We bid farewell to Josh and Will, both of whom we were sad to see go, and wheeled our bikes out as quietly as possible. We were trying to leave early to beat the rain threatened forecast.... We pedaled down the main street of Del Norte and said goodbye to the happy little town that had offered some much needed respite. We turned off the main road toward the San Juans looming to the north and wound our way around the tiny airport whose runway intersected our route. Helpfully, there was the one and only sign we would see denoting the “Great Divide Mountain Bike Route this way” with an arrow routing us around the edge of the runway and then back to the road. The road then turned to dirt and I grumpily conceded that today would be a lot of bumping up and down. The road was rutted and took some muscle to maneuver around as we climbed descended hills on repeat. I momentarily panicked when it looked like the road ended, only to see the faint trail overgrown with sage brush pick up to the left instead of straight ahead. We meandered around the foothills for a while before being spit back out onto a road that led us by some houses and fairly close to a town that we did not detour to visit.

We then turned west back into the hills and passed a lovely ranch in a beautiful valley with large fields, a pretty modern-ish house, a stream cutting through the trees, and other charming additions. We soon were gradually climbing in a canyon-y valley that followed green fields of cows and rock walls further into the hills. This climb lasted quite a while and we passed in and out of National Forest land before stopping for a snack at the top of a pass that was still well below tree line and thus allowed us lots of material to lean our bikes and ourselves against. We descended into the next valley and bumped along a dusty road as the canyon widened and then joined with a road. We battled headwinds and waved at some CDT hikers as we traversed a wide green valley. I stopped for a pee at a very scenic field of wildflowers and thunderclouds loomed in all directions. A few minutes later we turned off the road onto more gravel and delved back into the hills, starting with a funny dirt canyon looking configuration that we had to climb up as thunder sounded off in the distance. The road stayed fairly smooth and wound up a canyon-y valley while we tried to outpace the storm. We arrived at the campground we were aiming for and rejoiced in the sunshine and cloudless sky. We took a peak around the campground, which was quite pretty among the aspens, but were tempted to go further to make the next day into Salida, which would be a long one with a large climb, a little easier. We also reasoned that there was no water at this location and we could probably find a good spot to camp in the National Forest land that was along the route for the next 20 or so miles. We decided to go for it and packed up again, leaving behind the sun drenched aspen campsites for the open road and all its possibilities. An hour later we knew we had made a huge mistake. We had descended from the campsite along a nice road in the forest and biked around a super picturesque bend in the road that seemed to go on forever. The road merged with a larger but still dirt road that went straight for what seemed like forever and the wind started to pick up. We donned our rain jackets as the rain threatened overhead and we pedaled furiously against the headwinds to not much avail. There were farmhouses way off the road and I was beginning to scout out a good one to ask for respite in between eyeing up small hills and divots in the fields around us that could offer some shelf from the roaring wind. We stopped to consult with each other and considered turning back, reclimbing the hill, and going back to our first campsite. Not wanting to waste effort and time and miles, we pushed on and I said that we might be lucky enough to find a picnic shelter or something at the next set of lakes a few miles down the road. The rain changed from spitting to a steady downpour that soaked our legs and feet and was beginning to find ways to penetrate our rain jackets. At the dam at the mouth of the lake there was a large divot where we could have fit our tent away from the wind but Ziven was concerned that it was our marshland and the access was questionable so we pushed on a little further. Eventually I spotted a roof far off in the distance and we beelined towards it. It turned out to be a vault toilet at the parking area for the lake’s recreation area and I happily pulled into the covered “foyer” of the bathroom that offered some protection without any of the smell of a typical toilet.

We elected to not go any further for the day and finagle some way to stay under this tiny roof as best as possible. Ziven unloaded some of the bags and went scouting further north where he thought he spotted a larger roof near an RV parked at the next overlook. Not finding anything better than what we had found, we bunkered down in the vault toilet for a while, heating up some hot chocolate and eating some delicious crystallized pineapple from the health food store in Del Norte. Our bikes and ourselves barely fit in the toilet but we were fairly cozy with the door closed (when it was opened for fresh air, the venturi effect actually drew more odor out from the depths).

Eventually the rain eased off and we tried to figure out where to put our tent. Originally the plan was to put our sleeping pads at the entrance to the toilet under the roof but we still wanted some actual waterproof cover for ourselves so we found a flat spot about ten feet away, Conveniently located right in front of a huge sign that said the wilderness area prohibited hunting, fishing, patching, blah blah blah, and camping. Choosing to believe that any ranger would take pity on us and our toilet situation, we pitched our tent anyways and stowed the bikes at the entrance to the toilet to protect them from any future rain. We got cozy for the rest of the afternoon and watched some movies and tv on our phones before cooking some noodles outside the tent while keeping our toes firmly snuggled in sleeping bags. We eventually drifted off to sleep later, mercifully dry.