Incredibly, today
would possibly be the last day I dragged myself from slumber, painfully
dressed, had a Snickers breakfast, packed, and rolled out. But
it wasn't in the bag by any measure. Whilst
there was a lot of tarmac to cover late in the day, first we had to deal with
whatever the rugged Gila mountains had in store for us. There
was still 100 km of lumpy profile to deal with, the most challenging of which
was likely to be a 10 km segment of the CDT; the continental divide walking
trail.
The first kilometres
had us drifting through some heavy smoke in places, with burning stumps still
visible, the remnants of what we hoped was a control burn. Further
up the track kilometres of freshly pruned scrub confirmed this. Just
like during the difficult day between Abiquiu and Cuba, there was considerably
more lumpiness in reality than was evident in the profile. Lots
of steep pinches to burn the legs, and rutted descents to torture ankles,
hands, and basically rattle everything that hurt.
Finally we got to
the last major technicality that separated us from Silver City, the CDT, which
had us pushing bikes up steep scree almost immediately. My frail ankle, tendons
and groin weren't enjoying any of it! The
effort did, however, avail us of views across unusual terrain we'd not seen
before, with oddball succulents in poses and colours as though drawn by Dr
Seuss. Having
gained elevation some delicate singletrack wound across ridges and gullys,
sometimes forcing another walk up steeper pinches. We'd
stop and rest in the shade of trees here and there.
Finally, after an
exhausting first half of the day, at about 1:30
pm we rolled into Silver City. Miro
knew its layout well, having raced the Tour of the Gila on multiple occasions. I
envied both Craig and Miro as they elegantly lifted an extended leg over the
back of the bike whilst coasting to a halt before dismounting. I
stopped then did my signature move of painfully dragging my leg awkwardly across the top
tube frame bags. I
hobbled into the restaurant behind them and sat with Craig and Miro as an ensemble for the last time. Miro
even had a couple of visitors drop by to wish him well. As
we ate Craig was having his bike serviced at the bike shop 'round the corner.
We had approximately
200 km to crunch to get to the Mexican border, largely on tarmac, and largely
flat, and we had till 8 am
the next morning to get it done if we wanted to finish inside of 21 full days. Anita
and I exchanged a few texts. She
was in the country, was following progress and was ready to come pick me up,
cautioning me not to leave too late given the time other riders had taken to
reach the end. The
wind direction was hardly ideal, but not awful either, most likely a cross wind
for most of the journey. Whilst
it was pretty hot in the sun we didn't dither too long before kicking off and
were back on the road at 4 pm.
The section out of
Silver City is on tarmac, and a little way in we got flagged down by a car
carrying bikes in the opposite direction. Three
kiwis jumped out who'd recently finished, including Rob Davidson whom I'd
chatted with back in Banff, and who finished 5th outright (in 18 days, 10 hrs!) Also
present was a Belgie, Ben Steurbaut who'd smashed it in 16 days 13 hours, despite
breaking a fork descending Fleecer Ridge whilst in the lead. Having replaced it he then broke his frame, and still managed to finish (3rd outright!). Obviously built for this sort of race. We
exchanged congratulations but of course hadn't quite finished ourselves. Back
to the grind.
We
turned onto the last dirt sector with the angling sun and a brief taily
allowing us to appreciate the beauty of the New Mexican desert, punctuated by
more oddball Dr Seuss plants spotting the landscape. It
was still warm and we had the odd break in a ditch quenching thirsts. A mini bottle of warm coke lugged by Craig mostly fizzed all over the ground. Passing
through the vast property of Thorn Ranch we were escorted by the local
friendly black dog for a few kms. Just
out for a run, it seemed.
Darkness came and
with it the route angled more into the wind. At
Separ we turned and paralleled the highway on a side road till at last the dirt
was left behind for good, with nought but 100 km of empty sealed road to deal
with. Foggy
glows would periodically light
the black horizon, and in time turn out to be an oncoming car, a property light, or
even, eventually, the tiny outpost of Hachita, where a tiny store had remained
open for us. Belgie
Ben manned the till until Jeff Sharp, the manager, arrived. It
was still warm so I indulged in three ice blocks and a coke. We
stayed about 30 minutes, hobbling about the shop, chatting with Ben and Jeff
and generally procrastinating.
Finally we set off
on the final leg, getting passed only by Tour Divide related vehicles. First
Jeff passed us en route to picking up the two women, Ricki Cotter and Lee
Craigie, who were finishing just hours ahead of us. On
their return leg their car pulled over and once again congratulations and hugs
were passed round. It
was nice to put faces on names of riders (and initials) we'd only occasionally
been privy to on Trackleaders. Next
car to pass us heading south was Miro's pickup, and last car to pass us, just
10 km shy of the border was Anita. Timing! I'd
been waiting for this moment and endured so much for so long to have it
realised. It
was so good to see her here, on the opposite side of the globe, waiting for me. With
3 miles to go and the border lights glowing from the other side of the rise,
we'd agreed that Craig would ride as hard as he could to the finish. Craig
was clearly the strongest of our trio and deserved to finish ahead of us. Miro
and I just limped it in, side by side, as best we could.
Arriving at the
gates at just on 3 am
was quite emotional for all of us. I
burst into tears when embracing Anita, as seems to be my custom. Over
30 minutes we exchanged hugs, took photos and tried to celebrate with a beer or
Coke. I
was so stuffed I really didn't have the energy to drink anything, but just
enough to slowly break the bike down and help load it into the car. Whilst doing this it stuck me how little you actually need to travel 4400 km through mud,
rain, dust and snow, from one side of a country to the other. But
you do need a good dose of gumption, which I think all three of us, in
fact everyone who rolled the dice, had to conjure in order to realise this outcome, this conclusion, which I think I'm still coming to terms with a week
after finishing.
Using the logic of
the "adventure map" whereby no matter how hard it was, as long as you didn't
die then you had a good adventure; then yes, it was a bloody terrific
adventure on many levels. It
certainly wasn't easy, or clean, or even enjoyable for protracted segments,
but it was ours, and we shaped it in our own way and owned it, and that in
itself is probably enough. I
honestly don't know if I'll be back for another shot, or for just touring
sections of it. It's
still too raw and confused. My
toes and finger tips are still numb, both hands are almost useless, showing the classic symptoms of
compressed ulnar nerve damage (ulnar neuritis, or the appropriately named
handlebar palsy) which will likely take months to redress, and my achilles
and groin injuries still have me hobbling round like a very old man.
So be careful what
you wish for if you are entertaining thoughts of doing the Tour Divide. Chances
are you'll find yourself challenged in ways you can't imagine. But
that, in and of itself, and the inescapable task of addressing these uncertainties and pitfalls is part
of the allure, and heightens the sense of accomplishment you'll feel crawling out the
other end. Not
to mention experiencing the splendor of some pretty amazing scenery. It's
raw, it's out there, it's waiting!
(302
km, 2560 m, approx 15-16th overall in 20 days 19 hours)
PS: if anyone is interested in
a somewhat verbose (lengthwise) view of my Tour Divide experience in pictures
and some video set to music I thought appropriate, here are some links - each
version in 2 parts, which can be watched on Dropbox;
87 min version;
67 min version;
Thanks to Greg and Ray for crunching the numbers!
It's quite incredible Dave - what a supreme adventure in every sense of the word. I hope the nerve damage is on the mend.
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