Exploding from behind a bush, he sprinted hard to catch up.
At first there was only one; like all the wild dogs on the islands, he was smallish and wiry.
"Dog's like to chase bikes," I casually told myself, not too worried about one stray dog.
But he was not alone - seconds later, two more dogs came out of the next set of bushes.
Tobago is a small, relaxed Caribbean island.
It was Sunday, and if Tobago moved at an island pace every other day of the week, on Sunday it was comatose.
I went to Buccoo Bay to see the beach but didn't want to stay.
I wanted a little more adventure, so I rented a bike and decided to head across the island to Scarborough - the main port of Tobago.
It was a long and sweaty ride under the heat of the tropical sun, my hands were greasy from fixing the chain twice, and I was ready for a break.
Unfortunately, it would be a while before I found one.
Three dogs gave me a little more concern, but I was on a steep downhill, and despite my rickety rental bike, I was confident my wobbly ride would be able to outpace the little mongrels -until two more came out of the bushes in front of me.
It was an ambush, and the leader was catching up.
Deciding to augment gravity's power with my own, I started pedaling...
hard.
This had the benefit of keeping my feet busy so I wouldn't try to kick them while they were nipping at my heels.
Never kick at a dog chasing you - you'll lose your balance, crash, and they'll be on you.
The dogs in front of me were thrown off by my new found speed and I blew past them before they could bite my legs.
As soon as I improved my position in this engagement, they did too.
Five mutts turned to eight, and I became worried.
A 35lb mongrel may not sound scary, but eight of them, hungry and desperate, can do some damage.
I could see my destination more clearly, and I suddenly realized the sleepy Sunday was now working against me.
No business was done on Sunday, so the docks were empty.
Quiet and still, I could see that no one was around to help if the dogs got the better of me.
After what must have been only 20 seconds of an all-out sprint, but felt like 20 minutes, they finally were running out of steam.
The hill had another 45ft or so before it leveled out, so I was able to outrun my ambushers.
At first I couldn't see any roads back up to the highway except the one I just came down, which wasn't too thrilling of a proposition.
Luckily, after some cautious searching, I found another road that went back up to the highway.
I may have been tired from the hard ride in the tropical sun, but there was no way I was going to stick around.
After riding many miles back to the white sands of Buccoo, I was ready for a break.
Finally, I had gotten enough adventure on my trip to Trinidad and Tobago.
After that run in, it was nothing, but crab-races, steel-drum bands, and liming - the local term for heading out and getting an ice-cold drink.
At first there was only one; like all the wild dogs on the islands, he was smallish and wiry.
"Dog's like to chase bikes," I casually told myself, not too worried about one stray dog.
But he was not alone - seconds later, two more dogs came out of the next set of bushes.
Tobago is a small, relaxed Caribbean island.
It was Sunday, and if Tobago moved at an island pace every other day of the week, on Sunday it was comatose.
I went to Buccoo Bay to see the beach but didn't want to stay.
I wanted a little more adventure, so I rented a bike and decided to head across the island to Scarborough - the main port of Tobago.
It was a long and sweaty ride under the heat of the tropical sun, my hands were greasy from fixing the chain twice, and I was ready for a break.
Unfortunately, it would be a while before I found one.
Three dogs gave me a little more concern, but I was on a steep downhill, and despite my rickety rental bike, I was confident my wobbly ride would be able to outpace the little mongrels -until two more came out of the bushes in front of me.
It was an ambush, and the leader was catching up.
Deciding to augment gravity's power with my own, I started pedaling...
hard.
This had the benefit of keeping my feet busy so I wouldn't try to kick them while they were nipping at my heels.
Never kick at a dog chasing you - you'll lose your balance, crash, and they'll be on you.
The dogs in front of me were thrown off by my new found speed and I blew past them before they could bite my legs.
As soon as I improved my position in this engagement, they did too.
Five mutts turned to eight, and I became worried.
A 35lb mongrel may not sound scary, but eight of them, hungry and desperate, can do some damage.
I could see my destination more clearly, and I suddenly realized the sleepy Sunday was now working against me.
No business was done on Sunday, so the docks were empty.
Quiet and still, I could see that no one was around to help if the dogs got the better of me.
After what must have been only 20 seconds of an all-out sprint, but felt like 20 minutes, they finally were running out of steam.
The hill had another 45ft or so before it leveled out, so I was able to outrun my ambushers.
At first I couldn't see any roads back up to the highway except the one I just came down, which wasn't too thrilling of a proposition.
Luckily, after some cautious searching, I found another road that went back up to the highway.
I may have been tired from the hard ride in the tropical sun, but there was no way I was going to stick around.
After riding many miles back to the white sands of Buccoo, I was ready for a break.
Finally, I had gotten enough adventure on my trip to Trinidad and Tobago.
After that run in, it was nothing, but crab-races, steel-drum bands, and liming - the local term for heading out and getting an ice-cold drink.