By DINA ARÉVALO
Port Isabel-South Padre Press
…you’re busy making other plans.
Things don’t always go according to plan. Whether those plans are long term goals, or even something as minor as what to eat for lunch, our plans don’t always work out.
Sometimes, you’re standing at home plate expecting a fastball and see that it’s a changeup instead. Just as you’re mentally sighing in frustration, you take a swing and end up knocking it out of the park. That’s sort of what happened with me on Sunday.
With Beach-N-Biker Fest coming to the Island, I had been busy making plans for how I wanted to approach covering the event. A trained photographer, I was excited to put my photojournalism chops to the test again, but Mother Nature had other ideas.
For days the weather forecast had warned of severe weather: rain, wind, the possibility of hail. And since areas north of the Valley were indeed under such an onslaught it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility to see that here. It did end up raining, but not much, and not very hard. Still, I think the gloomy forecast may have kept some riders away.
So that’s what found me on Sunday afternoon, meandering around the Convention Centre somewhat distraught by the fewer number of riders around in comparison to Saturday’s bustle. I had gotten shots of almost everything I had planned to, except one thing: perspective shots of a group of bikers crossing the Causeway — one of the most iconic landmarks of the Laguna Madre region.
As I walked around I began to lose hope. The bikers who remained didn’t appear to be part of groups or clubs. The few I approached confirmed as much. I had had a vision of the images I wanted to create, and as I continued to walk around, I began to see that vision evaporate. I texted a couple of friends my frustrations while I walked out to the far end of the parking lot where I’d left my car.
I sat there still talking with them for a few minutes when my parents called to say they wanted to have lunch. Sunday afternoon lunches are a bit of a tradition with us, so the call spurred me back into movement. On my way back to the mainland I saw about half a dozen riders sitting in the grass outside a restaurant. Hope flickered.
I turned around and introduced myself, telling them of the photographs I’d been trying to get. Turns out they are part of a riding club from the Upper Valley called the Iron Saintz. I asked if I could join them when they crossed the Causeway, and they agreed! We met up later that afternoon and I got to ride with one of their founders.
It’s only a little more than two miles across the bridge, but those few minutes spent crossing it were euphoric for me. The images I’d imagined in my mind were realized thanks to the Iron Saintz. I was so ecstatic by the time we reached the Lighthouse that I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Sometimes you make plans and they fall through. Sometimes, things end up working out anyway. My thanks to the Iron Saintz! And as always, don’t forget to visit us online at www.portisabelsouthpadre.com.
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