I woke up this morning to the sound of hushed voices talking downstairs of the Cat and Matt Mountain Chalet outside Durango. I could smell the coffee. I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow when it dawned on me: I don't have to put chamois on this morning.
Of all the hardships of the Tour Divide, the worst part of each day was getting out of the sleeping bag and putting slightly damp, handwashed, filthy chamois on. This morning I put on a pair of pants, wandered downstairs, ate three bananas, half a tub of yogurt and waited for Chris to make me breakfast.
It was an amazing trip, one which I'll recount here once I sleep some more, eat some more, and process some more. 19 days of highs and lows, one day spent entirely in Bonkersville, hypothermia, heat stroke, bears, badgers, elk, rednecks, pie, Swedish Fish, washboards, more washboards, views, and more views.
Pretty much the most rad bike ride I've ever been on.