Adios Amigos

It's been just over a week since we hang up the cleats and I think we've slowly come back to reality.

Lady luck followed us closely for the last days of the ride. She showed up with perfect timing on Indiana Pass, down in the small time of Horca and in Abiquiu. First she came in the form of Robin, who offered to carry all our kit with him in his truck to the next campsite. He didn't have to ask twice and within seconds the panniers were cut from our bikes. He also hid beers on the trail for us to enjoy before we climbed the last 1000 feet up to 11900 feet. The beers and the view provided the perfect motivation. Not only did he give us a couple beers but when we got to the campsite he had the kind of food we'd been dreaming about since our 50th packet of two-minute noodles. Once the words 'help yourself' came out of Robins mouth the packets of tortillas, hummus and salsa were torn into and then we sat drooling as Robin cooked salmon and sweet potatoes. 

Second, she came in the form of a leathered-up biker gang in Horca, who upon hearing our story offered us everything but their bikes. Water, chocolates and turkey sandwiches went down a treat and the lads were fueled to get up La Manga Pass.

And third she came as a lady called Mamacita in Abiquiu, who gave us refuge on her pizzeria's patio after we put back the 2 of the second best pizza's in the state. So we definitely had our fair share of help over the last few days, but the next day on the stretch of trail that followed in New Mexico soon made us feel as if the world was against us. After 8 hours and only 60 kms we had to call it a day and pitched camp in the middle of the wilderness. The following day we set our sights on Grants and as the Aspens and pine trees faded away behind us we knew we were finally out of the woods and into the desert. 

My time limit of 6 weeks on the bike was up as we rode down into Grants, New Mexico, and it was with a bit of sadness and relief that I was out of the saddle. Our second last day of riding was our longest at 210 kms. The pins had to work overtime for 15 hours. The ride took us out of a perilous stretch of trail in the New Mexico mountains and through the small town of Cuba. We parked off at midnight about 70 kms away from Grants in the middle of the desert. Riding into the night gave us an amazing perspective of the desert. Under a full moon the canyons and rocky outcrops were illuminated and it made the grinding a lot easier. The next day it was a straight 70kms on tar to Grants, and as we pulled in the reality of being finished was there. The life of camping, cycling and adventure had come to an end for me. Cam and Keith made the border run and made it there 4 days later after a total of 48 days on the bike. I was supporting them all the way, whilst having a Great Divide beer and watching the Ride the Divide documentary.

The adventure that we had definitely exceeded our expectations. We rode through desserts, forests, snow, hail and blazing sun, most of the time with a smile on our faces, sometimes not on very rare occasions. The people that we came across along the way that helped us by putting a roof over our heads, feeding us or just pointing us in the right direction made a huge contribution to our adventure. We want to thank everyone that gave us a helping hand along the way as well as all the other riders that we met on the trail. Meeting complete strangers with the same goal, creates a strange comraderie that is infectious and provides much needed motivation. I'm not sure if its the cycling thing or just the fact that everyone on the Great Divide is there to have an adventure, get out of their comfort zone or to just spend time in the wilderness. All of those are great reasons to saddle up and ride the divide.

Elevation

'Wooohoo wooohohoo woooohoooo elevation' - U2

The riding in Colorado started out quite easy, but now we have found ourselves climbing up to elevations of 11,000 feet and the weather has done a complete 180. The 30 degree days where we were covering up to avoid being burnt have been replaced by 0 degree days where we are covering up to avoid frostbite. Eish.

We started off heading down to Steamboat Springs and with the quick work of Mr Counihan landed a spot with a fellow couchsurfer in town. We needed to get the bikes serviced so we decided to take the day off the following day and check the small ski and bike town out. After 21 consecutive days in the saddle it felt a bit weird to not be putting on the spandex in the morning.

The next stops were Radium then Silverthorne. It's amazingly easy to get lost in your own thoughts and daydreams with the changing colours of the Aspens lining the road like fires. The weather was great and we kept slapping on the suncream all the way during the ride. We came across an Aspen grove on the way up and when riding passed someone called out to us. The Colorado boys, Caleb and Sam had spent the night there and we joined them for some lunch under the trees before we descended into Radium.

Getting out of Radium proved to be much harder than getting in with the climbing starting from as early as the 3rd km. The daily ritual of sardines and crackers was enjoyed beside a lake and afterwards we had to jump in to escape the midday sun. We had thought that if this was what the weather is going to be like we'll have no problem making the run to the border. In the position we are now we'd give anything to have that weather back. The last climb before heading down into Silverthorne was a serious one and had us really chugging, but again the reward was the view over more mountains and Aspen trees. We had to slog it out on tar to get to Silverthorne and after a McDonalds binge that could've fed a family we headed over to the campsite on Dillon Lake. We met up with the British couple Matt and Nadine and also met there friend Frank. We planned to ride together to Breckenridge the next day.

We realised that the Boks were playing the Aussies the next morning so we were up and ready to go to get to Breckenridge by 9am to try and find a TV. The bike path from Silverthorne to Breckenridge was a super ride and the sun was out. We pulled into a bar called Napper Tandy's and soon the barmen was flicking through the channels trying to find this elusive rugby thing we were so excited about. We were warned that even if we found the channel it still might not work. The channel was found and the OK button pressed. The pause and silence of anticipation from us just showed what was at stake. The picture came on and we were in business! We had already felt as if we'd won and the expressions from the other customers were ones of excitement. I think they thought we'd won the lottery or something. We savoured the 9 am beers and went pretty balistic whenever our boys in green and gold scored. It is safe to say we really enjoyed watching the game. Having to leave the bar to tackle one of our biggest climbs of the ride was tough. Boreas Pass took us to 11,500 feet and as soon as we reached the top the clouds converged on us. It was a quick descent to Como, which resembled something out of a zombie movie, where we pitched tents in the rain and called it a night.

Next stop was Salida and we took quite a beating getting there. The track lead us straight into an enormous thunderstorm that had us drenched and frozen within minutes and with no where to go we just kept going until the clouds moved on. We knew then that if there was any chance of rain we had to find some kind of shelter. Any kind. Mr Counihan's quick fingers and charm were at it again and within seconds had cemented a couchsurfing spot in Salida. I don't know how the man does it. Salida came into view after a 19 km section of epic downhill. All the grinding of the day soon disappeared. Our couchsurfing host was a guy by the name of Brice, a resident artist in Salida. He was incredibly generous and pretty much let us have free reign of his place. We didn't plan on spending a day in Salida, but the clouds closed in around us and locked us in for the day.

We were on the road early the next day and up Marshall Pass. Tragedy struck and we were hit with the first puncture of the 2800 kms ridden and of course it had to be me. But as always the boys rallied together and made short work of the repairs. Snow covered the top of Marshall Pass and the fingers and toes were numb in seconds. The downhill into Sargents made us feel like we were launching an assault on the South Pole. We made it to Sargents and huddled into a cabin and cranked the heating up. The weather wasn't much better the next morning and as we pulled over for lunch the first thunderstorm of the day came in fast. I've never seen three tins of sards disappear that quickly. Our salvation came in the form of a campsite toilet. We waited out the storm and got on the bikes under sunny skies. This didn't last as long as we'd hoped. The second thunderstorm of the day rolled over us and then the hail started coming down, then it turned to snow. We had 7 kms of riding until the next campsite and again sort refuge in the campsite bog.

With the snow falling outside we went to an all time low and huddled in the campsite bog and spent the night here. I was stuck between the urinal and the toilet and really hoped Cam and Keith wouldn't feel the urge to go in the middle of the night. The rule stood that the urinal and toilet were out of bounds, but apparently with negative temperatures outside these rules were meant to be broken.

We hit the road the next morning under clear skies, but our usual brown track had been turned white. We carved up the slopes quickly and shreded enough pow that even Jean-Claude Kille himself would be proud. The temp kept to a frosty -5 even with the sun out.

We're up against the highest pass of the whole trip today, Indiana Pass at 11,900 feet. That will make us at least a 600 feet higher than the highest point in SA. Spare us a warm thought us we battle this beast.

Blowin' in the Wind

' How many times must a man look up, before he can see the sky?'  - Bob Dylan

Colorado, Rocky mountain high!

Wyoming has been a bit of a blur. Since crossing into Wyoming it's taken us 8 days to cross into our 4th US state, Colorado.

A couple of huge cycling days made the full state traverse easier, but the going has gotten tough over the last few days. The first big day came when we rode from Lava Mountain Lodge to Pinedale. A whopper at 154 kms, which included the climb up and over Union Pass. Just before we got to the pass we chatted to a local farmer. He told us that just down the road someone was mauled and killed by a grizzly bear. Cycling up hill at 7 kms an hour with this in the back of your head isn't ideal, especially when every rock, shrub and bush looks like a bear. After the summiting the pass we descended slowly along a plateau and stopped for the most rewarding peanut butter sarmies ever.

The first of many golden-yellow Aspen trees lined the route and we eventually came to the tar road that would lead us to Pinedale, another 80 kms away. The peleton held together for the haul to Pinedale and to the first restaurant. The sign outside that read 'PIZZA BUFFET' was like a sign from heaven. I think we finished 3 litres of Pepsi before the first piece of pizza hit the table and the effects of dehaydration subsided.

After leaving Pinedale the landscape changed again and we found ourselves in a Karoo-like desert. A definite sign we were heading into the Great Basin of Wyoming renowed for its flat riding and winds. We got just that.

Records were smashed on our second big day of cycling. We managed to leave Little Sandy Creek relatively early, but by lunch we had only completed 50 kms, taking us through South Pass City and Atlantic City. The people who named these tiny towns were probably hoping for bigger things. The climb out of Atlantic City was our last for some time. Then it all came together. A potent tailwind and flat hard gravel helped us put another 100 kms behind us by sunset. An indada was held over a couple of naartjies and by the time the sun had slipped behind the plains the decision was made to push on as long as the conditions played in our favour. The 'cooking in the cave' headlamps lead the way as we dodged rabbits and potholes for the next 40 kms. We staggered into the campsite at 10:30 pm after 190 kms and over 12 hours in the saddle. Not much was said before it was tents up and lights out.

Rawlins was the next stop. An 87 km stretch of highway provided us with the most mind-numbingly boring ride of the whole route, but we got there safe and sound.

The last two days have been the toughest yet. Leaving Rawlins we hit a gale force headwind that didn't let up for the whole 87 kms of riding. I really hope that that was the last time I ever have to pedal downhill. We hit the forest and got out of the wind under Aspen trees. The golden canopy held the elements back that night and we hoped for better conditions the next morning. We packed up our tents and kit under what we thought were unassuming clouds. I've never seen a storm roll in so quickly. Lightning, thunder and rain all came down at once and one of us was caught short going about the normal morning routine out in the bushes.

We were on the bikes as fast as possible. After a series of muddy uphills we were covered and the rain was not letting up. We thought by reaching the tar road we were in for a better time. The fast downhills froze us. It was the coldest we've been all trip and easily the coldest I've ever been. We stopped every now and then and laughed about how cold we were. I think hysteria had set in. Sanity prevailed and we got to Ladder Ranch fighting of hyperthermia. The owner Eamon let us in and got the coffee going. That was us done for the day. Keith's, now famous, soup de jour (4 cubes of beef stock) was later on the boil in our own cabin and we were very glad to have the comforts of warm beds and a hot shower again. Some of us got more comfortable than others.

You Can't Touch This

'Hammer Time'  - MC Hammer

Hammers have been dropped left, right and centre and since the last post we have somehow covered 620 kms. We've made it out of the mountains of Montana, the rolling plains of Idaho and are now sitting by a fire in the Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming. According to our GPS we have about 2650 kms to go to make it to the border of Mexico and the boys have planned a few big days of cycling.

Here's a short recap.

We left Butte with a goal of getting over 100 kms done and getting as close to Elkhorn Springs as possible, but as usual we had a climb to start our day off. It wasn't as bad as what we've previously come up against, but we were tearing off layers quickly. We met up with Christy and Pete at our 6th Divide crossing and got them in a few pics. As an Aussie and Kiwi couple, who are attempting the Divide for the second time, there has been no shortage of banter between us and I'm very sure that if they catch up to us the first bit of convo will be about the Boks loss to the All Blacks.

Our back wheels had lives of there own as we rode on tracks that felt as if they were made of marbles. There have been no casualties yet but there have been a few close calls. Cam split up from Keith and I and headed towards Fleecer Ridge. Keith and I felt great about our decision not to go over the ridge as we were soon doing 30 kms and hour with the help of a strong tail wind. We made up some serious time and even had enough to stop in at Dewey's finest for a couple of coolies. We met up with Cam in Wise River and eventually pulled into Petergill campsite after 99.7 kms. Mission accomplished.

Elkhorn Springs was only 40 kms away so we planned to get there and take a half day off. Probably our best idea to date.However, getting there would be a bit tougher than expected. On the first climb the snow started pelting down and soon we had every part of our bodies covered up. It was a long and cold 40 kms. Elkhorn Springs came into sight and the smiles on our faces began to broaden. With a huge log cabin and hot springs pretty much to ourselves we felt like we could never leave.

Hot springs and ice creams were the order of the day and our legs could finally get some respite. The boys from Colorado, Caleb and Sam, caught up to us that evening and pulled into the cabin. We shared a couple of beers and bowls of chilli.

Waking up to an inch of snow in the morning didn't do much for morale, but we were soon saddled and layered up. The cold went right through us and within 2 kms we were putting on more layers. We lost Keith for a bit on the downhill and expected to find a frozen icecube flying passed us, but instead the beers the night before had fueled the fire he we went into 5 gear up the hills. Silence soon fell upon the team as we pushed into a freezing headwind. The only way to keep warm was to keep cycling. After 135 kms we set up camp next to Sheep Creek, just next to Antarctica. We thought we were in the clear. I woke up at 3 am and couldn't feel my toes. I looked up and thought I could see the stars inside the tent. I rolled over and had a look at Keith to check if he hadn't gone black from frostbite. He almost had. There was ice lining his beard, sleeping bag and the entire inside of the tent. We survived to 7:30 am when our neighbour walked over to our tents and asked if we were ok. He got a couple murmurs as a response. He then said he came over to check on us as it had gotten to 15 degrees fahrenheit that morning. You do the conversion.

The biking that day took us into Dell, population 35, and to the Calf-A restuarant that served up the biggest burgers of our lives. The meat sweats were going to follow us all the way to the end of the days cycling. We passed through Lima and hit another strong headwind and it kept with us for the next 70 kms as we rolled over the plains of lower Montana. The side of the road was our campsite that night and again it went to below 0. Even beefnoodlebeans couldn't keep the tent warm that night.

Big springs was the next destination and finally the wind died and the sun was blasting. We crossed over into the Potato State, Idaho, after an easy climb. We were very glad to see the back of Montana. Another 90 kms was under our belts when we got to Big Springs and the PBRs were out in a heartbeat. The solar shower was enjoyed by all and our bush cubicle was a win.

We were up against a tough 40 kms of ex-railway line the next day. It was covered in soft gravel and I thought I wouldn't make it 2 kms without going a over t. We made it without any hassle and the road soon cleared. The Warm River was running alongside us and lunch was on the cards. Half a peanut butter jar and a whole loaf of bread were whacked and Keith was at it again with his circus tricks. The scenery was incredible as we descended down into Warm River campsite. We were told that the river was thick with trout and as the sun went behind the mountains Keith and I were out of sight up the river.  The first on the line was a littlin but the second broke all kinds records on the tour. My $30 rod and reel could barely take the pressure, but I got him to the bank eventually. The trout slayer was back and the boys were having trout for pudding!

Today took us into Wyoming, passed Yellowstone and into the Grand Teton National Park. Since knowing about this area of the US I've wanted to see it and riding through the forest that lined rivers and grassy plains was very special. It felt as though a grizzly could pop out at any second, which probably added to the excitement,  but unfortunately the bears weren't up to tango with us today. Colten Bay was our stop and again the PBRs were out and the boys were loving it.