Immediately upon leaving the checkpoint, one has to push his or her bike up a long hill and then descend a long way down, down, down to another lake or river. The descent was steep enough that even Lindsay, who is simply amazing at riding steep, scary descents, elected to walk the bike down to the lake. I suppose we were riding on a solid track for forty or so minutes when Lindsay realized that he had left his damned camelbak back at the lodge.
...is this man weeping? No...just a stick in the eye
The stoic and peace-loving former Canadian Olympian and all-around good guy calmly listened to my little tirade and then in a tranquil voice instructed me to continue onward whilst he would return for the camelbak. I followed my instructions, but sheepishly, perhaps because I was feeling a hint of guilt—before we parted, I promised to walk a lot and ride slow, so as to allow him to catch back up in good time. It must be pointed out that while I am not above treachery, I had no intentions of trying to ditch Mr. Gauld for he a solid plan and the plan was working. Even by my “fuzzy” math calculations, we were well ahead of schedule. We had even begun to openly speak of finishing the course in less than four and one half dayz. Plus it was a great sense of comfort to travel with a competent guy that had been on the trail just twelve months before…
To be continued….