The missionary life is a transient one. As soon as you hit your stride and settle into a groove it seems like it's time to pack your bags and move again. But it also has potential, tremendous potential, to be a very full life. You get to see the world and get to know the people who live in it. In my experience the key has been to fight to put roots down wherever you are. This is wonderfully easy if you only experience a major life transition once or twice but the average missionary experiences a major transition every 1-2 years. When you have to uproot every couple years embracing a new place and bearing your heart to new people becomes a soul-rending exercise that requires intentionality and purpose. That's why I say the missionary life has 'potential' to be very full. Because the temptation to not put roots down grows stronger with each transition. Those who succumb risk becoming shells of who they once were- drifting along the surface between destinations leading a shallow but safe life. Our family has chosen to fight against this temptation for the purpose of having a full life wherever we are, exploring the beautiful places we live in and drinking deep of the relationships that dare open up to transient world travelers like us.
In 14 years of active missionary service our family has enjoyed one constant- only one: wherever we go and no matter how many times we have transitioned we've always been together. For many this may not sound like a welcomed thing but for us it is. We enjoy being together and amazingly we don't get tired of sharing life together. We know this isn't going to last forever but intend to make the most of it while it lasts! To put roots down well as a family we have learned that it is absolutely necessary to uproot well. That is why, not long before we returned to the US for our third Home Assignment, I set out on one last adventure in Paraguay. I wanted to visit some of my favorite places in this country we have come to call 'home' from the seat of my mountain bike. For five days I would set out on my biggest bikepacking trip to-date and wouldn't be going alone. My oldest son, Eli, would also be joining me.
Sarah drove our Land Cruiser 70 out of sight leaving Eli and I standing alone on the side of the road with our bikes and gear. We would ride over some of Paraguay's highest peaks following dirt roads and footpaths made by local farmers. Tent camping each night, we'd stop along the way to enjoy swimming holes, waterfalls, and mountain vistas. I grew to love these places when I first started exploring the Yvytyrusu mountains 14 years ago. I then began leading Paraguayan and Expat youth on wilderness discipleship trips in these hills. When Eli was old enough he started to join me on these trips and grew to love these places too. Eli and I had been training for this bikepacking trip for months. Before leaving for another year-long Home Assignment I thought, 'What better way to say goodbye to Paraguay than sweating in it's sun, camping on it's cliffs, and riding on it's orange dirt roads.' We got on our bikes and set out on one last adventure.
Asphalt quickly gave way to empedrada (cobblestone) as we entered the quaint town of Fasardi and just like that, Fasardi was behind us and seemingly endless kilometers of dirt road lay before us. The riding was hard but enjoyable, as we rolled past ox carts loaded down with sugar cane freshly cut from the fields.
Then, as we entered a village, a smell like toasted marshmallows greeted our noses. It permeated throughout the entire town. I commented to Eli as we pedaled, 'I bet we coming up on a sugar cane factory!' Sure enough, as we rounded a corner, there it was.
It's true, it was hard work. And even though it was winter time the weather still felt hot on the open road. With the added weight on our bikes you really felt the difference on the hills. We reached new speeds and had to use our brakes on the downhills but going uphill required getting into our lowest gear and just cranking it out! When it became too steep we simply had to get off and 'hike-a-bike'- a legitimate part of bikepacking. Soon we were feeling famished. It was time to stop for lunch- cold salami never tasted so good!
In the afternoon, I relaxed even more about reaching our destination as I realized we were making good progress. The sun shone overhead as the Yvytyrusu cordillera drew closer and closer. That evening we would be camping atop Paraguay's tallest waterfall at the north end of the mountain range.
We reached our destination, Salto Suizo, still with plenty of daylight. We had gone 30 miles with a total of 2,780 feet of elevation gain- not bad for Eli's first day on a bikepacking trip. Though the campground is remote it has recently been taken over by new management who have set up a zip line and rappel that descends along the waterfall. That evening there would be an openair jazz-band performance by young professionals from Asuncion. So once Eli and I had set up camp we hiked over to where they were serving hamburgers. We enjoyed a hot meal and live music under the stars before retiring into our tent, exhausted!
A night's rest helped our bodies recover from the aches and pains from being in the saddle the day before. In the morning we hiked to the edge of the falls to catch the sun rise. Far below we could see runners wearing red shirts, clamoring up the side of the hill. They were competing in the Ultra Trail Guarani- an annual, cross country race that takes competitors through gnarly forest and over Yvytyrusu's tallest peaks. The longest leg circumnavigates the entire mountain range for 100 kilometers on foot in less than 18 hours! The runners had set out at 3:30am armed with headlamps and a hydration pack. Suddenly Eli and I didn't feel like we had is so hard on our bikepacking trip.
Once back up at camp we tore down everything, strapped it all onto our bikes, and set out to attempt a new trail that we had heard about. If the rumors were true this newly cut path for the Ultra Trail Guarani race would take us straight to our next campsite. We rode out of camp and began to climb up towards what must have been a ridge. The foliage was so thick in the semi-tropical forest it was hard to tell.
At the top of the ridge we encountered a T in the trail. We turned left where it began to climb even more steeply up to the top of some unnamed hill. The path was difficult to climb with our bikes so I continued ahead on foot to see how far it was to the top. I never found out. After climbing with my hands and feet for several hundred meters I determined it was too steep to hike-a-bike let alone ride up.
Once we turned around on the trail it was all downhill, in a good way- we were flying through the jungle on singletrack! In moments the trail leading back to the Salto Suizo campsite whizzed by in a flash of green on the right. About a mile below the turn off we stopped to take the above picture. It was at that time I realized I had made a fatal mistake and forgotten my camera's other battery and charger back at camp. We had no choice but to turn back... again, and return to Salto Suizo. By the time we made it back the sun was setting on the horizon. The people there were surprised to see us again and graciously allowed us to stay an extra night free of charge. Our path for the next day was clear- we'd return to the single track and descend to the northern edge of the mountains before turning south where we'd begin the climb to Paraguay's third highest peak. I was unsure if Eli was up for the challenge of such a long sustained climb. Along the way we'd camp at one of our favorite spots with a stream and a swimming hole set under waterfalls.
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