by Mike Logsdon The legs stopped but the crisp rush of air, chilled by a Patagonian winter, continued to bite our weathered faces. Wheels clicked and hummed in their familiar rhythm as we descended Garibaldi pass. Ahead, about an hour was something we knew well from imaginings. The road, once endless, filled with excitement and even dread, was finally running out. Where once we rode with miles separating each of us, we now closed in to only inches from one another. Each of us, scanning ahead expectantly, took turns making awkward commentary […]