Bittersweet

I'm writing from a Starbucks in downtown El Paso. My train should have departed by now, but it has been delayed until at least 7:30. I've spent the last 24 hours or so with Brian, a new friend that I met north of El Rito over a week ago. He picked me up in Antelope Wells yesterday and helped me box my bike up. He gave me free housing and showed me around El Paso and took me to good Mexican and BBQ places. Without his generosity, I would have paid a lot for a shuttle to come get me or biked for two days from Antelope Wells to El Paso, so I'm very grateful for his time and hospitality.

Before I got to the border, I had to get to Hachita, about 80 miles from Silver City. It was a pretty easy ride, past the Tyrone Mine, through desert and ranches, paralleling the interstate and down the highway. The only hiccups were the cross winds the last 8 miles and the fact I left my debit card at breakfast on Saturday morning. I stopped for for snacks and drinks for the day and realized it wasn't with me. When I went back to the restaurant, my card wasn't there. The owner of the place, who had sat and talked to me for a few minutes, had gotten in the car and was heading down the highway to try to find me.

In Hahita, I found Jeff Sharp, Southern Terminus coordinator and trail angel. I was expecting a cot to sleep on and some water and they fed me sandwiches, BBQ, chips, cookies, Fanta and PBRs. There was also a dance going on in Hachita that night that they took me to. Apparently, years ago, Hachita was the place to be for these monthly dances. People would drive hours to party and dance in Hachita. Jeff has been a huge part of both the Great Divide and CDT, shuttling hikers and bikers and helping people out when needed. He installed a water pipe in town for riders to refill-- there wasn't one before. He's working on making a place for people to camp. He and Toni knew all the questions to ask and we had great conversation. He was even there for the finish of this year's Tour Divide Race, which was one exciting finale where three people went under the record time.

The scene at the ball was great. I definitely stood out: I was the only one not wearing denim or cowboy boots. Most guys had cowboy hats. And there I was in my khaki shorts and Tevas. Oh, and I was the only Asian in the Hachita Community Center.

But everyone was friendly. I talked to a rancher named Ed who said the band playing was the same band that he and his wife danced to in college over 40 years ago. They were excellent dancers and were having a wonderful time. It was fun to see the older crowd enjoy themselves as they two stepped the night away. I went home well before the festivities ended, but it was a honor to see the small community rally and enjoy themselves.

I describe yesterday, my finishing day, like I describe the last day of school each year: Bittersweet. You're excited for a break and change, but you're going to miss the daily routine of doing something that you love. I woke up in the morning and had trouble wrapping my head around the fact that I was actually going to finish this ride. I was glad to be going home, but I wasn't ready to be done. It's a difficult feeling to express.

It was 46.7 miles from Jeff's house to Antelope Wells. After being fed a hot breakfast and coffee, I felt great for about 30 of them. Then I was wearing down. Getting tired. Brian passed me on the road and said Hi and that he'd see me at the border. The mileage signs counted down to Antelope Wells. When I passed the '10', I knew I was really close and I was slightly re-energized. Then it was 9-8, etc. At 4 miles to go, the miles just seemed to click by. You could see the border station by then and every pedal stroke got you closer.

Brian greeted me just before the border station. I told him I was going to riding into Mexico really quick. Rode past the new US Customs station that looked nice and fancy and even had a solar panel system outside. The Mexican station looked like a dingy ranch house. The first guy to talk to me didn't speak English, so he went and got someone who could. I told them I just wanted to ride to the fence and back. They said fine, but I'd still have to stop at customs. At customs, they asked if I had drugs and opened my bags and looked in. I said I just wanted to ride to the fence and turn around and they could watch. They searched me anyway and after being satisfied I wasn't some narco, they let me go. The nice paved road immediately became dirt in Mexico. I rode less than 1/4 mile and turned around. Waved at all the Mexican border patrol agents. Talked to a young one, who looked like he was about 15 and was in fatigues and carrying a machine gun. He was very shy about his English, I was embarrassed about my lack of Spanish but we tried to carry a conversation. I think he just wanted to see the bike up close.

Coming back into the United States, one agent took my passport card and the other was checking out my bike. He said a bike like Hulk was exactly what he wanted. He loved the big tires. We joked for a minute or two, I got my card back and they let me go.

In the irony of ironies, as I was riding back to the "Antelope Wells" sign to get my photo taken, I got a puncture. My front tire was leaking. Right at the finish. I deemed that appropriate, like God's signal that it was time for my ride to come to an end. Be content where you are. No new ideas. At least for now...

Took photos of me, Hulk and Baron. As that was happening, three guys on Kawasaki motorbikes arrived. They had started in Roosville, MT and come down to Antelope Wells. They were finishing mostly the same ride that I did. Except they had gas power. And it only took them eight days. They were fun group. They had some bike issues and were tired, so were going to buy a cheap pickup and load the bikes on them, drive to Iowa and then maybe resell the truck.

But the special thing is that we all got to share in our journeys. The elation of completing something you set out to accomplish. The somber feeling we had because we were no longer on the journey.

Bittersweet.

Great Divide-Whitefish to Basin

I'm starting to get me legs underneath me. I feel good, especially at the beginning of the day. The cumulative effects of climbing, miles and heat do wear on me by the end of the day though. After a great night of sleep on Sunday at the Whitefish Bike Retreat (which included pastries and coffee in the morning), they had me loaded and on the van by 8:30 on Monday morning to get to the Glacier Cyclery to try to get Hulk fixed.

Thanks again to Stephen Willis for getting me a new seatpost. It's made a difference. They said that they could make the bike tubeless again, the sealant had closed a lot of the hole. And when they took apart the tire, they found two metal wires, about 1-1.25 inches long which is why my tube wasn't holding air. A basic rule of changing a flat tire is to look and feel and make sure that whatever caused the flat is not there. I did not follow that rule because I was careless and in a hurry.

I sent some mail and had lunch and got rolling about 1:00. First 40 something miles pretty flat as I passed through residential areas of Whitefish, Columbia Falls and into the more pastoral areas of Swan River and Ferndale. At a convenience store in Ferndale where I devoured pizza and ice cream, I made the decision to keep riding, even though it was nearly 7:00. I pedaled into the Flathead National Forest, looking for a decent place to camp. It was a long climb into the forest and then I descended. I rode past the Swan River Wildlife Refuge and kept pedaling until after 9:00, thankfully it doesn't get dark until close to 10:00. Filtered water and set up camp-- what a miserable experience. The mosquitoes were so bad! They were chasing me as I rode, I could see them between my legs. At camp, they swarmed. I doused myself in bug spray, but I'm sure I've contracted malaria or West Nile.

The next morning, I wake up at 5:30 and after coffee and packing, I'm off at about 7:15. That's sort of been my routine. I get up early because I'm still on East Coast time or maybe because the sun is bright already. But I don't set an alarm. Oh, the mosquitoes are still there.

I miss one of my turns because the National Forests around here have so many roads going in all directions and the signage isn't always good or there. I decide not to turn around and just ride out to the main road. That allows me to ride through Condon (pop 300) to get some lunch before attacking the big climb of the day.

When I turn on Forest Road, it's a long 20+ mile climb to over 6,000 feet to a trail that wraps around Richmond Peak. It was hot, of course, and and the climb took nearly over 3 hours. But it was not without excitement. I stopped and helped two kids because their four wheeler was stranded. We pushed it to the top of a hill and let the roll down. I heard the engine crank as I walked back towards my bike. A few minutes later, I round a bend and there's a bear on the road. Just walking and not paying attention. I stop quickly and pull the safety off the bear spray. It sees me. I talk to it and the watch it dart to it's left. The bear was about 50 feet way from me. Needless to say, my heart rate was high. I'm also glad I got those kids rolling, because that wasn't too far from where they were stranded.

You never reach Richmond peak, you just kind of go around it near the top. I was exhausted. I stopped at a spring to filter water not because I needed it but because it was an excuse to stop. I probably did need it though considering the heat was high 90s. But the climb is about to be worth it. The trail that wraps around the mountain becomes singletrack, and good one at that. It's fast, scenic and smooth. The trail falls off to the left, so no mistakes that way. But it was a blast, even if I couldn't go as fast as I would have on my regular mountain bike.

After a long downhill, I pedal on Cottonwood Lakes, which is in the Lolo National Forest. I find a great campsite not too far off the road. And the best part, hardly any mosquitoes. For some reason, they were nonexistent. I didn't even use bug spray. But the flies. So many flies. I sat by the stream and made dinner and washed clothes. Headed to bed early. Was awaken once by a really loud car that drove by and a second time by headlights of a truck that turned into my campsite. I'm 80 yards from the road and he backed up and parked at a site closer to the road. Of all the places he could have parked and slept, he wanted to be here. He didn't even set up a tent. I went to sleep hoping I wouldn't have to wake up and fight some stranger.

In the morning, my neighbor was up before me. He was walking around and looking lost but left before I broke camp. Again, I was riding by 7:15. 25 miles or so to Ovando where I got breakfast at the Stray Bullet Cafe. Highway 200 runs to Lincoln, but the Great Divide takes you over Huckleberry Pass. After rolling through some dusty roads with horses, it's a 6 mile climb to the pass. Again, slow and steady. By the time I get to Lincoln, I decide I want to stay. I've just spent two nights in the woods with bugs, strange people and worrisome noises. There is a motel that has bunkhouses for riders but they said it never did well and they could only offer me a room for $60. A good price, but I still didn't want to stay. So, I made the decision to see if I could get over Stemple Pass and the first crossing of the Continental Divide since Elk Pass in Canada. It was a good decision because I meant I got to stay at Barbara's cabin.

You actually don't cross at Stemple Pass, you take another road that the map warns is difficult to an unnamed pass. It climbed only about 4 miles through some really neat forests and logging areas, but the last 1.5 miles were brutal. I did something I rarely have to do. I pushed. Sure, I'll stop and rest on climbs but then I'll get back on the bike and ride. This was so steep and so late in the day that I couldn't even ride it. I would push for 2-3 minutes, would ride and then push more until I got to the top. The descent was fast and fun. I had to wait for cows to clear the road. Then I realized that I scared them and if I rode, they would scatter. I watched on pregnant cow slip a few feet down a bank as she was escaping me. I felt bad about that.

Spent the night at the Llama Lodge.

This morning, I was off for my usual 7:15 departure. Only I didn't have to break camp. Started climbing pretty early into the ride. Went over the Divide. Met Felix from Switzerland, who was riding Northbound on a front suspension mountain bike with a trailer. He said he liked it but he carried too much stuff (a danger and common entrapment of the trailer).



Crossed the Divide about 12 miles later and rode fast down to US 12. Had to deal with construction on the dirt road that was the Remini Alternate. The first part of the climb off Rimini Road was steep and tough with lots of large loose rocks. A guy in a truck tells me there's a Frenchman ahead riding the route (I never see him). About 6,500 feet, the trail takes you up these trails that are so steep and eroded that I spend a lot of time pushing. It's hard and tiring. I thought I might make Butte today. Nope, not going to happen. I even push the bike down the downhill sections because it's so rocky and steep. I read about a guy who fell a few years ago, cut his leg and got an infection and wasn't ablt to finish the ride. I didn't want that to be me.

When I got back on an actual forest road, the speeds were really fast. The road was well graded and I could let go. 8 miles down to Basin and it flew by. Checked into the campground here in Basin. Took a shower and shaved for the first time in nearly four days. The hosts, Diane and John, asked me if I wanted some of their leftover food from dinner-- they had sausage, vegetable tray, baked beans. I said sure, it saved me from having to ride to go get a meal and it was free. She kept bring food while I was sitting-- chips and salsa,, homemade bread, beer. I didn't turn anything down, I was so famished. I'm also thankful for the generosity of others.

Traveling thoughts

I am writing the draft of this from 35,000 feet, somewhere over Wyoming if the flight tracker is correct. I'm finishing it here in Banff at the International Hostel while I wait out some rain. I am full of nerves and anticipation, like a kid on Christmas morning.

I want to say that, so far, this has been a fantastic day of travel. Brian Land got to my house about 4:00AM and we were off to Greenville. I really like flying out of GSP, it’s so convenient and easy. Today affirmed that even more. A very nice attendant gave me a hand with my very large bike box (actually two boxes taped together) and I appreciated the help. The ECR is so large that it was not feasible to get the front tire in the same box as the rest of the bike, so my friends at Sycamore Cycles taped two boxes together. I did drop my tent and some of my other gear in the box that held the front tire. At the check in counter, I was braced to have to argue, that though it was two boxes taped together, there was only one bike inside and I should only be charged once. After a short wait, he asked for $150, their standard bike rate that I was expecting. He apologized for the wait saying that the computer wanted to charge me $400 and it took time to correct that. I was very grateful for his efforts and glad everything was smooth with check in. Even security was a breeze (another plus of GSP).

Flight left Greenville on time. Had plenty of time to get from Terminal B to Terminal E at Houston Intercontinental and still grab donuts and coffee. We pushed from the gate on time at Houston and once airborne, the captain announced that he thought we’d be 20 minutes ahead of schedule arriving in Calgary. I haven’t flown United in years (been loving some Southwest), but I would not hesitate to fly again if today is the standard experience. As long as my bike arrives intact, I’ll not hesitate to endorse United Airlines. [edit: bike arrived fine, but TSA did open it up and rummage.] 

Flight did arrive a few minutes early and Canadian customs was quick and easy. I grabbed my giant boxes and rolled them to the Brewster counter to check in for my shuttle. I had over two hours before my reservation and, without asking, the lady asked if I wanted to catch the coach that left in 10 minutes. She made the change and I was on a bus rolling towards Banff. The pessimist in me says that if today went so smooth, tomorrow or the next may be disastrous. 

As I ponder what I’m getting myself into, I toggle between feelings of excitement and being overwhelmed. I also worry I left something important behind. I have been reminded by many people, including myself, that this is going to much more difficult that the coast to coast journey. Occasionally, doubt creeps in as I do believe this may be the most difficult physical and mental undertaking of my life. Am I in over my head? But I am extremely thankful that I have an opportunity to embark on an adventure like this. I am also thankful for the support and encouragement of friends, family and strangers. So many people have sent texts and messages of support and had had at least 5 offers from people willing to get up at 3 AM to drive me to the airport.

One of my favorite childhood memories was playing the Oregon Trail game in school. Sure, hunting bison was fun and I liked dodging boulders on the Columbia River but what really drew me to the game was the sense of discovery and exploration. The west, even to this day, is wild. You have to be gritty and be able to sustain yourself. You have to be a problem solver, adaptable and resilient. You’ve got to be okay being uncomfortable. When people ask why I’m doing this, sure I like riding bikes. But I can do that anywhere. I want to embrace challenges, explore and discover neat places and meet and interact with interesting people. The bike and this trail is just a vehicle for me to do all these things.

So here’s to the adventure. Antelope Wells, NM is the destination but that’s just a place. Getting there is not important. Who, what and where in between Banff and Antelope Wells is what will define this journey. Isn't it always the in betweens that define us anyways?