Sheridan Shindig Day 3

Woke up to a frozen tent and snow falling. I used bark from a dead white bark pine to get a fire going. We ate breakfast, or drank it in the form of bulletproof coffees. All the while watching the weather get worse and worse. By the time we finally packed the tent and bags it was a full on down pour. And it was cold. This was not fun and getting into a wet tent that evening sent even more chills down our spines. We bailed, bailed hard, and charged down into the valley to Sheridan. As I screeched to a halt on the edge of town I realized the epic-ness of the effort. We needed to climb 3,600 feet back into the snow laden mountains and back to our element. My bike looked like a sand sculpture after the mud grinding it took to get to town.

“Did you bring money or a card?”, I inquired of my epic-mate.

“No … did you?”

“No!”

And so the epic continued back up to Branham Lakes where our car awaited. I blacked out and went into epic mode … my partner the same … possibly her first time. No drama there, we made it, not that big of a deal. It just sucked. The rest of our 5 days off … drying out at home and sleeping. Part of our boring lifestyle as old folks.

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