But where was I going to go? I was in this for three days no matter how crap my legs or back felt. After a few more self-doubting moments (well, a lot), I crested the pass to find the group looking out into a view I will remember for a long time. Endless rows of ranges receding into the distance for what seemed forever. Punishment/reward, suffering/bliss, pain/relief… You know, that kind of thing.
After almost eight hours on and off the bike, plus the obligatory photo calls in this most epic of scenes, we hit the trail for another 30 minutes of sublime singletrack to find our first campsite and get set up before the approaching sunset.
After bathing, supper and some initial concerns over bears and other things that go bump in the night we all got a good sleep, dreaming of what the new day would bring, a day in which we would have not one, but two passes to cross.
The tequila was left untouched; I passed out long before needing its help in falling asleep on my slowly-deflating bedroll.