Rushing out of my Big Agnes tent before the sun had risen, I projectile vomited, then again, and again. My hands on my knees, I stand, wipe my mouth, and go back to my sleeping bag for the warmth I didn’t get all night.
My plan was to enjoy a slow morning, capture some content at sunrise, then head down to my bicycle to start the bicycle touring section of the trip.
That didn’t happen.
Instead, I vomited another time, stuffed my backpack as quickly as possible, and began walking back to the van defeated. Was this trip going to be done before it even started? I thought to myself as I lumbered down from the summit.
“What could be the reason for this sickness?” I asked myself, confused and curious.
Nothing
Three miserable hours later, I was back at the van and met up with Kristin. Coffee, some breakfast, and settling on the idea of altitude sickness, I couldn’t give up. Bike packing from Freel Peak to Mount Whitney was my idea, my vacation, I had turned down jobs to do this, and I wanted to push myself. Sitting there in the van, misable, I continually thought to myself what I could do to make my life better. There was nothing. I just needed to suck it up and get on my way.
Two hours passed while I sat roadside in the van, working up my courage. I packed my bike. Exhausted, I focused on a mental shift and set off into the relative unknown, swooshing down Luther Pass headed towards Monitor Pass.
Five years have passed since my last cycle tour, it was new again. Pavement moved under me as I zipped downhill. Wind froze my hands. Trees and a river whipped passed at 15 miles an hour. Freedom, smiles, energy pumping through my body I have not felt in years. I’m where I am supposed to be.
Quickly, I realized the level of attention I needed to regain as I missed my first turn. Cars passed me and I was getting distracted. All I wanted to do was cycle in the middle of the road without hands and feel the wind in my face, but I needed focus. There wasn’t cellphone service on the road, so I had to read signs. I forgot to download Google maps for offline viewing. Collecting my head, I found the correct turn and met some uphill. My legs were not happy.
The good news about an uphill, the downhill. Clocking in at 35 miles per hour, I passed Markleeville and started to see signs for Monitor Pass, a 3,000 foot climb that I was hoping to tackle today.
Then… my chain fell off my bike.
Not a big deal, but I am sure happy the chain fell off when it did. I came to a quick stop, pulled off, and got the chain back in working order. Nothing was wrong with it, just a slip while shifting. I am not the smoothest shifter. With everything back in working order, I turned legft and befgan my journey of climbing Monitor Pass.
I cursed. I sang. I succeeded in not pushing my bike up the hill. I danced at the summit.
As my body began to bonk from a lack of calories, I scarfed down some food. A sandwich. Then, hopped back on my bike and started the downhill section. Speeding past signs reading “curve ahead 25MPH” I am a daredevil. Leaning into the curves as if I was in a full leather suit on a motorcycle, I took each bend like a champ. Risking my skin to the asphalt. Looking down at my watch, I was zipping past these turns between 35-38mph. I was estatic.
4:30pm hit. Soon, Kristin would pick me up. My watch read 37 miles on the day, I wanted to get to 40. My ego wanted to be able to say I rode 40 miles, my body didn’t. My butt didn’t. But, I pushed on to feed my ego.
4:56pm my phone buzzed, “I’ll be a bit late,” Kristin said. So, I checked her location and my watch, she was roughly 50 minutes away. Could I make 50 miles before she arrived?
Turns out, I made it 52 miles.
Kristin and the sun are insync. She arrived as the light faded from the sky and the darkness set in.
Loading my bike into the van, I moaned and growned; my body hurt. Good thing a hot spring was in my near future :-)