After yesterday’s canyon scramble and unexpected mileage, I was ready for a chill day in the saddle. I woke up well rested with no destination I had to reach, no miles I needed to hit—just a good day to be on the bike. I followed Route 91 out of Mesquite, taking my time as I rolled through the open desert. The road climbed gently, winding through big landscapes and wide skies. Just before the town of Littlefield, I saw storm clouds forming on the horizon, so I took refuge in a small taco shop. The gust front hit before the rain did, tumbleweeds flew across the highway as the sky darkened. I was happy to be inside watching it all with a plate of tacos in front of me instead of getting battered on the bike. After the storm blew through, I continued climbing north on 91, which also happens to be a section of the old Spanish Trail. The road rose gradually for over 15 miles through the Beaver Dam national conservation area, gaining nearly 3,000 feet of elevation. I wasn’t in a rush. About halfway up, I came across a Joshua tree forest. I rested under one of the larger trees, enjoying that rare peaceful feeling that comes when you realize you’re exactly where you want to be. At the top of the pass, I rode beneath Castle Cliffs, a key landmark for early travelers on the Spanish Trail. For them it marked the end of the harshest parts of the trail and the beginning of the mountainous Utah stretch, where the terrain shifted and resupply was more plentiful as they continued east. It felt meaningful to ride through a place so steeped in history. Like those travelers, I felt a sense of relief. The brutal desert was behind me, and I could feel the landscape beginning to change. More water, cooler temperatures, and the quiet reassurance that the hardest stretch might be easing up. The descent into St. George was incredible, 20 miles of gentle, scenic downhill through the Paiute Reservation. The landscape through this stretch was absolutely stunning. Painted sandstone mountains stretched out in every direction, with layers of deep reds and bright white bands slicing through the cliffs. The contrast in the rock formations was striking, like pedaling through a desert mural. I hadn’t planned to make it all the way to St. George, but when you’re pedaling carefree, the miles just add up. Just west of town, I found a quiet patch of BLM land, set up camp, and zipped into my tent just before another storm rolled through. I drifted off to the sound of rain tapping softly on the tent walls. What an amazing day on the bike. Huge thanks to everyone who’s been following and supporting the ride. If you’d like to help spread the word, please share the fundraiser with your friends and family. Every share helps raise awareness and makes a difference. 👉 https://gofund.me/730f7a59 I’ve also been posting more photos and behind-the-scenes updates on Instagram—check it out if you want to see more from the road: @briangreeson Thanks again for being part of this journey. I’m looking forward to sharing more of what’s ahead. And as always, keep on pedaling