Isn’t this place supposed to be some kind of secret?
Another later-than-intended start to the day. I’m still figuring out where everything should go on the bike and it’s taking me way too long to get ready in the morning. I stop by the post office and mail a few things home.
To the motorist who rolled down her window to shout “You’re awesome!“ while I was grouchy because I skipped second breakfast, I think you’re pretty great too.
I’m encountering people who say things like, “Hey, we saw you coming over the pass yesterday.“ I think there were three like that today. I haven’t seen any other touring bikes.
I’ve been coming up far short of the estimated 80 miles (130 km) a day I though I could do. Much of that is due to the terrain which will flatten out in the middle part of this tour.
I cover 60 miles (100 km) by 3:00 PM. Having a full battery and lots of sun, I decide to compensate by pushing on to a campsite 40 miles (64 km) away. Easy enough, except that it is all uphill, the road is terrible, I run out of power and eventually run out of water with 2 hours left to go. My 3 hour estimate turns into 6 hours. A kind stranger offers me a Gatorade. Nothing ever tasted so good. You’re awesome, dear stranger.
I arrive an hour after dark, humbled by my own hubris. The temperature is just above freezing. The campground is an RV park. The amenities start and end with running water and an outhouse. The owner does not charge cyclists. Dinner is half of a rice crispies bar. I have got to start eating better.