111 miles

That's the number to beat, now.  Or, the number I was beaten by.  It was a hot one, hovering in the 90s, with no shade the entire day.  But the dunes were beautiful, and it was my first day of really being out there, in the middle of nowhere.  In fact, it was so desolate, the only place to stop midday for lunch out of the heat was a small store, closed for the season where I had to call the owner to come down so I could buy some water.  I was prepared, but hey, the sign said if I needed anything, and I wanted to check it out.  I made myself a freeze dried backpacker lunch and guzzled a cold Dr. Pepper from the vending machine.  Then I set off around 4pm for the 60 miles left to my destination.  Obviously, it started to get dark, but I'm a stubborn mule sometimes and pressed on Highway 78 well past dark.  Riding at night is so blissful out there in those open fields, the green ones sending cooling wind across the road, the stars...that I would consider it one of the better two hours of riding I've ever pedalled.

By the time I arrived in Blythe, CA, I was pretty well fried, and I couldn't feel my legs.  But, I was in a grateful, peaceful daze at the grocery store, talking to everyone inside, feeling like I'd just arrived from another planet.  Then it took over two hours as I crossed back and forth across the Colorado River, California-Arizona border in search of a safe and decent place to stay.  Around midnight, I slipped through a private RV park where my map had advised tent camping, and with no other tents to reference, set up under a tree near a picnic table.

Again, exhausted to the point of feeling sick, I gobbled some tortillas and beans (everything I eat when touring is wolfed) staked my tent, cabled my bike lock to my stuff inside, crawled in the bag, and, finally, passed out around 2am.