Sonora
Pass 2001 Home
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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.
We’re off the mountain and we’re 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
it.
We tanked up and took off back to the main road.
On the way to Bridgeport there’s a climb. Actually, I have a hard
time calling it that after doing Sonora, so let’s call it a rise.
It crests out in a notch called Devil’s Gate.
We got up there in good spirits but that didn’t last long. I
don't have any shots of the other side where, once again, we encountered
rain. We couldn’t ride each other’s 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 couldn’t disappear fast enough.
We made it to Bridgeport thoroughly soaked and had lunch at the lovely,
elegant Bridgeport Inn. We parked our bicycles on the porch and took turns
messing up their bathroom trying to dry out. This was the halfway point.
Now we get to ride all the way back.