Who'da guessed a good meal could really set you straight? Actually, I knew this and should have been eating much more and much more often. That night in the cabin, due to excitement and as it turns out, hunger, I was up until midnight. At one point, unable to sleep, I got up and ate a packet of tuna. Like a kid on Christmas, I crept into the kitchen, snatched the bag of tuna from the table and devoured it over the sink. I prayed the smell of tuna would stay close by, instead of waking up Frida, who was sleeping only a few feet away. Tuna at midnight: a pregnant lady's dream and now, mine too. After a good night's rest, it was time to re-pack my bike for the descent down Mt.Lemmon. If you don't know this already, it's VERY important to secure your front load, especially while descending. This way, you avoid any front-end mishaps. As well as changing my front bag setup, I also chose to move my 3-liter bladder from my backpack to frame bag. Back breaker. This choice would prove to be one I should have made from day one, but you live, and you learn, especially on this trip. After everyone was loaded up, we said our goodbyes to Frida, who would be going into town for bike repairs, and started to make our way down the mountain. Having never ridden all the way to the top of Lemmon via Mt.Lemmon Highway, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect on the way down. I knew there was some ascent mixed in with the downhill, but I wasn't sure when and where it would appear. But frankly, any ascent done today could never be as challenging as what we just experienced in the two days prior. It was cold. There were patches of ice and snow on the highway. Stopping to take pictures was a must even for this local Tucsonan. I'd seen these views from a car many times before but seeing them on a bike gave me a fresh perspective. As the cold air blew on my face and hair, I felt truly free. Knowing that the toughest days were behind us, we were able to relax a little bit and just enjoy the ride down. Once we made it to Le Buzz (I was telling everyone it was a must stop spot) we breathed a huge sigh of relief and hopped in line for food. There were already about 15 lady's setup at the tables outside, sharing stories with each other, as well as passersby. While people are used to seeing lots of bikes at Le Buzz, I think the shock of so many ladies on fully loaded bikes, was the real amazement. Everyone wanted to know what we were up to and where we were going. This was a common theme of the entire trip, and I will mention it several more times. After devouring my Le Buzz egg sandwich and coffee, I grabbed a pastry for tomorrow's breakfast or possibly desert that night; whichever mood struck first. Before heading out I took FULL advantage of Le Buzz's bathroom: pooping, washing my dishes in the sink and taking a ho shower via sink and paper towels. I was living the glamourous life of bike touring and loving every dirty minute of it. After one last stop at Early Bird Bikes for chamois cream, lube and other odds and ends, we hit the road. Luckily, we were taking Houghton to our next camp spot, and it was a mostly straight shot. After today's camp, there would be limited stops for water and supplies, so planning ahead and staying ahead, was a must. About 10 miles before we stopped to resupply at Road Runner Market in Vail, I pulled over to apply more chamois cream. As I stuck my hand down the front of my bibs, I felt a sharp pain in my right butt cheek. As if locked in with a laser beam, my eyes found the spot: a stinger. Luckily, Sarah was behind me and ready to return the favor of removing the stinger, as I had done for her on day 2. Since this was the first time I'd ever been stung by a bee, I wasn't sure what to expect. Would my throat swell up? Would I break out in hives? Or worse, would I die from anaphylaxis? No. None of these things would happen and in fact, by the next day, I would completely forget about the sting. When we pulled up to Road Runner, there were already a lot of ladies out front. I encountered Eve (UK) working on Karen's (UK) bike. I asked if I could watch, even though I wasn't exactly sure what was going on. Eve obliged and I watched on in awe. "Are you a bicycle mechanic?", I asked. "No, just an engineer", she laughed. I couldn't believe she was solving this problem without the knowledge of a tenured mechanic. It really spoke to her skills and knowledge. I would experience so many instances like this, during the rally. After loading up on water and snacks, we took a left on Sahuarita Rd and then our final left, onto Wilmot, leading us out into the desert for the evening. We moseyed down the road until we saw Andy (NY) flagging us down and showing us the way to camp. There were already about 10 people setup when we arrived, so we took the approach of "get in, where you fit in" and camped in a wash. Now, before you chastise me for camping in a wash, we DID check the weather, and we DID have a conversation about the dangers of camping in said wash. However, we decided as a group to take the risk and setup. As the night went on, the group got bigger, and so did the laughter. We sat around the fire, making dinner and sharing details about our lives, outside of cycling. In the days past, we'd spent so much time pressing on that we had spent little time really getting to know each other on personal levels. With the dying fire, people started retreating to their tents. I looked up at the night's sky, completely blanketed in stars. I couldn't believe I was here. It was surreal. I rolled into my tent, pulled up my sleeping bag and passed out. Tomorrow would be a day of washboard, sand and a magical evening in Patagonia. I couldn't wait for the adventure to begin again.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair." - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

The morning of the rally I was a bundle of nerves. At the time, I wasn't nearly as worried about riding as I was meeting new people. Like so many, covid molded me into an introvert and this was the first group event I would be attending in years. Despite my social anxiety, I actually had a false sense of ability when it came to the ride (this would prove humbling later). I figured 'Hey! I ride a bike full time in Tucson, I've GOT this!', but in 10 hours I would be riding in the dark, bonking hard and struggling to pedal. Luckily, my passion for Coca-Cola, chicken tenders and newly formed friendships would be just enough to get me to Mel's Diner, in San Manuel. Once we arrived, I knew I was out of gas. We wouldn't be making it to Peppersauce Campground; the first "snag" in my plans. Part of me felt like a failure and the other part of me was too tired to care. After asking to sleep behind Mel's and getting the go ahead, we wheeled our bikes out back and setup camp in near silence. Everyone's exhaustion was palpable, but so was the sense of gratitude for a place to stay. I fell asleep that evening reflecting on my day, thankful for the new friends I had already made and excited for the experiences that were yet to come.