Delta, UT

I made it through all five riding days this past week to Delta, Utah! Yesterday I woke up at 5:00 a.m. (as I do every morning) to a gorgeous sunrise over the Nevada mountains. After taking down the tent I share with fellow rider Audrey, packing my things, readying my bike for the day, and eating a quick breakfast out of one of the support vans, I started riding with another rider, Flannery. Since the Border Inn RV park was literally on the border between Nevada and Utah, the "Welcome to Utah: Life Elevated" road sign was the first landmark of our ride. Flannery and I were scared of the “life elevated” part because we were wary of having to do any more climbing. The second landmark road sign was the one declaring that we had entered into a new time zone--very exciting for the both of us! Flannery and I stopped after only the 7th mile marker to stretch and rest because we both felt stiff and tired, and mentally drained from the very long valley we were riding through towards the sight of a huge summit climb. After the climb was the best descent I have experienced thus far on the Ride. Utah is beautiful; the descent carried us down sharp curves through a mountain pass filled with dramatic rock ravines. After the epic descent, however, the day became a slog through the miles because of the extreme heat. Only Valerie’s ipod shuffle (Valerie, another rider, was driving the van and let me borrow her music) and Utah’s ever-dramatic landscapes helped me continue pedaling through the hot wind.

There wasn’t a single gas station or sign of civilization for the first 80 miles of our ride yesterday. Arriving in Delta was incredibly satisfying because it signaled the end of the riding week and the beginning of another blessed rest day. Delta was also a long-awaited oasis for the team because rest days have become designated team organization days—rest days are when we have time to clean out the vans, take care of group business, and have group meetings.

When I was about to write in my journal this morning, I suddenly remembered another anecdote from last Sunday, the team’s first century day. About 40 or so miles into the day, after a series of sustained, gradual climbs, Valerie and I reached the tiny and historic community of Middlegate—the only sign of civilization between Fallon (where we departed from that morning) and Austin (our end destination). Middlegate consisted of a bar that felt straight out of the Old West, a few mobile homes, and a few ancient relics of the olden days (there was a skeleton of an old carriage outside the bar). Valerie and I went into the bar and met a few hitchhikers, one of whom told us that you can cure HIV by drinking water laced with traces of gold metal. Towards the end of our conversation with him, however, a woman sitting nearby took a drag of her cigarette, exhaled, and then turned around and thanked us for what we were doing because her brother died of AIDS.

The further the Ride travels, the more convinced I become of how few degrees of separation there are between a healthy individual and someone affected by HIV/AIDS.