Day 5: March 9, Alpine to Ocotillo
I don’t even know where to start with this. We woke up from an awesome night’s sleep in our hotel in Alpine ready to do some serious climbing. We knew we were in for a crazy day, topographically speaking — the route had up climbing nearly 5,000 feet over 62 miles. What we were not expecting were the unrelenting, soul-crushing headwinds. Being forced to stand up out of the saddle and climb in your granny gear is never a thing that should happen. But oh did it ever happen. Even on the descents were were peddling against resistance. It was cruel. Over the course of the day I shouted my fair share of obscenities into the wind. Luckily, our spirits were kept up by a group of 46 cyclists we met early in the day. They were a group of retirees who were riding with an organized, supported tour from San Diego to Florida. They were generally awesome and hilarious and provided a great deal of entertainment and perspective throughout the toughest parts of the day. We left them with about 25 miles to go and eventually descended into the Imperial Valley and camped in a town called Ocotillo where the only source of food is the mini mart attached to the gas station (if there’s one thing I’ve learned on this trip thus far, it’s that “food deserts” are a very real thing). We stayed in the empty lot between the community center and the fire house with our new friend Frankie. Frankie is an 18 year-old British guy riding solo across the Southern Tier while on a “gap year” (for those not familiar with gap years, please see the following: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKFjWR7X5dU). We all compared stories about how our moms didn’t want us to go biking across the country. Sophie and I have called our mothers every single night to report that we are still alive and well. Frankie told us he hadn’t spoken to his mother once since he’s been here. Then he corrected himself and said, “Well actually, I Facebooked her once.” You’re welcome, momses.