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!

DAY 17 – Del Norte to Brazos Ridge camp (89miles)

After stretching at every opportunity yesterday to fix my achilles my legs are feeling full of energy as I turn out the first few miles. My achilles is also on the road to recovery and no longer a worry. I just have to focus more on the steady climbs to not tense my calf, but suffer the pain in my shoe instead. The route today starts with a 15 mile climb ascending 11,910” Indiana pass, the highest part of the route, and rolls along in the thin air to Platoro at only 10,000”. It is brutal.

The restaurant at Platoro is a welcome sight for a mid-afternoon break. The store is limited but has enough and I fill up all my water containers not wanting to rely on anything out there from here. I sit down with Matt and Bruce in the restaurant on some very uncomfortable chairs. The waitress tells us Alex was here last night for dinner, but just grabbed a shower and headed on. I hadn’t heard about him for a few days now, but follow his tracks all day in the dirt wondering how old they are and how far in front he is.

The twenty-three mile downhill from Platoro is hard work over a very loose gravely road, and not at all the free ride I expected looking at the map, but it is down and I have to be grateful for that. I make my call-in from Horca and drink some more at the store. The air is thick with billions of insects in the air as dusk comes and we climb up a steep pavement road for 10 miles through an insect cloud. At the Colorado/New Mexico border its totally dark and the three of us pitch up for the night. It’s a short day for distance but has been incredibly hard with more hours than usual in the saddle, so I don’t feel bad about making less than 100 miles.

DAY 16 – Sargents to Del Norte (100.4 miles)

When I wake up in the morning my left achilles is agony. This is as a result of me tensing my calf to help take pressure off my left foot injury, and the long steady climb last night was the cause. I’ve lived with this problem for many years, and can usually walk and stretch it off in a couple of days. This time however, I have about an hour.

I order breakfast in the café and while waiting I go outside and try to shim my front brake to stop it from screeching. As I’m doing this I see two tourers pass heading south. I hear one of them say, ‘It is, it is!’, or something similar, and they swing around. They have Bob trailers and I work out the tracks I’d been following for a couple of days were theirs. Aaron and Janet are out doing the GDR Colorado section, and Aaron seems really pleased to meet the GDR ‘Brits’, and had read about us on the website. I soak up my 5minutes of fame.

As I mount up my achilles is a little better after lots of stretching, but still bad. I can only hope like other GDR twinges and niggles I can ride it off in the next 50 or so miles. This turns out to be a rough day, but some awesome scenery.

There is a bit of a kick in the teeth the last few miles into Del Norte; as I think I’m in the clear to roll into town, a twisty two track winds around over the final ascent and I’m really not feeling up for it. On any other day it would be good mountain biking, but not what I needed after 95 miles. We reach town and there are no restaurants open so stock up at the gas station. It’s not the town I expected at all and I’m really disappointed. The motel owners take pity on us though and make us some good pizzas.

DAY 15 – Boreas Pass camp to Sargents (117.4miles)

Josh, Matt and I clip in and are rolling down the pass early. It’s still very cold in the shade of the mountain. We arrive in Como just as the day is warming up, but nothing is happening here at all, so slightly disappointed we press on to Hartsel for a later breakfast. Outside the café we see Bruce’s 29er and get breakfast together.

The four of us push on toward Salida together. Bruce again needs to go to the bike shop here and I’m wondering if he is just on a bike shop tour of America. As Bruce heads to the bike shop Matt and I get a meal in town. There is no sign of Josh who usually rocks up shortly after us, and I’d been kinda keeping an eye on him back there when the views were good and he hadn’t been that far back.

There is still no sign of Josh as Matt and I leave the restaurant and head on to hopefully make Sargents before dark. When I see no tyre tracks in the dirt I figure he must have had a mechanical and be walking into Salida. I feel bad about leaving him out there in the heat for a brutal walk with little water. I hope he’s okay, but dare not presume anything about whether I will be riding the trails with Josh again, as he’ll only get out in front tomorrow.

From Salida Matt and I chat as we spend four hours climbing up near 11,000ft Marshall Pass and the time passes quickly. The descent takes only an hour and we make all but the last mile into Sargents in fading light. The road is closed where it is washed out and we have a technical carry across with the bikes.

I just catch the cabins guy leaving the premises at 9pm and get a cabin, he also lets us grab some microwave meals from the store for dinner. I’m over the moon for this one after three days camping. The power of a recovery shower and healing sheets cannot be underestimated. And as a bonus there is a washing machine too. Bruce arrives some time later.

DAY 14 – Mugrage Campground to Boreas Pass camp (100miles)

Although Kremmling is a couple of miles off route, it offers good GDR services and is worth the detour for a big cooked breakfast. Several miles out of Kremmling we meet Josh again. I can’t believe it. Nothing can break this man. He camped up only a few miles short of the campground and was in Kremmling at the same time but at a different restaurant.

On the climb up Ute Pass the dirt turns to pavement and I start to be overcome by tiredness. Despite my heart rate being quite high on this climb, I can barely keep my eyes open and am swerving around. I wonder if this is the start of things to come, so refuse to stop. Rocks start to look like soft pillows and I so need to be horizontal. Bruce slowly disappears up the climb as I fight with my eyelids. Eventually the climb tops out and I pull in to deal with my feet as I wait for Matt and Josh. The consistent pedal stroke pressures on long pavement climbs really aggravate my left foot problems, so I do what I can to relieve the pain with my magic roll of strapping tape. Hopeless! Two roadies pass me as I'm doing this and give me a very strange look when I give them a nod.

Josh, Matt and I roll into Silverthorne and enjoy a gas station meal on the pavement outside. Good times. Navigation from here to Frisco is tricky, but we eventually discuss the map instructions with enough hot girls out mountain biking (thanks to the girl in a Heineken top) to find the cycle track to Breckenridge. On the cycle track the local roadies pass us by and give us the well perfected arrogant blanking when we say ‘hi’. I find it hard not to chase them down but Matt pulls me back.

The only thing on my mind when we reach Breckenridge is getting a meal fast. The three of us dive in the first steak house we see to eat as fast as we can and get back out for more miles before dark. The climb out of Breckenridge is pavement to begin and the gradient is slight. The higher up the pass we go the easier it gets and I find myself flying along as the temperature is falling in the late evening. Eventually it’s lights on and we push for the top of the 11,482ft pass in the dark. In the dark the descent gets very cold quickly, and at the 100 mile point for the day we set-up camp at the side of the road in a nice sandy glade. A great camp spot and I sleep well in the cold air my sleeping bag was designed for.

DAY 13 – Steamboat Lake camp to Mugrage Campground (95miles)

After only a few miles early in the morning we meet a shepherd on the trails. He is happy to see us and in Spanish tells us all about his gun, a ‘Winchester treinta’, and fumbles around in his pockets to pull out and show us some bullets. The way he is swinging the rifle around I’m really hoping it is not loaded. I want to take a picture of him but dare not ask. He's the only person I meet on the Divide filthier than me.

It’s a treat of a descent on a dirt road into Clark and we eat up the miles. Clark store is an ideal GDR pit-stop with a little café and good supplies. From here the road is pavement and a slight downhill gradient to Steamboat, where I can celebrate reaching the half-way point of this race with a visit to the laundromat. There are lots of other cyclist out on this warm Saturday morning and they are all super friendly towards us.

I’m keen to visit the bike shop in Steamboat for some roadie bar tape to put over my Ergon grips, new gloves, and a new chain and inner ring. Orange Peel bikes let me borrow their tools and couldn’t be more helpful. They know about the race and are keen to meet and help the racers. Matt and I set about our bikes in a frenzy outside the shop as he fits a new bottom bracket and I fit a new inner ring and chain. Josh buys a new headlamp off one of the shop guys. Bruce buys new Orange Peel cycling kit and bins his old stuff.

From the bike shop we all head for the laundromat across town, and I enjoy a ride along a nice cycle track next to the river with some friendly local riders. Steamboat is certainly somewhere I would like to hang out for the rest of the day, or maybe a couple of days. Oh to hang my sore feet in that cool stream and take an afternoon nap on the soft grass. This is my only regret of the race; that I cannot stop when I meet good people or see nice places. I’m far better at hanging-out than cycling.

At the laundromat we set-up camp and order some pizzas while everything is in the wash. I do my food and supplies shopping barefoot in my boxer shorts and T-shirt that I sleep in - pride and dignity are too heavy for this race so I didn’t bring them. As we are leaving Josh hurls in the car park. Clearly feeling terrible he still mounts up and cranks out 20 miles with us, but gradually drops off the back as the temperature and gradient rise. This time I really don’t expect to see him again, but to even suggest a goodbye, that I was judging his strength, would be wrong, so after over two weeks together I don’t even look back.

Still with Matt and Bruce at the end of the day we ride over a pass in the dark and begin a long and steep descent. With my limited lighting this is tricky, then Bruce flies past and whips up some fine dust that won’t settle and reduces visibility in my light beam to zero, and Matt and I have to slow to walking pace. Moving in the dark and especially downhill is so time inefficient. At the bottom we come across a campsite with toilets and decide this is the place to stay tonight and Kremmling can wait until breakfast tomorrow. Only 95 GDR miles but I’ve ridden over 100 today so can live with it peacefully as I rest my head.

DAY 12 – Rawlins to Steamboat Lake camp (100miles)

Josh and I get up early to hopefully get an early start, but after Josh has been to the post office to collect a package and post stuff back, we eventually get away about 9:30. Bruce has to go to the bike shop again, and Matt has to head back to the motel to find his missing tools. Josh and I push on together.

Today feels tough, and as the sun rises so does the temperature until it’s in the 100s. It’s just draining the energy from me on top of the tiredness from a bad nights sleep. We stop for a powernap in the shade of some trees mid afternoon as the heat is too much to bear.

As we press on the map indicates we will be passing into Colorado any minute, so we keep our eyes open for the border sign as Josh wants to piss on Wyoming before we leave. Sounds like a good idea to me. Unfortunately there is no sign and we’re in Colorado before we realise it. Goodbye Wyoming, you will not be missed!

Josh and I are taking a break in the shade when Bruce and Matt roll up. We all ride together loosely and as evening approaches I’m climbing up a pass feeling low on energy. I’ve noticed Whispering Pine Lodge on the route instructions, but there is no symbol on the map for it so I’m wondering what to expect. As I round a corner I see Bruce drinking a Coke on the decking of a lodge with some other guys. This is life saver. We all get as much as we can eat for $10 including some birthday cake, and enjoy some excellent company.

Although I would have loved to kick back and have a few beers at the lodge, we leave just before dusk as the temperatures drops and I finally feel fully revived. The miles come easily until the light is gone and as the map says ‘1.5mile push up hill’, the minimum 100 miles for the day are done and it’s time to camp up for the night.

DAY 11 – Diagnus Well to Rawlins (112.2miles)

The only shade for over 100 miles today is an old water tank about half way at a road junction. We are all still together here and have a well earned break in the shade. It’s not long before I close my eyes and drift off as nobody is shouting to press on. The wind is cooling in the shade and we wait out the heat of the day. Somebody’s snoring keeps waking me up, which I find out later was my own.
From the tank there is a headwind along the last of the dirt road, but then its pavement stretching all the way 40 miles into Rawlins. Although I have plenty of water, I’m not drinking enough for what I’m losing and after 90 miles as the final climb of the day rises up in front of me I’ve had enough for today. The mental effort increases ten fold and I know I should take a rest to hydrate but just want to get to Rawlins so push on.

In Rawlins I find a great smoothie shop in town and drink about 4 pints of chilled smoothie and feel the life coming back to me. A huge ice cream later and I’m feeling good to go again. Not a bad main street but the rest of Rawlins is a dump! I check a few motels but all are full or very expensive for tat. Bruce and Matt find one but it seems that’s the last reasonably priced room in town.

Josh and I head back into town and get a great Thai meal, resupply at the supermarket and call in to MTBcast. Dark and getting late we consider the options of which ditch or bit of wasteland we are going to sleep in/on. It doesn’t feel safe in this big town so we find Bruce and Matt’s room and crash on their floor. I have a very restless night and wonder if I slept at all. Rawlins is just giving me bad vibes, and apart from a great smoothie shop and Thai restaurant I wish I’d carried on through.

DAY 10 – Pinedale to Diagnus Well (112.7miles)

From Pinedale the route heads into the Great Divide Basin. It’s hot, flat, and uneventful apart from a puncture outside Boulder. I hit a piece of glass and the tyre is cut so I put in a tyre boot and hope for the best. About 40 miles into the ride we meet some motorbikers who tell us they have seen a cyclist a few miles ahead. We think it is Alex to start with, then realise it is probably Josh. When we stop at a bridge about 50 miles into the day to grab some water, we find Josh sheltering from the midday heat underneath.

We ride together loosely through this incedibly hot and bleak landscape. The tiny outpost of South Pass City is a welcome sight and we get an ice-cream starter in before heading to slightly bigger Atlantic City for dinner a few miles further on. This is the last supply stop for 130 miles through the hot and dry Great Divide Basin. As the sun sets the four of us head out in the cool for Diagnus Well 20 miles away where we plan to camp. Its pitch black when we get there so look for the well in the morning.

DAY 9 – Turpin Meadow Ranch to Pinedale (120.9miles)

It’s straight into a good climb out of the lodge over Togwotee pass. Josh is quickly off the back as usual, but we see him again at a store half way up, only to watch him slowly disappear off the back again. On the descent at some road works we get in the pilot car for one mile. It doesn’t bother me; I’ve done enough extras anyway.

Bruce, Matt and I stop for lunch at the Sawmill restaurant on Union Pass and Josh catches up again just as we are starting our meals. We all leave together and continue the climb in good spirits thinking about the hot waitress. In fact she crops up quite a lot in conversation for the next few days. The road surface is loose gravel and the going is very tough indeed. Josh is immediately off the back again (Sorry, Josh). I never know whether as Josh drops back it will be the last time I will see him, but then after so much time on the road together I always see us finishing together too.

The descent off Union Pass is pretty brutal with washboard and little rain gullies on the bends. After 90 miles I’m very happy to hit some pavement for the last 30 miles into Pinedale. At the dirt pavement interface we meet some very heavily laden tourers heading north on the Great Divide. They have met all the racers ahead of us and give us brief reports of where and when. It’s really good to get some solid news of where other riders are.

Twenty-five miles from Pinedale is The Place Café which serves me up a superb salmon roll on rice; a good change from the limited American menus of burger and chips. I also get a ‘large’ Coke, which must be a gallon. I make my call in to MTBcast outside and the mosquitoes try to eat me alive. From here it’s an easy pavement stretch into Pinedale in the dark. I find a motel with Bruce and Matt and wonder where Josh will be sleeping tonight.

DAY 8 – Warm River to Turpin Meadow Ranch (102.7miles)

Surprisingly the mosquitoes haven’t eaten Josh alive in the morning. I put my Gore-tex mosquito armour on again, and its back onto the sandy washboard. Fun, fun, fun. Eventually the trail gets better and a slight downhill gradient speeds things up. There is a really nice campsite at the end of the railroad track I wish I had made last night.

From the campsite Bruce heads off up a big climb on his morning classic. I feel it’s the right direction too and am not far behind him, but quickly realise something is up and stop. Bruce is out of sight by now. I get out the map and compass to work things out and get going in the right direction. A few miles later I catch up with Josh and Matt who went the right way. We ride together and stop for lunch at a shabby golf club we thought might not let us in. The only thing on the menu is fried chicken and chips which is pretty awful. Bruce arrives about an hour later after some quality extra miles this morning.

As I pass into Wyoming I’m glad to be leaving Idaho, which had the worst mosquitoes I’ve ever seen, the worst washboard, and there was a GATE! I explain to Josh that in the UK we have gates on some routes every few miles which he struggles to comprehend. Fortunately it’s the only gate on the Great Divide Route.

Today is really warming up for the first time, and my trip computer says 114 degrees sitting in the sun as I’m stopped for a break. For most of the day it sits in the high 90s and is crushing me. The road is also a loose surface and constantly undulating which is hard going. Settling into a big climb is far easier than constant small rollers. The four of us arrive at Flagg Ranch near Yellowstone together and Matt, Bruce and I stop for dinner and resupply. Josh heads on. I get some nail clippers and cut my nails at the table between courses and feel a lot cleaner just for that.

The three of us roll out together and put the pace on over the pretty flat pavement road. A small café catches our eye after a while and we decide there is time for another dessert. As the sun is setting we enjoy apple pie and ice cream, and watch some local ranchers having a cow rodeo for laughs. I’m loving every moment of this fascinating and hilarious sight.

We crank `em out as the sun sets and the cool air brings new life to my legs. Away in the distance I see Matt have a close encounter with a moose on the road, and as the final light fades we reach Turpin Meadow Ranch. I share a room with Matt, and Bruce takes an adjoining room to snore on his own. Josh turns up quite a bit later and crashes on Bruce’s floor. Despite earplugs I can feel the walls vibrate from their snoring! In the night a mouse fills his belly from my bag of oats, and quenches his thirst from Matt’s Camelbak chewing through the bite valve.

DAY 7 – Lima to Warm River (104miles)

In the morning I go to the garage for supplies and then head over to the diner. I see a bike outside the diner I recognise and it takes me a second to realise its Josh. It’s great to see him and we eat breakfast together. He pulled a 150 yesterday to get here and bivvied up outside the motel late. I feel bad for dropping him before but nothing is said. After all it is a race.

Bruce, Matt and I head on out for the day and leave Josh taking advantage of Matt’s motel room to get cleaned up, at which point Ashley rolls into town. We see him across the motel parking lot before he sees us and give him a loud cheer. He’s had an early start to get here. We can’t hang around so leave Josh and Ashley at the motel with our room keys.

The route today is fairly flat passing through fields of cattle and mosquito infested creeks. Temperatures are high and there is no shade until Lakeview Wildlife Refuge where we stock up on water. Fifteen miles later at Red Rock RV and Camping park we take a short rest on some soft cut grass and enjoy as ice cream and drinks. I want to fall asleep. Finally today the route leaves Montana and crosses into Idaho. I seem to have been in Montana forever so my spirits are buoyed by this, and I’d also heard people say, ‘make it out of Montana and you’ll be okay’.

Big Springs is a little GDR oasis with restaurant, store, and a Subway. After eating at the restaurant Bruce and I head on and Matt goes to call his girlfriend. He catches up minutes later with news that he saw Josh at Subway as he was leaving. The three of us set off down the sandy, washboarded old railway and eventually stop at Warm River to camp up as the daylight fades. It sounds lovely but is mosquito central. They had been bad on the trail to here so you have to keep moving, but are swarming around me now at dusk near the river. Its full waterproofs and hood on for protection. Josh rocks up in the dark just before bed time and bivvies up next to us.

DAY 6 – Wise River to Lima (136.8miles)

There is a headwind up the road climbing away from Wise River, but a steady gradient and smooth pavement keep my happy, it could always be worse. At the Grasshopper Inn Bruce, Matt and I stop for a late breakfast. The waiter tells us a tall Australian stayed last night. I’m now slightly obsessed with following Alex’s ghost and hope to catch up to him, but each day he’s edging away by an hour or so.

The minor detour to the rundown shacks called Grant is sorely disappointing as everything is closed up. The sun is beating down, I wanted a meal, and I’m getting nailed by mosquitoes. A guy sees us loitering around feeling dejected and offers us water from his hosepipe in the garden. Result! Heading out I get caught in the edge of a thunderstorm and can see the lightening striking a few miles away. I haven’t seen lightening in many years and I’m slightly unsure if I should just carry on towards it just thinking about the odds of being hit.

On the high plains to Lima an antelope treats me to a beautiful show of speed and power, running along side me at over 30mph, gradually overtaking and then crossing the trail a short distance in front of me. I’m still in awe when a hare runs across the trail a few feet from my wheel giving me a scare as I don’t even have time to hit the brakes.

In the last of the light a gift of a tailwind carries me into Lima on the pavement road and I finish very hungry and thirsty having been out of food and water for a couple of hours. I get two bottles of Coke straight off at the garage, check into a motel with Bruce, and hit the diner for some real food. Lima is a perfect pit-stop town with all essential GDR amenities of store, diner and motel right next to each other and on the route – very time efficient.

DAY 5 – Basin to Wise River (80.9miles)

After Bruce’s morning classic he rejoins Matt and I on the highway a few miles from Butte. The Outdoorsman bike shop is right on the route and draws us in. I consider road bar tape, new gloves, socks and shorts, but for some reason decided not to make any fast purchases in the end. What a mistake! Bruce wants to get his bike serviced so Matt and I go on the food hunt. We eat pizza on the floor outside the shop. I love stopping on a ride to eat sitting in the street with friends. Who needs tables, these are the best meals.

The guys in the Outdoorsman bike shop tell me Alex was in two hours ago and is hurting and thinking about giving up. I just think Alex is another guy caught out by going at it too hard out the gates and he won’t last the distance.

In the Butte supermarket I manage to get some strapping tape to layer on the sole of my left foot. My shoes are well past their replacement day and I can feel the rectangular cleat hole through the insole and it’s pressing and rubbing on an old injury making every pedal stoke painful.

On Fleecer ridge I get the compass out and have no problem spotting the solitary fence. I head over to it and continue down, but as it gets steeper and steeper I decide this is no place to prove my technical skills and get off to walk the bike down, which turns out to be difficult enough.

We all arrive together into Wise River at about 7pm and I’m split with wanting to head on, or put in the whole 140 miles to Lima tomorrow. At the store I’m on the hunt for calories, and find something called ‘half and half’, a pint of half milk and half cream mix and about 600 calories a go. I drink three pints of it and tell Bruce he’s pissing in the wind with his Gatorade. But then I can’t eat my dinner in the café with three pints of fat in my stomach – lesson learnt. The waitress in the café tells us about the giant Australian that was here two hours ago. During dinner we decide to head for Lima tomorrow and I’m racked with guilt about only riding 80miles and finishing the day so early. I get my clothes washed though after 8 days on the trail. While waiting for our room to be cleaned I chat with the bar/motel owner who has some good stories.

DAY 4 – Lincoln to Basin (101.8miles)

Bruce and I meet Josh, Matt and Ashley for breakfast at 8am and after a big feed and chat we all set off for the day together. From Lincoln there is some good mountain biking, but it's a hard day with some steep climbs over the first three continental divide crossings. Josh and Ashley are unfortunately off the back on the first climb. By the time I reach the pavement road into Helena early afternoon I’m tired and hungry and well in need of a break. Bruce, Matt and I head into town and spot a nice restaurant where we can eat outside and fettle with the bikes and kit. By chance we are just around the corner from a bike shop, so after eating I go over there to try and spend some money on new shorts. Despite my best efforts though I’m completely ignored by the staff for 20 minutes as they have idle chat with people not buying anything. Clearly they are too cool for me so I have to cut my losses a get moving.


Frustrated about the service at the bike shop, I settle into a good pace up Grizzly Gulch with an aim to get over the next pass and make Basin before 10pm so I can eat at a restaurant. I soon catch Matt and Bruce but dare not hang around with them as I’m not carrying any food for a night on the trail. My pace is fine until the rooty technical Lava Trail which is slow going, and I’m not sure about the navigation as distances aren’t matching with the route card. Eventually I top out and scream down the descent to make it to Basin in the fading light. It’s too slow going on descents in the dark so you gotta ride them in the light. My front wheel washes out on some soft sand as I tear along, and I smile to myself at leaving tell-tale Steve marks on the trail for Bruce and Matt to find. Sure enough they mention it later.

I make Basin at 21:30 and find the restaurant still serving food. I eat until I can hardly move, and then ride a short way to the B&B, which I’m surprised has no riders already staying there. At the restaurant I’m told a tall Australian left 20 minutes before me; he’s headed for Butte tonight. I’m surprised Alex is in front of me and assumed he was behind after I hadn’t seen him since day one.

I’m showered and in bed dozing off by 10:45 when Matt and Bruce rock up. I let them crash on the floor and they bang about politely, cooking up some food and sorting kit. Getting to Basin I’m guessing we got a break over many of the other racers today, although I’m sorry to lose Josh after a week riding together. I don’t expect to see him again.

DAY 3 – Holland Lake to Lincoln (93.6miles)

It’s straight into a climb first thing over Richmond pass. Half way up it starts to snow lightly and I pass three other riders I don’t recognise. I wait for Bruce at the top and Ashley, Nathan and Matt McFee continue past who I hadn’t recognised in their rain gear. When Bruce arrives the snow is getting heavier and we gear up for it. Its cold and time to get this pass done, so we press on as quickly as we can traversing along the mountain on a narrow track as the weather deteriorates and the snow begins to settle. The other riders are poorly equipped for this weather and moving slowly; eventually we get past and they disappear.

At the bottom of the descent I break to sort my wet kit out and Bruce heads on. I find him a few hours later in Ovando at the Stray Bullet Café. The bad weather is a distant memory and I’ve dried out and warmed up now, although chain suck had been plaguing me. Out of Ovando we press on for Lincoln together over Huckleberry Pass and arrive at dusk. It’s time for a motel tonight to get everything dried out. We hit the first place we see, hose down the bikes, and head for a restaurant. Outside the motel next door to the restaurant we see Ashley’s bike outside and bang on the door, getting him out the warm shower he was taking. The three of us go to the restaurant and are just finishing dinner when Josh and Matt arrive. I’m glad they made it over the second pass and out of Ovando where I’m sure some riders will spend the night.

DAY 2 – Whitefish to Holland Lake (111.3miles)

It's been light a while when the four of us break camp and roll out together. As we go through Columbia falls looking for breakfast we notice some 29ers outside a seedy bar so dive in there to eat. Inside we meet Hodge, Kevin and a few other riders tucking into a cooked breakfast. After some value hash browns and scrambled eggs I head over the supermarket next door and stock up on Powerade and junk food for the day. I'm getting the hang of the GDR junk food shopping list now.

At a later junction Bruce heads off on his morning classic. Josh, Matt and I wait for him to find us again, only to lose him again moments later when our route cards go awry and confused we have to stop. We try to follow the map and road names, but do a few extra miles finding our way out and waste a lot of time. We discover later all of us had four or five lines missing from our route cards and missed them on the map too. Bruce had noticed this before the race but neglected to pass on the information. We find him at Echo store some miles ahead chatting to the other racers.


As the last of the light is fading at nearly 10pm we are close to Holland Lake Lodge. I time trail the last few miles hoping to get there before 10pm when I'm sure the restaurant will close. I get there moments before 10 and although the kitchen was closing the understanding chef offers to lay on a set meal for the four of us. I then hang around uncomfortably in the nice surroundings feeling a bit filthy and only half dressed. Oh how things would change over the next three weeks…

There are a few other racers at the lodge who got here earlier and are hanging around looking clean and wearing non-cycling clothes. I have no other clothes but the cycling ones I'm standing in. Hodge is limping badly and speaks in a devastated voice about a painful achilles. There is a rumour Ashley is here too but see no sign of his bike. Kevin joins Josh, Bruce, Matt and I for dinner and we chat about the race and his attempt last year. He is complaining about general knee pain, which is apparently a 9 out of 10 on the pain scale, and I wonder what Kevin really knows about his body and cycling.

After dinner Josh and I head out to find somewhere to crash for the night. We check out an old bus that looks ideal, but the floor is rotten and sharp so we head on. We see a headlamp in the trees and go over to find Dave Nice bivvied up under a bench. We join him and I feel guilty for having a belly full of good food while Dave is eating GDR junk.

DAY 1 – Rooseville to Whitefish (101.4miles)

Pre-race meeting and breakfast in Café Jax at 9am
I’m sitting in the same room as Pete Bassinger, Mike Curiak and Matt Lee. I’m in awe of these real GDR racers and when Matt sits down next to me I can think of nothing to say that won’t sound stupid. Pete runs through the rules of the race with us and he and Mike answer any questions. It brings things home to me about the level of these guys when Pete talks about the 25 day cut off. I think his words were, 'That's only a 95 mile a day minium, which you can easily do by mid-afternoon'.

From Café Jax it’s an 8 mile warm up ride to the Rooseville border. I don't know where the official start line is, but everyone has congregated outside the First Chance Last Chance Bar. Joe Polk of MTBcast and Aaron Teasdale of Adventure Cycling are there taking a few photos and interviewing people. I start to feel less out of my depth now, and notice Josh has a very ‘I’m over it’ look about him too. I already have 240 miles on the trip computer and we in the GDR zone. I call my parents to tell them not to expect to hear from me during the race. Bruce, Matt and I wish each other good luck as we have no idea if we will see each other after the start. At 11:45 twenty-five racers move into an organised line up on some soft cut grass alongside the border-crossing building.

DAY 1 - 15th June – Rooseville to Whitefish (101.4miles)
Joe Polk reads out the racers names on the roster to check who is actually racing, and after a few brief words from Mike Curiak, at 12:00 he signals the start. I anticipate the usual race start chaos that I don’t want to get caught up and set off at my own steady pace.

Within 0.2miles Bruce is off the front. At 0.3miles Bruce misses the first turn and is off down the main highway to Eureka. Somebody kindly shouts loud enough for him to hear and he spins around to see everyone turning right. This was to become a familiar occurrence for the rest of the race, and became known to me as Bruce’s morning classic.

Eight miles in I need to pee and adjust clothing layers, so pull over just before the route turns back onto the main road near Eureka. Josh pulls in as well. We have a very casual five minutes making adjustments and head on, laughing together as we can’t even see another rider now and are already most definitely last.

Happy at the back Josh and I press on riding our own race, immune to the adrenaline and testosterone fuelled fresh legs ahead. As the day progresses we soon catch back up to other riders and I’m able to chat a little to other racers as we share the trail for a few minutes. Leapfrogging every now and again as people take breaks at different times. Eventually Josh and I find Bruce and Matt getting water from a creek and continue riding together. We then meet Aaron Teasdale of ACA out on the route taking pictures of the riders for the 2007 rogues’ gallery.

On the main road into Whitefish I get my first puncture and watch the guys disappear. I’d hit something on the shoulder in the dark so know it’s a cut and replace the tube fast. I chase on and see the guys stopped at a store on the outskirts of town and we grab supplies and continue into town.

Outside a bar in town there are a line of 29ers parked up so we head in to join the other racers. We’re just in time to order some food. Some racers are having a beer, and Kevin is asleep. The music is playing, people are having a good time, and I feel the dark side calling me. I make the right choice and leave with Josh, Matt and Bruce back onto the route to find a camp spot. We’ve made camp a mile or so outside town before we realise we’re next to the railroad, and it’s going to be working all night loudly shifting freight wagons. I don’t get much sleep.

THE PROLOGUE

I would begin my journey from Banff, riding the 221 mile Canadian section of the Great Divide Route with Bruce Dinsmore. We planned to make a three day social ride of this section, arriving at the US border the day before the race start. We would stay in Eureka, the closest town to the start line at the Port of Rooseville, and meet our friend Matt Kemp here.

I felt better about doing the whole route as I didn’t want to regret not having ridden the complete thing if this was to be my only chance at it. Also, since I’d had no opportunity to make any rehersal trips, it would give me time to get into the rhythm of life on the road and iron out any kit issues before the race.

I met Bruce at London Heathrow Airport and we flew out to Calgary on the 10th June. I stayed with a friend the night in Calgary and Bruce headed for Banff. On 11th June I found Bruce at Banff youth hostel and we met Josh Ficke soon after. Josh was also racing and we'd been in touch on email arranging to meet up for the prologue ride. Josh had already cycled 80 miles from Calgary the day before - he was going from the men’s tee, as he put it. We spent the day making final preparations, and as I built my bike up on the sun deck of the hostel I shared some of Josh’s bottle of vodka he was working his way through. That’s right, straight vodka from the bottle the day before a 2,700 mile epic.

DAY I – 12th June – Banff to Tobermory Cabin (70.6miles)
Josh, Bruce and I met for breakfast in town at 9am, and after a good fry up, the three of us rode over to the Banff Springs Hotel to find the Great Divide Route trailhead. We asked a hotel gardener to take a photo of us, which recorded the time as 10:12, set the trip computers to 0.0, and started pedalling. The three of us were having a laugh a minute over the ridiculous scale of this thing we had begun. It still makes me laugh now.

Right from the start the route is real ‘take your breath away’ scenery and wildlife is everywhere. Bruce rides on the front blowing his whistle to keep the bears away. We have no idea if this works, but what the heck. When Bruce stops to put his rain jacket on I carry on past deciding the rain won’t last. Within two hundred yards I come face to face with a grizzly bear right next to the trail. Luckily it takes off running away from me after I startled it. Lesson learnt – whistle man on point, It does work. We didn’t see any other bears after that, but plenty of scat all over the trail.

Our day ends at the Tobermory Cabin and tops off the perfect days riding. We collect some wood and get the stove in the cabin fired up while we settle into our new home for the night. As it warms up in the cabin jet-lag catches up with me and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open as I eat. I crash out seconds later as soon as I get in my sleeping bag.

DAY II - 12th June – Tobermory Cabin to Fernie (94miles)
It was cold in the night and my front derailleur is frozen solid for the first hour. The weather then brings in the odd snow shower as the temperature is hovering around freezing. I’ve only just enough clothes for these conditions but am comfortable and expect it can get no worse. It’s similar to a British winter ride in the hills and I’m used to that. Josh however, from sunny California, is taken a bit by surprise and suffering silently without any overshoes.

Shortly before sun-set we arrive in Fernie and find a hostel to stay in. Everything feels a lot more natural today and I’m used to navigating off my route cards, and can translate the maps well. I’ve sorted out where all my kit is arranged, and calibrated my trip computer correctly, for this side of this map at least.


DAY III - 14th June – Fernie to Eureka (64.3miles)
Waterproofs on, waterproofs off, waterproofs on, waterproofs off, waterpr…. Funny day, kinda flat, wet, lots of pavement road, and some mind boggling detours off the pavement road that take you off for a few miles on dirt, only to bring you back out on the same pavement road a couple of miles down. Riding on the wet dirt road my drivetrain is making an expensive grinding noise, and I'm suffering chain suck already.

As we approach Rooseville we meet racer Ashley McKenzie riding north looking for prologue racer Matt Lee coming in. Ashley looks so clean and fresh! Matt and Ashley are friends from North Carolina. Josh is also a friend of Matt and I'm begining to see a theme. The sun is out and the five of us pick up the pace and enjoy a fast spin to the border. After I’m through passport control with Bruce we find Josh and Ashley next door in the First Chance Last Chance Bar. I can barely order a beer quick enough – it goes down so well and I want more. I find out Josh has already had more while I was being processed and I feel cheated. As we leave the bar it’s raining again and we crank it down the pavement road having a bit of time-trial fun into Eureka. I love to finish a day on a nice flat and fast road and open it up.

We arrive at the Ksanka Motel near Eureka and see a fleet of 29ers parked up outside the gas station/Subway next door. We rack ours up beside them and head in to meet the other GDR riders. We arrange to meet up for Pizzas later in the evening in Eureka and Bruce and I go to find Matt Kemp who is meeting us here.

INTRODUCTION

I’m not entirely sure how things morphed into attempting the 2007 edition of the Great Divide Race. It was never an intention. An idea to tour the route was flying around on email between two friends Alan Goldsmith and Bruce Dinsmore, at which point I and another friend Matt Kemp signed up for a tour. However, over time the touring concept somehow developed into talking about the race, kind of in support for Matt Lee out there on his own in 2006. Figuring the race was also a better way to negotiate the time off work, and the less time the better, I found myself emailing Pete B to put my name down.

My relationship with the bike and training has been a rocky one. I have a longer history with a wilder lifestyle and alcohol than bikes, and struggle with my motivation. I started cycling in 2000, after I and a long time university friend sat on a beach in Thailand with massive hangovers and made a New Year’s resolution to end the party lifestyle and get fit. Some years I still don’t ride, but others I get into it and train hard when I have a big challenge to motivate me. I don’t race bikes, but live for adventures like the Great Divide Race. In June 2005 while training I was knocked down by illness for a few months, lost all motivation to train and spent a year back partying. I finally picked the bike back up in October 2006 when the Great Divide touring project was getting off the ground. I got focussed and trained hard, even riding 270 miles each way in terrible weather for Christmas dinner with my parents.

Before the race I did not feel a need to read other riders reports or go over the maps. I like to make my own decisions about terrain and climate, rather than have other people’s perceptions of them floating around in my mind. I’ve travelled in North America and spent a lot of time outdoors in many climates far more extreme than America can provide during the summer months. I chose to set a minimum comfort limit of -5°C (25°F), thinking a few hundred extra grams of warmth and waterproofness would slow me down far less than losing a few hours from being too wet and cold to push on.

I made no schedule or plan, preferring to take things a day or two at a time when in the race, with just one rule that I would cover a minimum of 100 miles a day, no matter how bad I felt, or late in the day it got. I planned not to rely on surface water unless it was guaranteed and clean, nor make postal drops or post any kit home. I was also not allowed to philosophise about the futility and selfishness of such endeavours, and what other more worthwhile or fun things I could be doing instead. I’d done that before on long journeys, and found no answers, only more questions. Just pedal! I had intended to get music for the trip to help my mind drift, but just didn’t get around to it.

The final few weeks leading up to the race were frantic; there were just not enough hours in the day. Almost every part of my new 29er was coming from a different supplier, and parts were arriving day by day, along with a new tent, sleeping bag, and other bits and pieces of gear. I was only just able to build my bike and get my entire kit list together the weekend before I flew out. The only test run the bike got was a pretty flat 50 miler the Sunday before I left after a late night Saturday building it.

Typing up the route cards and building a map board for them filled my last week of evenings which I hadn’t counted on. That still left me with problems to solve of how to arrange all this kit in the rack-bag, backpack and frame-pack I had. Would it even fit? Never mind, I would have to worry about that when I finally loaded up to hit the road, as right now it all needed throwing into a holdall to fly out.

During that final week disaster struck and Alan Goldsmith had to pull out. An unlucky fall during a road race more unluckily snapped a thumb ligament leaving him unable to ride a bike and facing surgery. I ride bikes with Alan more than anyone else and was gutted he wouldn’t be there to share this adventure with me.