TransAndalus Preparations

GDR – GENERAL FILE

Wednesday, 7/29/09 – 11:48 AM

This journey actually begins with my Ultra-Light flying at Spurwink Farm in Cape Elizabeth. At 270 lbs, even with my ‘very light’ Ultra Light instructor, Willi, flying was limited by air density on most summer days. When I could fly, the Seawing aircraft was maxed out and handled accordingly.

Too much weight and not enough muscle to man-handle a weight-shift Ultra Light on and off the runway lead to many precarious situations.

Over the years, Martha Kittle of Body Symmetry had become a known and trusted entity to me. Tina had taken aerobics classes from her at various clubs.

I was comfortable with Martha, so in 2004, I signed up for weight/core training at Martha’s new business, Body Symmetry. Martha got me in shape at a sustainable pace, and I began walking and biking using my new Bianci Hybrid. Injury prevention, core strength and weight loss were my goals.

A year passed, as did 40 lbs, and in November of 2005, I started training with the Trimainiacs, our local triathlon group. Swimming lessons, spinning on my hybrid and running became daily activities.

Although I was progressing well and could even fly in the summer – albeit early mornings – I was really on the cusp of being in shape.

At the outset of my Trimainiacs experience, Rich George, a friend, and I went for a run with the group and we both struggled to run (jog) less than a mile.

After a winter of training, I entered my first sprint triathlon in Brunswick, known at the time as the IronBear. A 550 yard swim in the pool, 13-mile bike ride on my new Quintana Roo tri-bike, and a 3.2 mile run. Well, it just about killed me, but what a blast – I had the bug!

Since then I have done 50-60 mountain bike races; winter-, XTerra-, sprint- and Olympic distance triathlons; time trial bike races and assorted running events from 3 to 15 miles.

At age 63, I am injury free and other than the usual aches and pains, in extremely healthy condition and I weigh exactly 200 lbs.

There are two reasons for my mind-boggling success (mind-boggling from my pre-2004 perspective): a strong core and healthy eating.

Core Strength gave me core stability and balance.

In mountain biking events, for instance, I take horrendous falls and have suffered no major injuries.

In 12 hours of bike racing at Bradbury Mountain in the fall of 2008, I launched over my handle bars four times and took many other diggers. No injuries.

Sure, I am ejecting from my mountain bike at 6-8 mph and the young riders are going air-borne at 10-15 mph. Crash physics dictate a higher potential for the elite racers for injury, but taking age and flexibility into account, I feel my core stability has become my protective shock absorber.

Core strength also prevents other less dramatic injuries – the most important of which is lower back pain. I am convinced that strong abs, glutes, quads- the whole core, are able to absorb or cushion other trauma at the extremities. Conversely, a weak midsection will exasperate knee, ankle, shoulder and neck maladies and injuries.

Healthy Eating - This could be a tome unto itself.

Suffice it to say my wife, Tina, fuels me with whole grains, salads and vegetables. We eat close to no processed foods, no meat or fish, no refined sugar or refined flours.

This takes place with a laid back attitude that allows us to stop at the coffee shop for a bagel or an occasional coffee with cream and sugar. There is nothing like time spent with friends having a beer and bar food – mental health counts, too.

But in the final analysis we eat as healthy as we can 90% of the time.

So, healthy eating and core strength are key ingredients for the climb out of the valley of the couch potatoes.

TECHNICAL STUFF

B.O.B.

The B.O.B. is an excellent piece of equipment. I’ve heard tell of bad welds, broken skewers and other maladies, but so far I’m doing fine with it and it takes a helluva beating back there.

On steep downhills, it is a real battle to keep the bike under 20-25 mph. The B.O.B. and its burden gain momentum quickly.

It bounces over rocks and ruts to the point where it sounds like it’s going to fall apart, but it keeps on chugging.

However, restraint is key. When the bike goes into long, fast downhill turns, the front tire has the job of gripping the riding surface and preventing the bike from actually going straight. Not being a physics major, I don’t know the dynamics of what happens, but the bike wants to go straight and you, the rider, must induce the turn by force.  That creates the friction the tires bring to bear on the road surface.  If you allow the speed to build or if the road surface does not create enough friction, the wheels stutter and loose contact with the road … and you fall.

In my opinion, the B.O.B. exacerbates that phenomenon dramatically on loose gravel roads.

This is not a criticism of the B.O.B., as it is just doing its job: carrying 50-80 lbs of gear attached firmly to your back axle. It’s just a reality. A Ford 250 handles differently than a Vette. The Ford, like the B.O.B., is a beast of burden.

On long downhills, there is great opportunity to push the limits a bit. A couple of times I brought the speed to a point where the front end was stuttering at the threshold of breaking loose. At that point, a rock or pothole could have been disastrous.

So caution is required because all goes well until it doesn’t and then it is too late. The sudden unexpected loss of traction with all that weight on the back skewer could lead to skewer or frame failure at the least, and personal injuries at the worst, as the B.O.B. and bike do whatever they will in those circumstances.

It is exhilarating to barrel down the hills after a long climb, but I’d say if there is even the slightest curve in the dirt road speeds of 20 mph plus are not advisable.

Now, my trail buddy, Eric, and I were discussing straight downhill runs on pavement and, although it is not recommended by B.O.B., 40 mph is comfortable … better hope nothing happens, though.

I don’t think there have been ‘crash dummy’ tests on the B.O.B., but I can tell you it is very good at what it does. It is stable until it ‘isn’t’ and then there is no stopping it.

PEDAL SYSTEM

I used the Shimano Multi-Purpose (SPD) pedal with a platform pedal on one side and the SPD on the other: Shimano PD-M324.

This pedal is heavier than just an SPD race pedal, but I believe it is the best choice for long off-road tours.

First, the SPD system is proven and I’ve never experienced a failure. The maintenance – cleaning and a couple drops of oil – is minimal.

Some say they clog up in the mud. In the thick Adobe mud they were useless, but then I used the flat pedal. However, it must be said that just light mud and dirt don’t inhibit clicking in.

I used the cleat on my shoe with the SM-SH55 designation. It has beveled edges and any pressure other than straight up and down causes release. Just the natural motion of your foot in an emergency situation and you’re out.

The 3 mm adjustment screw is handy and you can tighten or loosen the cleat tension mechanism until you have it just as you like it.

Many times in sandy conditions or one 20-mile section of volcanic ash that I rode through, I used the flat pedals as I was constantly putting my feet out for balance.

I race my mountain bike in the winter and, again, find the same pedal very versatile.

The redundancy of the two systems on one pedal gives you some place to go if a shoe fails or in case of mud or ice blockage.

I think clip-less pedals are essential for long tours.  Here’s why:

First, you can practice a ‘perfect circle’ pedal stroke, thus increasing your pedaling efficiency, and at the same time, recruiting alternate muscle groups.

Secondly, in rough terrain you must weight the pedals. Clicked in, there is no bouncing off the pedals and breaking an ankle. In addition, long rough downhills require you to be standing on the pedals crouched above the seat or sitting way back on the seat. You’ll be much more stable on the bike with your feet firmly attached.

With the beveled cleats and the 3 mm cleat tension adjustment set properly, quick release is assured.

S H O E S

Long distance off-road touring requires a lot of pushing. Some hills are too steep, too rocky, wash-boarded, or unconsolidated to ride. In other cases it’s just a matter of energy management. Walking a difficult hill at 2.6 mph rather than struggling up it in the granny gear at 3.1 mph can actually save you energy. Other side benefits of pushing include resting your rear end, engaging new muscles (walking) and the possibility of hydrating or eating on the move.

So your shoe should allow for walking. Walking requires that the stiff cycling plate stop at the cleat allowing flex at the front of the shoe for comfortable walking. Since you’ll usually be walking rough, steep terrain, make sure it has a suitable sole. Mountain bike shoes with the narrow sole and high tread are subject to trigging (rolling?), which can result in spraining or breaking your ankle. Go with a wide, flat low profile tread. Unfortunately, the shoe I’m describing will be heavier – 925 grams a pair.

I like a shoe that laces and has a strap … redundancy and a snug fit. The strap also keeps the laces out of your chain ring.

Doing the GDR, my Specialized Taho shoes worked very well. Some of the terrain was extreme, but the shoe handled it.

I purchased the shoe two sizes too large to account for end of day swelling, allow plenty of toe space and allow double socks or heavy wool socks, if required.

In addition, I used my running orthotics in the shoe as I felt that 6-8 hours of pedaling each day put a lot of strain on my feet and I wanted to exhaust every line of defense.

ASSONOMICS 101

Literally every person who sits on a bike experiences discomfort. It is not the natural state of being to have your relatively broad bottom, sit bones and other lower body parts and pieces perched on a seat, which seldom conforms to your unique posterior.

Seat manufacturers offer myriad sizes, shapes, contours, materials and hardness in their products. They know full well your butt is special, and they know you can choose any of hundreds of bike geometries and then adjust the seat up and down, fore and aft, and, in addition, adjust the angle.

So, it is really a crap shoot.

If you go out once or twice a week for an hour or so, the ‘discomfort’ is most likely offset by the joy of tooling around with your friends. However, extended riding can lead to conditions which can no longer be classified as discomfort.

As long as I have been riding, people have been saying ‘my butt hurts’ or ‘I have numbness’, but these are generalities that mask the real serious pain that some riders feel. Describing blood in your shorts or days of numbness as “a sore butt” is a deceptive vagary.

To get advice you need to say “my ‘boys’ are numb during and after each ride” or the ladies need to be clear that every ride results in tearing and bleeding in their most private areas, but no, we all say ‘riding causes discomfort’.

As a male, I’ll classify the malady that I’d like to discuss as ‘cockasoreass’. It comes in different flavors.

• The first is ‘discomfort’. As mentioned earlier, that general term is reflective of the initial stage of ‘cockasoreass’. On a one-to-ten scale, you’re at 1 to 3.
• The next stage can be either ‘road rash’ or ‘sit bone’ discomfort.
  • ‘Road rash’ is a friction issue and sometimes Aquaphor, Vaseline or Chamois Butter will tie you over as your soft tissue and skin become accustomed to the unnatural state of affairs to which you are subjecting them. 2 to 4 on the pain scale.
  • ‘sit bone’ discomfort radiates out from the sit bones and can be a mild irritant all the way to a show stopper. Constant pressure on unprepared sit bones and the surrounding tissue, blood veins and nerves can set a cycle of pain in motion that will radiate into the groin area and be unbearable long term. 3 to 7 on the pain scale.
• Then gentlemen, there is the perineum nerve known to the non-medical community as the ‘cockasilius’. Put pressure on this bundle of nerves and blood vessels for any length of time, and you will experience numbness that will actually make a kick in the groin seem like a mild irritant…. Even some pain is better than no feeling at all. Numbness sometimes radiates up into the abs and numbness can last for days if you have continued to ride as is often the case on long treks or for those tied to training programs. 6 to 8 on the pain scale.
• Lastly, there is the ultimate package of all of the above, topped off with a little testicular throbbing thrown in as the ultimate pain management test. This is a show stopper! 7 to 9 on the pain scale.

Are there long-term affects? Absolutely!  Long-term effects of the more serious of the above will require you to get yourself a good source for Viagra.

Don’t loose sight of the fact that we are all built uniquely; that a mountain bike seat that is comfy, isn’t transferable to your Tri-bike; that changing the position of your seat changes everything for better or worse.

The cure is often counter intuitive. For instance, the solution for many is an extremely hard, rigid piece of plastic, not the squishy gel padded seat you might expect would help.

Adamo makes a horseshoe shaped seat, which relieves all pressure on the ‘cockasilius’, but transfers that load directly to the sit bones. If cockasilius numbness is your only issue, it will be cured, but you will need to be able to build up the sit bones for the seat to work long-term.

It worked for me on my Tri-bike. Saved the day. I purchased the Adamo mountain bike version for my Great Divide ride and it almost ended my trip. Bleeding, aching sit bones and throbbing testicles became such a distraction that I could only ride standing up or in one mile increments.

Think about it. On a Tri bike, you are leaning way forward and possibly relieving the vertical pressure on the perineum, whereas on a mountain bike at least 50% of your body weight bears vertically on your perineum.

I stopped 300 miles into the trip for a bike fitting. As a result, I purchased a relatively inexpensive simple split seat.

Some observations based on my own experiences in off-road mountain biking:

In 2008, I rode approximately 44 miles a day for five days, and this year, I’m ten days on the trail and over 400 miles. So, we’re talking some saddle time in both instances. The 2008 adventure was relatively flat and the 2009 GDR is mountainous. The 2008 adventure ended with a cockasilius-induced case of cockasoreass. That cut my ride short. In 2009, I came within minutes of quitting.

1. Expedition riding requires a different mindset than road riding, training or racing. If you are going to be in the saddle 50-60 miles a day in mountainous terrain pulling a load, saddle time will be seven to ten hours.

You need lots of breaks. At least three ‘Stand-Overs’ each hour. By ‘stand-over’ I mean off the saddle. Take a drink, read your map, eat, take a picture, rest, but relieve the pressure. Flex the glutes.

At least once an hour get off the bike, walk a bit and stretch.

By taking 8-10 minutes of breaks an hour, you can add a couple hours of riding onto your daily routine and have less discomfort while you are in the saddle.

1. Ass pain is like hydration or food. You need to deal with it before it happens. Breaks are essential even the first couple hours before the pain gets serious.
2. Don’t carry a backpack or even a hydration system on your back if you are touring. First, it adds weight to your body and more stress on your butt. Secondly, you will hydrate on the fly and miss the opportunity to take short ‘stand-over’ water breaks.
3. Strong abs. Core stability allows you to keep your hips still. If you have weak abs, your pelvis will be picking up a lot of bike and body movement. The result: more stress on your buttocks.
4. Bike Fit – take the time, spend the money! Just imagine if your seat is too high. You will be rocking back and forth on your sit bones all day.

A simple fore or aft adjustment could put your sit bones on the fat part of the seat rather than on the edge of the flare, which could cause sit bone numbness.

1. Spinning vs. pushing a bigger gear. My weak knees require lots of spinning, but spinning puts less pressure on the pedals and more on your rear. I found that if my knees were holding up, pushing in a slightly higher gear relieved pressure on my butt.
2. Relentless Forward Motion. I found that on very steep hills which required my easiest gear, I was traveling at 3 to 3.3 mph by the end of the day. By dismounting and pushing, I was moving forward at 2.3 to 2.6 mph and relieving the pain in my ass. It was a fair trade. It also saves energy. You can eat and hydrate as you push and save the standing around time. It makes the case for walking even stronger.
3. Shift smoothly. Plan your shifts up and down so you are not suddenly pedaling empty and jolting your chafed and sore buttocks.
4. Pedal standing up by shifting from the granny gear to the middle ring and taking 15-25 strokes, then gently sit down and return to the small ring. I found that by using a combination of pushing a bigger gear, walking, stand-overs, and pedaling standing up, I was able to keep moving forward in spite of sometimes debilitating pain.
5. Another ass reliever that I implemented was being satisfied with a certain speed on long down hills. When the bike would roll at 13 mph without my input, I’d get up off the seat either by standing on horizontal pedals or by clasping the seat with my inner thighs. Either way, I was willing to sacrifice the extra 2-3 mph that pedaling would have brought, for the back side relief. Again, a trade-off, but if pain is building, it will extend your tolerance zone a few hours or miles at the end of the day.

The bike seat industry has done little to address individual needs. It is my understanding that bike fitting has in some cases been expanded to include rudimentary seat fitting, but it is not widespread. The problem is, however, widespread (no pun intended).

Ideally, the customer should be sitting on a material that will conform to their posterior. This seat contour should be after a proper bike fitting, so that the parameters of body and bike geometry are dialed in before the butt imprint is made.

The question is, will the consumer pay for this service or would they rather give up biking or limit their two-wheel activities to what their buttocks dictate.

You’d think the bike industry would wake up. Perhaps they will if the consumer becomes ‘a pain in the ass’.

NUMBNESS IN HANDS

The matter of numbness in the hands comes up often when speaking with long distance riders on the trail. In fact, just north of Rawlins, Wyoming, I met a rider who said one member of his original group had to quit due to numbness, which had slowly become his permanent state of being.

Six weeks into my ride, I had two permanently numb thumb tips and two or three fingers on each hand that felt like the tips were asleep. The problem, of course, was long days. They exacerbate the weaknesses that may be present in bike fit, body position, upper body tension, stiff arms, tight grip and inappropriate handle grips.

If your seat is too high relative to your handle bars, a lot of additional weight is transferred to the arms and hands. That alone is unacceptable, but add to that weight the movement of the front wheel over bumpy terrain, and your delicate hands, forearms, triceps, shoulders and scapulae become an extension of the front fork.

Your front fork is a highly engineered metal tool designed to absorb horrendous impact over and over – your upper body is soft tissue and bones designed to lift, not absorb road noise.

Since you are naturally leaning forward on a mountain bike, you have few options of relieving the pressure on your hands. Rough terrain, pulling a B.O.B., or being loaded down with panniers, make it difficult to let go of one side of the handle bar to rest that hand. It can be done – must be done – but the trail conditions will dictate how long and how often.

Often to relieve pressure on the crotch, riders will tip the seat forward. Even a few degrees of forward tilt will throw you forward on the bars. In fact, tipping the seat forward often leads to sudden, unexpected ejection over the handle bars. When you grab a handful of brake and your weight is forward (due to seat angle or the seat/handle bar dynamic), your body will rock forward in a manner that is difficult to arrest once it has started. The only real way to stop the forward body motion is to stop braking. If that is not an option, then an ‘endo’ is inevitable.

One positive outcome of an ‘endo’ is you’ll probably forget your numb hands for a while.

Another cause of fatigue and strain on your arms and hands is tension in the upper body and arms. Let’s assume that your bike fit is correct. You can still approach a state of hand paralysis if you don’t relax your ‘death grip’ on the handle bars: drop the shoulders so they are rounded, not hunched up, bend the elbows, bring the elbows in and down, and make a conscious attempt to relax the scapulae, so they are laying relaxed low and flat on your back.

Watch the great riders – their upper bodies are completely tension free. Even their jaws are slack and there is no tension in the neck. They are not relaxing their upper bodies to avoid hand issues, but rather to conserve energy.  In this case, the everyday comfort rider needs to mimic the great riders.

Pro mountain bikers don’t have stiff arms and a ‘death grip’. Their elbows are bent and are in and low, and the hands are guiding the handlebar with as light a touch as possible.

When you reach out in front of your body, your hands assume a certain angle relative to your arms and upper body. If your handlebars don’t accommodate that angle and your hands are cocked at the wrist to fit the bar angle, you could have a serious issue on long rides.

Above, I mentioned upper body tension and said let’s assume good bike fit. More realistic would be to assume incorrect bike fit plus upper body tension.  Imagine a ‘death grip’ on a handlebar grip that is too large or small, and possibly at the wrong angle for your wrist and hand.  What chance do your hands have?

I’m neither a bike fitter nor sports physician. To my astonishment, my experience has been that, as I rode the 2,800 miles of the GDR, I asked anyone who would listen, ‘What can I do about my hands?” and I have experimented with different options for hours.

Three quarters of the way into my trip, I was on my third set of grips and I came up with a program for myself, which worked better than any of my previous combinations:

1. Lowered my seat about ¼”;
2. Raised my handlebar about 3/16” by moving a spacer down on the stem;
3. Decreased my seat angle, which had been tipped forward due to numbness, about 3 degrees. I immediately got some pressure and pain from the 3 degrees adjustment, so I dropped it back down 1 ½ degrees (split the difference);
4. Purchased Ergo-Grips, which I installed with my normal bullhorn bar ends, but I went about it differently. My Ergo-Grips were not completely tight. They were firm and didn’t flop around, but I could move them by applying pressure. So by moving them around the handlebar, I could get different angles during the day based on my body position or my desire to have my palms or fingers interact with the grip differently. My bullhorn bar ends held the Ergo-Grips tightly on the bar.
5. My bar ends were angled down more than originally to match my normal hand position;
6. I wrapped the transition from Ergo-Grip to bar end with handlebar tape to insure a soft, comfortable transition;
7. Throughout the day, I constantly reminded myself to relax my grip, change my grip, move to my bar ends for a while, relax my shoulders, keep my elbows in and down, and my scapulae relaxed, not engaged;
8. I took every opportunity to completely release my grip. If conditions allowed it, I slapped my leg or shook my hands;
9. I took breaks and stretched my arms, forearms, triceps, wrists and hands.
10. I wore only well padded biking gloves.

Numb fingers can be a cumulative and long-term condition. Some riders report it taking up to two months to go away.

It can be caused by any combination of the above-mentioned factors, and time in the saddle is the big multiplier.

On a ride across America or the GDR, it is normal to spend 5-8 hours a day in the saddle gripping the handlebars. We can all expect hand issues. It’s the nature of the beast. Be analytical and make the adjustments suggested – maybe it will help you better enjoy your tour.

GDR – JOURNAL FILE

The trip to Banff was flawless in every detail. Everything was on time and because of the helpful people at the Airporter Shuttle in Calgary, I arrived in Banff on the doorstep of the hostel two hours ahead of schedule.

Room 100, Bed 1, five or six young backpackers plus myself. No doubt they were wondering what this old fart was doing in their midst. After checking in I went to the bike shop, open till 7:00 PM, and found my bike assembled and ready to go. Fantastic! I told them I’d be back first thing in the morning.

Banff is a first rate mountain resort, filled with Aussies working to finance their walkabouts, but there’s still plenty of work available.

I had a nice visit with the Park Service and got a ‘grizzly’ update. They warned me to stay off a couple of trails, as a number of bears is tending to their young and the activity level is high. This was not a problem as there were good alternatives. Glad I asked! I like kids, but a grizzly day care center could be ….

It never ceases to amaze me how oblivious people are to what is going on around them. The Banff Ranger was unaware of the Great Divide Route (GDR) or the GDR race that started there in June. She was absolutely lovely and I half expected her to come around the counter and give me a hug, but how could she work the woods at the northern terminus of the GDR and not know it?

The folks in Banff were polite and helpful, but in a very professional way. Their business was a constant stream of tourists, poor backpackers and mountain bikers stocking up and moving out. As with any tourist job, they dealt with the same questions about the bears, weather, trails and laundromats every day.

DAY 1, Thursday, July 30^th – Spray Lakes Reservoir

At 10 AM, I picked up my bike and my trusty Beast of Burden trailer (B.O.B.) and packed them for the trip. After doing my shopping and heading out of downtown, I stopped at the Banff Mountain Lodge, the hostel/YWCA, to fill my water bottles, but first I needed a pee-pee doctor.

The local hospital wanted $1,000.00 to let me see a doctor to conduct a couple of tests. The better option, which the janitor suggested to me (not the receptionist), seemed to be a private clinic.

So, for $150.00 I got tested and was given preemptive antibiotics to take on the trail if things got worse. My condition didn’t worsen and the medicine was never used.

There isn’t much between Banff and the border, so I packed plenty of food. There was an abundance of water, so I decided to keep my water supply at a daily use level to compensate for the weight of the food.

So, now I was off to the Great Divide Route trail head about a mile south of town.

Before I get too far into the story, let me say a few words about Adam who came by the bike shop as I was loading up my gear. He stayed with me the whole first day. Nice young fellow with an Amish beard and an old beat up road bike that he was riding across Canada. I was amazed that he had no spare parts – not even a tube. He seemed surprised when I insisted a tube is a bare necessity.  Adam was a real back-to-nature guy, sort of like the dude in ‘Into the Wild’- totally oblivious to the challenges he was subjecting himself to and fully enjoying his adventure.

He gave me a 1-800-number that he claimed a friend had set up to swindle the phone company. I used it and gave it to others. We all had great success with it but then it went dead. Probably the long distance carrier’s computer figured out that one person can’t call from ten different locations spread out over a thousand miles every day. But it was good fun while it lasted.

Thanks, Adam … you are a cool guy and I enjoyed your company.

At the trail head, some crazy dude flew by with a loaded B.O.B. I hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come…

I left from behind the Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel, a magnificent stone building along the lines of the Chateau Frontenac in Quebec. Its parking lot conveniently opens directly onto the trail. I started my journey at 3:30 PM, Thursday, the 30^th of July.

My goal was a paltry 18 miles and after a mile or two, I was glad about the low-mileage introduction. Up and down these stony rollers makes it tough going.

My load was too heavy and I struggled to control the bike, but I just couldn’t tear myself away from spare parts, tent, food and other items that made me relatively independent.

Lots of day bikers and some day hikers were on the trail making me feel particularly slow and weighted down.

Once I left Banff I was are right in the hills – mountains, really.

The nice Ranger lady I met yesterday warned me that 12 miles into the trail I would hit a very dusty road traveled by campers going to the reservoir which produced electricity for Banff.

Well, there was no dust as it started lightning and raining hard. I hoped that pulling my head into my shoulders like a frightened turtle would reduce the risk of a lightning strike.

But luck was on my side. I arrived at a National Park “Wild Camping” site at 7:30 PM and was rewarded with 45 minutes of good weather to set up and dive into the tent before another six hours of rain, wind, thunder and lightning descended.

Wild Camping it was, and a little weird to boot.  $20 for nothing but the security of a few scattered campers and being able to put my bear bag in someone’s car for the night. There was more danger from the next generation of skinheads camped next door than from the curious grizzly bears that roamed around the reservoir.

DAY 2 – Friday, July 31^st – Kananaskis Lakes

I awoke to thick fog and wet gear. No alarm clock required; the nicotine induced coughing to my left and the yowling coyotes roaming around down on the lake had me bright-eyed at 5:30 AM. So, what could I do at 5:30 AM soaked and in the fog? I updated my journal!

Shortly into my ride, I met up with Eric Schuster. Eric and I had started the GDR at precisely the same time in Banff. He was the one who rocketed by me as I was making my start photo and sending my trail head ‘SPOT’.

Eric was an experienced endurance racer and had a custom titanium bike with a Rohloff rear hub. He raced it, commuted on it and was now doing the GDR with his trusty titanium horse.

Eric worked in a food co-op and did a big ride every couple of years. We had a great day together.

We took a big lunch break together and spread out all our gear to dry. He had a huge bag of macaroni with him, which he boiled on a white gas stove. Very fast! He then added cheese and voila- mac and cheese. Delicious but clean-up was a bitch.

After lunch, I convinced him to put the pedal to the metal and get going. He was out of sight in minutes and I’d probably never see him again.

Lots of climbing today… basically 5 hours of climbing and then a five-mile downhill into Kananaskis Lakes using up every last foot gained. Tomorrow, what else but a long climb out of this valley. I decided to stop whining and get used to it.

I camped at another national park campground with lot of helpful neighbors:  Ron and Amber let me put my bear bag in their car as Ron rises at 6:00 AM, early enough for me to retrieve my belongings and be on my way.  Jimmy, my immediate neighbor, offered as well, but he sleeps in.

Ron and Amber left some dog food outside and the Ranger came by and left a note explaining that they must secure everything with a scent. Earlier, the ranger had explained to me that this park had 60 grizzlies and some wandered down every night hoping that someone had left something out.

At 8:30 PM I was horizontal.

DAY 3 – Tina’s birthday – Saturday, August 1^st - Elkford

Oatmeal for breakfast and on the road.

I promptly got lost. Well, lost isn’t the right word because I knew where I was, but I couldn’t find the Elk Pass Trail head because the map was off by ½ – ¾ mile. I burnt up 5-6 miles and, at the end of the day, those miles would have been helpful. I later confirmed my suspicions about the map with others who had the same problem.

When I finally found the Elk Pass trail head, I met three Canadian mountain bikers going out for the weekend. We met twice more and had a great time. They took my photo on Elk Pass.

I decided to try to reach the town of Elkford, which I figured would add up to a 50 mile day. My Canadian buddies told me of good restaurants and clean camping with potable water to make it a worthy pursuit.

When I arrived in Elkford at 5:30 PM, I was dizzy and knew I had overdone it. Ninety degrees, exhaustion, dehydration – even after drinking eight liters of water during the day. The stress of a sore ass and my first bout with altitude really did me in. I could tell I was past my limit when I started to forget how to shift.

I guessed this was what I signed up for, but I needed to be careful.

In addition, I did not eat much all day because every stop was an invitation to the local horsefly population to dine on my blood. They call them horseflies because of their size. No bears, but plenty of scat on the trail.

I went shopping and came out with six energy bars, six bagels, four apples and as an immediate remedy, a bag of salty chips and a Gatorade. After 20 minutes, I could focus again.

There was a big wedding in town and it seemed the way they bless a wedding in Alberta is by having at least two members of the wedding party arrested.

I slept well after a veggie lasagna and a Caesar Salad at Emi’s. My waitress was a mini woman, 4’8”, whose husband had been killed last year on a snowmobile. A real sweety.

DAY 4 – Sunday, August 2^nd – Route 3 South of Sparwood, Elk River

I returned to Emi’s for a huge breakfast. What a nice place! They made me feel like family.  They let me charge my batteries and cell phone while I chowed down.

Today started with a 2.32 mile climb with 800′ of altitude gain.  Even after a good night, I was still weak, so I took it easy the rest of the day. I mean, gee, at 8:29 AM and I was still relaxing at breakfast!

I needed to take a world class dump here at the restaurant as hanging my white bloody ass out there for the local insects was not a pleasant option.

Well, the climb, which was 2.32 miles of granny gear at 2.9 to 3.2 mph, was fine, and the rest of the ride was 80% downhill. I really felt good and thought I’d rack up some big miles, but my butt was too sore, so, I decided to do 35 miles or so and find a nice spot on the river.

It took me from 3:00 PM till 6:00 PM to do laundry, bathe in the river, purify water, charge my IPod, take pictures, etc., and I still needed to put up the tent and hide my goodies from the ever-present, but not visible bears.

Busy! Busy!

After I was all cleaned up and ready for bed, only a few hundred feet from Route 3 but in a nice grove of trees near the water, a couple of anglers came by and told me they almost hit a black bear cub on Route 3 about 500′ feet up the road. I guess that’s the Canadian version of ‘good night and sleep tight’.

So, I ended up about five miles south of Sparwood, B.C. I’d aim for about 40 miles again the next day and camp at Lake Koocanusa.

This was my first day of feeling some control over the situation, getting my legs under me.

DAY 5 – Monday, August 3^rd – Lake Koocanusa

I left my little piece of heaven by the river heading south and promptly spotted the reason a black bear was roaming the area – garbage at a rest stop. Stupid people!

I had a good ride – lots of downhill all day. I attempted to call Christina from Fernie, but had no luck. Not a big deal but a bit disappointing.

With the day wearing on, I decided to go to a lake front campground which looked to be only one mile off the trail. It turned out to be four miles of downhill washboard. No big deal, but all I could think of was four miles of uphill in the morning. I wasn’t in a great mood and actually had trouble hiding it after 58 miles.

When I was asked by a kind camper how I was doing, I couldn’t lie and I said, “I’ve been better”.

Well, it was typical “Canadian Camping”. There were two outhouses for 40 sites, no water, no electricity, but the people were great and so pleased to hear about my adventure that they invited me over and, best of all, didn’t charge me for camping.

Since they had no water supply, the kind folks brought me a 5-gallon water can for the night and I left the next morning at 8:00 AM with full water bottles.

DAY 6 – Tuesday, August 4^th – Groves Creek

Uphill and on the road to the border.

After crossing the U.S.border, an unfriendly young border guard asked me if I was carrying anything across the border for others. My mind flooded with half a dozen wise ass comebacks but I managed to limit my response to a glance at my bike and trailer, a little smile, and “ No”. The older guard in the background had a struggle containing his amusement and I think I detected a “thank you for not exploiting the situation”.

That encounter bothered me as I was no longer able to say that everyone I met was friendly.

After the border crossing I promptly got chased down by a couple of inbred Border Collies. Welcome home!

The Canadians are a great bunch of people- just regular folks like you would meet in the mid-west or Maine.

The previous night, a couple of the guys at the campground were from Elkford. They had dozens of questions. It turned out one of their wives had made me supper at Emi’s (a double lasagna by mistake – very good), and the other was buddies with two other guys I met in Elkford – a Latvian and the campground manager.

As I came into Eureka, Montana, at noon looking for a place to eat, someone started hollering at me – Eric, my trail buddy from day two!

He had found a real hard-ass alternate route that avoided a lot of the road I had been forced to ride on and was so beat he was taking the day off.

I mailed out my daily journal entries and a photo chip to Tina. After lunch and post office visit, Eric and I met at the laundry and then we headed to Grave Creek south of Eureka and found an excellent camping spot right on Grave Creek.

We decided to take off together the next day, but to split up for the climbing. Eric was a climber. A few years ago, he finished third in the World Fixed Gear Championships in Berlin . He was very fit.

By this point I was averaging 40 miles a day, not great, but okay for the early stages.

We planned to leave Grave Creek (3,050’) in the morning and climb 15 miles to Whitefish Divide at 5,200’. Then down to 4,000’ and back up to 5,200’ over the next 33 miles to Red Meadow Lake.

We were camped in a tough section with lots of bear and cougar warnings, so it was nice to have Eric’s company at night.

Eighty to ninety degrees the last three days!

At 8:58 PM, our bear bags were in the trees and we were ready to crash.

DAY 7 – Wednesday, August 5^th – Red Meadow Lake

Eric and I left this morning at 8:00 AM and started the climb to Whitefish Divide, which was at about 5,200’. So, we climbed about 2,050’-2,150’ in 3 ½ hours. Actual riding time was 2 hours 43 minutes. The time difference is breaks – lots of breaks for me … but no hiking – I rode the whole thing!

My lungs, heart and legs were great. Eric commented today that if I took a handicap for age, weight and possibly IQ, I was the fastest guy on the divide! The problem was my ass and it was a serious issue!

I just didn’t know what to do. The two big raw spots I could handle with good old pain management. Neosporin, Aquaphor and Butt-Butter kept it manageable, although it was not an acceptable state of affairs long-term … like eight weeks.  The possibility of infection would be unacceptable.

I washed twice a day either in a stream or with baby wipes, and I changed my pants every day. Yesterday I changed twice as I had a nice clean pair after the laundromat.

The real problem was the aching sit-bones and the throbbing testicles. It was so distracting that I couldn’t enjoy the view or even talking with Eric as we rode.

My anticpation about getting to Breckenridge and seeing Tina, or other day dreams, couldn’t develop into complete thoughts as my crotch was so painful that it interrupted my thought process and concentration.

I hoped to go to a couple bike shops in Whitefish to see if they had a butt-doctor on staff. I hoped that with the GDR coming through, there’d be lots of ass questions.

Eric took some photos on the Whitefish Divide. It is not a Continental Divide, but a local divide. No ice cream stand, no signs, no bands playing, just a high point in the trail.

After Eric and I split I met a real nice guy out driving around in his Tacoma – Lee Deschaine from Ft. Kent, Maine. Very interesting guy. A Vietnam vet still trying to hold his life together. A few hours later as I set up camp at Red Meadow Lake I met two other real nice people, Todd and Toni. They knew Lee Deshaine as he had worked for Todd , a log home builder.

I also met Alan Haag from California. He was riding south on the GDR. Alan left the day before Eric and I. When I arrived at Red Meadow Lake, he was camped there. He was a nice guy, who was totally laid back. Easy-going Alan was allowing himself 10 weeks to ride the GDR and took short cuts if he felt like it. The climb to Red Meadow Lake was the most torturous thus far. It had been a long day of hills and bumpy roads. The welcoming party as I entered the Red Meadows region was a 14-mile-long cloud of mosquitos. The trail was rough and the 14 miles were uphill. The last three miles of the climb were walking miles and so steep that I couldn’t even let go of the handlebars to swat the bloodsuckers.

Lucky for me the western mosquitoes don’t pack the punch of our salt water mosquitoes in Maine. They would land on my arm and stare up at me with their buggy eyes seeming to be asking for permission to extract my blood. The bites, although annoying, were gone in a few minutes.

There was a big climb looming on the horizon and he told me he was trying to figure out a short cut. I thought that was fine, not the way I wanted to do it, but I appreciated his attitude. I felt propelled to ride every inch of the trail.

Unfortunately, I can be a bit too goal oriented – stuck on 60 days, stuck on 40 miles a day – today, 49. Anyway, Alan was down the lake in his tent and I was in mine as it was thundering, raining and the bugs were biting. Alan and I didn’t need to chit chat tonight.

The climb to Red Meadow Lake was the most torturous thus far. It had been a long day of hills and bumpy roads. The welcoming party as I entered the Red Meadows region was a 14 mile long cloud of mosquitoes. The trail was rough and the 14 miles were uphill. The last three miles of the climb were walking miles and so steep that I couldn’t let go of the handlebars to swat the bloodsuckers.

Lucky for me, the western mosquitoes don’t pack the punch of our salt water mosquitoes in Maine. They would land on my arm and stare up at me with their buggy eyes seeming to be asking for permission to extract my blood. The bites, although annoying, were gone in a few minutes.

One thing I enjoyed watching as I rode by were the houses.  These folks in Montana like big pieces of land. Every house is a ranch. Great houses out here in the wilderness – mostly big log homes.

DAY 8 – Thursday, August 6^th – Columbia Falls

The bears didn’t eat my stuff during the night. Must have been good luck, as I was unable to get it the required 10-12’ off the ground. Anything less than that created a ‘bear piñata’ and all the bears would come to play.

Alan had a ‘bear jug’- it was a larger container like a pretzel can (for those big pretzels) with a rubber seal. He’d just take it off into the woods 150 feet or so. I could see some grizzlies using it as a soccer ball.

Grizzlies are extremely resourceful. Humans have really limited their habitat and they have some difficulty surviving. In August they eat 20,000-25,000 huckleberries a day trying to fatten up. I took a picture of some ‘scat’ and it was full of bluish berries- I believed them to be huckleberries. Looked so good, I wanted to try it … maybe with vanilla ice cream?

I had supper at a restaurant in Columbia Falls and my burrito, like everything in Montana, including the sky, was huge!

By the way, the locals were much more afraid of cougars than bears. Cougars just jump people for the fun of it, and bears are basically solitary dudes that get spooked when we surprise them or hungry dudes who want the Twinkie that you left in your pocket when you went to bed.

Alan was a real bear attack aficionado. He walked around with his pepper spray on a belt and a whistle around his neck. He even put the shirt he cooked supper in into the bear can. Tonight, that was to prevent the local grizzlies from thinking he was hiding salmon filets under his shirt. He ate well.

On the other hand, I can’t imagine a poor ‘ole bear’ ripping my chest off to get some pasta primavera. Of course, for someone wolfing down 25,000 huckleberries to try to gain weight, maybe freeze-dried pasta is a step up.

I needed to send my IPod’s home to mama as too many things kept me from using it … mainly how busy I was. In addition, I hadn’t been able to adapt to listening while I was riding.  On the trail there was so much noise from the bike rattling over obstacles downhill or my breathing going uphill, that it just didn’t work. I thought I’d really enjoy it, but too bad.

Here’s a taste of my daily schedule: each day it took 1 hour 30 min. from wake up to roll-out and each evening held about 2 hours of clean-up and prep for the next day, tent set-up, food, wash-up, bike maintenance, journal, etc. There was no extra time. Just figure, I’d been averaging ‘roll-out’ to ‘roll-in’ in 8 hours plus 4.5 hours of domestic duties and journaling.

Eight days into my 60 day journey I was comtemplating failure. The pain in my groin was unbearable and if I couldn’t catch a glimmer of hope I would have to stop. At one point today being hit by a truck seemed like salvation. (Read more about butt pain in the technical section under the heading “Assonomics 101”).

The good folks at Glacier Cyclery sensed my frustation and spent a couple hours adjusting my bike fit and then replacing my saddle with a design that would take pressure off my sits bones. The throbbing was gone and I headed south.  Just the glimmer of hope I needed.

I found out that my brother-in-law, Jim, created a blog called “Where’s Rich”, and that Tina is emailing everyone we know to keep them updated.

Dark place!

I didn’t want to get a broad spectrum of people too involved in this venture. Yesterday and today there were times when I thought it was my last day on the trail.

My body was doing better now. My new bike seat, speaking with Tina, eating a burrito the size of a mule shit, a draft ‘Dos XXs’, clean clothes and a shower lifted my spirits to a level that got me going for the next few days.

Day 9 held 30 miles, getting me to Big Fork so I could work on my to-do-list:

To-do-list in Big Fork:

Fix head lamp that broke in Fernie as it crashed to the road

Get aluminum foil to create new innards for lamp

Shop for:

6 bagels

Small peanut butter

6 energy bars

Small toothpaste

2-3 mountain house meals, if possible

Oatmeal

Good Tupperware dish for sprouting as my current one leaks

Post Office- mail stuff to Tina

Internet at library

Check phone messages

Put new message on phone

Lunch

Copy log thus far and send to Tina

Bike maintenance

Shower, if possible

Laundry, if possible

DAY 9 – Friday, August 7^th –

I rode only 30 miles in order to rest a bit and test my new saddle. It seemed to be helping my ‘crotchasoreass’ as far as the ‘boys’ are concerned, but the seat now needs to show my ass who’s boss and as a result, I’m going to have a few new raw spots. So, today was manageable. Too bad about my butt because otherwise, I seem to be strong.

I ran into Alan today at the library. He apparently took a short cut, beating me to Big Fork by an hour or two!

But Alan made a point; he was pretty laid back and just was not going to push it. I was worried about my daily average and he was thinking about taking another day off because he didn’t want to push himself over the edge. I wished that I could be so laid back.

We had a nice discussion about my ‘stick-to-the-cause’ philosophy and his ‘go-around-unpleasant-obstacles’ philosophy. Neither attitude is wrong or right.

I missed a couple of opportunities for interaction with locals today as I kind of had my head down and wanted to get to Big Fork and do my chores. The prediction of an inch of rain and lightning didn’t help, either. I felt bad later that I didn’t take the time, but it was too late. They were miles behind me.

It did rain all day, but since I wasn’t on muddy trails, it didn’t matter. I SPOT-ed Tina from the National Park on Flat Head Lake – $15 park fee and no bears. What a deal!  The campground hostess put me in a thick tree grove and the rain hardly got through.

By the way, Big Fork is cougar town. Even Alan, whom I met at the library, commented on the huge number of older women on the prowl. Now I know what they mean by ‘cougar awareness’.

So, today was enlightening – not necessarily a happy day, but I learned two important lessons:

I had mentioned to our friend Charlotte on the phone that the folks from Montana aren’t real friendly. Today they were and I wasn’t.  I was embarrassed that I let this ‘cockasoreass’-induced negativity rob me of a day or two of interaction with kind people and trail angels.

The other lesson revolved around time on the trail and focusing on average speed, versus “Hey, this is a nice town; I might stay another day and rest up”. Or Eric, who is leaving the GDR to look for more challenging terrain and then coming back on. To Eric, this was heaven. He got up every morning and went mountain biking, the thing he liked best. He was heading south toward Salida, CO, but didn’t care how he got there. Cool dude.

“Crazy guy”, who I met in Elkford, took 16 days off. He was riding from Mexico north to Banff.

I kept feeling that it would be so much better if Tina were here, but that was impossible. The bugs, bears and sore butt would drive her insane. She’d be screaming hysterically at times due to her low tolerance for bugs. Too bad! It would be so much better to see this all together with the one I love. Shared memories double the joy!

DAY 10 – Saturday, August 8^th – Fatty Creek

I got started at 9:00 AM. Alan had come over to visit early on because he wanted my excellent camp site instead of his $110 hotel room in Big Fork. He got it and left happily. I hoped to see him a few days down the road. Perhaps in Helena.

I saw some bike tracks in front of me and thought it might be Eric or perhaps another rider that I hadn’t met. I never caught him or her though.

I attempted 45 miles today, but decided to back off and instead did 31.8 miles. Respectable, as there was lots of climbing. I climbed about 1000’ to 1,200’ on a steady uphill in my granny gear and then came back down in about ½ hour. What a waste of energy, but the miles kept accumulating.

I lowered my seat about ¼” to try and limit the movement of my butt. The bike fitter, Ron, thought I was stretching slightly and rocking on the seat, and this could calm that down. Well, my ass felt better, but it put some extra strain on my knee, so I decided to cut the day short.

I decided to get off the hills and head down into the valley for the night.

On Monday the big day for climbing would come. Depending on where I stopped, it’d be around 2,600’ of vertical … from 4,000′ to 6,600’… over a distance of 10 miles. It’d be my first time higher than Mt. Washington!

This was an interesting night.  I camped in squirrel central and they weren’t likin’ it.  Lots of running back and forth and chattering like crazy.  Great camp spot though. I was down on the river just a few hundred feet away and a local fisherman told me about this spot. Of course, he also told me that he spotted a grizzly and her cub about 500 yards downstream an hour ago. When the squirrels finally shut up, a deer ran by my tent 2-3 yards away, stumbled into the stream and started barking and gasping on the other side of the creek.  Scared the bejesus out of me!

Thank the good and gracious Allah that I brought my cheap yellow rain pants. Great mosquito protection and comfortable to boot. They’ve taught me the value of ‘camp pants’.

DAY 11 – Sunday, August 9^th – Holland Lake

No bears – no problems!

I slept like a log in spite of my initial trepidations about the wildlife situation.

This was a tough day. I hadn’t thought it would be, but the climb up and out of Fatty Creek went on for hours. I got lost a couple of times – actually the map said ‘take Fire Road 903 to the right’ and 903 went to the left- so I had to explore. I actually had some single-track today – it felt great!

After 40 miles counting my detours, I hobbled into Holland Lake Campground and got a spot. My swim doubled as a bath and at 5:20 PM I had a ‘Weihenstephaner Hefeweizenbier’ at the lodge. I was certainly underdressed for a lodge where the menu runs $35 and rooms $290. The lady at the bar was very nice and said “It’s Montana, you can dress as you please”.

I ordered a salad at the bar, then went home to my campsite and had some freeze-dried pasta.

The next day would be the biggest climb of the trip thus far; I’d start from Holland Lake at 4,000’ and climb to Richmond Peak at 6,600’. This was one of those deals that I’d read about – 18 miles of relentless climbing. I figured 5-6 hours at least.

In anticipation, tonight, I tried something new with my butt.  After my swim, I used baby wipes and then put on an oversized band-aid with Neosporin. I wasn’t sure, but I suspected I was developing a boil due to the locale and contact irritation. I decided if I did get a boil, I would call it “Pierre”.

DAY 12 – Monday, August 10^th – Seeley Lake

Richmond Peak was a challenge. It took me 3:59:59 ride time over an elapsed time period of 5 hours and 45 minutes to cover18.34 miles, 16 of which were uphill. Total climb approximately 2,600′! I made it, but felt the altitude towards the end.

The downhill from Richmond Peak to Seeley Lake was pure pleasure. Miles of grassy trails through thick woods.

I did my shopping – salty peanuts, 6 whole wheat bagels, two apples. That, along with the food I have already, will keep me well fed for 3-4 days.

I certainly wasn’t losing any weight. Alan and Eric ate twice what I did.

As I wrote in my journal my clothes were tumbling in front of me in the dryer – very colorful. Next would be: back to the tent site to get things in order. I went to get some salad at the local ‘restaurant, bar, casino’. They like it when I walk in with my shorts.

At 7:00 PM it was still 79 degrees outside. At least it wasn’t raining!

Today’s ride was challenging and in many ways my favorite so far – a real hill, real single-track, precarious situations and a ball-busting downhill of 12 miles. Imagine twelve miles without really needing to pedal.  My hands got sore trying to keep the speed under control.

DAY 13 – Tuesday, August 11^th – Cooper Lake

I got my squirrel serenade this morning. They chattered and screeched and, as an added insult, they repeatedly kicked dirt on my tent. Last night, two deer came to visit. They were so tame that I moved about doing my chores, and they paid no attention.

As I rode through the woods later in the morning, there seemed to be dead silence, but if I focused, I could hear millions of insects buzzing. It was horrendous background noise. I didn’t hear the individual bugs, but instead this wall of buzz.

The local diner here in Seeley Lake opened at 7:00 AM. So, I went down for breakfast and it was oh, so good. I can’t remember, but I think it was my third diner breakfast since Banff – otherwise oatmeal and peanut butter.

Last night, I had a chef’s salad made with every veggie available, and today for lunch, I dropped into a western café in Orvando – ‘The Stray Bullet’. They served me a veggie sandwich, a big salad and a fruit bowl. Tonight freeze-dried Spanish rice and for dessert an energy bar. A good calorie day!

The ride today was an honest effort. Lots of climbing and then right out into the open grasslands. It was in the mid 90s and for an hour into Orvando and two hours out to the hills, I was cookin’. At the ‘Stray Bullet’, I was surrounded by a bunch of fire fighters who were having a lunch meeting. They advised against being out in the blistering heat. Well, off I went and, in fact cooled it at 39 miles for the day.

So, in the next morning I had 1,500’ to 1,600’ climb in five or six miles. I would do it early before the sun got to this side of the mountain.

The weather had been kind to me thus far. Rain was no big deal, and it held down the dust on the trails. Hunters, fishermen and friends of the Unabomber tool around on the dirt roads at 55 mph so dust control was helpful.

The roads were so dusty and the visibility so poor that the trucks not only drove with their lights on but also had beacons on poles extended from their trucks 10′ in the air.

I left Orvando, I had a five to eight mph tail wind and I was so thankful. So, I have no complaints.

I was also counting my blessings that I had only been chased once by dogs, two border collies. I must have looked a bit sheepish.

I camped in a funny campsite. Way back on the highway, there were signs for the Big Nelson Campsite. As I neared the campsite there were no real official signs. I was fantasizing that this was great– probably showers, lots of campers … wrong! There were four campsites, two of which didn’t have room for my little tent. No garbage cans or bear boxes, just an ancient outhouse, which I tried out in the morning.

But what a nice spot. The sun shining into the waters of Cooper Lake created a Carribean green. However, the squirrels are very aggressive. If they weighed 20-30 lbs I’d be in big trouble.

DAY 14, Wednesday August 12^th – Lost Horse Road

I got out of camp early today, 7:20 AM, and rode two miles from my camping spot on Cooper Lake to the trail head. So, I started on trail at 7:40 AM. The first five miles were uphill to Huckleberry Pass. I GPS’d my position at the top to Tina at home. It could be hard to know when I was at the top of a pass as the trail wandered over the hilltops. Huckleberry Pass was not a Continental Divide crossing, just a local pass.

I wanted to stop in Lincoln, and if I had the energy, try to do a Continental Divide Crossing in the afternoon.

Going down the backside of Huckleberry, I ran into Aaron Suhr going up. His blog is ‘bigA6000miletrek.blogspot.com’.

Big Aaron sold a pizza joint in Boise, Idaho, and took off on his bike. He was ‘schlepping’ at least 100 lbs of gear on his 6,000 mile journey.

He was hoping for an epiphany on the trip: a new direction in life, some clear vision, but he wasn’t having any luck. We agreed that there is too much physical effort and there are too many chores just in keeping the show on the road.

In Lincoln I stopped at a little restaurant and had a veggie sandwich and side salad and got written detour directions from a sweet pudgy waitress. She insisted on filling my water bottles with ice water. I didn’t have the heart to tell her they wouldn’t last long in the 90 degree weather.

Well, off to Stemple Pass.

Just 300 yards before the pass, I blew a tube. It wasn’t just a simple flat, but the side of the tire ripped open. I probably hit a rock, weakened it and finally it blew the side wall of the tire.

I used a piece of plastic, superglue and duct tape to reinforce the tire side wall, and put in a new tube and off I went. So far, so good. I rode about 5 miles on it.

After my flat, I was way behind schedule having done two passes and eight extra miles. The camping areas recommended on the map were grown over and cows were grazing in them, so I continued. My state of exhaustion was beginning to concern me. The prospect of setting up the tent, washing up as I was filthy from going through lots of deep mud puddles, and the whole bear bag business, were weighing on me.

As I passed a nice looking  house, two dogs took after me. They obviously were not a threat with big smiles on their faces and tails wagging. I just stopped and they came over nicely as did their owner, Barbara Nye. She promptly invited me to stay in their guest cabin, the cutest little log cabin, brought me water and showed me around the place she shared with her husband. I turned down the hot shower in the house as a stream ran right by the cabin. What a nice lady! The bed was all made up and she insisted I use it, but I just crashed on the floor with my air mattress.

Trail Angel!

DAY 15- Thursday, August 13^th – Helena, Montana

Two Continental Divide crossings today, up and over, pretty uneventful. Just lots of pedaling and pushing. The key was “relentless forward motion” and keeping my heart rate aerobic, so that I burned fat, not carbs.

Sometimes on the steep grades with loose gravel and rocks, I pushed instead of rode.  It, too, takes a toll on the legs and the upper body, but it spreads the beating over different muscle groups.

On the steeps, I could ride at three mph and expend 200 +/- Watts of energy or walk at 2.3 mph and expend 140-150 +/- Watts. The important thing: keep moving and make the time off the bike productive. I ate and drank as I pushed and that made up for the slightly slower progress.

Four passes in two days did put a lot of strain on my hands, triceps and shoulders. They were sore, but pain is weakness leaving the body. Right?

I was apprehensive about Helena and the Great Divide Cycle Shop, but they treated me right. I dropped in Thursday night just to see if they had the parts and they went right to work. Afterward, I felt much better and I was proud that my tire fix worked. They were very complimentary of the bike and my blown sidewall repair. They felt mine “ was about the best equipped bike to come through”. I think that’s why they fit me in right away. They obviously knew a serious rider when they saw one.

DAY 16 – Friday, August 14^th – Helena, Montana

Day off ?!!!????

It sure would have been nice to make it half a day off, but I was trying to stick to the plan. My to-do-list was long:

*Laundry

*call Tina

*SPOTs

*call Dennis, call my buddies Jack and Cory

*Food etc. (6 bagels, 6 energy bars, 2 mountain lunch meals, oatmeal, Dr. Bonner soap, small superglue)

*email Dennis, get info from Tina

*charge all batteries and phone

*separate stuff to send home

*post office, go to library

*check Schwalbe website

*go to ATM, get $60

*call my stepson Markus.

The Budget Inn was across from the homeless shelter. There was a crowd gathered over there. Rates were probably better than my chosen lodging. I did laundry and then headed out to do my chores.

I had to tell the receptionist by 11:00 AM if I was going to stay another night. It would be so easy to get another 20 miles in and save $50 in motel money, but the chores…

Now for a little recap: In the first 15 days, I ate breakfast, lunch or supper at a restaurant a total of 16 times and cooked myself a meal or had bagels or something else 29 times. In the first 15 days I had:

5 free camping sites

8 paid camping sites (all but one of the wild camping category)

1 motel (Helena, 1^st night)

1 private residence (Nye’s).

I met a lot of nice people by that point: Adam, Eric, Alan, Big Aaron.

Kind waitress in Lincoln on August 12th

Gold miner on Stemple Pass – August 12th

Barbara Nye, my trail angel – August 12th

Cowgirl who was herding her cows up high for better grass – August 13th

Guy in car hollering across two lanes of traffic telling me to go for it – August 13th

Kids at bike shop – August 13th

Lady who was at the bike shop when I called and came back with her husband to meet me. She had a friend doing the Divide on foot in sections and wanted to talk – August 13th

Up to this point, the route had been maybe 5% technical, 35% trails, 50% well maintained dirt roads and 10% pavement.

This trip is truly about big vistas, climbing, and withstanding pain, but for me mostly it was about short visits with nice people who were full of admiration and encouragement. I know it sounds corny, but there were a few times when my legs were burning and my ass was aching when a few kind words wiped it all away.

What are you doing out here?

Where’d you come from?

Where are you going?

By yourself? Off road?

Do you mind if I ask you how old you are?

- those were the questions.

“Off road” is really a misnomer. Off pavement would be more accurate. Most of the dirt roads I was on are better than many paved roads we have in Maine. It was amazing. They had the same issues that we do: snow and frost etc. and their paved roads were like velvet and I could drive 60 mph on their back country dirt roads.

The trip had now become about cows and barbed wire. Hundreds of thousands of miles of barbed wire and cows everywhere – eating, shitting and chillin’ out, waiting for October when they’d be loaded onto a truck and told “you’re going on a vacation!  And, oh yeah, by the way, you’ll need to go through customs and get your vaccinations”.  Lights out! Bovine butchery!

If cows ruled the world, there would be peace. They are so laid back and don’t seem to be a bit aggressive. When I rode through a pasture, dodging cow patties, every cow in the pasture was checking me out. It was so cool. They really were my biggest fan club. I think if they could sit back on their haunches, they’d be banging their hooves together in truly thunderous applause. Wow, maybe I WAS dehydrated and tired?

By the way, they have their own “Joe Cupo” out here. The night before, after the hail storm, I watched the weather – both national and local – and today was supposed to be rain, rain and more rain.  But, big blue skies…. Great day!

Alan came into Helena and we met up for the third time and got pizza.

Alan thought I was too quick to get rid of my IPod. He used his on those long four and five hour climbs as a distraction from the pain and fatigue. I wasn’t so sure.

My sore ass and too much time on my hands was causing a negative, repetitive thought process that was unacceptable to me. I found myself getting upset and obsessing over nonsensical minutia for hours at a time.

So, I began telling myself stories out loud. It worked quite well. I’d talk for hours about old girl friends, business ventures, and interesting people who influenced my life. What did I do right or wrong, what would I do differently? Anything to distract from the relentless climbs and sore ass. It had to be out loud or my mind would dive back into that dark pool of negativity.

I started talking out loud on the way up Richmond Peak, which was 18 miles of uphill (well, maybe a mile of flat or slightly downhill) over a period of many hours. Distraction was imperative!  And it kept the grizzlies away.

There had been a grizzly alert on Richmond Peak, but I didn’t see any. Maybe they didn’t like my stories.

Back at the room it was raining like crazy. Afternoon lightning and thunder. So, I waited to complete my shopping until it had passed after an hour or so. It would be awfully uncomfortable on the trail during a storm. The trick was to see the black clouds building and get the tent up. On the other hand I saw the clouds building a few times and it just seemed like the storms would be confined to the hills. And they were. Good luck so far!

DAY 17 – Saturday, August 15^th – Basin

A tough one. The flat map gave no indication of the difficulty and the “topographical profile” map was a general guideline. It was very helpful, but it smoothed out lots of small hills, rollers, etc. At the end of the day when I’d planned on a smooth sailing, I felt deceived.

As mentioned before I had discovered that Jim LeClair, my brother-in-law, was running a “Where’s Rich” blog on his company website.

Jim seemed interested in statistics, so I decided to keep track today to give him a flavor of a typical ride:

Today, there were two major climbs. The first from Helena to an unnamed pass was 6.56 miles of uphill (maybe a quarter of that distance flat or slightly downhill), and I ate up one hour 34 minutes, climbing approximately 1,500’, from 4,100’ to 5,600’. The descent went quickly in 23 minutes. It was 4.95 miles and I lost about 850’ of my morning work.

So, I was back at 4,750’, and then I climbed for 13 miles (maybe ½ mile flat or down) to 7,400’ in three hours 33 minutes – that’s 1,650’ of climbing. The last two miles of the climb were at the limits of what is humanly possible. Riding was out of the question and pushing extremely difficult. I had to rest every few steps and then get things going again with a burst of energy. Very technical rocky trails.

Crossing the top of the mountain there was a series of rollers that racked up another 200’ of ascending.

The ride downhill was difficult. In fact, the first mile was a lesson in B.O.B. physics that my friend Alan will experience tomorrow. At supper on the 14^th, we had discussed some upcoming “very steep” descents and how we would handle them. Well, it was clear now, the B.O.B. needed to be unloaded and the baggage carried downhill the mile or two, and then the bike needed to be walked down separately with the empty B.O.B. tagging along.

I lost control of the situation a number of times. Both wheels on the bike were locked, but still sliding and the B.O.B. at that point took over and shoved the back tire around sideways, and then collapsed on itself and pulled the bike over. I now had a jack-knifed trailer on an almost un-walkable rocky steep slope. Remember, I was pushing the bike at this point, not riding.

So, the physics were now clear. I’m sure Alan, an engineer, would see the danger of the situation and deal with it.

I used it as an experiment and the results were not good, but as so often is the case, I lucked out.

The descent from the mountain, including the experimentation, took 1 hour 53 minutes, and covered 15 miles and a descent of 2,000’.

So, I started the day at 4,100’, climbed 3,000’-4,000’, descended a couple thousand feet and ended up in Basin at 5,400’! All I know is, my legs are sore.

I had been building my base altitude each day. Eureka was the low point at 2,600’, and now my low points were 5,000’, so I was definitely ‘movin’ on up’.

It was a long day and as it ended, I passed a pizza joint, “The Leaning Tower of Pizza”. The owner waited on me and we had a real nice conversation. He and his wife, Lisa, owned two pizza places and both worked full time jobs in addition.

He wouldn’t let me pay for supper. He wanted to show me his admiration for coming over the mountain from Helena – “the hell with riding to Mexico,” he said, “just getting over that hill is enough”. A real nice guy.

When I arrived there, I think I was close to hypothermic. I was shivering and very cold. All day the wind had been blowing very cold and hard. I was soaking wet from sweat, then cold and dry from the wind, then it would rain, and then more sweat. Moisture is the real enemy of an endurance biker.

I had on my bike shirt, wind breaker and raincoat, but they didn’t keep me warm. The owner was so nice, he wanted to drive me to a campground, but we talked and he knew a place on the trail a couple miles out of town and that’s where I camped. Not 10′ from the edge of the road.

The rain stopped while I was eating pizza and held off till I got camp set up.

I honestly didn’t know I could put my body through this and survive it. Stumbling, going anaerobic, burning muscles, but somehow it worked.  So far my nighttime recovery had been excellent.

That night I found out what my sleeping bag was good for. It was supposed to drop to 35 degrees.

DAY 18 – Sunday, August 16^th – Mile 203.1 South of Butte

Well, the locals told me it only got down to 38 degrees last night. I was cozy in my bag of feathers. I did have a bit of trouble getting revved up in the morning – so warm in bag – so cold outside, but I finally burst out of the womb and was able to get underway by 8:00 AM.

I needed the time. Others slept in and took their time because they didn’t need eight hours of riding like I did. My system worked. I just expended less energy over a longer time period. That’s just how I compensated for lacking speed.

I hoped when I got further south, my pace would pick up and I could get more miles in each day. The blogs that I read were often on my mind, and I just couldn’t believe what I was recalling. It seemed impossible that relatively inexperienced riders pulling a trailer could average 50 miles a day in this terrain like the blogs reported. I kept my average miles based on 15 day periods, and then averaged them together so people could see that the first 15 days was 40 miles/day, the second maybe 47 miles/day, third 44 miles/day, and the last maybe 55 miles/day. So, at the end when I said I did 50 miles a day, people didn’t feel inadequate up here in Montana doing 40 miles a day.

Of course, the terrain and weather had a lot to do with average time on a daily basis but I think increased strength and altitude assimilation are the big factors when evaluating larger time blocks….like 15 days.

There were huge black clouds building in the west, but I was ready.

I stopped at a laundromat after lunch and washed my shorts and dried my wet stuff. While the dryer was running, I ran to IGA for my bagels, peanut butter and a bottle of peanuts. I then sorted my gear and lubed my chain so Id have less to do at night. Just in case it was raining in the morning, I got two bagels ready for tomorrow’s breakfast and two for lunch.

Tomorrow there is a stretch that is so steep going down, you need to unload and carry stuff down and then bring the empty bike and B.O.B. down by hand – riding would not be possible. It could be a long day. First the climb in the morning to Continental Divide#6 (CD #6) and then the treacherous downhill. I’d sure be glad when the roller coaster ride was over. Maybe there would be some different terrain on the next map with Grand Teton and Yellowstone Nat’l Park.

DAY 19 – Monday, August 17^th – Wise River

What a surprise! And me without my ice skates.  I woke up with everything covered in ice and my water bottles frozen.

I had camped in the shade and the cold was a bit much, so I walked down to the road where the sun was shining and ate my two bagels.

Let me tell ya, it was cold! I had all the clothes in my inventory layered. Found out later it was between 25 and 28 degrees.

The sleeping bag didn’t do the trick. In the night, I got up and put on two shirts, my tights and socks, but it only kept me warm enough to sleep if I had only my nose showing (so no heat could escape).

So, a bad start, but I decided to do the CD#6 and Mt. Fleecer, a total of 40 miles, and then relaxed in Wise 41, miles later.

It was important for me to get over Mt. Fleecer as it is the steepest and potentially scariest section of the upper GDR. You either need to off-load and carry your bags down or the other method, which I chose, which is to make big switch backs in the fields. So, to go the ¼ mile, I walked the bike (and the B.O.B. did as it pleased) about 1 ¼ miles. But it saved me struggling downhill carrying the B.O.B. bag, and the climbing back up.

That hill had been on my mind since Day Three when Crazy Guy said ‘don’t underestimate Keeler Ridge’. So, that was done.

My other worry was camping , because I was just too tired to ride another ten miles to a campsite. and I just never knew what was along the road for camping with all the barbed wire.

The map said that there was no camping available in Wise.

Well, it was wrong! The “Wise River Club” let me sleep behind their “restaurant, bar, casino, hunting lodge, hotel, ice cream parlor, and laundromat”.  For $10, I was able to take a shower, do my laundry and have a Chef Salad with sockeye salmon.

So, the day had its ups and downs emotionally. The realization that I couldn’t deal with below-freezing temps with the clothing I had was a shocker. On the plus side I was done with Keeler Ridge and found the great facility at Wise River.

At the bar, some young drunk girl was talking trash to anyone who would listen the whole 2 1/2 hours I was there having a beer. She just got right up and sat down with me and informed me she was a ‘wolf whisperer’ and talked for 30 minutes straight.  I couldn’t get a word in.  It turned out her parents were prominent business people. I could imagine how her parents felt about her hanging out in the only bar in town harassing old people on bikes.

DAY 20 – Tuesday, August 18^th – Bannack State Park

I decided in the morning that I wanted to make it to Bannack … 55-56 miles. It would be almost my biggest day. The climb out of Wise River was gradual for about 26 miles, then real steep the last four miles. It amazed me that I could go uphill for six hours with maybe a mile out of the 30 being flat or downhill, and then go like hell downhill for an hour and half, and I’d be doing the same mileage up and down.

If I knew each day what lay ahead, I’d probably have stayed put. I had to look at the map – pick a goal, take into consideration the general topography and not focus on the struggle to do it. It is hard to explain. It’s like I couldn’t think about the whole GDR … too overwhelming. I thought about getting to some town or getting over the next pass rather than the big picture.

When I arrived at Bannack State Park, I pulled up to a camper and asked the guy how I needed to check in:

Darrell: Where you from? he said with a smile.

me: Brunswick, Maine.

Darrell: Used to fly in there all the time; I had a close friend in Bath.

me: Who was that?

Darrell: Milton Footer; we were in the Navy together.

me: Mickey was a good friend of mine all through school.

Small World!!

After getting set up, I visited the ghost town of Bannack. Bannack was the first capital of Montana and their first Sheriff was a guy named Plummer from Addison, Maine.

So, it was all and all a great day that started with a big breakfast, involved an effort close to my limit and ended making a new friend.

Darrell and his wife had 7-8 horses and did Backcountry Horse Trips for weeks, even months at a time in the Bob Marshall Wilderness area. The people in Montana are a different breed. They like their horses.

DAY 21 – Wednesday, August 19^th – Mile 80.3, Big Sheep Creek

I wanted to make it over the next pass and do about 60 miles.

I had all my warm clothes on in the morning. I knew I was in trouble when 30 minutes later at 8:45 AM, I was stripping down to just bike shorts and shirt. By 10:00 AM it was in the mid 80s and the sun was baking me.

Things went well until noon, and at about 12:30 PM, with temps in the 90s, the wheels started coming off the wagon. In fact, I had to take an extended break at a lone tree. My strength didn’t come back. I climbed from 8:15 AM till 4:00 PM , 42 miles and 2,000′ of climbing.

What was I to do?  Wide open prairie, no wind, no shade, except my one beloved tree, which I shared with the cows.

So I decided to go slowly, stopping every 15 minutes and resting each hour.

One hourly stop was a little longer because I had a flat, but again, it was a good experience. I patched it and used a CO2 cartridge to blow it up (a first) and I was soon on my way.

I was about a quarter mile from the Medicine Lodge – Sheep Creek Divide Pass – when a nice couple pulled up next to me to chat. They had seen me at the solitary tree with my cows hours earlier. Mr. and Mrs. Hildreth. Their family had been raising cattle there for 150 years, and I found out from another guy who stopped to talk later that they owned hundreds of thousands of acres.

They asked if I’d like a ride and, of course, I had to refuse. They felt it was too hot to be outside; let alone riding 40 miles uphill. They were so kind; they wanted me to follow them and stay in one of their hunting cabins. Again, I said I was on a schedule and needed to be in Lima Thursday by noon. I had to turn down their generous offer, but they did answer some questions I had about farming and hay rigs.

Once over the pass, the next twenty miles were 95% downhill. At day’s end around 7:00-7:30 PM, I was at my campsite next to Big Sheep Creek, probably at the same altitude I started at 62 miles ago at Bannack.

Today I managed to control a potentially dangerous heat stroke situation with “relentless forward motion”, and survived my longest day yet.

The human body is capable of lots more than most people can even imagine.

The scenery was just so momentous. The rolling hills – actually 9,000’ high mountains – all around me, and then a canyon by nightfall. Right out of the Wild West. The area I rode today followed wagon train trails and the Lewis and Clark Trail. I somehow felt connected to this place.

I planned to do some shopping in Lima and take it a little easy in the morning.

DAY 22 – Thursday, August 20^th – Lima Reservoir

I was headed for Lima (like the bean).  I needed to shower, do laundry, send mail, call Dennis, charge my batteries, visit the ATM, buy groceries, get unpolluted water and call my wife.

I needed to be more careful about the placement of my campsite, too. The previous night when I got up to piss, the North Star was straight down the canyon and there was a 300-400’ high wall to my east. That meant no sun in the morning.

The sun was my enemy all day, but at 7 AM, was my best buddy.

These canyons were amazing, and the high plains, too. Thousands of cows everywhere. I could easily envision the gold miners, wagon trains and Indian tribes roaming the area.

Lima was a depressing little place, but had good food and good telephone reception. I had another flat!  Just like the last one, a real slow leak. In fact, with the last one I was able to pump it up a couple times and keep going. However, eventually it went down too fast to keep up, so I changed it.

Well, to make sure, I went over the tire, the tube and the rim, but couldn’t find anything inside or out. There had to be a reason and sure enough, the second time through, I found a small sliver of glass imbedded in a tire knob. I couldn’t see it from the outside, but when I hit bumps, it popped through the inner wall of the tire and cut the tube ever so slightly. I still couldn’t find either of the leaks in the tubes though.  I’d have to wait for some water to submerge them in, so I could see bubbles.

I planned to make tire mending the next day’s lunch break.

At 8:30 PM, I retreated to my tent to get away from the mosquitoes. The sky was beautiful – wispy red clouds with pastel blue in between.

I pitched my tent beside a dirt road at 6:30 or 7:00 PM and no cars came by. Those old dirt roads are well maintained, but so remote.

As I mentioned earlier, Montana’s gravel roads are in better shape than US Rt.1 in Maine and all their paved roads are excellent – no pot holes, no patches.

I just don’t get it. They have all the same political and financial issues we have in Maine. In fact, with the varied terrain and soil types, it should be more difficult at home.

By the way, if the cows ruled, it would be peaceful, but we’d be up to our asses in cow manure!

DAY 23 – Friday, August 21^st – Upper Red Rock Lake

All night and the next day until noon only two or three cars passed. A bunch of Hispanics going to do some fence repairs stopped to ask how I was doing. Very nice of them. Hardly anyone stopped or slowed down in this part of Montana. Just big dust clouds. It amazed me that possibly one in ten drivers on these back roadways slowed down to reduce the dust cloud, which was so thick they had to use their headlights.

On the other hand, to them, I was just some crazy bastard on a bike and they were working these ranches from sunrise to sunset in the scorching heat.

I got started at 8:00 AM and rode six hours covering 41.4 miles of relatively flat ground, but it was 90 degrees by 11 AM with no wind.  I ran out of water by 1 PM and went into the Red Rock Lake National Wildlife Refuge Center to get refills – just in time. I drank over a gallon of water in 5 hours.

I find it funny how I built images all day of my destination as kind of a motivational tool. The map said that I’d find food in Lakeview, so I thought I’d have a big salad, fruit and a gallon of water and ask for a sandwich to go to eat later at night . No such luck.  The restaurant closed eight years ago. Nothing, Nada. But I got water from the Ranger Station, so off I went to ride 5 miles to Upper Red Lake campground. Nothing but an outhouse and a lake that was filled with algae and only one foot of water. So, my dreams of frolicking in the lake went up in smoke. However, there was a real spring in this extremely primitive campground, and the only shade for 12 miles in either direction. At 2:15 PM I pulled in and after much debate, decided to call it a day. I fixed two tubes, lubricated my bike, drank two quarts of water, did the morning’s dishes, took a bath in the cold spring, checked all the fastenings on the bike to make sure they were tight, spread out my tent to dry, did laundry in the spring, filled out my daily mileage log, checked the map for tomorrow, had a PowerBar, and wrote in my journal. Oh, busy, busy; and then it was only 5:00 PM.

I couldn’t help but think, friends of ours, Sue and George, would love this place. It was a huge operation set up solely to benefit the Trumpeter Swans which migrate here, have their babies and head south. It has been going on since 1932 and these bird folks here take their jobs very seriously.

I lost my favorite shirt today. I always started the morning ride with my blue long sleeve “MooseMan” shirt over my bike shirt. Then I’d take it off and stuff it in a pannier. Today, I buckled it down on the outside of the pannier and after 20 miles, I noticed it was gone. I was so sad that I unloaded my bike, stashed my B.O.B. Next to the trail and drove back quite a few miles, but no luck. Maybe Alan would find it in the next couple days when he came through.

Huge black clouds and lots of wind descended. I hoped it was a storm coming over the mountains.  A little rain overnight would calm down the dust tomorrow!

Another first today. My hands and wrists hurt worse than my posterior. I think it had to do with the monotony of the high prairie roads. I was forced to ride in the same position for long periods, and letting go of the handlebars for anything except short intervals was suicide because of the loose surface and the rocks and debris.

As a result, my hands took abuse. It actually hurt to write. “This too shall pass”.

The day brought on some musings: The folks in Montana are physically like those in Maine… but with cowboy hats.

There really wouldn’t be much sense in just riding across America on road bikes – McDonalds, Exxon, cars everywhere, same old, same old. America has become so homogenized. Even Canada has the same TV programs and the same lousy food in it’s stores.  However this type of travel – backcountry – is very rewarding. The vistas are indescribable – so big and intense. You look out ahead, see this sage brush covered landscape surrounded always by hills and behind the hills are huge mountains. This terrain extended for days on end.

Ninety-Five percent of tourists see the same shit. Where I was was somehow unspoiled, yet heavily used for haying, farming, cows and horses. It was just so big, I didn’t care about a million or two cows! Man’s disruptive influence was obvious but the absence of man made it bearable.

DAY 24 – Saturday, August 22^nd - Warm River Campground

I Left ‘Swan Lake’ early as I wanted to make the next pass by 10:00 AM – Red Rock Pass, Cont.Div.#7.

The ride down from the pass was amazing as not only the landscape changed, but also the style of homes, even the fences. Each pass introduced another group of settlers who seemed to do things their own way based on the conditions in their valley. One side of Red Rock Pass was cattle grazing and the other, just a few miles away, was horses and fancy homes in big subdivisions clustered around Henry’s Lake. Ten miles later the business is four-wheeling and water activities on the rivers. Lots of kayaking, tubing, fishing and swimming. The big draw, however, seemed to be renting four wheelers to inconsiderate assholes who created huge amounts of dust and who literally squeezed me off the trails.

The trails were on treacherous volcanic black sand and riding was very difficult. I’d have left the trail if I had the choice as I kept falling and swerving uncontrollably.

In one instance, I was stopped and the B.O.B. did its lay -down -and -play- dead thing. I bent over and tried to catch it and pulled my back muscles way down at the base of the spine. I thought my day was over. After a few minutes, I caught my breath and surprisingly, riding felt okay. I just couldn’t stand up straight or walk.

Of course, I was thinking about the consequences of my back injury the rest of the day – sleeping, putting the tent together, washing up. Well, when I got to the Warmriver campground, I took two Ibuprofen and was able to set up camp.

My neighbor who was doing the GDR on a BMW dirt bike – so cool, what a beautiful machine – struck up a conversation. He invited me over and offered me some bourbon. I told him that might not work with the Ibuprofen, so he gave me a small bottle (glass) of red wine.

I think it helped. We had a great time talking. He was a back country kind of guy. He liked it a lot in Grand Teton. He was familiar with New England but he said that once you experience the Wind Mountains in Wyoming or the Grand Tetons, you’ll never go back east. He moved to Seattle because of its proximitry to Montana and Wyoming. People out here love the back country.

I also met a nice older couple from San Francisco who were out here hauling a glider around from one place to another, a German glider. They were asking me for advice on canoeing and, surprisingly just having pedaled through 30 miles of canoeing country, I was able to help.

DAY 25 – Sunday, August 23^rd – Flagg Ranch

I said my good-byes at the campground and headed out. One hour later, Dave, my buddy from the night before, sailed by on his BMW, headed to Pinedale, where I’d reach in 2 or 3 day’s time.

The roads were killing me. Rocky gravely surface with two to three inch washboard for 20-30 miles. I kept checking to make sure my fillings were still in my teeth.

It rained all day. By 4:00 PM I was cold and soaked after my 47 miles.

Flagg Ranch is a fancy lodge and campground making its money on people heading into Yellowstone, which is about a mile up the road. I needed a warm shower and a Laundromat to dry my clothes and get my bike shorts clean and dry.

My butt was getting a little better each day, so I didn’t want to reverse the trend with bad hygiene.

Earlier at the state line, I had my first bear encounter. They were in the road but I could only see their backs about a quarter mile away. I had my whistle in mouth, and my bear spray at the ready. Then a nice guy in a white truck stopped to tell me the bear and her cubs had moved on, and I was able to keep going.

DAY 26 – Monday, August 24^th – Togwotee Mountain Lodge

Two ladies were being very loud and obnoxious at the Flagg Ranch bar where I ate last night. They were talking crap to anyone who came near them. Well, the next morning, they didn’t look so smart when their tent was submerged. It rained all night. I picked a high uncomfortable spot, but I was dry.

What a mess in the morning.

As I was leaving, I met Frank Moritz who was doing a 7-day-ride around Grand Teton to include a swing through Yellowstone. He was 66 and led rides for the ‘adventure cycling association’.

Last night, I had supper at the Flagg Ranch Lodge, tonight at the Togwotee Mountain Lodge.

There was an abandoned Forest Service Campground in the woods near the lodge, so I set up back there. I felt pretty safe because they had bear boxes in which to lock up food. For $5.00, the lodge let me take a shower. I washed my pants in the shower and later put them in a lodge dryer.

There was a huge traffic jam today as eight miles of road between Grand Teton and Yellowstone was torn up. Some of the road workers who were at the lodge last night told me to come by in the morning and their ‘pilot vehicle’ would take me and my bike through the eight miles of mud. I turned down the offer as I wanted to avoid taking rides. So much to the dismay of the road crews, I pedaled into the ribbon of mud. Not two miles into the construction site, two buses broke down and I was the only one who could get through In either direction. It was cool.  Everyone in the traffic jam was cheering as I climbed the 2 mile long mud hill.

I also stopped at a horse ranch,‘Turpin’, to see if I could get lunch.  Too late for lunch. But the staff brought me a date bar and filled my water bottles. The boss came out and shot the bull with me for ten minutes. I thought if they are this friendly to a stinky old biker, how nice must they be to their guests!

I settled in for the night. The next day, I hoped to do Togwotee Pass (Cont.Div.#8) in the morning and climb to Union Pass (Cont.Div.#9) in the afternoon; both are over 9,000’.  I’ll have to see what happens with the weather – they had snow on both passes last week. Probably the same night I froze outside of Butte.

Beautiful sunset with the Tetons silhouetted against the red sky.

DAY 27 – Tuesday, August 25^th – Lake of the Woods

Upon rolling out of the sack in the morning, I discovered fresh bear tracks near my tent. Further scrutiny revealed that a recent camper had left garbage in a nearby fire pit. The bear had been rummaging around. The problem is not the bears, but the inconsiderate campers too lazy to pack out their garbage. Imagine people so self-absorbed that they can rationalize leaving garbage at a campsite and putting campers and bears in danger. All because it saves them the trouble of bending over and putting ‘their’ refuse in a plastic bag and throwing it in a car.

On Elk River in Canada, I was interacting with a bear because motorists were dumping their garbage next to overfull garbage cans at a rest area – royal A-holes!

The road crews today forced me to ride eight miles in the pilot truck. It was a mud hole like yesterday, and the cars and trucks were fish tailing in the slime.

My goal was to do two passes today, including the ominous Union Pass, 2400” in ten miles, so I pushed on all day, arriving at the Lake of the Woods at 6:15 PM. I got all set up right next to the lake and just down the lake were two half-wits – fat, 20-somethings, fishing and camping.  From my lakeside office, my not -to-shabby campsite was 50’ east of my open air office. Bear bag high in a tree, I headed for sleep.  Two Cont. Div. crossings in one day is enough.

Union Pass is a double header. One climb is a very steep 1,200′ and then it levels off. A few minutes of reprieve and the world tilts up again. I wasn’t able to get my legs back after the break so the second 1,200′ was miserable.

I had to ride off-trail a couple miles to reach my lakeside campsite, but it certainly was beautiful. All I could hear was the wailing of wolves or coyotes.

DAY 28 – Wednesday, August 26^th – Pinedale

It was a long day.  68.10 miles total; of that 66.2 on the GDR. The extra miles came from riding from the Lake of the Woods back to the trail.

I ran into my second bear along the trail today. He (or she) was about 100 yards in front of me, right in the trail. I stopped, reached for my camera and lost control of my bike which fell to the ground. ‘Yogi’ heard the noise and ran off. I snapped a photo, but missed. I guess I showed him!  Rang my bell, blew my whistle and off he went! No gun required. I will admit, as he watched me fumble for the camera and fall off the bike, he probably didn’t feel threatened.

Shortly thereafter, I met a local guy looking for wolves and coyotes. The night before, one or the other had kept me awake, but I didn’t know which. He was explaining that wolves howl and coyotes yowl, but I wasn’t sure that I could tell the difference. The big positive is they don’t usually attack people. On the other hand, he thought camping in the area was ill advised. Maybe I was having good luck, but I was following the rules to the letter, and so far, so good.

DAY 29 – Thursday, August 27^th – Lander Cutoff – Emigrant Trail

Pinedale is interesting . A recent natural gas discovery turned it into a boom town. It was always a gateway to the ‘Winds’, so the addition of the gas money has made for a resurgence. Nothing like big oil money to spruce up the neighborhood.

The town web-cam caught me. My wife and some friends logged on and there I was, standing in front of the place where I had breakfast.

I couldn’t find a place to stop, so I ended up doing a 44.82 mile half day with 5:12 hours/min. saddle time. I wasn’t 100% happy with my very remote campsite, but it had to do. I packed everything in my waterproof bag and carried it about 300’ away as there were no appropriate trees. Lots of night time noises here in the woods and it just made me a bit nervous.

When I got to the Big Sandy River today there were so many ‘no trespassing’ signs and so much cow excrement that I decided to move on although it had been my intention to camp there. On the open prairie, you have to go with what the land allows or offers.

My tent was set up so that when I opened it up at night, the constellation Orion was right there. Around midnight, he came up in the east.

I thought a lot about my old friend Jim Snead today. It really was a privilege to know him. He certainly was different. I reviewed all our years together (to keep my mind off my sore ass and hands) and was able to recall a lot of details of our 35 year friendship. I felt bad that he died alone, but based on his actions and words over the years, he wouldn’t have wanted it otherwise.

I went to bed hungry, too pooped to cook.

Three C.D. crossings tomorrow. At one point, I’ll ride about one and a half miles along the Divide, which really doesn’t mean anything. The Divide is just a rounded highpoint, not a knife edge. Some day, I’ve got to figure out how they determined the exact location of the Divide.

DAY 30 – Friday, August 28^th – Sweetwater River

Thirty days on the trail already!  Time flies when you’re busy.

The only way to undertake a journey such as this is by breaking it down into small chunks. To get up each morning and think I’m riding 40 miles of 3,000 mile journey, doesn’t work. It isn’t productive to think I’m on C.D. #9 today– only 20 to go.

Instead, I looked at the map and planned to be at a stream for water or planned to make a particular mountain pass by noon. Sometimes I actually fantasized about a town coming up and how I’d enjoy getting a meal. I had to create these mini-goals each day.

The map was also motivational. It had description boxes, and each time I finished one, I’d refold the map and move to the next box. Sadly, this is an event to celebrate in the life of GDR rider and then, of course, the day you flip over to the “B” side of the map is a hallmark. That, of course, means the ritual of recalibrating the odometer to zero…sort of a rite of passage.

Today, I switched from Map 2 to Map 3- a really big day!

And so it goes. These days, the town of Rawlins was rattling around in the back of my head. “Get across the Great Divide basin and have a beer in Rawlins; maybe a hot shower.”  “Check and see if they have ergo grips as my hands hurt a lot.” After Rawlins it’ll be but a few days before seeing my wife in Breckenridge.

I couldn’t believe a guy and his wife would give up careers to move to Atlantic City, Wyoming, to start a restaurant with its population of 57 people.  I haven’t seen a lot of Wyoming but if anyone wanted to give the state an enema, they’d be sticking the nozzle in Atlantic City.

The undulating terrain this morning almost broke my spirit, but pizza, salad and lots of liquid got me going again. All was well at noon in Atlantic City.

I met Gene Brown (73 yrs. old) doing the GDR on an 1100 cc BMW. He was a tough guy and made use of block and tackle to get through the steep rough spots.

At a break, I purified six bottles of water and filled a four liter bladder to the brim-a gift of the Sweetwater River headwaters of the Pacific Ocean.

Forty-seven miles out was Arapahoe Creek.  Seventy-three miles out there was A & M reservoir. I could camp at either one, depending on my legs and the heat.  Making it to the reservoir though would leave just 55 miles into Rawlins on Sunday.

DAY 31 – Saturday, August 29^th – A&M Reservoir

Well, last night was busy. First, I was awakened by a herd of cows who were grazing around my tent. They high-tailed it when I turned on my light. It was a tense moment until I figured out that they were cows. A short while later there was a lot of commotion in the river. The moon was up, so I could see a large beaver swimming in circles and slapping its tail on the water. That beaver worked for hours on something in the creek. I could hear him using his tail to pack mud, but in the morning, I found nothing, no sign of a newly constructed lodge.

The day’s ride turned into 70 miles, as Arapahoe Creek was dry and camping was not possible. This was close to my limit. The last 10 miles I had to rest every mile. I had packed 4 liters of extra water and without it, I would have been in deep trouble. But I made it to the A+M Reservoir and 70 miles closer to Breckenridge – and to Tina.

The body will take an amazing amount of punishment.

I saw many animals today.  There were few trees, so if animals were present, I’d see them.  Hundreds of pronghorns, dozens of mustangs, an armadillo (the huge holes in the road are actually armadillo holes), five dead jack rabbits, three elk, and a dozen quail.

What’s up with rabbits? A few days ago on the trail from Bannack State Park, I saw five dead rabbits and today the same. There weren’t five cars a day out here!  Are jackrabbits suicidal?

Yesterday, I saw a lone wolf (El Lobo Alono) stalking some pronghorns.

At my excellent campsite next to the A+M Reservoir, there were plovers.

DAY 32 – Sunday, August 30^th – Rawlins

I awoke this morning to quail and pronghorns. It amazds me that this desolate, waterless prairie could support so much life.

It took me 58.5 min. to go 13.69 miles with a strong tailwind and then three hours 18 minutes to go 23 miles with a brutal headwind on fairly flat terrain. Headwind not only slowed me down, but also demoralized me.

Today I had fun playing hide and seek with a thunderstorm with which I was on a collision course. I kept slowing down , and it eventually passed in front of me. When I got to Rawlins, the locals said it was a bruiser – short and severe with hail.

Thunder storms have puntuated this journey. Would that ominous black cloud catch me? Wow, that lightning was close! That rain cooled me down, filled the streams and calmed the dust

Murrays’ Bike Shop was my destination in Rawlinsand I’d forgotten it was Sunday.  I called the emergency number on the door and the owner, Mary Jane Daniels, came right over and we worked on the handlebar set-up. She was a very nice, courageous lady, carrying a huge burden.  Her husband had passed away and left her with the bike shop.

DAY 33 – Monday, August 31^st – Big Sandstone Creek

Anatomy of a day of wind and hills: It took me 5 hours 57 minutes, let’s just call it 6 hours, to go 30 miles. Now that’s elapsed time. Actually, pedaling was 4 hours 36 minutes. So, the wind, 20-35 mph, direct in my face, allowed me an average speed of 5.9 mph. Headwinds are discouraging! I made it to Cont. Div. #15, Maplewood Hill, and changed maps. Hallelujah!!!

The wind gusted so hard at times that on flat areas pedaling in the granny gear, I couldn’t keep enough headway to steer. When there was a downhill, I had to take it slow in case I got hit by a gust that could have blown me over.

No fun!

I met a hiker doing the Cont. Div. Trail north to south. He walked about 20 miles each day. Not a real friendly dude, but walking six days across the desert wouldn’t make me happy either. I was surprised that he made it from South Pass City so quickly and he admitted that he took a couple rides. He felt “you can see just so much desert”. We discussed the fact that biking is a good speed to observe your surroundings. Walking is just too slow- I mean how long do you need to look at something? The only problem I see with biking is that you can’t do a whole lot of looking around because you’ll surely end up in the ditch. Anytime I wanted a closer look at something, I stopped and looked (and, of course, drank or ate a snack).

Lots of farmers stopped today wondering out loud “what the hell are you doing out here?”   all offered water, food, a ride and encouragement. It was not in their realm of comprehension that I could ride in such heat and wind.

If people really understood what was going on out here, they’d flip.

Today I road 48.6 miles to get to a camping area that didn’t exist.  There was, however, a beautiful stream, so I unloaded and hiked down over the hill and set up camp. Talk about wild camping. Some big bird had an hour long fit at me just for being there.

Pictures are good, but the sounds and smells on a wilderness trip are important. As I was setting up tonight, a wild dog or wolf was howling; the loud stream was 10’ away; the mad bird was screeching. Add the whirr of the insects, and you’re dealing with discordant orchestra!

This evening, at 6:30 PM, I was getting pretty frustrated with the rolling windy desert when I came around a corner and there was a wall of aspen trees and within ¼ mile, the desert was forgotten. The smell was so strong – like vanilla. How could the landscape change this fast?

What a day. I laid down to sleep with extra air in the sleeping mat. My beautiful little campsite was actually a rocky old creek bed with some dirt on it. So, sleeping required some acrobatics, but I was so tired, I just dealt with it.

DAY 34 – Tuesday, September 1^st – FR42 – Routt Nat’l Forest

I had a wild ride this morning. After 8 miles of climbing, it was a solid 12 miles downhill on pavement.

One thing I had discovered: there is no joy in going downhill because you know you’ll need to go back up sooner or later!  If I knew that I had to climb from 6,800’ to 8,000’ during the next 20 miles, then each time I went downhill, I felt like I was loosing hard-fought ground.

I stopped in front of a conglomeration of buildings by the trail as they were at a crossroads, and it turned out to be the Brush Mountain Lodge where Eric had stayed. Kirsten saw me standing there and came out to greet me. She ran the lodge for her parents and hung out in Steamboat Springs in the winter. What a sweetie!  Again, I forgot to get a picture. Anyway, she loved Eric and he had given me a good intro.

As it grew late, the camping situation grew critical. I wanted to be well positioned for the morning climb, but when I got to the bottom of the pass, the sites were either taken or so full of cow manure that camping wasn’t possible. I finally back-tracked to a shepherd’s wagon and set up in the woods after kicking cow paddies away for 10 minutes.

The shepherd came home at sunset with his two horses and two dogs and left in the morning before sunrise. Kirsten had told me earlier that the wolves and coyotes were causing the shepherd lots of trouble this year.

DAY 35 – Wednesday, September 2^nd – Stagecoach Reservoir

I got an early start, as did the shepherd.

The climb was almost as bad as Lava Mountain. This was the first day of bow hunting for elk and deer, so the hills were full of campers ready to hunt. All very nice people who came out to greet me as I struggled up the hill offering rides, pushes, water and food – very touching. Again, I took no pictures…

The ride down the other side was amazing. Eight miles of rocks and loose gravel. I couldn’t believe the brakes didn’t just explode, but they worked great. One kid who had just driven up the 8 miles in his muscle truck stopped to talk as I was SPOTing. He bet it would take me all day to get down due to the bad road conditions. It took about 1 ½ hours. I had to go slowly or the bike and B.O.B. would have been beaten to pieces.

I stopped in Steamboat Springs to get some work done on the headset, new brakes, chamois butter and new grips.  I was still having problems with my hands. The shop was amazing. “Orange Peel”, owned by a young guy. He was doing well, by the look of his shop. They treated me well and gave me a huge discount as a GDR rider.

He told me Kirsten is a GDR legend and has helped out countless bikers.

Well, I kept riding trying to chew up 50 miles and was about to go east around Stagecoach Reservoir when a guy stopped and informed me “the campground is just around the corner. It’s only $8.00”. Just around the corner was 2 miles of hills! I was so pissed, but I got there and got set up.

DAY 36 – Thursday, September 3^rd – Radium

Not a great day. I didn’t feel strong. In fact, I walked a lot of hills that I normally would have ridden. And then to lose 2,000’ of altitude in 1 hour… It took me 5-6 hours to climb out of the Colorado River Valley later on. There was a shortcut and I did consider it, but in the final analysis, I needed to do what I did… stick to my goal. No doubt the scenery was magnificent, but 2,000’ is a steep price to pay.

So, I ended the day at exactly 40 miles on the bank of the Colorado River.

Despite drinking a minimum of 150 oz of H2O a day, usually more (that is 4-5 quarts, the possibility of dehydration still exists.  I needed to try for more – my urine was still not clear.

Even though I was in Colorado, it still felt very remote, which surprised me. I spoke to a lady early in the day who pointed out a bald eagle on a fence post as she drove by.  After that, I had no more human contact.

I soliliquized today about St. Dunstan’s, BIW (Bath Iron Works), and the Army.  Those were my themes of the day to keep my mind off my ass and hands. It helped as long as I was talking out loud. So, maybe it’s good no one was around.

I was looking forward to a day or two off to reinvigorate me for the last 1,000 miles. I hoped my health would hold up. Today, I had my doubts.

I came to a creek crossing today where I had to unload and carry everything over.  Afterwards, I stripped down and just laid in the water to try and lower my body temperature. Then I soaped up, washed off and air-dried as I re-packed the bike. Sure felt good!

I had been getting water out of streams for the last few days and it worked quite well. I liked to keep 4 bottles full, just in case I came to a run of dry streams.

The mosquitoes were too thick for me to sit outside my tent, only about 25-30’ from the Colorado River.

There was lots of Union Pacific Train traffic on the other side of the river, making for a noisy night.

DAY 37 – Friday, September 4^th – Arapahoe National Forest

Noisy night all right. The train ran hourly until after midnight. In the morning I figured out why. There were at least 12 of the weirdest looking vehicles on a side track when I got to Radium yesterday. They left this morning between 6-7 AM and headed west on the tracks. They were doing some major work on the line. The train traffic consisted of all the trains that had been held up all day and then came through all evening. Each one had to blow the whistle – what a pain in the ear.

Today was climb-out-of-the-Colorado River Valley-day. It actually went quite well. I practiced controlling my cadence and breathing. Rest was a factor though. I didn’t have to push much, but I took regular breaks. So, all in all, it went well.

The people in Kremling were very nice. I was treated like a celebrity by all.  The kids had a four-day school week and a bunch of young high schoolers gathered around me with questions – nice kids.

After lunch in Kremling, the clouds moved in. When they were coming across the sky, I had to predict rain or lightening or just black clouds. A few times, I stopped and sat on the side of the road in a low area waiting for the danger to pass. It worked quite well.

This time, there was lots of lightening, but it stuck to the surrounding hills.

I was tempted to try and make the pass, but I found an abandoned trail head by accident and decided to have an un-rushed meal and relax a little. I’d been getting in so late that normally it was a quick set-up and into bed. Sometimes I actually skipped supper as I couldn’t get it down in that agitated state.

So, according to plan, I’d see Tina tomorrow!

DAY 38 – Saturday, September 5^th – Frisco

Well, Tina was in Denver while I headed for Ute Pass after spending the night at the Arapahoe Trailhead.

The plan was to meet in Breckenridge, but after a long climb up Ute Pass and the break-neck descent to Route 9, I stopped in Silverthorne to get a sandwich at the gas station. I checked my phone and Tina had called just minutes before. To make a long story short, we were about 400’ apart – she at Target, me at Kum+Go in a town in which neither one of us had planned to be. I knew we were meant to be together!

Tina told me she was at Target to pick up a few items and we’d talk later. I road over to Target and when she came out, there I was. It took her a second to figure out what was going on.

Yesterday, I was riding along a stretch of road – very remote – but elk hunters and fly fishermen came by periodically in their 350 Ford Diesels at 80 mph. I had to go to the bathroom really bad after my lunch in Kremling, but there was no place to stop. There was either barbed wire or the bushes weren’t high enough. I was pretty desperate when I came around a blind corner and there, sitting on the side of the road, was a Porta Potty.

I’m not a religious person, but my eyes were raised to heaven as I dumped my bike and raced to the ‘John’. A little added bonus: it was completely clean – never used!  The power of positive thinking! Good Karma!

Tina and I spent much of the afternoon working our way from Silverthorne to Breckenridge only to find that ‘Brec’ had no motel accommodations. She called me as I was biking and I turned around and went back to Frisco. We ended up staying at the Snowshoe Motel. Life was good, my ass and hands were healing, and my legs were wondering what the hell was going on … I hoped they were regenerating for the challenges that lay ahead.

DAY 39 – Sunday, September 6^th – Frisco

Today was a shopping day. I picked up a few items to round off my cold weather preparation. Tina brought me some healthy energy bars, mittens, IPod, Solio and bike parts.

Markus, Camelia, and our grandsons came from 2:00 till 7:00 PM, and we went to the local Oktoberfest and then out to supper.

DAY 40 – Monday, September 7^th – Frisco

I got some great advice today at an outdoor shop in Frisco. The guy helping me felt the bivy sack was overkill for keeping warm at altitude. He suggested I wear an insulated beanie and warmer clothes in the sleeping bag. His solution: $20-$30; my intended purchase: $200-$300 – so, I was a happy camper.

The bike shop in Frisco slimed my tubes after I had installed my new Schwalbe Marathon Xrs. B.O.B. also got slimed. I’m now very confident in my tires and winter preparation.

DAY 41 – Tuesday, September 8^th – CO.Rd 53 – 71.8

So, I rode off and left my lovely wife standing in front of the Snowshoe Motel. It’s those moments when you know how much you like being with someone. Not a happy moment.

The last couple of days we enjoyed Frisco (almost a real town) and visited Vail, Silverthorne and Dillon (not real towns). Tina was so patient as I ran around trying to refine my clothing, bike and camping gear to meet the needs of the next couple weeks in the mountains.

The Boreas Pass this morning was ten miles of climbing. No pushing was required. The trail was the old railroad bed and, although this was one of the steepest railroads, riding it was manageable (NPR = no pushing required). At the top I had a number of very nice conversations with folks from Illinois and Alaska vacationing in Breckenridge (not a real town anymore).

I had another great day dodging storms that were moving over the mountains and across the prairie. My raincoat time was about 30 minutes, and yet there were showers in some quadrant around me at all times. I set up camp with a little more caution as far as rain and lightening were concerned.

DAY 42 – Wednesday, September 9^th – Poncho Creek

Just a whole lotta pedaling going on. I met a couple of motorcycle riders going to Oregon on another trail, which follows part of the GDR.

After topping out at 9,999’ or thereabouts, I fell off the mountain and ended up in Salida at 7,060’.

I got some great views of the 14,000’ peaks in the area and took some movies of them.

Had gnocchi tonight with a big salad.

DAY 43 – Thursday, September 10^th – CO Rd. 14 PP – 60.2

The whole climbing thing is difficult to equate with daily riding. Simply stated, no one goes out and climbs for 26.5 miles of their own free will. Today I climbed from the low point in Salida (7,060′) to Marshall Pass (10,842’). About five miles of that could have been managed in the middle ring; the rest was all small ring climbing for me. Only one section, perhaps ½ mile long, required pushing. The rest was just riding and dealing with loose gravel, rain and mud, ruts and washboard. It took me 6 hours and 58 minutes of saddle time, plus an additional 2 hours of breaks, eating and resting my sorry ass. That is a 4 mph pace. Relentless forward motion!

It makes for a long day of solid fat burning exercise. I tried to avoid letting my heart rate get too high and I definitely wanted to avoid going anaerobic.

Marshall Pass was a busy place as it is a mountain biking Mecca. The standard procedure is to be driven from Salida to the top, do 12 miles of single track and downhill back to Salida. An absolutely super day of biking: lots of dropped jaws as I hobbled up the mountain as they barrel-assed down.

My ass is still sore, but the pimple/boil is gone.

Since I left Frisco I covered 58.0, 49.32 and 51.97 miles. I was tired, but feeling really good.  I keep having to remember fall is coming and I’m moving into shorter days and lower latitudes.

Last night’s camping was very sketchy. I was climbing up a valley next to Poncho Creek, but the shoulders were very steep. An opening in the thick undergrowth presented itself, so I dropped the bike and went exploring. I found a great spot. I was able to wash my shorts and my own body, and was all tucked in by the time the rain came.

I must say it was probably my best nights’ sleep on the trip. Very cozy.

The IPod was working well on the climbs; I’d keep the volume down so I could hear what was going on around me. Downhill there was too much wind noise to listen.

Cont.Div.#17, Marshall Pass, conquered!

DAY 44 – Friday, September 11^th – North of Carnero Pass

SPOTed at Cochetopa Pass at 2:20 PM, Cont.Div.#18.

I listened to books on tape today during all the climbing to Cochetopa Pass, and it seemed to be a good distraction. Using the ear buds and keeping the volume down, I still heard cars and other trail noises though

I met a motorcyclist and three Colorado Trail hikers today.

The motorcyclist, Rob, had seen all the folks behind me. Apparently, the young fellows that were behind me had a bad fall requiring major bike repair and some healing time. I was wondering why they hadn’t caught up.

The hikers were all a bit weird – actually, a lot weird. I stopped (going uphill) to greet one of them coming down, and he didn’t even stop. The second two were chatting and just nodded as they walked by, swinging their trekking poles.

I had a bigger meal tonight and ate a huge date bar for dessert. Some days, like yesterday, I could feel my body’s need for calories. I suspected with all the climbing and the 50 miles each day, I was burning well over 6000 calories a day.

It rained for the third night in a row. It didn’t bother me a bit. I kinda liked hearing the drops on the tent.

As I was checking maps tonight and the amount of climbing in the next 10 days, all I could think was “I hope my ass and my legs hold up.” I certainly couldn’t keep a 50-mile-a-day pace if the climbing kept up, which it would unless they bulldozed a few peaks before I got there.

823 miles to Mexico. Ole!

DAY 45 – Saturday, September 12^th – Del Norte

I stayed at a campground on the Rio Grande in Del Norte. I just took a shower and did my laundry.  I SPOTed at 9:36 AM from Carnero Pass.

My good luck with the weather was now officially over … endgueltig.

Today, I put a big effort into being in Del Norte early to do chores. I missed a turn and lost about and hour. Then the storms came and I was squatting in a ditch, hoping to avoid a lightening strike, when two nice young men came along and invited me to sit out the storm in their truck. Justin and Lawrence were the quintessential red necks. Cars, trucks, engines and hunting was all they talked about. They were as good-hearted as can be. They invited me to sleep in a trailer in their yard, but I passed.

After supper and shopping the campground manager came down to my tent and wanted me to move up to a cabin they have. She said she couldn’t sleep with me down there in the trees with all the lightening. Very kind.

Tomorrow I’ll get an early start. If the pass proved too much – 4,000’ in 23 miles, then I had a bailout strategy. Right then I couldn’t ride up my driveway at home, but after nine hours sleep, I’d be ready to go.

DAY 46 – Sunday, September 13^th – Stunner Campground

The recurring theme is astonishment at what the body can endure when forced to stay at its outermost limits.

As I started up the climb to Indiana Pass, a marathon runner came up alongside. He advised me not to try and ride it – too steep, sloppy from the snow and lots of hunters and wood collectors. Four thousand feet in 24 miles is not bad, but it isn’t linear. About 12 miles of it is easy uphill; six is the limit of my strength in the granny gear, four is pushing, and two is the limit of what I can push. It took 5 hours 24 minutes of saddle time and 7 hours, counting breaks. Needless to say, I was glad it was over and I could eat my danish.

After the pass, I rode another 10 miles above 11,000’, going up and down. It was brutal as I hadn’t expected it.

This section included the famous Summitville Superfund Site where the government is spending $100s of millions cleaning up the old gold mines, which are still polluting this entire area of Colorado. Very disturbing to see.

I met a gun toting ranger at the top of Indiana Pass. He’s from Little Deer Isle, Maine. He was real interested in the whole GDR – B.O.B. – mountain bike thing. A really nice guy named David.

A Texas couple stopped to offer me a Pepsi and a couple other travelers asked if I was okay. I was obviously okay, so I think they were more concerned with my mental state.

I listened to books on tape all the way up. It helped a lot!

DAY 47 – Monday, September 14^th – HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

Carson Nat’l Forest

I woke up this morning to frozen water bottles and an ice coating on everything. But I stayed pretty warm with cap, gloves and two shirts, all worn while tucked in my sleeping bag.

As mentioned earlier, my luck with the weather had ended. It rained on and off all day, and twice I got hailed on. It didn’t really bother me- just rice-sized hail. What did piss me off was the lightning from about 2:00 PM till I stopped for the day. It just made me uncomfortable.  Getting up wet, staying wet all day and going to bed wet is not my favorite state of being.

At the Superfund site, the area from Indiana Pass to Platoro, the miners used cyanide (poison) to get the gold out of the ore. It is now in the ground and being carried all over by ground water. In addition, the area has mountains so full of metal that they also leech pollutants into the streams. Needless to say, I didn’t go near the water.

I wanted to make it to New Mexico today, but with the rain and lightning, when I saw a side road, I gave up and set up my tent at 6:30 PM. Tomorrow, I will be in NM within a couple miles.

My right knee was giving me fits today, probably due to the whole Indiana Pass effort yesterday, so I tried to spin in an easier gear all day to reduce the joint stress.

I stopped and had lunch today in Horea. Really good food and it saved me from having to cook tonight!

As I was setting up camp, I kept thinking that I could now cut back on my bear precautions. A short time later, I noticed an odd looking tree not 50′ from my tent. When I went to investigate, I discovered that black bears had scratched all the bark off the tree. Needless to say, I carefully put my food away yet another night.

I hoped that with the rain, it wouldn’t be so cold. I didn’t want to wake up with 6” of snow on my tent – possible since I was at about 9,700’.

DAY 48 – Tuesday, September 15^th – ‘rainy Tuesday’ – Generos Park

Muddy Tuesday. The map said “road may be impassable during wet weather”. They were right. What a mess… 10 miles in 5 hours of pushing, riding and cleaning off mud. I finally had to take the fender of the B.O.B. to stem the accumulation.

I had a dizziness episode this morning, but no real problems the rest of the day.

Pushing the 100 lbs of bike and B.O.B. up through rocky terrain put a lot of cardiovascular strain on my body, but I stopped and rested when I started to gasp or had any chest tension.

I noticed I was starting to slip on hygiene. At first I was changing socks, shirt and pants every day and diligently washing stuff and drying it on the bike. Now, I just didn’t have the patience. Likewise with my personal hygiene. There just wasn’t a place to wash except in putrid cow puddles where I could pick up a flesh eating bacteria rather than cleanse myself.

DAY 49 – Wednesday, September 16^th – Hopewell Lake

Today I wrote in my journal at 8 AM.  It rained all night and into the morning, so I lounged in my pup tent, smelling like the cow shit I was surrounded by. Actually, cow shit, even in these quantities, doesn’t stink- so, I guess, I smelled worse than manure. Time for a shower and new clothes!

When I found my site last night, I crossed a couple dry creek beds to get to a grassy area. A quick look outside told me there was now running water in the creeks. It flowed down from the surrounding hills.

There was an extra notation on the map stating “potentially mucky; if raining consider continuing on FR87 to highway”. Well, that ship sailed last night cause I cut down this road 2-3 miles and it was okay; wet and a bit muddy, but passable. After last night, I feaedr I was trapped in a 15-20 mile strip of uphill mud. We shall see. When the rain stopped, I got on the road. It took a while cause I definitely needed my oatmeal and sprouts. Putting all the wet gear away in such a way that I’d have some measure of comfort at night was a challenge.

If the sun would come out later, accompanied hopefully by a nice breeze, I planned to unpack everything and do an hour of drying. That usually worked pretty well, and at night, when I unpacked and everything was dry, I felt much better.

No sun, just rain, making this the worst road of the trip. It took me all day to go 14 miles, and the last 4 miles were in the last hour. The mud section of 6 miles took 8 hours.

I had read about the adobe road surfaces in the blogs and now I was experiencing it. My frustration was off the charts. The road, the shoulders, even the fields or grasslands next to the road became impassable. The gears, breaks and wheels of the bike stopped functioning. I spent hours with sticks clearing the mud out of the drive train, only to have it fill up again in minutes. I was so frustrated that I honestly didn’t know what to do.

I finally made it to the Hopewell Lake Campground and was working on the bike trying to get it ride-able, when a family pulled up and started talking to me. Val, Rhonda and their 2 sweet kids, Hannah (9), and Christian (6), invited me to come down the road, have supper with them and sleep in their box trailer. And that is where I am in the back of his work trailer. I just had Mac and Cheese, an apple, some chips and a beer.

What a nice family. She was from N.H. and they were thinking of moving back there in the next year or so. I hope they visit, so I can show them my gratitude.

They happened upon me when I was cold, wet and shivering uncontrollably. My hope was to quickly get the bike washed and oiled and set up the tent and huddle in my sleeping bag until I warmed up. There would be no supper that night, but I felt my body temperature was the most critical issue.

Their kindness raised my spirits and then they built a fire to warm me, gave me wool socks and fed me.

I was worried that the next backwoods road I took would be like today and yesterday’s, and I’d be trapped again.

What I did today to escape the mud was walk in the woods over rocks and stumps. That was, however, too strenuous to do again. Too much upper body demand and heavy lifting. I didn’t want to skip any part of the trail, but if it poured at night, I might reconsider. It just might not be passable.

DAY 50 – Thursday, September 17^th – El Rito

Well, it started raining about 8 PM Wednesday and rained until 4 or 5 in the morning on Thursday. I was well protected in my trail family’s trailer.

I found that the Hopewell road was a better quality gravel, so I rode to the pass and SPOTed at about 9 AM. On the downhill all was going well and I was ecstatic thinking I’d do it after all and then I hit a wet area, and it all came to a muddy halt. Some call it “adobe mud”, others call it “calieche” – either way, it ws sticky and when you tied remove it, the mud rolled over on its back like a flea bitten dog and said “scratch my belly”. It didn’t go away.

The rain hadn’t yet started, but I knew it would, so I was standing there in despair when a forester came along and said I had no choice but to go back toward Hopewell Campground and then offered to drive me there.

We had a nice talk about cows and elk.

He dropped me at the water source where I had met the Griegos the night before, so I could again clean and maintain my adobe bike.

I decided to take an alternate route, which added 22 miles and about 2,000’ of climbing as I had to come off the hills down into the valley and back up.

Yesterday, just about every truck with Mexicans in it stopped to ask if I needed help, Gatorade, Cliff Bars, a ride – what nice people! I love Mexicans.

So, I hit El Rito tonight. Two thousand people, one restaurant – a meager, but very famous hole in the wall – one bar with assorted groceries and that was it. The 2,000 people lived in family clusters all over the valley. Huge extended families who obviously went elsewhere for services beyond the town’s offerings.

During the day at least half dozen people stopped me to tell me they’d seen me here or there. One guy that I saw at my lunch place (another hole in the wall) went down the road 3-4 miles and sat at the end of his driveway. When I came by, he offered greetings and said he wanted to give me a Tres Pieds (town name) send-off.

As I pedaled up the big hills in the rain, people going both ways were giving me the victory sign or thumbs up. They felt my pain.  The enthusiasm was just what I needed.

I got a room in a college dorm for $32.  I spread my stuff all over the laundry room, trying to get dried out for the first time in three days.

Tomorrow I need to head south to see how the trails are down there, but who to ask? People in stores didn’t even know these trails existed.

DAY 51 – Friday, September 18^th – Polvadera Mesa

Everyone at the college was welcoming and I left well fed and dry.

I stopped at Bode’s store in Abiquiu. I got supplies and had an informative discussion with an older store employee who did the GDR last year on a motorcycle. After speaking with him, I decided to risk the dirt trails and, without rain, it was working out well. The talk with the fellow revolved around the mud. Last year he met two guys with B.O.B.s.  One quit as the mud demoralized him too much. Another a couple years ago had a minor heart attack and had to quit. Again, the strain of the mud.

I finished another book on tape today. I’ve listened to The Life of Pi, AirFrame, The Lincoln Lawyer, and Walking in the Wilderness. I was beginning to like it.

Scott, a motorcyclist, stopped and talked to me today. He was in Iraq, then Afghanistan, about a year and a half all together, and was doing about 4,000-5,000 miles of trails altogether as therapy. He gave me a run-down on about 6-10 riders behind me. He said my name came up often – “The Old Guy”, they called me.

I just don’t picture myself as being an old guy, but I guess from most people’s viewpoint, I am.

Maybe that noise I heard was my stomach growling. I had a bean burrito for lunch. I figured hot air in my sleeping bag tonight could come in handy.

DAY 52 – Saturday, September 19^th – Cuba

I had a good night’s sleep and a good morning ride. I SPOT-ed at the top of Polvadera Mesa.

The road today was rugged. Lots of rocks embedded in the hard gravel surface. A few spots of adobe clay in between, but here the color of the clay was redder than the surrounding soil and in most cases, could be avoided. If I hit a clay pocket, I knew it because the wheels threw up a spray of clay and I’d have little red blobs of clay on everything (head to toe and all gear). Many describe the clay as having the consistency and stickiness of peanut butter.

At around 1 PM the rain started again– then electrical storms, then hail. It was as always uncomfortable, but the overriding factor was that, except at the worst storm moments, I was able to keep moving and, as a result, made my 56 miles to Cuba.

Del Prado Motel was interesting. A Korean Woman was running it and offered a gambit of discounts. I got the GDR biker $4.00 discount and a $5.00 Veteran discount. Korean Vets stay for free. Nice lady. She told me that when she went to church the next day, I could use her computer. Nice offer, but I got started early.

I planned to take the Chaco alternate the next day to avoid (1) a 4-mile section of the trail closed by a private property owner; (2) possible heavy rain and snow on Tuesday and warnings on the map that say “impassable when wet”, “severe erosion problem”, “very muddy when wet”, and so on. (I’d learned that if anything, the map underestimates the mud factor); and (3) lastly, maybe I could stay at the Chaco Culture Center and hitchhike into the canyons where the caves are located.

I was finding that when I called home my drift was usually negative. Thankfully, my wife was patient and concerned, so she listened, but I was aware that I tended to report the bad stuff rather than the positive.  In a way, it was just being honest. If the day was made up of mud, lightning and big hills, it wasn’t honest to say it was a great day in the saddle.

DAY 53 – Sunday, September 20^th – Pueblo Pintado

So far, the weather guy, Jose Cupo, had had his head up his ass. There had been no sign of the bad weather that contributed to my decision to take the alternate route.

I did battle a substantial head wind from about 12:30-5:30 PM though, which slowed me to 53 miles for the day. My goal had been 62 or thereabouts. I found headwinds to be more demoralizing than hills. Of course, headwinds and rolling hills was a double kick in the pants.

There was a store at the corner of the road to the Chaco Culture National Historical Park in the town of Pueblo Pintado. I bought a sandwich and some chips there. The wind was blowing so hard I couldn’t have cooked. Upon my asking, the girl in charge told me to put my tent up in the employee parking area. So, there I was sharing space with a dumpster to my left, 20,000 gallons of gas to my right and the store straight ahead. Very nice, indeed. At least in the morning I could use the ‘John’ and maybe have a coffee.

My L. L. Bean MicroLite proved itself worthy during the night.

The gravel surface of the mini-mart parking lot was not ideal for tent pegs, but I took care as it was windy and storms had been forecast.

At about 8:00 PM the wind picked up from one minute to the next and yanked a couple of pegs. I ran up and down the road to look for a rock I could use as a hammer and when I had one, I drove all the stakes home (right to the ground). No sooner was I back in the tent, then gale force winds hit and really raised havoc. Signs, garbage cans and anything not nailed down went flying through the air. My little tent, however, remained firmly planted and I think I felt so secure that I fell asleep.  No rain got inside, which really amazed me as it was raining sideways.

DAY 54 – Monday, September 21^st – Zuni Canyon

Today I had a northwest wind all day. My average speed was 9.6 mph, so I covered about 74 miles in my 7 hr 45 min. of pedaling. Yesterday, I fought the same wind all day and averaged only 7.8 mph.

What a great feeling to actually eat up miles.

I made it to Grants and checked into McDonald’s to gather my thoughts, call some camping areas and see if I could reach Tina. After talking to the two camping areas, I decided to wing it, but stopped in the Route 66 Laundromat to wash my pants as all the rivers and streams were dry.

Some of the most memorable people that I met I had only ten minutes of contact with. In the laundromat I was next to a fellow with a big toothless smile. He was very interested in what I was up to, and I found out his big goal in life was to move to Seattle. I suggested he should go, and he indicated a few mistakes he’d made preventing him from leaving. Probation. What a nice guy. Unfortunately, his path was pretty much predetermined.

DAY 55 – Tuesday, September 22^nd – CO Rd. 41 – 188.5

62.4 miles today. I wanted to stop at 52-53 miles, but could not find a suitable campsite. The land was posted, fenced and surrounded with barbed wire.

No rain and decent roads made it a very productive day. If it had rained, however, the roads would have been absolutely impassable, and the fields on each side were either lava fields or clay crusted over (just like snow). The slightest moisture and it would all turn to slime.

It was cool all day, which helped out with mileage and allowed me to go easy on the water.

I brought extra, so I had 4 bottles left to get me to Pie Town (30 miles), and I hoped to fill up there before the trek to Silver City.

I hit 2,400 miles today, so that left 300-350 trail miles and then whatever I decided with Tucson would determine the final mileage.

Tent site selection was becoming an increasing concern.  The night before, I was able to sleep okay, but this morning there was no sun until 1 hour into the ride due to the high canyon walls. It was so  COLD! I had three layers on top and bottom, even though the pedaling was uphill for 10 miles.

It was very cold at night, but with my new system, I could control my temperature. Getting up in the cold was a real struggle though!

DAY 56 – Wednesday, September 23^rd – Gila Nat’l Forest – 24.5

A day of screw-ups and wasted time. I got started early at 8 AM and was making good time in the rolling terrain when a truck driver informed me I had dropped my jacket a ½ mile back on the hill. So, I unhooked the trailer and headed back on the bike. Two miles I had gone when a couple of nice guys from Phoenix, going the same way I was going, asked if I had lost my trailer. They had moved it off road for me. When I got back from my 5 mile round trip, I realized they had inadvertently bent a part. Road-side repairs were in order, and after some filing and hammering, I was back on the road.

There were no stores in Pie Town, just pie. So I had to head 3 miles out of town for food as I was running short.

Silver City was 3-5 days’ ride. Three if went well and five if something went wrong – like rain.

I visited the ‘Toaster House’ to get water. A couple, Don and Nita, built a new home and decided to make their old home an open house stop-over for hikers and bikers. It was a neat house – completely equipped.

So, I left Pie Town and got 3 miles down the road and realized my odometer was missing.  I had to go back about 2 miles and found it in the road. The road was rough and I had not secured it well. No harm, just more delays.

I spent from 11 AM to 2:45 PM screwing around in Pie Town doing what I usually could do in an hour.

I got all stocked up with food and water – a little more water than I needed, but I decided to carry more water and avoid the cow ponds, if possible.

Eating was becoming a calorie issue. Taste or fine preparation had taken a back seat.  I wolfed down a cold can of Campbell’s soup into which I was dumping cold, but pre-cooked rice for dinner. My only thought was “get the calories and get to bed”.

I noticed I was much less particular about things as the trip got longer.

There was just so little time for experimenting – ride, rest, ride, eat, ride, pee, ride, check map, ride, ride all day from 8 AM to 6 PM. Life on the road.

DAY 57 – Thursday, September 24^th – Collins Park

The first 2 SPOTs were CD crossings #27 and #28; the last SPOT was CD #29 and my campsite.

Cold start this morning. Frost last night, but at least my water bottles didn’t freeze.

Not much happened today, just 51 miles of pedaling. Some days were easier than others; today was a bit of a struggle, but for no special reason.

From Pie Town to Silver City was 176 miles with no food or water, so I needed to carry enough for 4x 40 mile days or 3x 60 mile days. But if I had an emergency or it rained and the roads forced me to sit tight for a day or two, needless to say, I had a healthy cushion of food and water and I could feel the weight even on relatively easy hills.

I made it 75.4 miles into the 176 miles of distance in one day, so even if I could do two 50 mile days, it’d be late Saturday before I hit Silver City.

DAY 58 – Friday, September 25^th – Gila Wilderness

I found these foothills in N.M. to be almost as strenuous as the big mountains up north. I lost my odometer for good today.  When it happened before a couple of days ago, by retracing my route I was able to find it. No such luck today. I had to get my spare out and install it.

Sometimes I think listening to the Ipod made me lose focus.  I missed a critical turn north of Del Norte while I was listening. That cost me two hours of time, which put me into the thunderstorms, which cost me another hour and a half.

It was hard to believe I’d been out for 58 days already.  When people asked how long the ride would take, I gave 3 separate answers: ‘oh, about two months or eight weeks’; ‘oh, about 60 days’; ‘oh, til October 1^st’. Well, I thought about it today. Those are all actually different times ranging from 56 days to 62 days since I started in July.

Today, I just ran out of gas and so I pulled over a little early and made some warm supper.  I only got 42 of my 50 miles today. Looking for the odometer, plus 3 separate conversations slowed me down and wore me out.

I had two offers for water- two different trucks with tourists stopped to ask me directions; and three guys together on motorcycles stopped to gab. It’s hard to rack up miles when everyone wanted a piece of the action and I guess I was the GDR action that month.

Northern New Mexico is very beautiful, almost alpine. If asked about lasting impressions on the GDR, they would include the ever changing landscape topography and geology, and the resultant economic and cultural adjustments. Leaving Breckenridge, a mega ski town, going over the mountain and five hours later there’s abject poverty staring you in the face.

DAY 59 – Saturday, September 26^th – Silver City

I woke up to no frost and the tent was almost dry. That was a good start to the day. I was on the road at 8 AM and determined to keep my head down and pedal-pedal-pedal. Silver City, KOA Campground, was my goal. Then they came:

A couple in a white Jeep who had asked for directions the day before, lost again;

3 Mexican kids with their brothers and sisters on the back of 4-wheelers;

A pilot and Air-Medic who worked in Silver City;

2 ladies on 4-wheelers on their way to their ranch for a day; and

2 folks, a guy with a huge white beard and his oriental wife, sectional GDR riders on a tandem….

Well, at 7:30 PM or so, I pulled into KOA and was greeted by the owner, Jackie. What a class operation they had. They started the business in 1993 as did my wife and I, and they had done an excellent job.

I arrived late and Jackie, being a cyclist herself, saw my dilemma and offered me some cookies to tie me over while I did my chores and set-up. Then she invited me to be her guest at breakfast the next morning.

If things went well, I’ll be done by Wednesday. If they went great, by Tuesday night.

I ran out of water and food as I reached Silver City. That’s the way it is supposed to be. Of course, if I’d had an accident or bike defect, I’d have gone hungry for a day. I was amazed that some streams had water, so I didn’t feel that was in issue.

DAY 60 – Sunday, September 27^th – Separ

The KOA was worth its weight in gold. This morning Jim and Jackie, the owners, cooked breakfast for all the campers. Coffee, tea, scrambled eggs, pancakes or French toast- all for $4.99-$5.99, with bacon. My breakfast was free because they were big-time bikers themselves and they wanted to honor my achievement on the GDR. Very nice!

I met a guy at breakfast who was completely physically disabled and lived full-time at KOA. He was telling me how he couldn’t find work and can only work 20 hours a week without losing his SSI. He was a high-rise window washer before he lost a lung to cancer. I suggested he start a window washing business in Silver City. We talked a while about it and he got so excited, I wouldn’t be surprised if he started tomorrow. He just needed an idea, I guess.

I covered 51 miles today, so on Monday I could do a short day of, say 30 miles, and do a down and back on Tuesday, or I could ride hard and camp at the border tomorrow night. We shall see!

I had to spend some time figuring out how to get to Tucson as people charge a lot. It’s 500 miles round trip. So, that’s 10-12 hours of driving at say $15/hour, plus gas ($175-$100) = $275 would actually be reasonable.

I was considering riding back up to Hwy 70 and hitching. Maybe someone would load my bike in their pick-up, and off we’d go.

I was leaning towards riding across southern New Mexico to Bisbee, Arizona, and then up to Tucson. My buddy, Mike, would leave Tucson on Friday and ride towards me, so I’d be assured of arriving in Tucson by Friday night.

The desert had been hot, but not that bad. The Great Divide Basin in Wyoming was just as hot as parts of Montana. I’m glad I didn’t spend extra for a hat or other clothing. I drank 6 bottles of water in six hours, so I kept my fluids up.  After a while though, hot water gets old. I thought a lot about cold water!

It didn’t cool off as much at night as it did in the mountains. It was warm down there. I liked it.

DAY 61 – Monday, September 28^th – Antelope Wells

I got up at 6:30 AM and was on the road by 7:30 AM as I was thinking of a dash to the border 80 miles away. Lots of highway miles and relatively flat terrain at least made it a possibility.

On the way through Hachita, I stopped to see Sam Hughes, a legendary character who has helped riders and hikers on the Continental Divide for over 15 years. He’s 79 and, as a chain smoker and cancer survivor (cancer of the face), he didn’t look too good, but what a great guy! He said he’d drive me to Tucson Wednesday for $250.

I mailed a package to Tina and started south to Antelope Wells at about 3:00 PM. The last 46 miles of my 2,730 mile journey.

The sun went down at 7:00 PM, so I rode the last 20 miles in the moon light – no lights needed as the road, called ‘the lonely road’, got just half a dozen cars a day and the border was closed at night.

It was magic cruising across the desert with the air temperature dropping about 1 degree every 5 minutes. I really enjoyed those last few miles.

I got set up and was in bed by 10 PM and had a great night’s sleep.

DAY 62 – Tuesday, September 29^th – Antelope Wells

I never knew what awaited me in towns, campgrounds, border crossings etc. I would fantasize about what might be there, but I’d learned over and over that doing so is just mental masturbation. Anticipation leads to disappointment.

So, I pictured the border as an unfriendly place like the Canadian border, but when I went in to ask for water, they made me coffee in their cappuccino machine and ‘forced’ me to wolf down a danish! Great guys. Tim even took me into Mexico to get pictures. I had no passport, so I guess I was an illegal in Mexico for a few minutes!

Turns out Mr. Maldanado and I served in the same unit in Germany at the same time. The other officer, Timothy, and Mr. Maldanado felt it was ill advised to ride across the desert to Arizona. Too close to the border and too hot. Timothy, said: “In an hour, the Mexican shuttle comes through going to Phoenix, AZ, – I’ll get you a ride to Tucson for just a few bucks” – and he did. For $20.00, my 4-5 day bike ride or $250 shuttle turned into a 4-5 HOUR ride in a 15-passenger van with lovely Mexican ladies – no chickens, no goats.

The ride to Tucson would have been brutal and eaten up at least 4-5 days, so I was very happy and my trip was over.

EPILOGUE

Over 60 days, I adapted to a vagabond lifestyle. The food, the chores, bike maintenance, all became a routine- and it wasn’t bad.  I was always busy – never a free moment. It seemed counter-intuitive, but life in the wild was a full-time job.

The early settlers, miners and ranchers are people for whom I now have the greatest respect.

Just getting a gallon or two of water every day was something that was always in the back of my head.

Animal safety; getting the right camping spot (so that maybe there was some warming sun in the morning); setting up, so wind and rain don’t blow or float you away, were always on my mind.

Was I eating enough? Drinking enough? Peeing enough? Were my shorts clean?  Could I risk another day, so I could save some of my precious water?

It has been fun dealing with these simple tasks- simple compared to running a construction business.

Some people break down and cry when they hit the border. I didn’t, but I understand why they do. Relief that it’s over – disappointment that it’s over. Thankful your gear held up – proud of what you’ve done, yet humbled by the immensity of what you’ve seen, and the unfailing kindness of EVERYONE you met.

I missed my friends, family and my wife. Tina made this easy for me. Her support and encouragement before and during the trip were the foundation upon which the undertaking grew and became a reality.

Dreams are nice, but memories are better!

TO SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT:

When Rich finished the Great Divide Route on September 29^th at 9:30 PM, he then camped at the border. The next morning, the border guards, one of whom was coincidentally in Rich’s old Army Unit (1/64 Armor), explained the distance and dangers he’d face riding parallel to the border for 220 miles through the desert to get to Tucson, AZ. They stopped a Mexican shuttle that goes to Phoenix, AZ, each morning, and for $20, the shuttle dropped Rich just outside Tucson.

At first, Rich, who is stubborn about his plans, was disappointed in his decision to shuttle, but he soon realized that he can now visit old friends in Tucson, do some riding and running at Mt. Lemmon, and relax till he flies home next week.

Rich covered 2,730 miles on the GDR, a little more than the official distance. He thinks it’s because he can’t ride in a straight line. About 2,400-2,500 of those miles were off pavement.

It took him 61 days overall with 3 full days and 2 half days off. So, he rode 57 days and averaged about 48 miles/day; about 200,000’ of climb and descent.

In addition, he rode an additional 122.3 non-trail miles. This is mileage to towns to get food and water, lost miles, retraced miles, and some extra miles involving alternate routes due to mud.

So, his dream is now a valued memory!