Tour Divide: Final

Took off from the Chili Line Depot and had to ride some pavement to get back on the official route. Wasn’t too bad though. 

Of course I’m stopping for tacos. Well, it’s the only place to stop. 

Hey! Cell phone says I can take this side road. Looking at the swole and mud thick river. 

Cell phone did not say this way was mud.  Not so nice when you’re trying to outrun the next monsoon. 

Climbed out of the mud but got real wet by the time I made it to a good camp site. 

This discontent government employee. 

It looks wet over there. Luckily this was just behind me. These monsoons were a pretty regular afternoon event and scared me away from the potentialy impassable peanutbutter passes of the dirt route. 

Amazingly, the Forest Service was thinking and installed these great shelters at most of the camps. Saved me from a soggy bottom more then once. 

Fantastic textures. 

Natural arch right off the side of the side of the route. 

Met a beautiful retired couple who give water to hikers/bikers and let them camp on their property. On the back of their hand written welcome signs reads “no trespassing” in orange print—so good. 

Mandatory pie and ice cream in Pie Town New Mexico. 

The Toaster House in Pie Town. Crash pad for bikers and hikers. Yes, those are toasters hanging everywhere. 

Found a jumping dirt clod. 

Choice riding grubbage. 

First stop since Pie Town. Met up with some friends from the Toaster House. They took the paved alt due to dudes sheared derailleur. Pretty sure he finished the tour with one speed. 

Ridiculous signs. Remember, Mexico isn’t sending their best. 

Some camp mornings are tough when you forget instant coffee is not a tea bag. 

Yikes! Not supposed to have two cables where one should be. Luckily it didn’t shear completely off before I made it to Silver City. 

I don’t know what this place is the last chance for but it was certainly a nice stop for ice tea. 

The last and the lowest divide crossing. 

Wow, and then I was in Silver City. My personal end point. Getting voilently sick for a couple days really set me back and I just didn’t have time to finish the route to the border. Conveniently, I had bought a plane ticket a few days before getting sick. Honestly I never wanted to ride the last 120 miles of flat pavement with 3″ tires. Even before we left I was talking to Ryan alternates to other places. But Silver was a fantastic end for me. Stayed two nights to rest, and pack my bike up, and meet up with people. Saw Dwight, the Canadian again and then the English couple from the Toaster House the following night. 

After Silver City I jumped a bus to Lordsburge NM. The bus that drove right past me none the less. Then another bus to Tucson AZ. Shipped my bike home and got a plane. 

Such an amazing trip. From the lowest lows—biking up hill on washboard swatting droves of biting bugs or simply vommitting all night—to the highest highs—coast or screaming in downhill for miles and miles imursed in beautiful scenery or soaking in a hot spring after a hot day. So grateful to have had the freedom and support to take such a trip. 

Ryan was waiting for me at home. We still buds of course. 

Signing off till the next adventure. 


Sick in New Mexico

Climbing out of Platoro. 

Yet another pass. This this number 20-something. Lost count. 

Crossing over to the last state! 

The “monument” as pointed out by the map. 

We stayed at elevation for a while riding around the rim of the Cruces Basin Wilderness. Wasn’t expecting to see all these big trees in New Mexico. 

And then we hit the mud. Peanut butter thickness, globbing to everything. The three inch tires kept me rolling but not without strife. We rolled up on two sets of other riders completely shut down by the mud. The first pair pushed their bikes back the pavement and the second couple was scrapping mud with sticks and fingers. Once we slogged through the thick of it the mud jettisoned for our tires as we got more speed. Dirt, gravel, sand everywhere. 

That night I woke up sick, the kind of ultraviolent illness that leaves your body with nothing left. Camp was 30 miles from anywhere. In the morning I slowly scrapped my gear together evermindful of the pile of vommit next to my sleeping bag. Dwight, the Canadian I had been traveling with, and I creeped down the road for an hour or so before my body needed a break. I made myself comfortable in the rocks and sand while Dwight rode for the Ranger Station. I layed there for hours in the dirt feeling like a piece of gum stuck to a shoe. Then it started to rain. Feeling like I couldn’t just lay there in the rain like beat dog, I got up and pedaled off the map towards what I was told by a passerby on a motorcycle would be a busier paved road. Luckily it was only another 5 miles before some precsious old men offered me a ride to the Ranger Station.  I found Dwight there and then we promptly crosses the street to the only B&B, I mean the only other place in Tres Piedras, where I rested for the next two nights. Whish I had taken more photos while all this was going on but I was just so sick. 

The Chili Line Depot: Named after the north to south railroad line that went through town 100 year ago. Oddly, the second couple we ran into scrapping mud from their bikes came here too because they had gotten sick on the same stretch of trail I did. Must have been something floating around. Dwight left on my second day of rest. Couldn’t blame him, it was dreadfully boring at the Chili Line. I couldn’t take the boredom either and left the following day even though I didn’t feel one hundred percent. Truly on my own for a bit. 

ColoRADo: Part Deuce 

The beautiful expanse of southern Colorado that awaits us. 

Picked up a sun hat because it was sunny. Turns out, it wasn’t a great wind hat and grew a mouth within days. Feared the ol mint floss stitch job be a waste of time on this guy. 

The new, more wind proof hat! And another pass, think we’ve done about twenty now. 

Gotta stop to smell the …

Old stuff everywhere! Ran into a cyclist who got a flat from a century old nail on this road. 

Yet another pass and my mug. Got real good at Photoshopping my selfie face into these—just to prove I was there, ya know. 

Just a cool rock in the road. 

Stopped at this gem for some fuel. Of course there was an elk head on the wall. 

That’s a head wind. At least it keeps you cool. 

One of the best passes. 

And the highest. Climbed 4,000 feet for this one. And my face again, in case you forgot what I look like. 

The beautiful Summitville Superfund Site. Don’t drink the water. 

Guess there’s supposed to be some information about some superfund site??? 

Made it to Platoro! Just the other side of the pass where the water is good to drink. Platoro is a portmanteau of the Spanish words for sliver and gold, if you were wondering. Bagged some Zs in this here airstream For our last night in Colorado. 


Northern Colorado greeting us with aspen. 

Nature perched. 

Stayed at a little cabin in N Co. 

Just liking all the little mechentiles we come across in little towns. Each one a little slice of heaven from the desolate road. 

Stopped in Steamboat for the night. Great little town. 

Climbed out of Steamboat and then decended the insane road to Radium. Magnificent views and thrilling turns. I would have taken more betta pics but I was having too much fun. 

Camped out at Radium hot springs for the night. Such a beautiful spot on the Colorado River. Springs aren’t hot hot, but a nice soak after a hard day. 

Climbing back up into the hills! If we’re not going up, we’re going down. Or battling a headwind of course. 

Looking back at the hills of Brekenwich CO. Seems like they put all these towns in a natural hole of some sort. Why they do that? 

Boreas Pass! Our highest yet. 11,500!!!!

In Salida right now. Another great little town. 

Wyoming’s Big Sink

From Pinedale we said goodbye to the trees and headed in the Great Basin. 

“Highest point”‘in the basin. When I was still excited about riding 130 miles through desolate wasteland. 

Last mountains we saw and would continue to see for some time. 

South Pass City. Historic little spot. 

The mine outside of town. 

The last gem before the long haul. 

Some food and liquid before crashing in the Miner’s Grubsteaks tepee. Lorel, the owner of the pub is priceless. 

So much nothing. 

Grateful for these creatures tart love out here, otherwise the washboard would get out of control. 

It’s so hot and dry it only halfway rains. 

Made it to one of three water sources on our route. Camp is so glamorous. -woke up to a pack a coyotes getting water at 1 am. 

The real high point in the Basin. Right before Rawlins—the only big city of the Basin. 

After a quick overnight in Rawlins for resuplly, we were on the road again. 

The last little bit of basin before the aspen—so thankful. A truly testing time. 

The Pinedale Nail

Rolling out of the Tetons we skirted the bottom of the mountains into Pinedale. 

A riding bud found a nail! 

Probably the most knarly flat I’ve seen. The nail punctured the tube three times, defying all science. Luckily some father, who was picking up his son with a flat tire, stopped and gave dude a lift the couple miles to the Pinedale bike shop. 

After getting sorted and a some food from Wind River Brewery, we headed toward the Great Basin. 

Potatoes to Tetons

Always running from weather. Almost made it out of the Red Rock wildlife refuge without getting wet. 

The pass. A man from Colorado stopped and gave us some frosty barly pops on the road side. Life was good. 

Then rolled into the rail trail from hell. Miles and miles of washboard. 

The last bit of potatoes in Idaho. 

Only three more states!  

Sunset at the campsite near the Tetons. 

The Tetons!!! Grabbing some grub then about to push a big climb!