But I digress, anyway, on my second mountain pass of the day, I was running really low on water. There were no streams, or creeks or anything and I had one water bottle left. The pass was relatively easy, but the heat and lack of water made it one of my toughest yet. About halfway up, I passed a 58 year old guy heading to Wisconsin. He was walking his bike and made me promise never to tell any of his friends that I saw him. He then went on to tell me about some guy he met in Montana that got a case of Bochulism (sp?) because his food spoiled from the heat. I took his story as advice, then continued pedalling, at which point he yelled at me calling me a "show-off."

Another few miles up the mountain, I came across a road flagger. She asked how I was doing and told me I was almost there. After passing her, I rounded a bend and rode past two workers standing on the side of the road, two dump trucks, and a plow truck. They all stopped what they were doing, waved and shouted at me saying I was "looking strong." Around the next bend was another flagger, stopping traffic from the other direction. Before I even got close to him, he was yelling that I only had .6 of a mile left, then it was all downhill. It was just like being in a race, all they needed were cow bells.