We decided to let ourselves sleep in a bit because we were skipping a much needed rest day so we snoozed until a luxurious 9am. We then packed up fairly quickly... and said goodbye to our host and his adorable toddler who kept trying to shove rocks into the hole in Ziven’s crankset. We set off with the goal of the gas station/grocery store that was the main source of civilization in town besides the fancy hotel and the Georgia O’Keefe museum. We foraged for food within its midst and ate some surprisingly good burritos on the front stoop while it got steadily hotter. Eventually we ran into Dave from Pete and Dave. They had started from an alpine meadow campsite at the top of Polvadera Mesa that morning and Pete was having a rough go of it so they were going to stop in Abiquiu after only 15 miles or so. Comforted that others hated the descent as much as I did, we chatted with Dave and then alternated soaking our shirts in cold water from the bathroom sink. We learned that Jeff and Gary were going by road through Chama instead of the gravel climbs for the next few days because they were done with gravel after going down the Mesa so we would likely not catch up for a while. We then headed out at the crack of 10:30… or maybe it was 11am… and rode along the main highway for a while.

We then turned towards the scrubby hills and started a gradual climb, stopping at an almost ghost town to get some performance fuel aka an ungodly amount of sugar in both soda and cookie form. We knew this day was short mileage wise but had a tonnnn of climbing so we strapped in and started grinding up the gravel into aspen-y forests. It started to feel more like Colorado and familiar forests so I was optimistic but we knew we had to get to a specific campsite before it got too dark because they had water and most of the other land was technically private. We sweated and struggled up the steeposity and eventually entered a race against the sun. We were still miles out and the sun was starting to set behind the craggy hills as my snot levels and croaky throat were getting worse and worse. On the final climb we reached a gorgeous open clearing and I was so tempted to stop and lay down in it that I almost cried, but kept pedaling by force of will and we eventually topped out. Our brief descent before reaching Hopewell Lake Campground was filled with RVs and trailers who apparently didn’t want to pay for camping and accordingly stayed right outside the gates so they could still access the lake and it’s fishing with their ATVs. After passing through the lengthy “suburbs”, we eventually arrived at the pearly gates of the campground and I will admit we biked the entire mile long loop of campsites before going back and snagging the very first one we had seen. We found out that the spigot unfortunately didn’t work and the signs around noted that there was no potable water in the campsite. Ignoring this as a tomorrow problem as we had plenty of water left for cooking and sleeping, I whipped up some noodles while Ziven set up camp. My voice slowly started to reemerge after the noodle soup and many lozenges. We laid out our sweaty clothes to dry and climbed into bed, tired but exhilarated that our long day had come down to the final ten minutes of seeable light and that we had been triumphant!