This day started out well enough. The early morning traffic had me up a bit before sunrise. I wanted to sleep in a bit but I knew that I would avoid some of the sun by starting out early.
The riding between Cuba and Grants is pretty unremarkable. Just lots of rolling hills, lots of pavement, and lots of heat (It was over 110 during the day). I stopped at the little indian reserve mercantile about 50 miles before Grants. In the bathroom I sewed up the huge hole in my shorts, not that it really mattered because it just ripped again the next day. (At least I made it through Grants without mooning anyone.)
Have I mentioned that I'm from Alaska? Have I mentioned that I suck in the heat? Have I mentioned that I don't even wear something on my face when I ride my fat tire snow bike at ten below?
One hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit my @$$!!!!!!!
The only other animal dumb enough to be out in the desert.
The heat just completely decimated me this day. About 20 miles before Grants I was falling asleep in the aerobars. I decided to take a nap under the shade of a tree. It was a magical twenty minutes of sleep except for some rude jerk's snoring kept waking me up. (I never figured out who's snoring it was though, when I woke up I was the only person I could see for miles.)
Shortly thereafter, I passed a mining facility that had these absolutely gigantic (and awesome) earth haulers. I was mostly impressed by how nice the drivers were to me, a raggedy looking bikepacker. They slowed down and passed me with tons of caution on the road. (Thanks for not killing me!)
Just outside of Grants I ran into a photographer that was covering the race. He told me that the little English bugger that I passed at Brush Mountain Lodge had passed me some time in the night. Then he took my photo....
I look like such a hobo!
I made it into Grants, restocked, and stopped at McDonalds. I was in Grants for "way, way, way too long." (A quote from me in a diary video.) I stopped to call Liz, my wife, about five times in Grants. The feeling of being on the tour at this point is pretty hard to explain. Everyday metaphors just don't do justice to the amount of metal fortitude that is requisite for making it 2500 miles on a mountain bike. Suffice it to say.... I was pretty lonely and tired.
A photo I sent to my wife to show her what a hobo I was.
A video from just after Grants. Apparently I was there for way too long....
After Grants the riding is more pavement. I wanted to ride into the night and maybe make Pie Town. I noticed that my phone had signal about 20 miles outside of Grants (Yes, I called my wife again) and then I lost it after a few more miles. By this time it was dark. I decided to turn around until I got cell signal, set up my bivy, and I talked to my wife until my phone died.
It was a really good day with lots of miles covered. I could tell I was getting pretty wiped out though; I took my first nap of the race and I called my wife about eight times.
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