The drowzy strikes again. The 85 mile trip into Blythe, California still didn’t feel as energetic or spirited as 80+ days used to. I don’t know if its the heat or if I’m still sick, but there’s no comparison between the lethargic, slow and sleepy feeling I get out here with the just-plain-winded feeling that I’d get after long days elsewhere. It’s an entirely different beast.
Another symptom: I lost my appetite. A mediocre Mexican restaurant provided copious amounts of cheap eats, and I grudgingly forced myself to consume it all. It was the only real meal I’d eaten in two days, and I could tell that my body needed it. However, I wasn’t feeling hungry before or satisfied afterwards.
I cycled past the border inspection stations on the California State Line and rolled into the town of Blythe, where I’m staying with one of the coolest warmshowers hosts yet: a former educator trained in the social sciences who now runs a backcountry bait shop. Between getting off the phone for directions and making it there though, I punctured through two flat tubes and spent my evening tweezing little wires of tire shrapnel out of my rear wheel.
WhenI get out of this, I’m going to make two big lists of things people did and didn’t warn me about. Things people warned me about: tire shrapnel, goatheads, glass shards, dehydration and desert emptiness. Things people didn’t warn me about: sand storms, javelinas, food poisoning and desert-induced sleepiness.