July 13, Part 2

The wind is blowing loudly outside my tent. It's just past 9:30 pm and several campers are already asleep, but its still quite light out. Dean is just returning from the local pub; I went there earlier for my one drink, then Barbara and I returned and sat by the river, on a swinging bench, reading our books. Trains go by every hour or so and it is really pleasant to see and hear them (in the daytime; at night I wear earplugs).

Dinner tonight was excellent, but we did run out of food before people were full. It was Salade Nicoise, one of my favorite meals. So far, I think the food on this trip has been fantastic. There is a strong emphasis on healthy foods, grains and veggies, not so heavy on meat (and of course, I have the vegetarian option). Although, the chocolate pudding tonight was a bit burned. Jason, our cook (see him relaxing after dinner with a book)
asked me if I noticed a funny taste. "Well, just a little," I said, tactfully. "I think you could call it 'barbecued pudding'."

We thought it might rain this evening (and there were a few sprinkles that fell earlier, as the sun was shining down on us). But the campground host said that we are in the high desert, which explains the cacti growing by the river.

On every bike trip I have ever been on, there have been 2 distinct sets of riders. Not only is this trip no exception, the distinction seems especially pronounced. There are those who race, and those who tour. The racers have their tents packed before breakfast, get on the road as quickly as possible, avoid any optional additions or scenic recommendations, and strive to be the first to camp every day. Apparently, the first riders arrived at Spence's Bridge at 11:30 am today! I was last, arriving at 2:30 with Karl and Dean. We had taken our time along the way and there really wasn't much to do in Spence's Bridge, once we arrived. Yesterday, we were invited to pick cherries at a tree in Boston Bar, and today, I found apricots growing wild by the road.

I have also found and eaten raspberries and blueberries along our route.

In our group of 20, all the women (6 of us) and about half the men are "touring". We ride at different paces, but generally see the other groups at the stops. Some of the men genuinely like touring. Some just genuinely like women. Vince claims that he is a racer at heart, but just can't go that fast! (He's lying.)

Here he is, trying to pretend he knows something about his bike, as the mechanic replaces his derailleur.