The ride started with a great decent down the west side of Monitor Pass to meet up with and skirt the Carson River into Markleeville. I rolled into town just before 11am. I filled up on my liquids and splurged on a large deli sandwich prior to sticking my head into the Ranger station and purchasing two more detailed maps of the Tahoe are. 
It was 6pm when I got to the top of Spooner Summit, the second long and brutal climb of the day, and already over 50 miles in. My knees were starting to get tight, and required more and more frequent of stops to let them rest. Cranking my forty pound bike up a 6% grade with no option of shifting was wearing me down. Again I sat and weighed out my options before deciding to head just up the Flume Trail out of Spooner Lake and camp for the night. It felt good to be on dirt again, and I felt a ease of pressure, as the sound of traffic disappeared in the distance for the first time all days. No longer was I constrained by a single white line on the tarmac.
If only it stayed that relaxing. Only a few miles into the dirt leg that would end my day, I was once again motivated by something of the Ursine family. Two bears were walking side by side down the trail as I approached them from behind. Hardly spooked by my presence, they disappeared into the woods. I decided to keep moving. The daylight was receding, as the sun was lingering just above the ridge line across the lake. "Keep moving." The exhaustion and pain were out of my mind yet again. Pedal strokes continued, and eventually I reached the turn for Tunnel Creek, which would put me back onto the highway, just outside of Incline Village. I planned on setting up camp somewhere just outside of Incline, and making the final push early in the morning. I revisited the map, and routed out a course on the old Highway 431, which runs parallel to the new highway up and over Mt. Rose Summit. The turnoff was easy to find, clearly marked with a locked gate. The pavement of decades past could be seen beneath a thin layer of degraded granite. It wasn't long before it began to wind it's way up the mountain side, quickly gaining elevation, in what seemed like an effort to counteract the fleeting sunlight. Again, a bear bolted across the road. Unsettled even further, but feeling completely drained and walking my bike at this point, I continued. Eventually the old highway met the new, and Mt. Rose Summit was only 4 miles away, up a long straightaway to the elevation of 8,900 feet.
It was 9pm, and at this point I had already decided a bed was in order. I was over 80 miles into the day, and ready to push the last 30. The sun was set, and the sky was quickly turning to purple, then to black. And my sense of defeat was only added to by the discovery a couple hours earlier, that my camera lens had rattled free, and now wouldn't fully retract. I was ready to be home. I arrived a the summit still sweating, as the temperate shifted. I layered up with just about every piece of clothing I had, and attached my Petzl light to the back of my helmet for the long decent into Reno. It's 14 miles of tightly wound road, down more than 4,300 feet in elevation. Loaded and bundled, a smile had now replaced the tiredness on my face. For 30 minutes straight I simply had to hold on. No pedaling, no walking. Occasionally a car would gain on me, and I would use one of the turnouts to let them pass. Hitting speeds of over 40 mph on a fully loaded sled in the complete darkness is something that I wouldn't recommend, but it was a highlight of the trip. The last 12 miles home felt like a gift. I was greeted at the valley floor with a tail wind, and with road construction which opened an entire two lanes for me to ride in. It was after 11pm by the time I made the final pedal stroke and coasted to my door step. Home! 120 miles, over 12,000 feet of climbing, one gear...
