…. The sun had now set and it was nearly dark. My body wanted nothing more than to pull out the sleeping bag and fall asleep. I had lost my sleeping pad off the back of the bike at some point in the river beds, and it was gone for good.
If I know anything about the desert, it’s to move at night. The sun will kill you.
I rested a bit and decided to give an attempt at the hill.
I pushed, and flailed, and fell and failed. The bike moved nowhere. I took in enormous breathes.
I pulled out the green water.
Glared at it long and hard.
And put it back down.
. . . . The fear building was now palatable. I had to get the fuck out of here.
