Rematch

I've been thinking about this ride for almost a year. It's such a great loop. It has everything: great scenery, plenty of distance, a long gravel section, a grueling uphill and a long down hill as your reward.

And last year, I failed to complete it. I ran over a thorn - popping my tire. After a lot of effort, I found my spare inner tube was also punctured. I was twenty miles from the finish. I ended up hitch hiking back to camp, and that was that.

But it stayed in my mind.

Over the last eleven months, my riding has changed. I bought a gravel bike and learned to love it. I started taking on long rides, and slowly improved my kit.

And as it happens, I arranged my life so I could be back in a certain national park with a full day to try again.

The hour before I leave is spent puttering: I make and drink coffee. I make an egg tortilla, and eat it standing up. I pack up road food, tools, water, and a wind breaker, and I go through my OCD rituals of making sure the van is locked, and that I still have the key.

The weather is perfect: The day begins cool, but more importantly, it's not windy. West Texas can be notoriously windy.

I decide to follow last year's route. So I hung a left out of the campground and headed towards Santa Elena canyon. I am basically making a big oval, and I'll break it down into four segments.

The first 8 miles are wonderful. My legs are strong, and I'm loving life. The morning sun is bright and warm and lighting up the canyon wall.

By the way, that cliff you see? That’s Mexico.

The next 13 miles are gravel, and winding over the desert. It takes more effort, but it's not difficult. The road ranges from full body washboard, to rough and rocky, and occasionally quite smooth.  I like the variety. I also like the lonesome emptiness of the land. There aren't many cars out here, I've got the whole desert road to myself.

I stop for a pee, and a snack. Today, I have peanut butter and strawberry jam  sandwiches. I have some Swiss chocolate. Treat yourself.

I know what's coming: the next 8 miles miles are a gently sloping uphill grind. I remember it from last year. Grind is the right word. Its not hard, but it takes more of you than youwant to give it. But this year, I've a better bike suited to the task.

I was not wrong. It still sucked, but not too bad. My thighs were fatigued, my butt getting a bit sore, but I pass the halfway point! Now every mile brings me closer to home.

The last section of the ride is the longest. It's 23 miles to glory, starting with a long uphill grind for 6 miles, followed by 2 miles of a steep backed bastard of a foothill climb.

There comes a point in every long ride, where it's no fun anymore. I was in the throes of the last climb. I am gasping like a fish on land. I made small goals: “Just pedal to that rock. Now get to the end of the guard rail.”

It was diabolical. After a steep mile, it flattened slightly before another mile of grinding.  I crawl up the hill. But, I make it.

It’s funny though.. As soon as I knew I was going to beat it, a small wave of happiness rolled over me. I did it! I may be a gasping fat guy, but I’m a gasping fat guy on top of a mountain that I pedalled up!

Now the end game. I am 16 miles from home, but I knew it was all downhill from here. My only challenge was going too fast!

I stop off at the high point vista for another sandwich and top off my water. I pat myself on the back, I have the perfect amount of water. I regain my mojo, shaking off the fatigue of the last 16 uphill miles.

I'm really happy I took this route in this direction. I coasted for miles without pedalling! I call them free miles. It was awesome. And this section of the scenic drive is beautiful! I zoomed past mesas and the mule ears and the bad lands. I’m grinning like the mad man I am.

I take the turn into the campground some 53 miles later. I’m happy, very tired, and ready for the victory rituals of a day well spent.

I slowly unpacked my gear, and put up my bike. I take a hot shower in the van. I make tapas, and crack a beer - my body craving calories. I sit down in my hammock, and sigh with contentment.