Friday June 21:  Salida, Colorado to Pueblo, Colorado
Distance:  94.9 miles
Total time:  9 hours 20 minutes
Riding time:  6 hours 45 minutes

Today was a hard day.  I hesitate to say that it was the hardest yet, because God gives us the ability to forget hardship very quickly.  But it was definitely in the top three.

It started well - beautiful weather coming out of Salida, no wind, and we made over 15 miles in our first hour.  But then I got a puncture, which cost us 20 minutes.  Jamie was kind enough to change the tire for me.  He's an expert, and he knew that if I did it myself we'd have been by the side of the road for 45 minutes.

The scenery was beautiful for the first 30 miles or so.  We followed the flood-stage Arkansas River - called Ar-KAN-zus in these parts. Once you cross the border into Kansas it's pronounced like the state of Arkansas.  It looked like this.

And this.

And this.

Twenty miles into the ride the river became a rushing torrent.  We passed dozens of buses and vans hauling rafts and rafters up-river so they could run the rapids.  It looked like these guys were having fun.

Michael caught Jamie and me with chipmunk cheeks as we gnawed on energy bars during a break.  When this ride is over I'll never eat another energy bar.  Ever.  Never.

As we continued riding along the river, Jamie spotted a homemade suspension bridge, and we decided it would be fun to walk across it.  When we saw this sign, we had second thoughts.  Not sure what the "or worse" implies.

When we saw the bridge itself, we had third thoughts.

The owner came out and cautioned us that the bridge isn't as safe as it looks.  That clinched it.  We stayed on our side.  It turned out the owner's family is from coastal Maine and he used to do wilderness guiding in the White Mountains.  Small world.

One more shot of the scenery, this one apparently sponsored by Nike.

So all was jolly until about the 30 mile mark when the wind, which had threatened fickleness all morning, turned against us with evil intent.  The next 64 miles were into the teeth of a gale, and it was soul-crushing at times.  I regret every word I wrote about yesterday's glorious tailwind, and all that nonsense of not touching my pedals for 10 miles.  Karma.  The rest of the day was a slog, through a bog, with a dog.

But wait.  I remind myself that we did stop for a civilized and very enjoyable lunch in Canon City with our British friends.

But then it was back to the galley oars.

With tomorrow a rest day, the Brits organized a happy hour in the hotel lobby.  It was great to sit around, have a beer and chat without worrying about tomorrow's ride.  Here's Allan, spiritual leader of the UK contingent, getting organized.

Tomorrow is a much-needed rest day, but then we cycle 230 miles the next two days.  Will it be the Tailwind of Eternal Locomotion, or the Headwind of Eternal Pedaling?  We'll all know on Sunday.  Enjoy the day off.