Goodbye Great Divide

Posted from: Tucson, AZ

Last week, Jack and I rolled across the Continental Divide for the last time as we descended into the charming town of Silver City, NM. We’ve probably crossed the Divide 30 times or maybe even more on our Great Divide journey, and it’s become pretty commonplace for us as we bike up another long climb and drop down the other side. This time, though, was special because it signified the end of something: Silver City marked the end of our journey on the Great Divide, stopping short of the Mexican border crossing by about 120 miles. We chose not to go all the way to Antelope Wells, the border crossing in the middle of the desert, because we had a wedding to catch and Silver City proved to be a much easier logistical endpoint. Some may fixate on the fact that we did not actually finish every mile of the Great Divide, but for Jack and I it certainly FELT like we had finished something pretty dang big.

However, Jack and I aren’t finished yet. We hope to continue riding all the way back to Salt Lake or at least somewhere nearer than we are now. Our fellow riders on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route usually do finish their journeys at Antelope Wells, Silver City, or somewhere in between, but we are continuing on and have merely finished a section of our ride. It’s an interesting feeling to grapple with: we’ve come a really long way now and we’ve completed a ride that, for many, is the ride of a lifetime. I’m feeling proud and in awe of my body, my mind, my spirit in finishing the Divide. But I’m also still so far from home. We have over 1,000 miles to go still, and probably about a month more on the road. There are still about one million challenges to face and overcome ahead of us. It’s hard to take the time to reflect and acknowledge the feat that we’ve achieved while also protecting the strength and mental toughness and grit to keep pedaling forward.

At the same time, we’re finally turning around and pedaling toward where we started for the first time. There is certainly some sense of looming finality and closure to this. We’ll still be cycling through many new places, but just the fact of turning northward again makes it seem like we’re turning toward the familiar, no longer striking out into the unknown like the brave bikepackers that we were at the beginning. It’s comforting. Even though Jack and I are hoping to move away from Salt Lake City upon returning from this adventure, it still feels like we’re heading home.

To add to this bit of homecoming sentimentality, the seasons are also changing around us and showering the hillsides with the first splotches of color. The days are much shorter (we’re getting caught in the dark much more often!) and the evenings are chilly and the mornings are slower and cold. To me, fall feels like the Earth is coming home too, after a long and boisterous summer full of parties and late nights of sunshine. She’s traveling back to the warm comforts of home and a long, well-deserved rest. I’m not at all ready for winter to come (it feels like last winter was maybe enough winter for a lifetime??), but I am once again feeling incredibly lucky and in awe to so intimately experience the changing of seasons and the passage of time. It feels like we are right instep with the land and life around us as we all make the most of the last bits of warmth and sun and prepare for a very, very good rest.

New Mexico

Jack’s last post gave some insight into the challenges of New Mexico thus far, and the challenges certainly did not stop coming. The day after we left Grants, we found ourselves in a beautiful national monument called El Malpais. Very remote, few people, stunning landscapes. However, we also found ourselves on a section of dirt road about 15 miles long that was absolutely COVERED in goat heads. The plants were growing along both sides of the road and down the center of the two-track, so there was essentially no way to avoid them as they scattered their incredibly sharp and destructive thorns across the entire road. In the next two hours we got about 6 flat tires between the two of us. Some of these we were able to coax into sealing up with the sealant in our tires and tubes; some of them we were not. We luckily had 5 spare tubes and 3 bottles of sealant with us, but even that absurd amount of repair supplies suddenly felt incredibly borderline. We did our best to pull out as many spines as we could from our tires before replacing tubes, we probably pulled about 100 from Jack’s tires alone, but we were plagued with the aftermath of missed thorns for days afterwards. By the time we made it to Silver City we had gone through 3 tubes and 2 bottles of sealant (and desperately tried to recycle our sealant through many iterations of tubes) and countless hours sitting dejectedly by the side of the road pulling out thorns, shaking our wheels in hopes that they would seal, and pumping up our tires. It was so ridiculous and we were getting flats so frequently that we couldn’t decide between rage or maniacal laughter and thus switched between the two frequently.

We also were absolutely bombarded by rain and severe thunderstorms while in New Mexico. One day, as we were diligently pedaling through the Gila National Forest, hoping to stay on track to reach Silver City in time to make it to the wedding, we were accosted by a big thunderstorm. We decided to pull over and hide under some trees to avoid the absolute soakage. As we waited it became apparent that the storm was very large and powerful, with thunder all around us and pouring rain and hail. We continued to wait, Jack pulled out some snacks, when BOOM!!!!!! There was a lightning strike just above us on the hill. It sounded like someone shot off a canon next to us, it was earsplitting and horrifying. We both scrambled to the absolute lowest point we could find, a ditch nearby, and crouched in lightning position with our hands over our ears. I think that’s the closest I’ve been to a lightning strike, and I’ve been in a lot of electrical storms. Finally a break in the storm came and we quickly rode up over the ridge into the neighboring valley, where we planned to fill up water at one of the token water sources in the area. We debated carrying on from there, which would mean ascending high up onto a plateau again for many miles, but we couldn’t see what weather might be approaching. Soon after, though, our decision was made for us as another intense thunderstorm moved overhead and proceeded to dump rain on us and shower the surrounding peaks in repeated lightning strikes. We made camp, pitched our spare tarp over our kitchen, and called it an early day. The next morning we rode up muddy roads to the plateau and found huge drifts of hail covering the high country. In some areas, the hail drifts were a foot thick!!!!! There was runoff streaming everywhere, and it was clear that, had we gone up there the day before, we would have had a REAL bad time (and maybe been struck by lightning??). Good decision making on our part, and I’ll be glad to not have to deal with quite so many thunderstorms as we get further into the fall (fingers crossed).

Despite the sometimes crushing hardship of New Mexico, we both agreed that it was our favorite part of the Great Divide portion of our trip. It is full of vast, rugged places and kind, genuine people. The region often gets a bad rap on the Divide because it can be so brutal, whether you are just starting your trip going northbound or pushing for the end going southbound, but it is truly something to be looked forward to and savored!

Crested Butte Wedding

Jack’s bff from college, Cal, and his sweetheart Sita got married this past Saturday in Crested Butte, CO. This was the wedding that we’ve mentioned a few times now and pedaled incessantly in order to make it in time. My Aunt Susie graciously picked us up in Silver City and toted us to Tucson, where we stayed with friends Zack and Meghan for a few days. We hit up the amazingly juicy Goodwill down the road from their house and scored some excellent wedding clothes! We flew to Denver where Jack’s other bff Harrison and his partner Nitika picked us up and we all drove to Crested Butte together.

This weekend in Crested Butte was very special, as it was the culmination of their annual Vinotok festival, which is basically a week of pagan celebrations for the fall equinox. Cal’s parents were married during Vinotok, Cal himself was born during Vinotok, and now Cal was getting married during Vinotok too! A very significant time of year indeed, and the festival provided a quirky and vibrant backdrop to the wedding festivities. We got to attend the community feast on Friday night, where we adorned ourselves in leafy willow wreaths. Then on Saturday night the hoard of Vinotokers stormed the wedding reception and sang, danced, and generally celebrated Cal and Sita before carrying on down the streets to burn The Grump in a great bonfire in the middle of town. It was truly a sight to behold and a weekend full of fun, love, and celebration.

Stats, if you’re still reading:

• 39 days on Western Wildlands (north half)
• 56 days on Great Divide Mountain Bike Route
• 3,976 total miles biked
• 259,484 total feet climbed (this is about 9 times the height of Mt Everest from sea level!!)
• 1,174 miles to go!