Cemetery Solitude.

I stayed in bed for a lengthy amount of time as Monica and Annika got their things together. When they were set, I rolled out of bed and into their car. Up we went back to my hidden bicycle. 

I said goodbye to my friends.

The steep climb up Carson Pass had been delayed but the moment was back, its time had come. I was prepared. The 9 miles took some time as I stopped frequently, relishing my final mountain. The views were plenty, the birds were bountiful... and the cars continued streaming past like a broken levee. Soon, the summit came into view like a sunrise.

I had conquered my final mountain... or so I thought. The numerous acquaintences I met that had told me the downhill wasn't quite downhill proved to ring true. I flew like a bird for much of the 8000 feet back to sea level but there were steep uphills that greeted me like an old friend. The erratic geography reminded me of the Appalachians. I coasted on Highway 88 for a long time before a turn onto a quiet, lonely and broken road. 

I was heading for Fair Play, a small town up in the mountains at 4500 ft. There was a mythical campground there for cyclists. However, nobody I encountered knew of the place and the number was out of service. 

I rolled into Fair Play around 5 and followed the vague directions to the intersection where it was supposedly around. I buzzed the gate of a man living around the area.

A middle-aged man without a shirt came walking out from his establishment, followed step by step by a precious little girl in a bathing suit. She was holding her ice cream watching me curiously with her screaming blue eyes; no more than 4 years old. She silently lapped at her treat as she stood solemnly, directly next to her caretaker.

"Hey man, what's up?" the smoke-addled voice croaked.

"I'm looking for Idlewild Campground? My map says it's somewhere around here?"

He turned and looked down the road curiously. I noted a marijuana leaf tattooed on the back of his left calf. 

"The only campground around here is Big Bear and that's about 2 miles down the road."

"Huh. Well, this map's old. Perhaps, it just went outta business or something."

"Yeah man, sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"No worries, I'll figure it out."

The man turned and his young companion followed closely behind nearly tripping him. I turned back in the opposite direction. There was an old cemetary I had noted in case the campground was, in fact, a myth. I headed there.

The path wound around a bend and up a small hill. It was gated and far enough off the road that I decided it would be a good place. I set up camp. I took a nap and read for a good, long while. Its been lovely to hear the rustling of the leaves in the trees since Nevada. I ate my military meal from Sheriff Derek and went into my tent as the sun slowly fluttered behind the trees. I continued reading.

I felt an ant crawling on my leg and allowed him to wander. Then, I felt another... and another. Suddenly, I wasn't so fond of the little explorers. I smushed 3 or 4 with my pointer finger. I soon realized there were more than 3 or 4; Fort Johnson was under assault. I couldn't locate the area of infiltration and after shining my light, I realized I was overrun. I surrendered the tent to the army and retreated with my sleeping bag under a tree on the grave of Aldus Williams. I thanked the man for his charitability and after smacking a few ants and finishing my book, The Divine Arsonist, I fell asleep.

I added these beautiful little flowers to my bouquet. 

Unaware, This was less than 100 yards from the summit. I thought I still had lots of upward biking to go.

                   Ohhh yeaahhh. Stopped and got water here. The rangers were awfully surprised to learn I'd ridden my bike from New Jersey. They also noted it wasn't quite all downhill from that point on.