Slept pretty well considering it was on the stage of a community centre. The others were all up early, looking to get out on the road before 6am. 

 

I made my porridge - which was nice to eat out of an actual bowl rather than a metal tin for once - then headed to the shop across the road to get a coffee and a muffin before hitting the road. 

I knew that I’d quickly be getting to Fleecer Ridge, possibly the most infamous hill on the whole route. With pitches over 30% it requires walking weather going up all down. There is an alternate route which avoids it and most of the southbounders I’d spoken to over the last couple of days seem to have taken that option. However, that involves lots of pavement riding and I was keen to experience this iconic section.

 

On the approach to the ridge I was already glad of my decision as I started to climb up through the forest. I was out earlier than usual so it was still cool but bright and perfectly still. The road opened out into a meadow and then as I turned a corner this wall reared up in front of me. I dismounted and started pushing but quickly realised I’d have to take the panniers off and do a separate journey up with them.

 

Even with the weight shed, I had to wrestle the bike up - my forearms burning from their unexpected workout and my feet slipping on the loose scree. As the gradient eased slightly I put the bike down and went back for the bags, deciding I could push them together from here. Much easier second time around just carrying the bags. 

 

Having reattached the bags I set off towards the top only to realise I’d taken my sunglasses off when I’d stopped and left them on the floor. So once again put the bike down and went down again to retrieve them - full Grand Old Duke of York style.

 

Finally made it to the top with all my belongings only to realise my rear brake had stopped working. Deciding it would probably be of use for the downhill I stopped to change the brake pads which seemed to do the trick. Finally I was on my way down, having spent what seemed like all morning in this meadow. Lovely long smooth descent which further vindicated the decision for battling up this route rather than taking the alternate. 

 

After crossing under the freeway I was climbing again. This was all ridable but had prolonged sections above 15% and probably had my heart rate higher than Fleecer Ridge. But it was soon time for the long downhill run to Butte where I had a motel booked. Stopped in at Safeway for a resupply and then headed to the hotel where I was able to do laundry and clean all my kit up as best as possible, which was still showing the effects of the mud day. 

 

Went out for a pizza and caught up on some Tour de France highlights. Butte is much bigger than I was expecting and apparently has a strong socialist tradition owing to the powerful mining unions which dominated the town. Also the birthplace of Evil Kanevil but I won’t be trying any stunts.