We hurtled down the other side, which proved rather steep in places. The
road goes relentlessly down and down and the frightening thing is that
you know you have to climb all of it on the way back.
Were off the mountain and were beat. Ron had thoughts of turning
back, cutting the ride short, but a far greater imperative asserted itself:
we want lunch! The only place to get food is at Bridgeport, the far point
of our ride. We pushed on.
No towns, no shops. We pulled into a campground well off the road to get
water and found some but unfortunately it was sulfurated. I ended up drinking
We tanked up and took off back to the main road.
On the way to Bridgeport theres a climb. Actually, I have a hard
time calling it that after doing Sonora, so lets call it a rise.
It crests out in a notch called Devils Gate.
We got up there in good spirits but that didnt last long. I
don't have any shots of the other side where, once again, we encountered
rain. We couldnt ride each others wheels because of the spray
and we slunk along the flat, featureless road, cars whizzing by and a
chorus of kids cried in the backseat of our heads: Are we there
yet? Those miles couldnt disappear fast enough.