ATV with his dog in a crate on the back came round to say hello. He had parked his RV up by the road late last night. There was someone with him on a dirt bike, I'm guessing his son but as he didn't say a word or even take off his helmet, he could have been anybody. He said he comes down here regularly for the winter – and it seems there are quite a lot of North Americans who do to escape the extreme colds.
We got on the road by 8.30 ish but 10 miles later I turned back having missed my little multi-tool which I was using last night. But I couldn't find it back at the camp. We spent most of the day riding through mountains covered in those tall cactus that to the layman are the archetypal cactus. It actually lends itself to making a quietly eerie landscape because they look like dead tree trunks from a distance. Then we came to a very rocky area, still with the cactus everywhere, but also these huge boulders that somehow did not look as if they belonged or were natural. Like giant builders rubble, or in some cases as if a giant's child had blown up a mountain they were not supposed to and so took all the massive debris, like boulders the size of a house, and piled them together in an approximate mountain shape hoping no one would notice. The stuck some cactus on top to make it look more natural. It all gave the place a very alien atmosphere – if it wasn't for all the graffiti that also adorned a lot of the roadside boulders. There were some pretty stiff side winds for a lot of the day today, although this wasn't as bad for us as it was for the people on bicycles we saw. At one point on the road was a cyclist, going up a hill, on the wrong side of the road, approaching a blind left hand corner. Anything could have been bearing down on him and he wouldn't have known until it was too late. Fortunately it didn't, at least not while we were nearby, which wasn't for very long. These people were nutters because they were clearly going to be camping out in the middle of nowhere for a couple of nights at least before they saw any civilisation, on top of which there was no ground around that any sane person would want to pitch a tent on – cactus or rocks, which is the lesser of two evils?
Guerrero Negro marks the halfway point between the US and Baja's main city La Paz, at the southern end of the peninsula. It is also the border between the two political states of Baja and time zones, so we lost an hour this afternoon. It is also a predominantly whale watching base, but not at this time if year I understand. We pulled into a motel to find three other guys on bikes, all Yanks, who it turned out we heading back north and home. They had been doing some heavy offroading over the last couple of days, being guided by the guy in the group who works for KTM and spends a lot of time down here helping to train riders for things like the Paris-Dakar rally. We hung out and had dinner with Rick, Joe and Dave so that was a pretty good end to the day. It also seems there is another group of three bikers staying in our motel, but I haven't seen them, only their bikes.
And now as I got no sleep last night I have some catching up to do.
From the left: the waiter, Joe, Dave and Rick
10 December. 15 miles south of Mulege, another beach. 214 miles.
I was talking to the other bikers in our hotel over tea this morning (weak but passable), one lives in Cabo San Lucas, as the southern tip of Baja, and they both used to take part in an unofficial annual road race from the US border to Cabo, finishing at this bloke's bar (these guys are well into their fifties mind – and we are only talking 5-10 years ago). Its over one thousand miles of single track, often bumpy, and sometimes not all there roads, with some serious mountain stretches – and the record is just over 10 hours, including petrol stops and dodging the police and military (there are several checkpoints along the road). It sounds like they were a real bunch of crazies. The race doesn't run anymore but some of them still come down here regularly.
We set off not as early as I would have liked this morning. Despite the fact that he claims to be up at six most mornings (he is certainly not much for going out a night), Jon faffs about an awful lot, so I am always ready before he is. We had a mixture of straight flat plains riding and some very scenic mountains crossing from the west to east coast today, but it was fairly uneventful. We stopped of for a bit in a town called Santa Rosalita, apparently originally built by the French, and some of the architecture does bear a resemblance to New Orleans. It was a lively looking place as well, with lots of people out on the streets.
We are camping again, in a little bay we were told about by Rick at dinner yesterday. Its a small beach with a spit of sand that runs out to a rocky island. We rode over to the island which has a tiny bit of beach that was dry, but in between it was wet and therefore obviously it gets cut off in high tide. I managed to dump the bike twice in the very soft stuff, I think because I was following my training and standing up. Jon sat down and used his feet to help keep balanced and had a much easier time as a result. We thought about staying on the island, as it would have been cool to be cut off for a few hours, but as we didn't know when high tide would be and don't want to get stranded for hours tomorrow, decided against it.
Setting up the tents as the sun went down it got very windy and mine almost blew away before I anchored the pegs down with rocks. However after it got dark the clouds cleared and wind died down. For a while before the moon came up the sky was really thick with stars. There is more wood here so I managed to build a much better fire this time, one that is giving off some real heat, with good logs that are burning well. Jon says he doesn't care about making a fire which surprises me seeing as he is in all other respects an archetypal outdoors person.
Sunrise at Mulege.
11 December. Cuidad Constitucion. 159 miles.
It wasn't as cold last night as on the first beach, although it was still a bit chilly, and I managed to get a reasonable night's sleep. We made a good start following a rough track along the bay for a while before rejoining the main road. It turned inland for a few miles until we reached the town of Loreto. John had been concerned about losing pressure in his rear tyre, and my new chain was a bit loose (I had been warned back in LA to expect this) so we stopped here for a couple of hours to get both things sorted. With the general condition of roads here and the state of most cars, patching up tyres is big business, so its not difficult to find a workshop and most will let you use their tools for a small tip. I had to borrow some muscle from the mechanic and his son to get by back wheel off the ground (very precariously balanced) so I could loosed up the rear axle bolt and adjust the chain tension by moving the wheel backwards in the frame by a few millimetres. It was the first real job on the bike I had tackled myself and it took a lot of sweat and constant referral to the manual, but I got it done. I was quite proud of myself really. I was also covered in the heavy sand I had been lying in, and oil of course.
Jon was just down the road and his was a bigger job – and as it turned out unnecessary as there was no puncture – so I hung around waiting and also used the time to put some slime in my rear tyre to match the front which I had done a few days before. So now I feel much better about being off-road, the slime should seal most punctures I am likely to get.
After Loreto the road turned inland again and back into mountains. I leave Jon behind for a while, he sometimes rides very slowly, then stop and wait for him to catch up. He also likes to take lots of breaks to stretch his legs, but most frustrating is that he seems to tire very quickly. 200 miles is a long day for him, whereas I have been used to doing that before lunch on a number of days.
Although it is good having someone else to ride with we are going to have to part soon. I'll never make it to Tierra del Fuego at his pace. He already knows that he is not going to get there before winter sets in there. I feel I could still make it. Don't get me wrong, I like him and respect his approach – to stop and smell the roses often, but soon I will have to bring up the idea of splitting up so can get ahead. When we reach the mainland.
In the meantime we have already split temporarily for the evening. I wanted a room here in town and he has opted to camp at a site further out. Cuidad Constitucion is not a tourist spot, so there are a lot fewer non-locals here. I have been wandering round the town centre, right where I am staying. There seem to be a large number of hairdressers, but also a wide variety of shops selling all sorts of cheap stuff, lots of plastic kids toys especially (well I suppose it is Christmas – its easy to forget).
I ate at a Taquiera, basically a street cafe where you sit on a stool on the pavement at a counter. They sell tacos – the standard fast food and much healthier than burger bars I should think. You choose your main filling – I had 2 beef and 2 fish (don't ask me what type, fish is as much as I can muster in Spanish right now) which are cooked on the spot, then you add the rest from a selection of bowls around the counter – salad, refried beans and chili sauce mostly. Also battered whole chillies (which I tried – good and hot) and fresh, raw horseradish, which was much sought after – as soon as it appeared it was snatched up by the locals. My vocabulary i slowly growing at a few words a day (I've hardly looked at my CD course) but I'm still a long way from any meaningful conversation. Mostly simple words and pointing will get me through for now but I do want to spend some time on it. They say as you move south you can rely on pigeon English less and less. So I need to get better. However I do find the even listening to the TV is helping me to attune my ear. Half the problem is hearing words properly, only then can I being to try and understand.
One other things is that I feel much more security conscious here. I'm sure most of the stories people (ie Americans) tell are blown up and I believe maintaining a friendly attitude has a huge influence. However this is a poor country and therefore any foreigner is a potential target. But to finish on a light note, everybody I have talked to so far has been friendly, patient with my language, and helpful.
12 December. La Paz. 157 miles.
Met up with Jon again this morning and he was chatting to an American couple who had just come from La Paz and gave us some useful info. Another slow and easy ride as we arrived here mid-afternoon. Jon found a camp site he liked but I wasn't going to sleep out again without a sleeping bag, or the weather warms up further south. We went into town and the first order of business was to check out ferries for the mainland, and this is where we ran into Mexican bureaucracy for the first time. There are two main destinations for ferries, and offices for each are located on different sides of town. The second we found was the shorter and cheaper so we decided to book it for Monday to give us a couple of days to relax. First problem, we can't book it until all the customs papers are in order – principally permits for the bikes. To sort this out we will have to go to the customs office at the ferry terminal, 15 miles outside town. Closed now for the day, but open at nine in the morning. Okay. First we need photocopies of all relevant documents – passport, license, registration, insurance, tourist card – 3 of each. Can't do that at the ferry terminal, must be in town. Once we have the permits we can then book the tickets. There are ticket sales at the terminal, but you can't book in advance there, only buy on the day of travel. So not wanting to take the risk of a full ferry, we will have to come back into town again to sort that out. What a mess of a system!
I tried to find a sleeping bag this afternoon but no luck. They have some in a couple of places but only bulky cheap ones much to big for the bike. So we split up again and I head into the town centre to find a hotel. Most were no good as there was nowhere to park over night – so I was heading further out to one I had spotted before that did have parking but was a bit away from the action. Then I saw a sign up a hill and decided to check it out. Great luck. A good price ($20) plus they let me park in a covered courtyard practically inside the hotel. I rode through the reception to get to it. Couldn't be better.
Parked in the lobby.
So I'm wandering around town, I get my photocopies sorted. Its a lively tourist place – lots of street traffic and a big market area spreading around the main roads. Everything is looking good and I'm thinking about finding somewhere to sit and drink and eat. So I step off a kerb without looking down, my right foot hits a pothole, and suddenly I am on my hands and knees with a twisted ankle. It hurts like hell but as soon as I can I put some weight on it and get walking again, albeit with a big limp. Its starts burning, really hot, and I can feel it swelling up. After a few minutes I go into a bar, sit down order a beer and a snack dinner – some nachos. And then I am hit with a wave of nausea and sweat. I almost pass out. It was a feeling very much like when Mum shut my fingers in the boot of the car when we were on holiday in France a few years ago, the world fading to grey for a couple of seconds. They bring my food in the middle of this, though the waiter doesn't seem to notice. Of course my appetite has totally gone so when I just stare at the plate the waiter thinks he has done something wrong. All my Spanish has disappeared, but I manage to get a glass of water and I'm now feeling better again – even eating the food. My ankle is still really swollen though. I'll finish as much of this dinner as I can, hobble back to the hotel, strap it up and have to hope that it will be better in the morning.
13 December. Cabo San Lucas. 191 miles. Passed 8000 trip miles.
Well my foot hurt a lot this morning. I could barely stand and it was still very swollen. My immediate reaction was that I wouldn't be going anywhere for a couple of days. However with a bit of movement it slowly loosened up. I tested out getting on the bike and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, after an ibuprofen anyway. I figured that as long as I could avoid using my rear brake I'd be okay. First stop was the ferry terminal to meet back up with Jon and sort out the customs documents for the bike. My carnet is no good to me here. It seems weird to be doing this when not actually crossing a border.
The office is supposed to be open at nine but it was more like ten before anybody showed up. There were a dozen or so people waiting but they didn't seem to mind, this is manyana culture. There was lots of stamping of bits of paper but it was done with a friendly face. There was a fee though, which had to be paid by credit card to avoid a bond to the value of the bike, so they can charge me again if I fail to take ti out the country. From there it was bask to downtown La Paz to actually buy the ferry tickets. By now it was getting on for midday and increasingly hot, especially with all the stopping and starting.
I was ready for the road but Jon had more stuff to do. I wasn't going to wait so we agreed that if we could meet back up in Cabo we would, otherwise we would see each other again on Monday for the ferry. So off I set.
I followed what I thought was the right road south but became suspicious when it rapidly deteriorated. I was dodging huge pot holes, and not managing to dodge them all, and none of the places I expected to pass through appeared. The road was very empty. I was passing signs to ranches that were just dirt tracks. But when some coast line that shouldn't have been there appeared I figured out where I was on the map – a one way road to nowhere. - and turned back. Having lost a lot of the day I was speeding up and the return ride was real fun, swerving around holes in the road at speed, and feeling in very good control of the bike. This was living.
The upshot of all this was that after returning to La Paz and getting on the right road, I had covered about 80 miles more than I needed and lost nearly two hours. So I wasn't entirely surprised when I spotted Jon ahead of me, so we ended up riding together into Cabo after all.
This place is where all the yanks flock to in Baja so depending on your perspective its Mexico Americanised or an island of Americana in Mexico. Whatever way you look at it, its party town. I split up with Jon again while he heads for a campsite and I look for a hotel, but he wants to eat in town tonight so we agree to meet up again at a tourist information booth. As an aside my ankle has been getting better all day so although I think I will be limping for a couple of days yet I am not worried any more.
I'm a little bit late for my meeting with Jon but he doesn't show up at all. I spend an hour and a half waiting in a bar across from the tourist booth and get chatting to a yank about football. The Mexican league cup semi-final is being played on TV in the bar and he happens to be a football coach. Afterwards the show some premiership highlights, so I get to see Southampton beating Liverpool on their own turf. My night is almost complete.
There is no way to find out what has happened to Jon so I go round the corner to a restaurant, famous in these parts, The Giggling Marlin. The food is ordinary but people come here for the entertainment. The waiters put on a bit of a show, getting some people involved, but as this is low season its not really busy enough to generate the party-til-you-drop atmosphere they are going for.
14 December. San Jose Del Cabo. 25 miles.
A rest day today. I went down the coast looking for a place that my guide book said was cheap and on a good beach. The beach is very good but the room is far from cheap. However I couldn't be bothered to look around so here I am at the Brise Del Mar trailer park, surrounded by yanks and the best English speaking staff in Mexico. I lay out on the beach to try to get a bit of colour (from the neck down I've still got that Englishman in winter look). In the afternoon I went into town and got my laundry done, so everything is clean once more. And thats about it really. Dinner is an all you can eat BBQ buffet so I'm taking my time to get well fattened up. There's an old guy playing hits of the past on a guitar with backing tape. One drunk couple have started dancing.
So here is a story. I've been thinking about it since before I left home, but written down in a single sitting during my meal and back in my room. This is the (mostly) unedited first draft straight from my notepad.
Perchance to Dream
Jake woke up as the sun streaming into his room warmed the bed – a 4 poster far too big for him. He was instantly alert in the way only a pre-pubescent child can be. Throwing off his covers he jackknifed to the floor. The flagstones were cold underfoot so he jumped into slippers, grabbed his dressing gown and scampered out and down the stairs for breakfast. He stopped running at the door to the dining room, opened it and strode in as manfully as he could.
Mother was there, as she always was, regally seated, fully dressed at the head of the table. He sometimes wondered if she ever slept. He was old enough now to sometimes be up when she announced she was 'retiring for the night' (which was also the signal that it was time he was in bed as well), but this only conjured up images of her sitting in her rooms, still fully dressed, doing needlepoint all through the night. He had such difficulty picturing her lying in bed that when he did it seemed wrong, unnatural.
'Good morning Mother.' he greeted her formally
'Good morning Jake' she replied with equal stiffness before breaking into her perfect mother's smile. 'You're not too old yet to give me a hug now I hope.' He grinned and ran into here open arms. The routine complete he sat down at her side.
' I had the dream again last night' he said.
'Which one? Tell me about it.' He closed his eyes to remember.
He was standing on a road, but one like no other he knew. It was black and smooth as marble. No wheel ruts, no dust, no horse droppings. He was on the outside of a sharp bend so he could see in both directions. There were trees crowding in close on either side. And then he heard the noise, coming from his right along the road, like a swarm of angry bees. He could see something approaching making that noise. Small but fast, far too fast. Then...
'Jake you slowcoach, wake up! We have to go' Jake opened his eyes and there at the door was Elf, his best friend and cousin, a year older and nearly a foot taller. But Elf was no longer paying attention to him. A discreet cough from Mother had brought him back to his manners.
'Good morning Aunt Jane', he bowed gracefully.
'And a good morning to you Elf, though I think the day will soon come when I shall be required to curtsey to you and start calling you Highness, and you will then have to call me Lady Jane. At least in company. But not today I think.' she finished with warmth. Jake had long given up noticing how his mother always began formally even with close family, before she became herself. She had grown up in stricter times and had no wish to change now. 'I can see that you are as healthy as ever, I trust His Majesty and the Queen are well this morning also.'
'They are and send you their loving greetings. Mother would like to know if you would accompany her to the gardens this morning as it is such a sunny day.'
'You may tell her I would be delighted to. Now what are you two boys up to today?' The heir to the throne grinned toothily. It was his wide mouth and ever so slightly pointed ears that had earned him his nickname.
'Were going troll hunting!'
'Really? And where do you expect to find something as horrible as a troll in these parts. Haven't they all been rooted out many years ago?' It was Jake who answered.
'Smithy in the stables said there was one that lived in the riverbank on the edge of the Crowded Forest.'
'Did he now?' Jake's mother raised a skeptical eyebrow. 'My opinion is that Mr. Smith is an old man full of an old woman's superstitions. Nevertheless troll hunting seems like something that requires a full stomach. Jake, what will you eat?'
Mrs Cooper, the maid, who had been standing unnoticed in the back ground knew her cue and stepped forward to receive the boy's response.
'Oh, I don't mind' smiled Jake, 'Whatever there is is fine with me.' They were back into the routine. They all knew that Jake would wolf down anything that was put in front of him, especially when he was eager to get on an adventure.
***
He was standing on the black road again, listening to the angry bees getting closer. His attention was caught by a movement to his left. At the other end of the corner from the bees, a wall was sliding out across the road, rolling on giant wheels. He could see a mad sitting on top of the front end of the wall. Jake knew he was controlling the movement but could not see how. There were no horses puling it, and no horses Jake knew of could pull a thing of this size. It was as tall as the trees and was going to black the road completely before it stopped.
***
'Please sit down Mrs. Tomlinson.' The doctor pulled out a plastic chair for her and she perched primly on the edge of it while he went and sat heavily on his side of the desk. It was a small office, over crowded with books and files shelved on every wall and stacked in piles on the desk. It was a stark contrast to the clinical minimalism of the hospital corridor. The office of someone with more work than time. But he was taking time with her. This was not a good sign she thought.
'Considering the nature of the accident your son is lucky to be alive. However he has suffered massive injuries. The most serious being those to his head. I had to drain off a lot of excess blood that was built up inside his skull from a ruptured vein. The pressure from this blood has caused some damage to his brain. It will be some time before we know how extensive that damage is and what its effects will be.' He paused to let this sink in, watching her reaction. She had been waiting for several hours for this news, and looked exhausted from the tension. She had clearly been crying but remained composed now, for which he had to admire her. Most mothers, in his experience, particularly those on their own would have been in hysterics before now.
'When Can I see him? When will he wake up?'
'He is in the recovery room now where we are monitoring him very carefully. We can let you in to see him briefly. As to when he will wake up, with injuries like this it is very difficult to tell.'
***
'So what happened with your troll yesterday?'
'We found him, but we didn't kill him.'
'Any why ever not? Aren't trolls horrible, ugly creatures who should be killed?'
'This one had a great big nose and crooked eyes and teeth. He gave us a drink of water because we were thirsty. Then he told us a story about how in the future people won't have horses any more but things called cars instead, only they still seemed to run by horses somehow because of horse power. It made me think of my dream again and then we ran away.'
'It sounds like a lot of old rubbish to me. It sounds like another old man trying to scare a couple of boys trying to grow up a bit too fast, as all boys do. Now, its another warm and sunny day, what adventures have you and Elf planned?'
***
This time he was not standing on the road but flying along it very fast. He seemed to be sitting on something, like a horse but not a horse. It had no head and no legs, only wheels. This was the thing making the noise of the bees! He felt different too in himself – older, stronger. He could see the corner ahead and knew that the moving wall was just beyond it, out of sight, but there was no time to stop.
***
'I am sorry Mrs. Tomlinson but it is as we feared. It appears your son has gone into a coma.' She stared down at the broken body of her only child, covered in plaster and bandages with tubes and wires linking him to the machines around the bed. All she could really see was his face, bruised and swollen beyond all recognition except hers.
'He loves that motorcycle.' she said as if not having heard the doctor. 'I told him he went too fast, that one day he would hit a brick wall or something, but he wouldn't listen. He said it felt like flying on a swarm of bees when he rode like that.' She was silent for a while with her own thoughts.
'Might he wake up? Will he hear me if I talk to him. When he was little I could always wake him up just by saying his name. He liked it when I was there in the morning, so he would tell me his dreams. Boys dreams of castles and knights.'
'The truth is we know very little about what's going on when someone is in a coma. We can monitor brain activity but that gives us little in terms of what he is experiencing. He may wake up tomorrow, next year, or never. Some people think that a patient can hear what is going on and maybe the voice of a loved one can help.'
'So my son is in there? I can reach him?'
'Each patient is very different but in your son's case there is enough brain activity to give us some hope. One theory I believe in is that a coma like this is often a way of dealing with a sever mental trauma caused by the physical one. The brain retreats into itself to either deal with the trauma or escape from it. He could be re-living the collision with the lorry, or avoiding it with fantasy. How he deals with it may determine when, or even whether he will ever wake up.'
'So you're saying he is just dreaming?'
'Something like that yes.' She smiled down at her son.
'He always was a bit of a dreamer. He had an imaginary friend for many years. I can't remember his name now.'
***
Jake screamed as he woke up, drenched in cold sweat lurching bolt upright in his bed. His mother came rushing in. She had not said anything but the dreams had made her nervous and had recently taking to sleeping in the next room.
'The wall! I hit the wall!' he burst into tears and hugged his mother, for once dressed only in her nightgown. She rocked him gently, stroking his hair till he calmed down a little.
'Don't worry Jake, its only a dream. Now its almost morning, dry your eyes and tell what you are going to do today.' He did as he was told and the dream began to fade. After a few moments he looked up at her and suddenly broke into a grin.
'Elf and I are going dragon questing!'
The End