The Daily Davis Double

How can you describe what it is like to be on a bike everyday for a minimum of 6 hours, climbing thousands of feet, and covering an average of sixty miles gulping down liters of water as easily as you take in a breath of air? I used to do a ride called the Davis Double Century, 200 miles in one day. You return from it exhausted but feeling great about yourself that you really accomplished something. The exhaustion at the end of each day on this ride feels like this. Though we don't ride 200 miles, carrying your gear more than makes up for the mileage. Then it's on to the next day. A double century everyday. For those of you who aren't bike riders, think of this as running a marathon each day, albeit you're not running the marathon for a fast time, just to complete it.

I read a couple of comments from people who felt bad for us on the days of pain and difficulties we sometimes experience. During those days when the prognosis looks awful, we somehow manage and come out of the experience stronger. Take yesterday for example, Djina described the surreal night ride we took the night before. I'll only add that the quiet of riding in the desert under the full moon was a spiritual experience. The boys felt it too. At one point, we stopped on a bridge suspended above a 500 foot deep gorge. As we stared down into it we heard a gigantic crash. It was a boulder coming loose from one of the mountains. Who knows how far away it was, but it shattered the quiet and made us all jump. Evidence of the constantly changing environment. Nothing, not even the canyonlands, is permanent. Back to the difficult ride, we woke up at 5:00 in the morning to avoid the two biggest problems, heat and wind. On the road at 6:00, the headwinds were already blowing. Not an annoying breeze, but a headwind. We're tired already. We have limited water and food is mostly two week old peanut butter and jelly stuffed inside of three plastic bags because of leakage and cheddar cheese that needs to be drained because the oil keeps oozing out. There isn't enough water. The moment I get on my bike, I'm thinking, we'll do the best we can, but I know we'll have to hitch to Blanding. 72 miles and it is all uphill against headwinds and for the first two hours we're averaging between 3.5 and 6.0 miles per hour. Do the math. To top it off, after an hour or so, I'm ready to fall asleep. The only thing keeping me up is Solomon behind me chanting, "Jet packs, jet packs," when he decides to give it the gas. Djina told me to buck up, "we're going to make it." Did she not see the dire situation? But we kept pedaling and I stopped thinking sleep thanks to the caffeine in a Clif Shot. We just did one pedal rotation at a time and I was able to enjoy the spectacular scenery. One rock stood that stood above a promitory, looked like a giagantic chair. Jacob's chair it was called, and the boys and I spoke about Jacob's ladder, the dream, etc. And then the wind died down. And though we didn't have enough water (we had about three extra gallons), I started to think that the ride was possible. At the halfway point, we came to Natural Bridges National Monument. The visitors' center was 2 miles away off route, but we knew they had water, so I loaded up the empty containers, left Djina and the boys in some shade and went to fetch the water. The 2 miles was actually 4.5, and it was down a steep incline. I got the water, but knew it would be another hour to get back and I'd be exhausted. Thankfully, some kind travelers with a pick-up gave me a lift. If it weren't for the kindness of strangers, we would never make it. We still had 35 more miles of steep inclines in the hot sun, but I knew we could make it. This type of day pushes our limits, but if you don't push your limits, you can never find your strength.

Other random thoughts: Yonah is the leader on the rides. He is map man and navigator. He rides in front because we can't keep up with him. Sometimes I feel like I'm the whinning kid and he's the adult. Solomon is obsessed with many things. One of which is car honking. When a car or truck honks, he always asks, "Friendly or unfriendly." 2 quick beeps and a wave is friendly. A long blow is not. He knows it, but asks every single time. When he wants to stand out of his seat to stretch his legs, he always says, "Standing, my butt hurts."

Djina has written more of the day to day experiences below. At this point, we're taking half of a rest day and ready to take on the Rockies!