Day 58: Twin Bridges

I shuffled across the road for a breakfast bagel — pleasant enough, but nowhere near filling for an appetite like mine, a solid 6 out of 10 — then went back to finish packing.

Ready to roll bullet?

The day opened with a serious pass, a few thousand feet of climbing packed into about eight miles. Everyone rides a climb at their own pace, so the group scattered quickly and I settled into my own rhythm — sweating properly, face pouring, the way I hadn’t since the early days back in Virginia.

At the top I found Wim already relaxing, waiting on Stefaan and Jessica while Terry had gone off to find the library. A blistering downhill dropped us into a pair of old gold rush towns done up for tourists now, Virginia City and Nevada City — pleasant enough, but not places that held my attention long.

After lunch the target was Twin Bridges, a name every eastbound rider we’d met had mentioned unprompted. It didn’t disappoint — a proper setup built purely for cyclists, showers, toilets, a sink, benches, a bike stand, even a pump, all put together by one man in town who asked for nothing more than a donation to keep it running.

The river ran right alongside what everyone called the Bike Camp, so Terry, Wim and I took a dip in it before bothering with the showers. We found somewhere in town for food, and I beat Wim at pool twice, both games accompanied by a running argument over the rules — apparently in Belgium you’re required to sink the black ball in the corner opposite wherever you potted your second-to-last, which I informed him was nonsense.

Back at camp, Stefaan and I couldn’t be bothered pitching tents and just slept out on our mats. I finished the night with a chocolate milk, something I’d craved most days of the whole trip, and then spent the small hours regretting it slightly — a mosquito working my ear on one side, the milk sitting uneasy on my stomach on the other. Two bad choices, both mine.