One year and a half ago, solo, I hit mud (more like a foot of oatmeal) crossing this ‘dry’ lake bed. So freaky to get the bike turned around and push it in second gear, rapped out with giant mud bell bottoms on my legs. Not this day though. We are almost to camp and the bottle of tequila in my saddlebag.
We are only about 10 miles from camp on the left side of this butte.
Day one was great. 247 mi of really fun riding and all the bikes are running perfect. No flats and we are SO
out of town it’s not funny. With every mile and each hour passing, the 'importance' of work diminishes. I have no cell phone, no laptop, my little family is happy and healthy back at home. With any luck I'll pull up back at the farm in 6 days to see my hay cut, ready to be baled, the lawn still green, my funny dogs barking at me like they don't know who I am and my beautiful wife smiling. Which bag is that tequila in?!?!?