So you'd expect a risk management practitioner to have risks well sussed for an adventurous trip like this: unfamiliar territory, ambitious distances, travelling solo, wild animals in the woods, long stretches with no signs of civilization.
Let's take yesterday: after my Seattle cycling guru had analysed my proposed route (using the American Bicycling Association recommended route with detailed map etc), he suggested 'a much more interesting possibility'. Instead of heading south and then west along the Columbia River, go West to the coast and then head south along the 101. Seemed like a good idea.
We duly mapped the alternative course in detail on the computer, checked distances and elevations and, satisfied, downloaded it to the Garmin cycling computer for my bike. So far, so good.
Out the road then on this new route (the American Bicycling Association maps now rendered completely irrelevant) and settling down into a rhythm. Until the Garmin device went blank. Battery dead. I am in the middle of nowhere and I have suddenly lost all navigation. No paper map. Nothing. Just a vague idea that I should head West and South.
Contingency plan A - go to Google maps on my iPhone. Phew! Glad I thought that one through. I pull the phone out to get a message "No coverage". Well, I am in the middle of nowhere. Hmmm.
Plan B. I retrieve a rechargeable battery - a multi-purpose device to recharge just about any electrical device you have. Plugged it in - Bingo! my Garmin woke up and resumed its important navigational instructions.
After a little while, I noticed a rhythmic noise from the front wheel. Preliminary investigation did not reveal the source of the noise. I resumed cycling.
After a while I decided to stop and conduct a more thorough investigation. A loose spoke. That can be tricky - if you don't correct it, the wheel buckles and then you are in real trouble. "No problem", I thought, "I have a spoke key that will fix it".
Except the key did not have the right size for the spokes in question. (I had used the key before on my racing bike but - guess what - different size spokes. Lesson: never assume, always check).
I had no choice but to tighten it by hand and then check it every few miles. Eventually I came into a town and bought a small wrench to fix the problem.
The miles clocked up steadily and I eventually made it to 101. Great! I took a photo of the sign and then, as I was getting back on the bike noticed that the sole of my right shoe had parted company from the rest of the shoe. Press on, Bob - this is one for fixing after arriving at South Bend (I knew I had glue in my pannier).
And then I realized I was out of water. Well, the Western Hospitality entry tells that tale.
Despite best preparations, stuff still went pear shaped. Planning helped but it still needed some improvisation. Sounds like a good analog for life?
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