Pictures

Ride the Divide Photos

This is the end, beautiful friend

Don't worry, I'm not about to top myself. However on the final stretches of pavement to the Mexican border and the end of my great divide odyssey the Doors song referenced above began to play in my head. And as my journey along the spine of North America has come to an end, I think this too will probably be the last entry for my blog, so a fitting enough tune and title.

What happened on the final stretch? Well I can tell you it wasn't a two day journey as planned but three. The final section from Silver City to the Antelope Wells border post is apparently all downhill, and nearly all paved. Yeah right! I set off with Maarten saying goodbye to my other divide riding friends and wishing them well, as I didn't want to spend another day hanging round silver city putting off the finish.  But the divide route had one last practical joke to play.

Firstly it's not all downhill to the border. It may be downhill overall, but we still climbed a total of 2500 feet on that first day out of silver city. And yes there is lots of pavement on the last 125 miles to the border, but still a substantial amount of dirt road with the favorite New Mexican side dish of deep, course altering, crash inducing, sand. All of this aside, we may still have made our first day target of 80 miles to Hachita but for the final joker in the divides pack. The strongest head and cross winds I have ever ridden in. At times I was covering a measly seven or eight miles an hour down hill! Along one section riding the ridge of the divide itself, through desolate dessert, I had to stop the bike a couple of times and unclip just so I wasn't blown off the edge. One close encounter with a cactus is enough!

I suppose though leaving silver city before eleven would have helped. However then I couldn't have gone to Sonics burger drive in and tried the taste revelation and the future which is cherry grape coke. Mmmmmmm! I have developed a terrible soda habit which is going to be hard to kick. But it was also fun parking our bikes in the car bays and using the intercom. The girl who brought my food was also super thrilled that I had an accent. But then forgot all about it as apparently Maarten looked like Leonardo di Caprio. Even without my beard I apparently still look like an English bum and not a film star, bah!

Anyway back to the wind, we made it fifty miles to the trading post at Separ, a giant gift shop in the middle of nowhere off the highway. They kindly let us sleep in their giant wooden teepee, which we actually pitched our tents inside. Ok it meant sleeping next to the interstate and a major railway line, but it was still kind of awesome.

The next day was a fairly relaxed thirty miles to Hachita, taking in our very last off road track, saying goodbye to wash board and deep sand. Hachita itself is a town which appears to be dying a slow lingering death. The store is shut, the cafe is shut, and most importantly the saloon is shut. The only thing that the place seems to have a lot of is passing border patrol cars and other various agencies of homeland security.

It is also home to a true legend of a trail angel. Sam Hughes has been letting divide riders and hikers camp in his garden for years. He is now eighty two but still has plenty of stories to tell and cheek and wit with which to tell them. We spent the afternoon in his garden knocking back a few beers while the 'mighty bear dawg' (Bear, his lion maned Chihuahua) kept us safe from any errant cats. Sam also very kindly offered his services to pick us up from the border the next day and drive us back the eighty miles to Lordsburg, and I was much happier paying him and helping him earn a little cash than trying to flag down a shuttle at the border.

And the final day and the final forty five miles came. Well they were relatively easy (despite me having one close encounter with a rattler), and I tried to think about the whole experience and what it had meant to me, as much to avoid just staring at the odometer when I had had my fill of the dessert scenery.

And truth be told I'm still not sure. I can tell you I think it's the best thing I have ever done in my life. I can say I feel pretty proud of myself, but I'm not sure really of how much of an achievement it is. What I have come to believe is that even though I set off solo, unless you have some real kind of wish to be alone and push yourself, possibly to gain some sense of achievement out of hardship, there is very little in this life that you have to do alone unless you really want to. I have met so many great people on this journey, and it might be a cliche, but they have really helped to make it. The conquering of all the climbs, the fantastic scenery etc. I will never forget, but the people helped bring it all to life. And on that note, I did it, I made it, and there are some people I would like to thank before I sign off.

Chris thanks for being an awesome riding buddy and dependable as a rock as I continued to adapt to the trail and find my riding fitness, you still have half a divide to ride! Hope to see you soon.

Rick thank you for sharing your vast knowledge of the outdoors and biking, oh and for the turkey jerky.

Maarten dude, it was awesome riding with you, thanks for the endless banter, noises that animals make in Dutch, and mental support. We made the border dude!

Ben, it was a blast man, I will never forget your support on the day of endless flat tyres, and please keep finding mating slugs F#!+@$& hot, and all the best with Central America. Wish I had just kept going!

Anders, thanks for the water when I needed some, the spare tyre for emergencies, and of course the comparative noises that Danish animals make.

Colin, thanks for letting me follow your headlamp in all those dark, dicey, and somewhat hilarious situations, and for generally getting me in those situations in the first place. You truly foster the spirit of adventure. I want to go on a river trip in the Yukon now! And cherry grape coke, yesssssss!

Kate and Lee, thanks for the fun Pie Town times, but also the awesome advice on how to continue my adventures, post divide. Good luck with the extra pedaling.

Thanks to everyone who let me camp somewhere for free. And thanks to all those kind strangers who gave me a cold beer just because. Generally thank you America and Canada for being so hospitable.

Connie, Sharon, Darren and Kevin, thanks for all the kind encouragement along the way.

Thanks Nita for running the toaster house. The place is simply amazing for just existing. And thanks Megan for helping us out with beer and mead. Also Kathy and the pie o neer people for just making such good pies.

Thanks to Sam Hughes and the Mighty Bear Dawg for the beer, camping, transportation, and stories.

Thanks to my family for all the support. Mum for faithfully keeping tabs on me, Dad for moral support, emails and inability to ever be on Skype at the same time. Bro for never being asleep or ever ever logged out of Skype (oh and Foxlet, you too for always being right there next to him and the extra support x). Sis for just generally being a pingu and remembering occasionally that I had left the country for a bit to do something or other and asking how it was going. Grandad for saying how proud you were, it gave me motivation up some steep passes. And the rest of the family homies, thanks for all the messages and encouragement.

All my friends who sent messages of support, so many of you I can't list, but I love you all Damn it and they were appreciated so much, I promise.

Thanks to the many along the way I can't remember who deserve it.

And thanks to my trusty old completely standard(ish) mountain bike. She rode in some elevated company with custom full suspension twenty niners, German titanium design marvels, venerated steel classics, but she never let me down...even if the thorns did.

And thanks to you readers and commenters. Friends and strangers. Having you all there with me along the way gave me such motivation. And when times were tough, in my head I just thought about the story I could tell on here to all of you once I had come through the other side. My sincerest thanks for being there.

Adios Amigos
Mat

Feeling a little deflated?

Eventually I left Pie Town. It still wasn't easy, but the next three days of riding were going to prove genuinely difficult for me for various reasons. However they will be memorable and some of the Gila Forest crossed between here in Silver City and Pie Town was beautiful.

Why was it difficult? Well the day out of pie town was in theory some fairly easy riding before hitting the Gila hills. However my good fortune at not having had a single flat on the divide was about to run out in a big way. In that one day alone I think I had about eight.  Trust me, that can be a little mentally draining. Thankfully I wasn't riding on my own and had Ben with me for moral support which probably kept me from going off the edge. What caused the initial punctures I'm not sure. But as it turns out if you have a slimed inner tube, it's good against small holes, but it won't seal larger slits. What's worse is that if you then patch your tube after half an hour or so it seems the slime destroys the glue on the patch.  I learned all this the hard way.

That was all bad enough, but I have a bone to pick with my now in the bin Kenda rear tyre as well. In the middle of all the flats it decided to herniate and develop a huge bubble on its surface, so big it would no longer turn through the wheel arch. As Ben has had two Kenda tyres do the same thing perhaps they need to check their quality control. 

Oh man, what a day though, I remember pushing my bike along the side of the dirt road, air leaving the rear tyre again, light failing, and just setting up camp right next to the road. Strangely I also remember cooking dinner in the dark and spilling some down my fleece and shorts. It seemed to sum the day up. That reminds me though I need to go to the laundromat once I have finished writing this.  Luckily though Bertie bear didn't find the smell of my shorts irresistible and devour my legs in the night.

Anyway the next morning I fixed the tyre again, it seemed to be holding, and myself and Ben set off. Shortly we came across a tarantula wandering across the road. He was a creepy furry critter and we got him to pose for a photo session. I'm not sure he was too pleased about the exploitation but I don't think he has a lawyer.

A couple of miles down the road we caught up with Collin and Anders. I explained about all the flats, set off, and of course promptly got another flat. I mean come on! Anyway I changed the tube using my last spare and of we went. The first half of the day we fairly flew along, which made a nice change. The second half of the day we got into the Gila mountains proper and began a lot of climbing and descending in a lung busting and grin inducing repetitive pattern. Of course by the time we made black canyon campsite it was getting dark and dinner was going to be by starlight as usual. In a moment of dark humor as we pulled up into the campsite my rear tyre went hiss and deflated with impeccable comic timing.

In the night we had a couple of wolf packs, one very close to the campsite, howling at each other. For some reason when you're in your tent you feel safe and its a really magic thing to listen too. Why a tent should make you feel safe I have no idea.

The next day looked like it may be tough but all being well we would be in silver city for dinner. However not getting out of camp till eleven, well that was asking to be riding in the dark maybe. The ride started with a two and a half mile climb which I was actually quite enjoying, the grade not being too steep. Then inevitably 0.1 of a mile from the top I got another rear flat. Oh how I laughed. Well the good news, that was the last one up until now, let's hope it stays that way. But it didn't help my mood and until we left the forest the hills just seemed to get steeper and steeper, the heat hotter, and my water lower. The day was taking it out of me.

We decided to take the alternate route over the continental divide hikers trail. It was six miles shorter. It's also in difficulty probably six times harder than any pavement as we found out. To gain the initial altitude for the ridge means pushing your fully loaded bike up a couple of virtual cliffs. I was taking one step forward and then using all my strength to push the bike forward the same amount before jamming on the brakes and repeating the procedure. Damn tiring.

And somewhere up the second stretch of pushing the dark humor continued. One minute I was pushing, the next I was falling off the side of a ridge. Luckily my fall was halted by a nice thorny cactus plant of some kind. It had some wonderfully delicious thorns which broke off the leaf once they had stuck in you. This left me bleeding a little, with some thorns I needed to pull out of my leg, and a cheery and positive outlook on life. But have a look at the photo below. It could have been worse if some of the thorns hadn't gone straight through the sun cream bottle in my shorts. That's what I call a high protection factor.

Eventually we managed to locate the trail along the ridge. It was narrow and in places terrifyingly close to a steep drop off to the left side. This combined with some technical climbing and its bouncy and rocky nature made it pretty exhilarating. And miraculously the wonderful views and adrenalin cured my mood.

Of course (as always seems to happen when I ride with Collin) the light began to fail as we reached the end of the single track. In a stupid moment when I didn't unclip my left foot when I stopped, I managed to slow motion fall with my left knee into a rock. So I left a little more blood on the trail, but no big deal. However the bruising and swelling means pedaling isn't that comfortable but I'm sure it will be fine.

At last we made it to a forest road and began some twilight descending, before fording some water crossings and climbing the final hill of the day in total darkness, with me once again chasing the spotlight from Collins headlamp across the forest floor.

We were so close to the highway, a couple of miles at most when Anders pointed out the map describing a 800m slick rock descent to the car park. Oh hell! That was some exciting ride. At least I was following Collins light. Poor Ben was using his lack lustre headlamp and as far as I could tell also using the force to navigate his way down. As he put it, referring to his bike, 'the old girl decided to take a few dirt naps'. By that point we were all in hysterics at the insanity, but we made it.

After a little night time cruising on the pavement, and Anders nearly running over a whole family of racoons, we reached the saloon at Pinos Altos. Time for dinner. And in my case also three glasses of Pepsi and perhaps six of water. I think I may have been a little dehydrated.  We were very lucky though in that a couple, Christine & Gritz, invited us to camp on their land, and not only that bought us all a beer. So in the end we rolled a very quick downhill seven miles to silver city the next morning.

So some hard day's, but good in a weird way. And when I set off on this adventure I imagined there would be times I would be sat in my tent at night blubbing like a baby. I can honestly say it has never been like that and the amazing positives have always outweighed the fatigue, strain or whatever else. Maybe you should try it?

And this is it. So nearly the end, apparently two days of easy riding from here to the Mexican border. I guess I have to figure out what then. But we had a few celebratory beers last night as this is our last chance. I also went to the barber's and had my beard shaved off. It had been coming on nicely since Canada but was starting to cause me terrible trouble with milk shakes! Anyway I told the barber when I had last shaved and what I had been doing and he did it for free. Bonus. I was a little shocked though to see how thin my face looked underneath. I guess that's what cycling three thousand miles will do. Anyway I by put on the obligatory amusing beard shot for posterity.  Now... On to Mexico!

Pie of life

It took a little bit of effort to leave Grants. Not because it was such a wonderful town that you simply couldn't. More because of the previous late night with its torch light riding and midnight feasting, combined with a need to sort out continuing mechanical issues as my rear tyre was flat once more when I got up. I managed to find the goat head which had done for my new tube and pull it out (New Mexico is the land of flats, the goat head thorns are notorious) and went for a breakfast of tacos, enchiladas, and burritos.

From Grants it's roughly six days riding to Silver City. The only place in between after two days riding, where I am now, is Pie Town. But there are no grocery stores. So I went to Wal-Mart bought some food and posted half of it to Pie Town post office. Wal-Mart also turned out to sell slimed inner tubes and protective tape which was a real bonus.

By the time all this was done though and an extra milkshake at Dennys had been consumed we didn't hit the road until 3pm. Our speed was not exactly great either. Add to this our gawping at cliffs above us (and one particularly impressive natural arch), and Ben having the now routine New Mexican flat tyre, it's no surprise we found ourselves riding into a lovely sunset. So once more we were riding in the dark and sliding round on the ridiculously sandy road in fits of blind laughter at each other's difficulties. Eventually we just threw up our tents on the side of the road.

The next day we didn't have far to go to Pie Town and yes they do sell pie, so we were looking to knock off the thirty miles in time for lunch. Well we made it for late lunch. Sandy roads slowed us down and it was Collins turn for the flat tyre. But once we made it here what a strange, cool and unique place. There isn't a lot here, a small town of around 45 people, but they do have two great pie shops. But what makes this place so amazing for divide riders and hikers is a place called the toaster house.

The toaster house is owned by the lovely Nita who raised her family in it. She always allowed divide types to camp in the garden, use the shower etc. Then in 2006 Nita moved down the road to another house and turned the house into a free hostel for divide riders and hikers. On the porch at the back is a fridge which always has beer and pizza in. There are rooms with beds, a bathroom with a hot shower. A music system which can even be pumped out on to the porch. Couches everywhere, a small basketball court, and the traveling paraphernalia of hundreds of visitors. In short this place is uber cool.

Even better is the timing of our arrival. With Maarten arriving just after myself, Collin and Ben, there were four of us. But three more divide riders, Anders, Kate and Lee also turned up. Fun times.

I have eaten a lot of pie in this town too. In the last two days I have had vanilla creme pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie, black berry pie, banana pie and a piece of a whole pumpkin pie we bought so all us Europeans could have our first ever slice.

Megan who works at the pie shop has been really cool too, not only fetching us extra beer, but coming round last night and letting us sample some of her home made meads. In short I think all of us will be sad to leave here, with the end of the route getting closer and closer.

We had an interesting new lodger last night, Johnny, who seems to have left Virginia two years ago and been cycling since while growing dreads and turning his bike into some kind of post apocalyptic beast. Anyway I will put up a picture of his bike so you can see what I mean.

Anyway I guess it's time to put the pie down and head for Silver City, from there it's just two days ride to the end of the route!

Update: still in Pie Town, just can't leave behind the awesome toaster house and the amazing pies. Been back to pie-o-neer and added maple pecan to the list along with rhubarb ginger and blueberry ginger press this morning!

And down into this baked land

From Abiquiu we three riders began to climb and climb. But the landscape was now very New Mexico and very arid. You can see in the photo below that the extra water tanker options on my pannier tops have been seeing action again.

Indeed from leaving Abiquiu you climb 4000 feet, almost the same vertical as the biggest climb on the trip that I wrote of recently, Indiana pass. But the biggest difference was swapping snow for salty eye stinging sweat. Also the climb was split over two days (although you could certainly do it in one).

After already gaining over a thousand feet from leaving town you begin to climb a path known as the Polverdera Mesa. This is a lava rock strewn ramp that winds ever up into the brassy blue skies of New Mexico, it's foot exposed to shifting dessert sands, it's crown shaded by towering exotic pines. In my last post I mentioned this is known as the hardest climb on the divide by some. I disagree. It's technical, always bumping from one lava rock to the next, surfing through patches of silvery volcanic sand, but not too muscle taxing. Indeed I found it fun. I say that with two caveats though. One, if you were racing it would cripple your speed. Two, if you came through in monsoon season (like most trails I have followed in NM) you would be in real sticky sandy trouble.

We had some real excitement on the way up too, with Maarten nearly meeting an untimely demise. With Maarten ahead of me I suddenly shouted out the alarm, 'snake'! He passed within maybe a foot of a fairly large rattler. Boy, that snake was not happy. It hissed and rattled it's menaces and curses at us. That rattling sound sure is threatening when you hear it in real life. With myself and Ben trapped on the other side we eventually managed to persuade the rattler to slither into the bushes. The whole event seemed unreal, and plays like a celluloid scene in my head when I think of it.

At about four that day we found a sweet camping spot up in the trees. A fire ring surrounded by large boulders. We called it weathertop or Amon Sul. The truly geeky among you will know why, but we had a fire and got away with it.

The next day we reached the top and rode fifty miles or more of rolling forest before descending into the somewhat decrepit town of Cuba. Not that we really cared, it was a hot shower. It was also the most amazing Mexican food, washed down with huge gold fish like bowls of margherita. Girls night reinstated.

But food aside there was not much to hang around in Cuba for so we rolled out of town and into the desert proper. Apparently this was to be one of the driest three day stretches on the divide to make it to the town of Grants. But the riding was different and exciting, the climbs more short lung busters out of the deep gouges in the earth known as arryos, where the danger of flash floods apparently lurk on their river beds of sand.

We made our campsite for the night and cooked various meals including refried beans and tortillas. We were also eaten alive by mosquitoes. When did those suns of a guns decide to make a return, and what do they eat out in the middle of nowhere when they can't get me? Just as we were getting ready to head to bed our friend from earlier on in the ride rode into camp, Collin.

I was kind of surprised because Collin is something of a racing whippet on the bike, and I thought he may have finished by now.  Anyway we built a fire, watched a blood red moon rise above the rock towers of the dessert, and caught up. It turned out Colin had been on a side trip to Santa Fe. Outside the supermarket there he had had his bike stolen. More remarkably though after putting out a description of the bike, he seemed to become a minor local celebrity. This led to a fellow biker spotting the scumbag with his bike, cornering him with his pick up truck, and recovering the bike. Amazing!

So yesterday four riders set out. Two Canadians, one Dutchman, and one Englishman. And what a day. First things first, from Cuba to Grants there is a boat load of deep sand. What's more with my bike so heavily loaded at the rear, it really is not a friend of said deep sand. It's fair to say I ate sand more than once. To be honest it became kind of hilarious. At one point I managed to keep my bike up right through a sand trap, the only problem being it had spun a complete 180 degrees and I was cycling back to Cuba.

Anyway after some slow going and with myself having my first puncture of the trip (but luckily sealed by the goop in my tyre) we made it out of the dessert. However we were still confronted by a 3000ft climb or something like that up into a national forest. Maarten who wasn't feeling great took a detour on the pavement into Grants. I think he is fine though and will check up on him later. But by the top of that climb I was pretty shattered though. Halfway up my tyre popped and resealed again, meaning lots more tiring pumping, only for it to properly pop half a mile later. 

Anyway there was nothing else for it but to take the tyre off (the inside now filled with orange goop) and change the tube. As I was doing this Colin pumped up the old tube to spot the hole. Well it had partially resealed and then as he pumped exploded spraying orange goo all over the road. With a few obvious jokes made as well I honestly don't think I have laughed so hard on this trip. That may have partly been due to fatigue and delirium though.

Eventually at dusk we made the water spring where we could supposedly fill up before camping. However there was no water to be found at San Mateo spring, just a grassy river bed. So in a moment of inspiration and madness we decided to push on the twenty miles downhill to Grants in the dark. As the sun left us, Ben and Collin were talking about the daft things they had done while riding on this trip. I pointed out that riding three abreast down the side of a mountain in the dark, all following the one decent headlight that Collin had, probably qualified!

But oh my what an awesome adventure. I can tell you washboard in the dark is ridiculous, leaving you blindly bouncing down the mountain like a kangaroo. And following Collin's headlight I felt like a crazy mountain biking kitten chasing a laser pen through the dark.

However riding beneath radiant stars in an ink black night was so beautiful. Like nothing I have ever done on a bike before. And when we hit pavement and started flying the last ten miles or so downhill into town at about 25mph, well god damn, in the dark that is an adrenalin rush.

Eventually after circling round town we pulled into a motel on route 66 at around 10pm. We dumped our gear and went straight out to the always open Dennys and ate & drank an obscene smorgasbord of food, milk shakes and ice cold sodas. I have put on a photo of the number of drinks that the three of us consumed before any of the food even turned up. I should also point out that when it comes to food Ben is a machine. I can eat a lot but that boy must have a tape worm the size of a boa constrictor. Honestly I have never seen an eater like him, phenomenal.

So around midnight we eventually wobbled to our beds. I just checked and we rode eighty miles yesterday. I wonder what today holds?