From a pedalling point of view, the day was fairly easy, but in reality, it was pretty gruelling. Once I started dropping in elevation, the temperature began to rise until it reached a high of 107 near Florence. Because it was so hot, the heat from the eastern plains began to rush up the mountain. Back in Montana, one local tried to explain to me that in the morning and at night, the cold air rushes down from the mountains and in the afternoon, it blows up the mountain. Usually, the greater the temperature difference between the two areas, the stronger the winds. The logic made sense, but usually when I'd be riding along, I never knew if I was riding away from the prevailing wind generating mountain range or riding into it. It just always seemed like I was riding in a crosswind or a headwind. There were definitely a few instances where I had a strong tailwind, but I would say the majority of time, I was fighting the wind.

During this trip, I rode right through the heart of bear country. Now, I've been to Yosemite, Glacier and Yellowstone many times in my life and I've spent plenty of time in the mountains of northern New England and have yet to see a bear, black or grizzly. I kind of remember seeing a bear at a zoo somewhere, but that doesn't really count. I have been fortunate enough to see many other animals (not including the various heads that are displayed in every eatery and saloon that I've been in thus far) including moose, big horn sheep, mountain goats, elk, bison, foxes, coyotes, antelope, and even a bobcat, but to date I've missed the one animal I really want to see.

Just south of the little town of Guffey, there is a fairly steep descent. I know it is steep, because it is marked with my favorite street sign in the world, the picture of a truck pointed at a 45 degree angle going downhill with the words "Use lower gear" below. Anyway, as I started descending the hill and picked up a speed of about 40mph, I noticed a Ford pickup truck in front of me pulled off to the side of the road. The truck had its hazard lights on and two men dressed in US. Forestry outfits were walking towards the back of the truck. In the back of the truck was a 4 foot by 4 foot cage.

As I rode by, I slowed slightly and pulled more to the middle of the road, just to make sure they weren't going to run in front of me or open the door and hit me or throw something at me. I suppose riding your bike to work through downtown San Francisco makes you an extremely defensive rider and conditioned to expect anything. While I haven't been in any serious accidents, I have had car doors opened on me twice, and slid across the hood of a jeep who decided to make a right hand turn without looking for bikers first. Each of those accidents happened at pretty low speeds, but when I'm flying down a mountain around 40mph I take extra precautions.