Kona lives.
After waiting and doing nothing besides watching woodworking YouTube videos and "Parks and Recreation," I'm finally back on the road. And I'm really regretting two things:
- How much crap I have on me
- Begging for the mountains
The first is something I knew was going to happen. Having gone on supported tours before, I knew that I was ignorant to the consequences of having approximately fifty-five pounds of gear. I mean I had an idea, but I didn't know. I also managed to bike nearly 2,000 miles without much issue. But that was the much flatter eastern United States and in cooler temperatures. Starting my ride today, on the front knife-edge of the desert Rockies, I learned my lesson. And the first was a reminder of how beautiful mountains are. While these may not be the tree-lined peaks of Colorado, they still have this quiet majesty about them. Their bare faces have a similar siren song to snow topped peaks. It was beautiful. However, mountains also meant frequent elevation changes. Here I learned about an extension of Newton's Third Law: no downhill goes unpunished. So I spent a portion of today in my granny gear, cranking fast to go up hill slowly. Sweating and swearing for most of the day.
This trip isn't getting any easier, but the views are improving.
