Day sixteen.

From Grant to Lima. 70 miles.

We stopped an hour or so into our day for a drink of water and, as always, a bite to eat, and this nice guy stopped by to chat. He lives on the route and is interested in the riders. We asked him some questions and it turns out he was born in a house just up the road and he’s lived there all his life. He owned 40,000 acres of land dedicated to cattle grazing, the third generation of his family to do so. He had his dog and his shotgun on the seat next to him.

My usual view. I am on a constant search for what I call “quiet gravel.” When the gravel under your tires doesn’t make much noise, that means it’s smooth and fast. Sometimes you find it for a few seconds before it’s gone and you scan the road for the next smooth-looking section. And sometimes the road is just so full of rock there just isn’t any quiet gravel to be had.

Max is a little dot up the road.

This kid is a gem. He regularly beats me to the tops of the climbs. This time, when I found him at the summit, he had already heated water and prepared some instant pad Thai, ready to nourish my tired muscles.

Only 8 more miles! We took a break and I could not resist lying down to rest. Such a sweet feeling to relax for a sec. While I was there I played that game where you identify shapes and objects in the clouds. I saw a pirate ship.

Camped under a pavilion in a nearby park.