THE END

I chatted with Tim a while as I used the vending machine to get some Coke and get cleaned up in the restroom. After five days without a wash I was feeling pretty filthy, covered in layers of sun cream, sweat and dust from each day. Tim told me Alex had arrived the day before at 15:30, which put him further ahead than I was calculating. I'd had no updates on his location for a week at least. He hadn’t left AW until the morning though and had been on the shuttle that passed me. I was sorry not to have met up with him.

As I’m lying on some cut grass out the back of the building in the shade of a tree I hear my pick-up, Bryan McDonald of Out N’ Back Trails, arrive. It's spot on 12:00 and I hear Tim tell him I got here at 10am. Bryan tells me he saw Bruce on the road 40 miles out, and pulled over thinking it was me. He arranged to pick Bruce up too and will wait for him at 2pm ETA.

At almost exactly 2pm Bruce arrives. We get a quick photo of both of us in front of the sign for Antelope Wells Port of Entry, and load the bikes onto Bryan's vehicle. I feel bad about being plucked from this place by a vehicle when I have a strange feeling about being in the middle of something.

Bryan drives Bruce and I back to Silver City. It seems we are travelling scarily fast, but at 60mph I guess it is my mind that just needs to adapt back to a car pace of life. In Silver we book into the Drifter Motel and then Bryan gives us a lift up to Wal-Mart to buy some clothes. I find some scales, strip down to shorts, and weigh myself; I’m surprised I’m 66kg, which means I’ve only lost about 2kg (4.5lb). That’s good news. I leave with a new wardrobe and shoes all for $100. I’m really excited about wearing some clothes again for the first time in 25 days, as these cycling bib shorts were a bad choice for this event and have been nothing but misery. My feet are in pieces too and I can’t wait to put shoes on again and walk somewhere.

THANKS

I’d like to thank all those people I met on the way for their kindness to a filthy cycle tourist in a hurry. In particular I thank Alan Goldsmith for providing the motivation that got me into this event, but who through injury was not able to make it himself. I thank my parents for supporting my endeavour, and my friend Matt Clarkson for always encouraging me and believing in me. Thanks to the staff at Orange Peel bike shop in Steamboat for being a revolution in the bike shop world, and the staff at Gila Hike & Bike in Silver City for boxing up my bike to fly home, and just generally being so friendly and enthusiastic. A big, big thank you to Tim at the border, for his friendly manner being all the finish-line welcome I could ever want. And of course I thank Josh Ficke, Bruce Dinsmore, Matt Kemp and all the other GDR racers for shortening the road ahead and sharing so many good times. Guys, it was a blast, a road trip of incredible proportions I will never forget.

DAY 23 – Separ camp to Port of Antelope Wells (82miles)

Thinking 'it's all about the journey, not the destination', I give up trying to sleep at 3:30 and am on the trail by 4am. I see a lot of wildlife in my light beam including some big spiders I assume are tarantulas. Separ is just a lorry park with a railway line passing through and offers nothing. Seems I was lucky to camp so far out of here as noisy freight trains are constantly pass through. I reach the final pavement stretch at 6am just before sunrise and see the first sign for Antelope Wells - 65 miles. This is it, the ‘home straight’ to the finish line. That flat pavement bit that doesn’t even count.

I get my head down and as the sun rises crank ‘em out as fast as I can. I hope a headwind doesn’t pick up and push me into 22days. For the first time in the race every minute seems to count. Also for the first time on the trip I’ve got too much water and ditch a few litres in Hachita while I have a food and clothing stop. I also have plenty of food for a change too.

I can’t help but keep looking behind me on this flat and fairly straight road, maybe for Bruce, or maybe another rider. I’m laughing about it but can’t stop myself from doing it, despite knowing there is going to be nobody there. Maybe 40 miles out I see a shuttle heading north and figure Alex must be on it and I’m gutted it doesn’t stop for a ten second ‘hello’. I’d followed his tyre tracks for 2400 miles and wanted to congratulate him on such a race, out there on his own for so long.

The miles pass effortlessly and I’m really enjoying the wildlife, weather and terrain. The place is alive with rabbits, roadrunners, eagles, snakes and many other critters. Then I see it, some aerials and slight greenery that signal the Port of Antelope Wells about four miles away. I can walk it from here no worries so I celebrate my completing the GDR here with a few words to myself and a cheer, so I’m over it all when I get there. I reach the border at 10am and have no idea what happens now. Is there an official line on what I'm supposed to do? Fortunately Tim, a border guard, knows about the race and offers me a phone, and then kindly gives me an ice cream. I call MTBcast to announce my finish, and as ever when I hear the beep my mind goes blank and leave what must be the shortest GDR message ever. I’ve come in 4th in 21 days 22 hours. My trip computer registers a total of 2,794miles since Banff, covered in a few minutes under 25 days.

DAY 22 – Beaverhead Work Centre camp to Separ camp (120miles)

I use a lot of water in the night and in the morning to eat and get hydrated so am a little concerned about it as I set-off for the day. An uneventful morning passes until I look down to see I’ve no map. My map board was designed to hold thin route cards and the thick map has fallen out. Where though? A three mile ride uphill later somewhat panicked and I’m relieved to see it in the middle of the trail. Panic over, but I photograph each instruction set just in case that happens again. Without the map out here things could potentially get serious. I don't think I've seen another person since Pie Town.

I head on, now low on water and worried about it lasting to Mimbres. At some point the hard day I thought would never come arrives. Boredom, hunger, and dehydration make the miles pass slower than ever. I reach Mimbres out of water and totally dehydrated, a long time out of food with a deep hunger, and feeling a sorry state. Despite my condition I was still able to appreciate some beautiful country out there and am loving New Mexico, especially that there are no mosquitoes here. Woohoo!

At the store in Mimbres I get two bottles of Coke straight off and as the caffine, water and sugar get into my bloodstream my spirits pick up. I shovel down an ice-cream and handfuls of high calorie junk food and I eventually come around and feel my strength returning by the mouthful. I totally underestimated the food and water to cover that ground without resupply and paid for it dearly. The climb out of Mimbres is gone in a flash and I roll into Silver City feeling on top of the world after a beating this morning. I’m onto the final side of the final map at last!

After eating until I can hardly move at a Chinese on the road into town I waste an hour trying to sort a pickup from the Antelope Wells. I eventually call my dad at midnight in England to ask him to do it for me for midday tomorrow. Since I know Bruce can't be far behind me I’m not happy, but eventually get going, only to be delayed again by meeting the pick-up guy my dad has called on the highway. He wants to chat for half an hour warning me how harsh it is out there and will take me until 6pm the next day. I tell him 12 again but he’s not hearing me and almost talks me out of believing myself. He clearly has no idea what I’ve been through the last three weeks and I can't explain now, so just arrange for him to pick me up where he meets me on the road at midday. He knows that will be 40 miles from AW, and I know I’ll have been at AW an hour at least by then.

I wanted to make Separ before dark, but lost so much time I’m 15 miles short as the last of the light disappears. I decide to ride in the dark a little, but after a scare with a rattlesnake decide pushing on into the night is not worth it so camp up 10 miles short of Separ. I set the alarm for 4am instead and hope the wildlife has gone to bed by then.

My mind is wired and I can’t sleep. I set up my tent inner to keep the wildlife out and through the netting can see the stars well in the cloudless sky. The night is so warm I don't get out the sleeping bag. I wonder if I prefer deserts to mountains. I think about my GDR 2008 kit list and schedule. And I come over in a bit of a panic when I realise this adventure is about to end. I’m not ready for it to! There seems no conclusion to this route, like an ocean signalling you can ride no more and the journey has to end. A political boundary in the middle of the desert just doesn’t seem right and in my heart I have an ‘unfinished’ feeling.

DAY 21 – Pie Town camp to Beaverhead Centre camp (121miles)

Deciding this will be my last good night’s sleep I don’t set the alarm and just wake up naturally. I reach Pie Town at 9am and am happy to find the Pie-O-Neer Café open. The map only indicates a restaurant and I was worried I may have to wait for that to open at lunchtime. After a good breakfast, but without any pie, I stock up all my water carriers and head out.

I cross the Plains of San Augustin and in the middle of nowhere, and I mean the middle of nowhere, as from Pie Town the next services in Mimbres are 150 miles away, I go to change route card and discover it isn’t there under the old one. I have a moment of panic as I realise I’ve lost my last card that goes all the way to Antelope Wells. I have no idea where it went, but it’s not a disaster as I can use the instructions on the map. For some reason the miles come very slowly today and I’m counting them down one by one. I need music out here on my own.

Rolling down the trail as evening nears I’m drifting off with my mind in neutral when I’m abruptly brought to my senses watching a big black creature casually slope out of the forest and onto the track in front of me. It takes a few seconds for me to work out it’s a black bear as I’ve not seen one before, and it’s only about fifty yards away. I quietly stop and reach for the camera as I start backing away. I’ve nearly got my camera when the bear turns around to look at me, pauses a second, then takes off back into the woods.

I see the Beaverhead Work Centre at about 9pm in the dark and press on past. I wanted to try and get water here but am not sure I will be able to so late at night, so carry on past. I camp up a few miles further at the top of a steep climb and wonder if Bruce will be camping where I saw the bear.

DAY 20 – Pueblo Pintado camp to Pie Town camp (133miles)

I’m awake early and set off as the sun rises. My earliest start by far as my usual alarm is set for 7am. The road is flat and pavement and my speed is good, but the heat and a headwind quickly pick up cutting my speed considerably. This miscalculation in speed and early morning temperature means I run out of water before I get to Jay’s Bar. I’m pretty desperate so have to wait 45 minutes until 11am when it opens. I take the opportunity to grab a well needed powernap in the shade on the porch. When the bar opens up I grab a few Cokes and press on.

I stop for lunch in Milan a few miles shy of Grants and then go to the supermarket there for supplies. I make my call-in and set off about 2pm, but don't even make Grants before I have to turn around. It’s just too hot for me to function; the humidity has risen and the wind has died off and I literally feel like I am cooking. I have to sit it out in the shade for a few hours, and drink whipping cream outside the supermarket until the afternoon thunderstorms arrive and I set off under dark skies for Pie Town and get a soaking. At least it's cooling.

The road out of Grants runs alongside a beautiful rock outcrop. As I’m drying out cruising along the flat pavement road, a woman stops her car and asks if I’m in the race. It's a bit of a shock when people do this. She lives in Pie Town and knows Matt Lee from previous years. In the middle of a sentence she pauses and looks me in the eye and says, 'You do know your crazy, don't you?', then carries on with offering me her porch to sleep on in Pie town. Straight through the stop sign and it's the house with the toasters on the gate. Makes a change from animal skulls out here I suppose!

As I reach the dirt road to Pie Town I panic to see big puddles at the side of the road and wonder if this is going to be a long walk with a heavy mud covered bike. Luckily I manage to keep the wheels turning and although it’s harder work I’m grateful it’s not worse. I’m about 18 miles short of Pie Town when it gets dark so I pitch up in a nice camp site sheltered by the trees from a strong wind that has picked up.

DAY 19 – Abiquiu Pueblo to Pintado camp (133.4miles)

Matt wakes up feeling rough and with stomach cramps. I can hear he is in a bad way just from his voice. The route goes straight into a 4,000' climb out of Abiquiu over some rough roads over 10,000'. Matt still pushes on with Bruce and I into the hot day, but drops out of sight quickly. After a while I decide to turn around and head back to find him. I turn a bend to see him making slow progress but still pushing on. His slow actions and voice tell me he is really suffering. Aside the climbing its 80 miles to Cuba over some rough dirt roads in near 100 degree heat. This is a hard ride even in good health.

I feel I have no place to offer Matt sympathy or advice, and a goodbye would just be patronising. He can look after himself and will be better off making his own decisions and me not interfering. I know this is the last time I will see him in this race. After nearly three weeks on the trail together I head off up the hill ensuring no verbal sign or look of goodbye.

After a hard day riding through the high mountains the route turns onto a pavement road and drops down into Cuba. As the trees disappear a wall of heat and humidity coming off the road hits me like a hammer. Fortunately the descent is fast enough to offer some cooling and rolls all the way into Cuba. Cuba is just one main street and offers all GDR calorie services. I eat in a restaurant with Bruce and drink pints and pints of Coke to get hydrated again, then into the supermarket next door for supplies, then Subway for a takeaway snack.

In the parking lot of the supermarket Bruce and I wish each other good luck and he leaves to ride the official GDR dirt trail, while I’m taking the legal alternative pavement road section. The different routes are equal length, about 120 miles, but rain can make the official trail impassable. I think he's taking a high risk as the thunderstorms are forecast to arrive tomorrow. I watch Bruce ride off and sit down in the shade to hang around for an hour in case Matt arrives. I know he's gone back to Abiquiu, but have to do this anyway.

While waiting I clear my mind and hit the road out of Cuba full of energy and excited to be on my own for the rest of the race. I felt it was time for us to ride on our own for a while and have some personal experiences. I haven’t got much water, but manage to make a store just before it closes at 10pm and stock up. I press on into the night until around 11pm when I see some thick bushes to bivvie up behind for the night.

DAY 18 – Brazos Ridge camp to Abiquiu (105.5miles)

The terrain this morning is spectacular and certainly a highlight of the whole route. It is not what I expected at all having listened to others' fear of New Mexico. I expected to go straight into semi-arid shrubland, but this is a high alpine environment and incredibly beautiful. Large herds of elk are grazing in the grassy meadows and this is the closest I’ve been able to watch them from. The final descent off this high plateau toward El Rito is fast, smooth, winding, and a lot of fun. Possibly the most fun descent of the whole route?

As the descent flattens the pavement begins and there is a tiny shack selling the usual selection of GDR junk food supplies. As I’m waiting here for Matt and Bruce, a woman rolls out of her house on the hill behind the store on her bike. She opens up for me and chats away excitedly. I’m good for food, but I chat, and she wants me to write in her book. I don’t really know what’s going on until I see Jay, Matt and Alex have signed this book too and realise she knows about the Great Divide Route and the Race too. I write something in the book about chasing Alex’s ghost and buy a drink. Matt and Bruce arrive and Sylvia breaks out some chairs and we all chat for a while and she tells us about the other racers ahead. As dusk arrives we carry on to Abiquiu and a slight gradient on pavement road speeds us along. The New Mexican scenery is striking and I haven’t seen this kind of terrain before, which just adds to a really special day.

Abiquiu is tiny and doesn’t offer much, but we just make the store before it closes at 19:30 and get lots of provisions for the road to Cuba that looks hard. I also get a couple of pints of whipping cream at 700 calories a pint; the hard stuff, which I’ve moved onto from the half and half. I eat with Bruce and Matt at a posh hotel that quotes us $290 for the three of us to stay. After dinner Bruce negotiates and gets the three of us into a room for $100 that is clearly worth a lot more. Great work, Bruce!