Alex Field: Great Divide Race 2007

Conclusion

2007-11-06T22:32:00.000+11:00

Thanks: Mum and Dad for frequent flyer points for tickets and support, Joe Polk and Tom Purvis for the transcripts (which my family and friends found fascinating), guys that I rode with (even for a short period of time): Nathan Bay, Hodge, Steve Wilkinson; Mike Curiak thanks for listing my time next to the fastest womens time on cyclingnews.

I am not going to write a list of stuff I took/stuff I didn’t use/stuff I needed as I enjoyed trying to work it out for myself from: experience and practice, reading others reports and looking at the pictures of racers bikes. You do take risks and you will have to live by them- for example I didn’t take a spare tube but had plenty of patches. I got 6 flats on the rear until I replaced the Nanoraptor, but I could easily have blown a tube beyond repair, stranding me. There is ten times the info I had access to for people racing next year due to the addition of even more blogs and photos. I think I had a better setup than some of the other guys, and I have ideas that would save most racers a whole lot of time, so I will answer specific questions about gear if you email or PM me on mtbr.com. If there are Australians considering this race, contact me and I can give you maps and show you some good training rides.

I am not sure if I would ever do this again- it was only the first or second day when I said to myself that there would be no chance of me ever doing this again, the boredom is unbearable. But, it was only two days after the finish when I got an email from Steve Wilkinson that I considered doing it a second time. If I were to race again, I would definitely be racing- I speculated when I was riding what my time would be if I rode the whole thing on my limit: with no need to navigate (I could probably make most of the turns from memory, eliminating the hour per day that I spent making sure I was going the right way), and the motivation that comes from being well prepared I was thinking that another 30 miles per day would be quite achievable. But, speed is speed, the time I finished in will stand as my best as I probably wont do it again. But, then there is the attraction of riding the thing a lot slower, spending time to see the sights in daylight and meeting more of the characters that I came across. I remember riding through the first parts of Wyoming, thinking that it would be awesome to do the thing on dirt bikes with a friend- you would travel faster so could see the same sights with less boredom. As a sort of a mental exercise, I thought if the route is possible on a recumbent, or even a recumbent trike- there would be considerable advantages and yet limitations.

Reading this report, I am not sure non racers would get an idea about the actual day in the life. For every interesting scene or time that is worth listing there in normally tens of miles of pretty boring riding inbetween. I had thought about doing a complete day in the life with everything that I remember seeing and thinking, but I think most people would get bored after an hour. I mentioned how I thought that it would be a great ruide to do on dirt bikes- the same scenery and people with less boredom. But in reality a day comprises of ride for an hour, stop to get food in, ride another hour, stop for food and to oil chain- repeat 7 times.

Day 21- Plains of San Agustin to Antelope Wells 228 miles

2007-11-06T22:31:00.002+11:00

Gila National Forest

Waking up, I was really unmotivated and ended up going back to sleep, waking for the second time as the sun came up. I set off pretty quickly, pissed at myself for missing an hour or two, but realized I was missing the motivation. It didn’t take me long to get into a good rhythm and I was feeling good that there was only 200 miles and 3 or 4 shorter climbs to go.

One of the easier Divide crossings

It was before 12 when I rolled in Beaverhead Work Centre, called in, grabbed a Sprite and talked to my parents- I was feeling pretty good. It got better throughout the day, those 3 or 4 climbs were fantastic- climbing through rocky, forested mountains then steep rocky descents (some of my most favourite terrain of the whole trail).

It was beginning to get dark as I came flying the down the paved stretch into Mimbres. Again nothing was open and I had run out of food and water again. I knocked on a door and got some water from a nice guy- even though it was now dark, I needed to drink something in the 20 miles to Silver City.

I was not sure of the correct road out of Mimbres- I followed a guys, and the maps, directions- but there was a split in the road that wasn’t listed. This caused a great deal of worry as I climbed, but I wasn’t willing to ride back down to check and then back up again. Thankfully, I joined onto the right road and motored along the paved to Silver City.

I was starving and it was late. I stopped at the first servo, but they took some trouble to explain to me that they were closed. I continued on and saw a sign for McDonalds and thinking that would be the only place still open, I increased speed. I came across a Wendys? and decicded to stop. The interior was closed but the drive through still open. I got in line and had trouble explaning to the guy in the car behind me that he had to move forward to set off the intercom. I ordered a couple of meals and what I thought was a chocolate thickshake, but turned out to be this fantastic whipped ice-cream-in-a-cup stuff.

I pulled into a Walmart parking lot, a massive warehouse building for a town of 10,000. Inside, there was a amazing amount of everything and I walked out with more than enough Powerbars, Gatorade and food to last me the 125 miles to the border (I bought a gallon of Gatorade- not in several bottles, but 3.8 litres in a single one!).

It was after midnight as I made my way over the rollers out of Silver City. The road wasn’t busy at all and I stopped under a tree a few miles before the turnoff onto the dirt trail. I ate some stuff and dozed off, feeling a little unmotivated even though there was only 100 miles to go. Some simple calculations given my late start on the previous two mornings, and information from checking-in and from my parents led me to believe that Steve Wilkinson and the other two Englishmen could be only a short distance behind me (or even in front). I think I only slept for less than an hour, but it wasn’t complete sleep due to me wanting to keep on going and that it was cold as I was just lying on the ground in my cycling clothes.

After some time on the dirt trail to Separ, the sun began to rise and not surprisingly I felt better (it being downhill helped). Through Separ and the road beside the highway was terrible, and at the end of it before the turn onto paved (and second last road of the whole trail) a Police cruiser pulled up and asked what I was doing. I presume they were either after illegals or smugglers, or just bored.

That was a Divide crossing?!

The road to the border was almost flat but, considering the day, the 100 feet changes in elevation over long distances were tough. Those 65 paved miles seemed to last forever. I hardly ever stopped, it was heating up by the time I got to Hachita, and luckily got a Sprite from the post office lady when picked up a bag that I had sent from Eureka MT. I wasn’t really excited to be almost finished jut glad, not stopping to eat for the last 60 miles or so. As I got closer and closer to the border I spent more and more time out of the saddle- pushing for 5 strokes and then coasting, checking over my shoulder every 5 minutes to see if someone had caught up. I pulled part of my gastrocnemius after Hachita and ignored the pain over the last 65 miles. After an endless time on the paved road I saw the Windmill 6 miles before the border and I tried to ride out of the saddle for the rest of the time.

The border post was a lot smaller than I expected. I said “Hi” to an officer lounging on a chair and we talked- surprisingly he seemed to know a lot about the race, having been stationed at the post for the previous few years and meeting MLee especially. Tim, my new friend, offered me the use of the posts phone and I called in. I had tried to stop and talk to some of the shuttle buses I had seen on the road when I realized that they may be my only way out from the border, but the only Spanish I knew was “Yo quiero taco bell” so there wasn’t much communication. Talking to Tim, it seemed that the shuttles ran only in the morning and at midday- I had just missed the last one and it seemed that I was stuck at the border with no facilities for the night. Tim offered to drive me the 65 miles to the I-10, but that’s quite a drive, so then he offered me the use of his second house and I could get on the shuttle the next morning. I waited a few hours until the three guards closed the border at 4 then helped Tim carry some meat from his place, over the border to the Mexican guards post. Tim, two Mexican guards that spoke only a little English and I talked and drank shitty Bud Light whilst a Mexican mama cooked up the meat and some corn. After trying some of the hottest chilli sauce that I have ever come across (and spending 20 mins trying to cool my mouth down with meat fat), we drank even more and played dominoes until the wee hours.

I had a shower and an awesome sleep, free from the need to get up and go riding again, and hobbled over to the post just before the morning shuttle left. I thanked Tim and got the bike on and greeted the others on the shuttle, but I am not sure they understood me- they seemed to all be Mexicans visiting friends/family in Arizona. We passed someone (Retro-it was SWilko but I didn’t realize it at the time) and I ate a ton of food every time we stopped on the way to Arizona.

Day 20- El Malpais Ranger Station to Plains of St. Agustin 110 miles

2007-11-06T22:31:00.001+11:00

Just out of the Narrows

I was a little slow to rise, just from the accumulation of tiredness I think. I had previously thought that once I was in New Mexico or that once I only had 500 miles to go, it would all be downhill- I could increase the pace and it would be easy. But, the false finish of the New Mexican border just depressed me, and I think this affected me this morning (I still had 360 miles to go). I lacked a little motivation and was a little bored. The Narrows and rest of Cebolla Wilderness was impressive but I was in a bad mood and it took me a little longer to warm up than normal.

Natural Arch, Cebolla Wilderness

I wasn’t much more happier turning off the paved road and onto a pretty sandy washboarded road. I battled with the road conditions as the gradient was easy for the next hundred or so miles. I exchanged waves with some motorbike tourists and rode away jealous.

The temperature was not a problem and as I rolled into Pie Town, dark clouds appeared. I didn’t anticipate anything being open, but was hoping I could find some food (preferably hot) as I wanted to be sure I had enough food into Silver City. Everything appeared closed, I pulled my bike up onto the verandah of the PIE-O-NEER café as it began to rain and after walking around the back to see if anyone was home, I pulled my food out to have a picnic on the outside tables. I was just about to open a can when I saw movement inside. I knocked on the door again and was greeted by Kathy. She explained that the café was closed but offered me sandwiches, the left over pie (that was still good) , and a couple cans of Sprite. I again struggled to think of something to write in her visitors book (worthwhile reads) as I ate, and again spent much too long chatting. It had stopped raining when I left but was still overcast, disguising the real time, but I ended up making good time. I did stop at the Toaster House, but no one was home. I found the box and did write something and left something that I cant remember what was.

Though navigation through this section was harder than in previous days, it was great riding terrain. The ascent and descent of Contenintal Divide crossing 23 was great and it was dark as I started into the Plains of San Agustin. It wasn’t long before I got a headache, riding washboard with enough light to see the way but with dark peripheries (that means you cant tell what gradient you are riding so there is this confusion between your balance, your brain and your eyes). And like most of the dark periods I have ridden previously, I would stop quite often, to check the odometer and the map, with disbelief at my progress and willingness to stop and sleep. But, I would continue on, planning to stop at the “Nice campsites” after the enterance to Gila National Forest, but eventually stopping a couple of miles short. I walked off the road a few hundred metres to try and be a little out of sight, had the rest of the salami for dinner and slept. I was a little disappointed that I missed the “Very Large Array” of radio telescopes whilst riding through the dark.

Sunrise on the the Plains

Day 19- Cuba to El Malpais Ranger Station via Pueblo Pintado 134.7 miles

2007-11-06T22:30:00.002+11:00

The scenery just out of Cuba

I slept in after the exertion of yesterday afternoon, and thinking that I would fly through what looked to be flat today. After the mountainous northern New Mexico had been passed, I knew that there were only 5-6 small climbs left before the finish. Reaching this morning was an important psychological boost, I saw the flats of today and the last 120 miles to be easy- this is probably why this day was so tiring. For, whilst the 230 miles from Cuba look flat in comparison to the several hundred previous miles, its actually quite rolly.

The first miles were good, cool and dry and enjoyable. I only had to ride 27 miles to reach the first grocery store, a surprisingly big store that probably serviced all the Indian reservations in the area. All the people I saw that in that area were Indians, the cop asked where I was headed and seemed a little surprised at my answer.

This section is pretty desolate and barren, scrub with most of the buildings being churches. I was feeling a little sick in the stomach under the hot miles into Pueblo Pintado, drinking from bottles that I had filled up in Cuba, and all the rollers didn’t help. Sitting in the shade, I got some food in, and replaced all my water with bottled stuff.

It was now well into the hottest part of the day and the 65 miles into Grants were boring (even though there was some impressive rock formations and scenery). What looked like a Joint Strike Fighter (it wasn’t a F-18 or F-14) made a pass along the road only 50 metres above me- my hearing came back a few hours later. I was feeling better after I crested the last hill and began the long 25 miles shallow descent in Grants.

After riding around and asking people for the location of a supermarket, I managed to find a massive one on the northern side of town. It was 70 miles to possible food in Pie Town (though I wasn’t betting on it, considering other riders stories about nothing being open), and another 155/175 miles on to Mimbres/Silver City, so I had to really stock up. Clif bars, peanut butter, and salami were on the menu. I dont know if I was getting looks from locals because of what was in my trolley or because I must have looked pretty filthy. Again the cashiers didn’t seem to know anything of the town they were living in, I had to ask four before I learnt of a restaurant nearby.

I sat at the bar in a busy restaurant, drinking a few beers waiting a long time for my order to be filled, and then left as the sun went behind the mountains.

By the time I had crossed the I-40 and started down a deserted road in the El Malpais Conservation Area, it was pitch black. I stopped several times and just stood there, wanting to get off and sleep, but continuing on after a little mental break (and there was no where to stop anyway). The nine miles from the I-40 to the ranger station seemed to take forever, but after having to slide my bike under the fence, I had a secluded camp and I had some salami and went to sleep.

Day 18- 8,278’ to Cuba 106 miles

2007-11-06T22:30:00.001+11:00

It is interesting how the terrain influences your mood. I flew down the 30 miles to El Rito, the high speed lifting me. I stopped to call in and learn of JP and ML finishing (I was in third and still had 590 miles to go) and then continued down to Abiquiu. Though it was early, it was quite hot, and stopping for breakfast again took time out of my cool riding period. I stopped at the grocery store, and then again at the next one to get some more water and to confirm the location of the 189 road. I expected to find no water over the next 80 miles so I filled up with 9 litres. As for the directions, no one seemed to know even though the turnoff was a few hundred metres down the road (I have noticed a pattern- Americans travel all over the country to work, and often know less about the area than you do. I think this is why they have the home town/state on their name badges- so you don’t ask them for directions).

It was beginning to heat up as I climbed the more than 4,000 feet to an unnamed ridge, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I remember hearing 90-100 degrees mentioned in Abiquiu, I equated that to less than blood temperature, so I was going to be sweet. I much prefer hot weather and so long as I had enough water I would be fine. It cooled as I climbed, the slight breeze was delightful, and the 27 miles of climbing was quite enjoyable. The last few miles were quite rocky, but it just seemed to make the next section of rolling ridgeline hardpack even more enjoyable.

I spent the next 25 miles cruising along, making good time but constantly worrying about my arrival time in Cuba. As I lost time throughout the day, the importance of the speed on last 10 miles of sealed, steep downhill became more and more important. I was using this speed as a buffer in order to get to Cuba before I figured the restaurants would close (9pm). The last sections of trail were great, but the rollers began to shit me, and I spent a bit of time out of the saddle, trying to keep the speed up. I realised I would pay for my extra effort later but I became a little obsessed with my finishing time. I almost ran over a few turkeys as I came around a sharp corner, they took off in my direction and covered me with shit.

I descended at times very quickly (45-50 mph) as the sun was going down. After riding past Cuba it seems, I finally made it into town just after 8.30. Stopping at the first restaurant I saw, I went in and was told by the owner that they were closing for the night due to lack of business. I didn’t stay to ask her how she expected business is she was closed, but she told me of another restaurant a few miles down the road that may have been open (apparently the best Mexican along the whole trail). I didn’t want to ride further for “may” so I stopped at a bottle-o and picked up some Gatorade and a 64 ounce bottle of Budwiser as she wouldn’t let me take singles. The McDonalds/servo was open till 11 so it became my dinner. I went to the Subway to get a footlong on the way to find a motel, but they were closed, so I went back for more expensive McDonalds and some bread. I stayed in a run down motel, the door looked like it had been kicked in several times before, and I had a restless sleep even though I had drunk two litres of beer.

Day 17- Conejos Campground to 8,278’: 103 miles

2007-11-06T22:29:00.002+11:00

I set off just as it was getting light, planning to get to the store/café for breakfast in Horca. But, it was Sunday, so of course it didn’t open till later. I sat a liitle despondent trying to work out what to do- I was running out of food (again) but the only way to finish this thing was to get to Mexico.

I was a little sick of riding, and the climb up to La Manga Pass didn’t help. 5 miles long and paved, but a liitle steeper than I expected, added to the fact that my mind and body had not warmed up meant that it took me and hour and a half to climb the thing. I was feeling better after stretching out in the sun at the top, knowing that I could get some food at a restaurant a few miles away. As I descended, I noticed how southern Colorado is a lot greener than more northern areas I had passed through. I pulled into the restaurant/bar, but Hey! Sunday, so it didn’t open until late afternoon. I ate from my dwindling supply of foodstock and managed to get some water from the nearby snowmobile rental place and set out not sure about where I could get food from over the next 95 miles. Waiting for the place to open did enter my mind, and I may have considered it if I had had only a few hours sleep the night before, but I had slept 7-8 hours so I had to continue on.

I lost 20 minutes on the dirt trail just before the border, dropping my map and walking back uphill to find it. I didn’t think my day could get any worse, food was probably out of reach 90 miles away in El Rito. I was wrong. The first 10 miles to the top of Brazos Ridge is a lot of the time unrideable: the trail is edge to edge covered in fist sized rocks, with large ruts and steep inclines and declines. With the realisation that this would put me way behind schedule, I got pretty pissed off: I needed to vent, so I threw the bike down. I felt a little better and continued to trudge up. Over the summit, the trail improved, and I stopped to give directions to a woman in a ute. Apparently, I didn’t know where I was, but after driving in the opposite direction to my instructions, she passed me (going the right way) 20 minutes later.

Slow going on the steep rocky trails of New Mexico

Several hours on and I was moving well, the sealed climb on I-64 proved harder (longer) than I anticipated (hoped for), but I rewarded myself with a feed at Hopewell Lake. Resting against the toilet block, I noticed a number of campers. So far, New Mexico seemed to be a lot more popular with campers than southern Colorado- there were numerous people along what I considered remote, difficult to reach places.

After an easy short climb over Burned Mountain there was a long descent with some short climbs through some amazing country. Coming down Canada del Oso into Canon Plaza was especially spectactular, and I saw my third bear (or his arse as he was running away) for the trip. I didn’t see the mother, and didn’t want to stop on the road, potentially between them, so I continued on. I stopped at a little white shack on the edge of Canon Plaza, one that is familiar with most GD racers and riders. I was planning to get into El Rito late and plead for something to eat from a motel manager, but this little shack saved me. I waited as Paula? came over, she opened up the shack, gave me a book with comments from previous racers and riders (including M.Lee and JP several days previously) and went off to get me some soup. I sat and talked with her, trying to think of something to write before buying supplies and heading off in the dark. I lost an hour and a half, but I got a feed so making El Rito was now not essential. After rediscovering how much night riding sucked, I pushed up and over 8,278’ so that the next day would begin with 30 miles of descending. I pulled off the road after I was sure I had passed the summit (nothing worse than waking up in the morning to still have to climb), found a flat patch, ate some chocolate and other gear I picked up at Paula’s shack and had a half descent sleep.

Day 16- Storm King Campground to Conejos Campground: 97.4 miles

2007-11-06T22:29:00.001+11:00

Rolling down in the early morning, I saw more of what I missed by riding last night. The rocky oucroppings were impressive but soon gave way to flatter red rocky hills. I lost some time miutes getting lost in between La Garita and Del Norte.

Rattle snake warming up

I stopped at the first café I saw in Del Norte and it turned out to be a good decision. I was thirsty and ended up downing a few litres of ice cold sprite before a massive breakfast. I again spent too long in a town by stopping at the grocery store. I filled up 9 or so litres as I was not sure about the water situation around the Summitville area and then was on my way. I am not sure if it was this extra weight or something else, but the climb up to Indiana Pass was the hardest and my least favourite of the whole trail. The earlier sections were okay but the last five steep miles were a bitch. It started to hail about a mile from the top and so I hid under a conifer and killed a Snickers.

The 25 miles from the summit to Platoro were pretty sweet. Amazing scenery and my favourite riding time in the afternoon helped me over the few small climbs there were along the way.

Summitville

For once I had made a restaurant in good time (even though I did want to be in Platoro earlier) and even though I had been scarred by chicken fried steak before, I had to have it as it was really the only thing on the menu (and they didn’t have an alcohol license either- WTF?). The uncomfortable chairs and the waitress hitting on me (Retro- I seemed to not be the only one) took my mind off the steak. I paid $5 for a shower (as had Matt Lee done a few days earlier they told me) and set out in the dark. It didn’t take me long to get sick of riding in the dark- washboards give me a headache when you cant look away, but I managed to trick myself into riding further. I just became a little fussy about where I would sleep and after telling myself I would stop at the next decent campground, it became a little easier to keep on going.

I found a place and quickly set up near to a loud river and ate my takeaway chips.

Day 15- Salida to Storm King Campground: 123 miles

2007-11-06T22:28:00.000+11:00

O'Haver Lake

I awoke well before dawn and had to leave without saying goodbye to my hosts. I had to ride a couple of miles back down into Salida and found my way once I got back to Absolute Bikes. I felt slow along the flats, and after starting the climb up to Marshalls Pass, I realized this would be a long climb. I think it was the mental exhaustion from the ordeals of the previous day, but it took me four hours to warm up. I was not happy until this point, especially when passing the campers cooking breakfast at the beautiful O’Haver Lake, but by the time I had summited a few thousand vertical metres later, I was okay.

A nice long descent and a bunnyhop over this:

and I was in Sargents. It was a tiny town, but had “Burgers & Beer” and a really overpriced grocery store. After the next section along the pavement, there was more than 30 miles of dry and dusty washboard through boring country (Retro- with hindsight, the hardest parts of the race were these stretches of dry washboarded roads through brown, flat countryside- not physically, but mentally. I would often have to stop because I couldn’t take the boredom. Getting off the bike, getting some food, and looking at the maps for a few minutes was the best mental break I could get).Before coming onto the 114 road I am pretty sure I saw a Lynx, but he was way too fast for photos. At the Upper Dome Reservoir the water pump did work, but for some reason I purified water from the lake instead. I would have loved to have cooled off in the water, but sitting down and killing a Snickers had spent enough time. After almost stepping on a snake, I set off with the aim of getting over Carnero Pass by bedtime.

Upper Dome Lake

I held reasonably high speed up the easy climb to Cochetopa Pass into the dying afternoon light. On the descent I realized we were entering some different country, with more prominent red rock outcrops. That’s another shame of doing this race, as I would realize the next morning: riding in the dark of night or early morning, you miss some pretty amazing scenery. As it darkened and cooled on the way up to Carnero Pass I would stop and put clothes and lights on, but with a full moon, I enjoyed riding without a front light. The large low moon was partly obscured by the mountain range to the east but the road was good and there was just enough light to see. What I didn’t miss was the meteor that came low over the forest on the summit and looking like it crashed where I imagined my camp would be. With daydreams of fighting off an alien invasion in the middle of nowhere, I crested and made my way down. I passed the rock formations mentioned in the maps, even though I was disappointed, they were still impressive in the moonlight.

There were still cows about, so I crossed some cattleguards into Storm King Campground. I was alone and surprised to find picnic tables and metal fireplaces. I had brought a can of chunky soup, a can of refried beans, and a can of creamed rice, and for some reason I really wanted a hot dinner. I tried to start a fire with my lighter but after 20 minutes I couldn’t get the thing started even though the tinder I had found was dry. I gave up and walked back down to the river to get some water, walking back up I was surprised to see the fire burning well (pesky fire gnomes). I looked around expecting to see some smart arse standing there with a flamethrower, but there was no one (I think?). After popping the lids of the cans and chucking them in the fire, I had a cooked meal.

Day 14- Dillon to Salida: 114 miles.

2007-11-06T22:27:00.004+11:00

Brekenridge

I awoke early to try and make up some of the time I had lost by staying in Dillon. The bike path to Brekenridge was very easing going and filled with morning riders. The climb out of Brekenridge to Boreas Pass was surprisingly easy due to itfollowing an old constant grade rail bed (this time without the sand) and it being hardpacked.

I didn’t even stop in Como but should have to break up some of the most boring flat, dry and sandy riding through to Hartsel.

After stopping at a restaurant for burgers and beer in Hartsel (“He’s so hot right now”) I started out into what looked like becoming a storm. Guess what? It began to storm, the worst thing being that the lightning and its slow southerly direction meant I couldn’t ride through it (I wasn’t carrying a defibrillator) and I kept on catching up to it.

Ze Storm

The storm gradually moved away from the trail and I now moved through the rain on very muddy trails. I tried riding on the grassy sides, but wasn’t willing to wait for the clayey mud to dry. I began to slow as mud built up on my wheels and bike. Even getting off and pushing was difficult. I was determined to make it over Marshall Pass to the south of Salida by bedtime and so I continued on. At one stage the drivetrain jammed, sending the bottom rear derailleur pulley into to my spokes. After flipping the bike over, pulling the derailleur apart and removing some of the mud I was under away again. I didn’t get far, mud quickly jammed the drivetrain and without realizing it, I had sheared the rear derailleur off. It didn’t take me long to realize that I wouldn’t be making todays goal. Last night talking to Dad, I was told of a bike store in Salida where all the previous guys were stopping. The new goals for the afternoon were to find a ranch with a phone to call the guys at Absolute Bikes and find what time they were open to that night and what time they opened in the morning. I cannot remember exactly where the drailleur broke, but talking later to the locals, they referred to the roads as undriveable when wet. They would avoid driving after the rains, and only then with a 4WD.

Derailleur caught in the spokes

I had a chain tool, so I could have set the bike up as a singlespeed, or even a trispeed with three front chainrings, but I was hoping to find a phone quickly to get the call done. Of course, there were no houses for the next several miles. I walked the bike out of the worst of the mud and then freewheeled downhill and walked uphill for the next hour. Eventually, I found an occupied ranch and was able to get through to Anton at Absolute (Retro- doing this race again, I would learn how to pick doorlocks and hotwire cars. I came across several weekend houses with 4WD’s but wasn’t willing to break a window just to use a phone. If I knew how to pick a lock in this situation, I still wouldn’t have, but they would be lifesaving skills if I had broken something or was bleeding badly). I was suprisised when he said that he would be willing to come in to the shop if I got there before 11 that night. My spirits lifted, I walked the few steep miles over the Watershed and coasted down to Salida. Some people gave me directions to the shop and I got there just as they were closing up. I got in and stood around whilst Andrew and Anton worked on my bike, replacing and tuning a new rear derailleur, cables, cassette, truing my wheel, fixing the computers and checking everything else. Shaun Gillis, the owner took me across to a bar that served food and we drunk whilst chatting. I paid for everything (I never pay retail for bike gear, but in this case I was willing to pay whatever they wanted considering the service they gave me. Shaun gave me and all other racers a discount on parts as well. I am always happy to see a LBS know what they are doing). After an offer of a floor to sleep on from several people I got a lift to Antons place where there was a hot shower and bed. The generosity from people like Anton and his girlfriend and guys like Gary Montgomery caused the biggest disappointment of the whole race for me. I was disappointed not being able to stay longer and in no way able to repay the generosity.

Day 13- Lynx Pass to Dillon 92.2 miles

2007-11-06T22:27:00.001+11:00

Only a few cars passed me during the night and I awoke with each one. Setting off in the early light, I was feeling good due to the easy two previous days. I did stop to take off my shoes and socks to cross a small creek, probably worth the time as it was a cool morning. The trail to Radium was rocky and rolly but quite enjoyable, and I again encountered what I considered to be the greatest threat to a Great Divide Racer-cows.

Radium and the Colorado River

On one ascent, steep uphill and downhill slopes on both sides of the road meant that the cows I frightened stampeded up the road and over a cattleguard. I immediately realized what was going to happen and stopped, but they kept on going, a few made it over the grate, but a couple got legs caught and almost broke them off in their scramble.

It was warming up by the time I started the climb up to Inspiration Point and over the Watershed. It’s a steep climb, but funnily enough, the views are great. The descent is even better and the road on its way to being turned into asphalt. No hot meal since yesterday lunchtime so I rode the couple of miles into Kremmling. It seemed a pretty barren place, the town is of a decent size but ringed by brown mountains. There is a yellow Mexican place on the corner of the main street that I would recommend. Unlimited corn chips (the real ones), water and sprite, and some fantastic enchiladas proved to be my best mexican meal for the whole trip.

Dry and dusty seemed to be on the menu for the rest of the day as I began the long climb up to Ute Pass. Passing Williams Fork Reservoir cooled the breeze and I stopped at the payphone on the southern side, but the whole thing was missing.

I was pretty bored, but moving well along the ten miles before the steeper parts of the climb to Ute Pass. I decicded to put some power down when I passed the dam and sirens went off and a voice came over the loudspeaker- something about venting? A dark storm began to roll in as I reached the steeper, paved end of the climb. I stopped on the southern side of the pass to put a jacket on and get something to eat and had to dance the mosquito jig for a few minutes. The descent is paved and steep, but as always too short.

Over Ute Pass

Along the flat towards Silverthorne, I felt pretty sick in the stomach and a headwind didn’t help. Even though it was paved, flat and only ten miles it seemed like an eternity.

It was late afternoon even though Silverthorne is a large tourist town, a lot of the shops were beginning to close. First priority was a bike shop to replace my full cable routing on the rear with normal routing so I could hopefully get all my cogs back. After asking a couple of people and at a skate shop, I found Mountain Sports Outlet, the biggest bike store I found along the whole trail. After waiting 45 minutes, I chatted to the mech as he did the cables.

Another recommendable restaurant is the Brewery at Dillon. It was packed and the beer was good. I scrubbed up as best I could by putting my black rain pants and long sleeve top on- I must have stunk though. As I was leaving, a guy asked me if I was doing the GDR, suprising considering that no one previously had any idea about the race. He was following someone but I cant remember who. He pointed me to the Safeway where I called in to report and called the outside world for the third time (Retro- I picked up that other racers were calling friends and family almost everyday to get updates of their position and the status of the trail ahead). I was very surprised to hear I was in fourth after PBasinger pulling out, especially considering the easy previous days I had had. I then tried to call the motels in Brekenridge to see if there would be a place open at 11, but I couldn’t get through anywhere. After gathering some supplies and gas relieving (seemed to be the pain I was having over the previous few days was gas related) tablets, I found a motel in Dillon where the nice Polish guy gave me a discount after I stumbled through some basic Polish (and motel operators seem to prefer dirty bikers, and their bikes, in their rooms as they apparently don’t get drunk, sleep early and leave early).

I again gorged myself whilst watching tv, stretching and massaging and thinking up another line that I was going to say next time I called in but didn’t: on Rick Hunter being only 50 miles (Retro- he was more than this) ahead according to my Dad: “Looks like the ‘Hunter’ is about to become the ‘Hunted’”. I always seem to take 2 more hours to get into bed when I stay in motels compared to sleeping out, but I always feel better in the morning.

2007-06-28 02:32:40 GMT

Yeah, it's uh, Alex Field. Wednesday, 8:30 at night. I'm in Silverthorne. Not that bad of a day. Managed to, um, do 3,000 vertical. Meters that is. And uh, got caught in a storm, in the afternoon coming over Ute Pass. And uh, yeah, had a little stomach trouble after that. Took me a while to get down the road to Silverthorne. But yeah, so if I can find a place to stay in Breckenridge over the phone right now I'll ride on, otherwise I'll stay here tonight. Alright, thanks, bye.

Audio: GDR Episode 14: 3.03-3.50

Day 12- Slater to Lynx Pass 101 miles

2007-11-06T22:26:00.002+11:00

I got up pre-dawn and set off quickly. After the short day yesterday, I was feeling pretty good, just a bit mentally tired after the ordeals. The trail climbed gently, but it didn’t have much of an impact on my speed. By the time I reached the Watershed Divide, I had done my slow hours of warm up riding, but the last steep part I had to walk. Trying to rest my legs as much as possible, steep technical riding was to be avoided. The scenery was in stark contrast to the sections before Middlewood Hill WY: a lot greener, with forests of white Aspens and fields of flowers. After a break at the top of the divide, and 10 minutes working out which descent to take, I was on the way down what seemed to be the longest and steepest descent of the whole trail. It was pretty rocky, I had to stop a few times to re-adjust and tighten the quick release on my rear wheel (it was a great idea not to bring the tugnut for my track dropouts), and then to repair a two snakebites on the rear (running a rear Nanoraptor at 40psi was great for all things except big impact protection. Note that the rear still had a 15mm sidewall cut that I had put in it in Banff). As I was riding down, I thought about Dave Nice with his fixie- you would not be able to sit on the saddle and ride feet off as the trail was too rough, and it was so steep that you would have to be hard on the brakes the whole time to get your feet round.

Steamboat Lake

It was hot by the time I got to Clark, I stopped at the grocery store and downed two litres of Gatorade and called in.

The run into Steamboat was good, until I got run off the road by a grader. The bad thing about the bigger towns is that its harder to find the places you are looking for- I have been to Steamboat twice before (in winter), and I had to ask several people where a bike store was. I found a new bike shop, and put the bike in for a derailleur adjustment so that I could use my bottom cog. I borrowed a bike of theirs and went off in search of a 29” tyre. Orange Peel Cycles was easy to find, and quite a revelation in terms of LBS’s I have visited around the world. Their service, knowledge and willingness to help was explemntary and even though they didn’t have the tyre I was after, they introduced me to Kent Eriksen who had his workshop adjoining. After a quick tour and chat with Kent, I had a Bonty Jones XR in my hand and even though it wasn’t exactly what I was after (Kenda Small Block 8 or Nanoraptor) it proved to be a better tyre for my weight- I didn’t get a single puncture with it on the way to Antelope Wells.

I thanked Kent and the Orange Peel guys and grabbed a burger at the place next door. Again, it seemed that the waitress was either working hard for a tip or was into me. I assumed the second option and chatted with her for a while. I was disappointed to have to leave, both the bar and Steamboat, but it was only the early afternoon and I had wasted a few hours getting stuff fixed.

I rode one handed back to the bike shop carrying my takeaway dinner. After putting the new tyre on (and blowing up a brand new tube- scarry considering I wasn’t carrying a spare) I paid and left but returned 5 minutes later because the guy, Ken, hadn’t fixed the problem. He was apparently the best mech in Steamboat, but all he managed to do was take my $10 and not fix anything because I was running full length housing. The fact that I had ridden from Banff to Wyoming with it working perfectly after setting it up myself didn’t seem to matter to him. I love how he took the money but didn’t even tell me that he couldn’t do what I asked for, or that he didn’t offer suggestions as to getting it set up right.

After a brief detour to the best grocery store along the whole trail, I made my way along the paved roads under the late afternoon sun. I had lost quite a lot of time running around in Steamboat, but it wasnt this that was depressing me. I was feeling fresh, but for the first time in the whole race, I lost motivation. I think it was because I asked myself why I wanted to keep on riding and leave such potential at the bar. My competitive side was at odds with my willingness to have a good time. It didn’t help that I stopped just before the Stagecoach reservoir and dam, not sure if the steep hill in front of me was the right way to go. My amended plan had me over Lynx Pass before stopping to rest for the night, but as I continued up, I felt less and less inclined to keep on going. But, for some reason I did, and another two hours later it was dark and I had ridden a mile or two over the pass, and was looking for somewhere to sleep. I didn’t want to sleep in the bushes on the side of the road, so I stopped at a few ranch/holiday houses along the way, planning to ask if I could sleep on their lawn (and hoping they would offer me more). But, after 30 minutes of knocking on doors, I couldn’t find anyone home, so I set up beside the road and ate my now cold takeaway.

2007-06-26 20:02:01 GMT

Yeah, it's Alex Field. I'm in, uh, Clark. And uh, it's 1:30 on Tuesday, I'm at Links Pass Campground... (The rest of the message is too quiet to be heard)

Audio: GDR Episode 12: 22.43-23.04

Day 11- Rawlins to Slater 72.5 miles

2007-11-06T22:26:00.001+11:00

I awoke late after the two long previous days that had taken something out of me. I was hoping a late start would give me enough time to rest so that I could get to Steamboat Lake (100 miles) by nightfall. I got a hot breakfast then had to ride around for 15 minutes trying to find a payphone. I got some food at a servo, called in, then called the Dutch Creek Guest Ranch to see if I could get a bed and dinner. It was going to be expensive, but they were willing to leave food in the cabin for me as I estimated my arrival after their kitchen closed (9 pm!). I said I would call if I needed the room later in the day from Slater.

Riding along the pavement on the 401, I felt similar to the day after Butte- not exhausted, but very tired, causing several additional stops to get extra fuel on and for a mental break. A clear blue sky gave me good views of the surrounding rock formations, but the desolate landscape was a little depressing.

But, when I hit gravel and the Climb up to Middlewood Hill I folded- I felt sick in the stomach and almost instanteously exhausted. The short climb ahead of me looked like a vertical wall. I stopped and stood there next to my bike. (Retro- I think I may have had food poisoning. I was 3-4 hours from breakfast and the stomach pain was similar. I did think this, and dropped any ant-acid meds I could find). After 15 minutes of just standing there I felt a bit better and got back on (the notion that I would have to get back on eventually, never left me, and so I think I just needed a break). I am not a fan of rollers, especially when they are on a long uphill, and I lost my map on a rough descent, but I was feeling better (I had noticed the pattern that after 3-5 hours in the morning of feeling slow and a little depressed, I would begin to feel much better. I could pump myself up very easily most days from lunchtime until dinner just by thinking about various things, most of them not race related- just fantasies. This became my favourite riding time, and whilst the sunsets helped, there was always the worry of not making a town in time for dinner).

Writing this three months after the event, I can remember almost every section. On the trail I remember thinking that re-riding this a second time would yield a massive advantage, and that I probably could ride the whole thing in reverse or straight again relying only on memory. However, I cant remember riding the 25 miles from Middlewood Hill to the ranger station on State Hwy 70.

I had run out of water by the time I had reached the ranger station, and, of course, there was no taps/streams or rangers. I spent 30-40mins eating and trying to get into one of the cabins without breaking in, but to no avail. I started down the highway, realizing I probably shouldn’t have stopped for so long (but sometimes I don’t want to think- I continue wasting my time rather than making the decision I know I should make).

There was still plenty of daylight when I reached Slater, but I continued the 5 miles off route to Savery. I knew the grocery store was closed, but I was hoping to get some food and water (as I had run out of both) and then continue up and over the Watershed divide 30 miles by nightfall. My plan failed when the grocery store that I knew had closed also turned out to be the restaurant and motel as well. I found one person in the deserted town, at the Little Snake River Museum and she let me in to get change for the coke machine. I had been surprised at how generous and helpful all the people along the trail had been, and so this woman was even more suprising when after listening to my predicament, all she could say was sorry on behalf of the town and suggest suggest Dixon 8 miles away as a possible source of food. Should I feel disappointed with her? Probably not, I would get less help from most people in Sydney, even though I would be quite generous with a person in need. She didn’t offer me a lift anywhere, even though she drove straight past me on the way to Dixon after I tried to call in on a barely working phone. By this stage I was starving, my days plan completely rearranged, and very pissed off. I would going to need assistance just to get something to eat. I got into the only open bar in Dixon, but the bartender said there was no food. I was told of Baggs 10 miles further to the west, and after 15 minutes standing beside the road, I managed to get a lift. Thank God for big American utes that could take my bike! The restaurant/bar was smoky and quite full. I made the mistake of trying the chicken fried steak, cooked by the most amazing charactiture of a woman- her thin body not hidden by a grubby white singlet and even filthier apron. Chain smoking out the side of her droopy face, she hocked up massive loogies in between cooking meals. I didn’t even touch the “salad bar”, but my thirst was quenched by several beers. Afterwards, I made my way out onto the mosquito infested road but no one that went past was going anywhere near Slater. After half an hour, I went back into the bar and asked the barwoman if she knew of anyone traveling back that way. She introduced me to a guy that lived in Slater- Gary Montgomery, he was willing to give me a lift, but asked if I minded waiting a while. I said “No problem”, not wanting to put the guy out, and then spent the next three hours talking to everyone in the bar and having drinks bought for me. There were some nice guys, truck drivers and guys working in the mining/gas business in the area, latino and American cowboys, farmers etc. When it was time to leave, I managed to get my bike in the truck and we were underway. After a mile or two I realized my new friend was a little tipsy, but I was in no position to drive anyway. He swerved around a bit, responding to the animals on the side of the road, but I wasn’t in the mood to go riding again. He dropped me off at his trailer park and gave me his trailer for the night whilst he went to his girlfriends place. I got a shower, a warm bed, and a microwave the next morning to heat up the breakfast that I had got “charactiture” woman to cook at the restaurant for me.

2007-06-25 15:17:05 GMT

Yeah, it's Alex Field--Monday morning. I'm in Rawlins, I got here last night after having to ride through that wonderful Great Basin of high temperatures, 20-knot headwinds, no water. Fun stuff like that. Oh, that's another thing; there is... you may want to let people know, contrary to what the maps say, there is no water between I think it's Sweetwater River and A & M Reservoir. There's absolutely nothing, even though the maps say there should be. But um, yeah, knees are a bit sore after riding a lot of pavement yesterday, and uh, saddle sores are sort of OK, but yeah. I'm just uh, taking it easy for the next couple of days and just ride. OK, check you guys later.

Audio: GDR Episode 11 6.41-7.46

2007-06-26 01:41:26 GMT

It's uh, Alex Field, it's Monday night. I'm in uh, Savory. And there's nothing here. No restaurant. (unintelligable) ... no grocery store. I'm sort of, uh f****d right now pretty much. Because I can't get over the mountains to anywhere. Um, yeah, I got no... can't get any further, so I guess I'll try to get a lift somewhere. Alright, bye.

Audio: GDR Episode 11: 13.17-13.49

Day 10- I28 before South Pass City to Rawlins: 149.3miles

2007-11-06T22:25:00.000+11:00

I woke up at a reasonable time considering yesterday, I thought I would be a little more resistant to getting back on the bike. Again, yesterdays effort meant that starting out was slow- it took me ages to ride down the I28 to the toilets just off the trail. My hopes were dashed when I mistook South Pass City and a hot breakfast for Atlantic City. But after a short climb I was there and demolishing a full cooked breakfast and stack of pancakes (I find the reputation of American pancakes falls short on taste- they are always too acidic).

After riding around the tiny town trying to find my way out, after a short climb I was on the flats and looking forward to what looked like a flat and easy day. I was mistaken, as most that have ridden the Great Divide Basin can attest. The first difficulty is the directions: there are no real distinguishing features to signfy turn off roads, the map does not always have enough detail to differentiate between a driveway/lesser trail and the real trail. At a couple of places especially before the turn off to Crooks Gap road I spent some time working out which way to go, and even then, setting off gingerly. The second problem is the road: most of it is average rutted trail, but after the turn off to Crooks Creek road its sand. I spent my time weaving across the road, trying to fine patches where the sand does not look as deep but ended up still having my speed significantly checked. The third problem is the isolation: the was no water between Sweetwater River and A&M Reservoir even though the map says there should be, something that I mentioned in my post, and that I hoped would be put in Purvis update (“Duty of Care” anyone?). I didn’t have any problem with the water as I had been warned by the guys I met the day before, the complete lack of trees and shade was a little more uncomfortable. Riding past one of the only ranches (deserted of course) I was approached by an ewe. With the lack of other sheep and people in the area, I assumed that she had been left behind. She followed me up to a caravan that had a cowboy (the only person I saw for 120 miles) and I presume he took “care” of her. He offered me water but I had plenty. The fourth problem is the weather: the heat was uncomfortable but bearable (even without shade), the wind was annoying. A headwind followed me from before midday the 50 miles to County Road 63. The combination of sand and wind before the reservoir was demoralising (note when I say “demoralising” it is more of an annoyance that depresses me because most of the time it means I will be moving slower. It pisses me off but the thought of stopping (in the middle of nowhere) doesn’t enter the equation).

Washboard trail

I debated bypassing the reservoir, but I wanted to be sure I had enough water if the rest of the day proved harder than I expected. The scenery through the day, though bland, was pretty amazing- a flat desert bowl, ringed by mountains, and it made great scenery when I ate a late lunch with my feet in the water.

I moved fast after the feed, aided by a slight downhill (even though the headwind had seemed to change 90 degrees while I had stopped- for future GDR’ers I would assume a headwind the whole way). When I hit the pavement of County Road 63 I was stoked to find myself sitting at 20 miles per hour, and a glance at the map said flat till Rawlins- with the maintenance of the speed, I could make up time I had lost during the day and get to Rawlins by dinner- Sweet!

You can see the cars on the I-287 from a fair way off, and I was aided later by their lights I got closer and the sun went down. I turned onto the I-287 and immediately met two guys doing Transamerica. They had heard about the race, and I then made the mistake of dropping them on the climb up onto a plateau. It seemed to take forever to cross the divide by nighttime, and the two guys caught back up to me. We chatted in the dark and were going to share a room until one of them flatted and I kept riding.

I came down into Rawlins and immediately got lost- unlike Butte where there were several signs on the highway explaining the way to motels and food outlets, there seemed to be none on the way in. I quickly found myself in surburbia. I asked some guy which way to go and we chatted for a few moments, but I was keen to find a motel and food (it was 10.30 and I was hoping the bigger town would have more open later) and he seemed to want to tell me his whole life story, so I thanked him and exited.

I stopped at the first motel I saw and luckily it was still open. I got a room and asked the owner to help me call Dominos. Of course they had just closed so I was left with not much food to eat and I was starving. The owners were a young Indian couple and thankfully they offered me some dahl heavily spiced with cumin and unbelievably hot due to some other ingredient and some roti’s. The room was very cheap and luckily the tv worked. I was tired after two days of 150 miles and I could barely walk from the office to my room, but I had achieved what I wanted/needed to by getting to Rawlins at this time and the plan was to take the next day easier. I had a great shower and ate half a jar of penut butter and the rotis (the dahl was dangerously hot- I couldnt risk it).

Day 9- Union Pass to I-28 before South Pass City 151 miles

2007-11-06T22:24:00.002+11:00

I would have loved to have slept in, in the lovely warm bed, but ended up setting off before the sun was up. The rest of the climb up to Union Pass was slow as expected, but also quite cold. As I passed over the summit it began to warm slightly and I had “This is the End” by The Doors stuck in my head, I think because I was trying to work out what a “blue bus” is? The 20 miles along the alpine plateau was a little boring- the cooler weather still affecting my mood. The wind picked up as I stopped at a campground/outhouse, but the downhill grade negated any influence. The high alpine areas are quite pretty though there are not many large mountain ranges to be seen.

I met two guys riding the whole trail in the opposite direction. We chatted and joked for a few minutes about the race, the trail, and something else I cant remember at the moment. After some more rolling terrain, a five mile rocky descent was a little suprising given the good quality of most of the trail so far. But, the descent was the least of my problems as I bottomed out into a red rocked, dry and sandy trail and the wind picked up. The combination of the trail surface and a very stiff headwind made the going quite hard, especially considering the road was meant to have a slight downhill grade.

I plugged on through some pretty bad washboard and eventually came onto pavement. Due to the cool morning, I was still wearing thick longsleeved top and bottoms, and as I cruised along I began to bake. It didn’t take long to reach “The Place” café and I was able to disrobe before I got some hot lunch.

You lose a few hundred feet along the 25 paved miles into Pinedale, but there are quite a few short hills and rollers. Even so, I was moving pretty quickly and enjoying myself. Turning off onto dirt just before Pinedale I met a German and another guy whose names I have since forgotten, but someone else took a picture of them and put it on the net. They told me of the fun I should expect in the Great Divide Basin and that there was no water in the “very hot” 65 miles between Sweetwater River and A&M Reservoir even though the map said there probably would be.

I stopped at the supposed bike/hardware store on Pinedales main road but they didn’t have any 29” tyres (they only have basic gear), and then at the big supermarket on the eastern side of town where I bought some freeze dried meals, powerbars, penut butter and water. It was around midday and I sat down over Chinese for lunch and worked out that to avoid camping in the Basin (and having to carry more food and water) and riding most of it during the day, I would have to ride through the afternoon and night, find a tree or some shade in the Basin (Retro- yeah right!) to get some sleep and then get to Rawlins by tomorrow night. I got some takeaway Chinese and then called in to a bar down the road. I called my parents for the second time and then set off.

The road to Boulder is fantastic- flat, slightly downhill and paved. Add slightly overcast and a tailwind and I was smoking. I stopped at the servo in Boulder to get a drink, but it was closed. Further on, I became a little worried when the map, my compass, the terrain and my computer didn’t add up. I flagged down a ute and asked if I was where I thought I was. They told me I was in the right place, offered me mosquito repellant (as soon as I had stopped I was swarmed), and expressed amazement that I was going to ride another 65 miles that day to Atlantic City. For some reason I told them I didn’t need repellant, even though I didn’t have any of my own, and so it began... I spent the next couple of hours fighting off an inexhaustible number of them. I worked out that they couldn’t keep up over 10 mph, but would cling to my packs and then be there as soon as I stopped. When it became cooler, I stopped and added long tops and bottoms and tried to fight a war of attrition. The leggings slowed them down and I was killing 10 for every time I was getting stung, but after 15 minutes I gave up. I just wanted a few minutes to sit and eat in comfort but ended up riding away, swinging my bottle at my bags to get the clingers away.

I stopped after a small climb and ate some fried rice as the sun went down. A cow came to join me but then ran away. For the next several hours I continued on into the dark, stopping every now and again to shine my lights onto the road signs. I didn’t get lost even without a moon. I got chased by a few dogs, one of them kept up for a few miles (Retro- it wasn’t until I was in NM that I came across the effective disperal means of spraying water from a bottle at them), but that was just an annoyance. The hardest part of the day was not the hot, dry and windy trail in the morning, but what was about to come. The 25 miles since I stopped for some food at sunset looked to be downhill on the elevation profile, and it did trend that way. However, it was the rollers that I didn’t expect that really hurt me more mentally than anything else. Other racers have mentioned similar things about this section, but I think they were lucky to ride it during the day where they could see ahead. For most of the 25 miles, the road rolls up and own (each roll being a hundred or more vertical feet high), with not much respite. By midnight I was pretty tired, angry at working hard to climb the things, then having to ride back down and do the whole thing again. I wanted to stop and camp by the side of the road, but I just kept on riding. I was disappointed that I was not going to follow my plan and ride through the night but I should have given myself more credit for continuining on that night (high standards?). Somehow I made it to the intersection with the highway, though the previous few miles had been hellish because I could see the lights of cars but wasn’t seeming to get any closer to them. I saw a rest area/campground lit up a few miles down the highway, but my imagination over the previous few miles of the trail had dreamt up my own highway-slasher-horror movie, so I just crashed a couple hundred metres off the road. I had saved a whole Chinese meal to eat before I went to sleep and though I cant remember what it was, it was fantastic. Juicy tomatoes and beef far outweighed the potential for gastric upset.

Day 8- Squirrel Creek to Union Pass 117 miles

2007-11-06T22:24:00.001+11:00

I again set off before dawn after 5 hours sleep, trying to make up for lost time. So long as I stopped early enough in the night, I much preferred to start earlier so that there was more chance of getting hot food at night. The feeling of being on top of your progress helped as well, rather than having to worry and fight to get to the destination.

I wasn’t feeling that great- the extra hill climbing yesterday the cause, and the long gradual climb this morning not helping. The road was not too bad and the last 10 miles before Flagg Ranch with the sun on my back were good.

Breakfast at Flagg Ranch was good, waiting an hour for a table not so good, but I was running out of food and in need of hot food sustenance. (Retro- the English contingent came through the Ranch at 4.30 in the afternoon- still only a few hours behind me).

The 25 miles from the Ranch is some of my favorite along the whole trail, and I think a lot of people will agree. After rising up from Warm River in Idaho yesterday, you look out over rolling green fields and the Tetons stick sharply up, discenable, but far away. Riding alongside Jackson Lake- now right underneath the Tetons, the view can be distracting, and it seems to do that for a number of drivers. A big breakfast made the going a little uncomfortable, and by Moran Junction I was getting a little hot as well. Off came the leggings and jumper for the first time and I cruised along singing “The way that I walk” by Genesis (“Hot sun, beating down…”).

The Tetons

I generally rode to a strict deadline, trying to work out what time I would get somewhere helped passed the time, and at times gave me a little lift. Going slower through a section or up a hill never seemed to cause that much concern. But, getting punctures and the quasi-preventable situations disheartened and pissed me off. I write this now because I lost 45 minutes changing one flat, then another that I missed, just before Togwotee Lodge.

The servo at Togwotee Lodge had a better selection than most, the influence of all the tourists, and free spring water. I met what I thought was a young couple (actually were brother and sister- Jeff and Janice Mentzer), riding the entire Transamerica route and chatted to them whilst eating. I was jealous that they got to ride on pavement the whole way, and were going at a leisurely pace, but not jealous of all the tree measuring gear they were carrying.

JJ Mentzer

I passed them on the way up to Togwotee Pass, which seemed easier that what it looks like on the map. After previous excursions that the trail takes onto dirt roads for seemingly no benefit (i.e in scenery) I wasn’t looking forward to the descent of Togowtee. But, I was surprised with impressive views of a mountain range I had not see yet through the pine. The Shoshone (like Lewis and Clark- and Napolean Dynamite) National Forest is impressive and Brookes Lake looked like a worthwhile camp. But, there was still daylight left, and after some more great descending on gravel roads I was back on the highway and TransAmerica Trail.

Shoshone National Forest

I stopped at the Lava Mountain Lodge on the descent, but they didn’t have a restaurant so I continued on. Jeff and Janice passed by as I was coming out of the lodge and I quickly caught up to them. I traveled with them for the next ten miles. Even though it was downhill and they had loads of gear and skinny tyres I hardly pedaled in order to go the same speed. I was looking to get to one of the restaurants/lodges on the climb to Union Pass before 830/900 for dinner, but thought there was enough time to ride slowly and chat with my two new friends (Retro- I think I was a little lonely having ridden for a week without any conversations longer than a few minutes).

I said goodbye and turned onto the climb to Union Pass. I realized that I would have to crank the next five miles in order to get to where I presumed a restaurant would be by 9pm. I worked pretty hard, but the climb is steep and made it to the Sawmill Restaurant/Lodge at 8.55. I pulled up next to a guy that looked like he worked in the kitchen and said hi and asked if the restaurant was still open. He said that it closed at 9 so I had to plead with him to get something to eat. He turned the grill back on and luckily I got a few burgers and beers and I tipped him $10 (I had to reward generosity). I sat and talked with the owners and managed to get a room discounted. It was a pretty sweet room, with a nice big bathroom, though I was disappointed to leave iodine stains on some of the sheets by mistake.

2007-06-22 16:52:55 GMT

Uh, first question: what's a pilot car? Does that mean that I can get a lift in a car through the construction zone or what? I don't really understand. But anyway, this is Alex Field. I'm in Flagg Ranch, Friday morning. Had a pretty bad day yesterday. Woke up two hours late somehow, my alarm didn't go off. Lost an hour coming through that really sandy trail, and then rode up the wrong mountain for 10 miles, lost two hours there. I was just absolutely (couldn't hear the word TP- “Rooted”) last night, really angry at myself. But um, yeah this morning I'm really really flat. And uh, my knees are causing a bit of problem. They've been sore since the start. I've sort of been massaging them to, just to be able to start. For the past couple of mornings I've had to ride at half speed for the first 3 or so hours, can't even stand out of the saddle until the fifth hour or so. So yeah, it's uh, my knees are playing a big part in this race. But um, apart from that, I'm feeling pretty good, my body is fine. I could do more mileage each day, it's just that my knees are giving out and I've had some poor time management over the past couple of days. But other than that, I'll see how things go.

Audio: GDR Episode 8: 8.00-9.38

Day 7- Lima Reservoir to Squirrel Creek 100 miles + 20 extra =120miles

2007-11-06T22:23:00.000+11:00

I woke two hours late after the alarm didnt go off, but still feeling pretty good after covering 135miles last night. Setting off just before dawn, my legs were better than in previous days. The massage was helping, and I worked out that if I didn’t ride standing up, and stayed in the small or middle rings, then my quads had an easier time.

After a stop at the Lakeview ranger station for water and a toilet, the climb up Red Rock Pass and into Idaho was very easy.

The descent to the 20 Interstate took longer than expected- and then I got lost. The maps directions were hard to follow, and I lost the tracks of previous riders. I only rode a few extra miles, but I was pissed off.

I was surprised to find a Subway amongst the 4-wheeler hire places at the Interstate, but stopped in at a deserted restaurant for lunch. After a mountain of food, a few beers, and several litres of Sprite (unlimited refills is a fantastic concept), I was content. But as with most of the times I stopped for food, it was slow to get going again. I didn’t sit around, but adding up: waiting and eating time, then stopping at the grocery store, and putting suncream on, I used up a lot of time.

The old rail bed was easy to find, but I got dispirited pretty quickly. The first couple of miles are really, really hard- deep, soft, volcanic soil, meant that I was traveling at less than two miles an hour, struggling to keep the bike upright. I almost lost it, but continued on and it became better but mentally tiring. The trail is flat, narrow and straight, and washboarded the whole way. There is no edge to ride on to avoid the ruts, but the center of the trail is definitely the worst.

Moose on the rail trail

Obligatory rail trail tunnel shot

After eating a lot of quadbike (“Texan Armchairs”) dust, I dropped down into Warm River Campground. It was warm and I would have loved to go for a swim, but I continued up the hill. It was steep and I continued up even though the directions didn’t exactly match the roads I was seeing (there had been times previously where I had made the right turns unknowningly). I was feeling good and switched off after finding a great rhythm. I got a little worried after about 10 miles uphill, when there were not any sharp turnoffs like there should be. Out came the compass and I forced myself to realize that I had just come up the wrong way- I had turned left over a bridge at Warm River and not continued straight on. It’s a hard realization to make, and there is also the danger that I could ride back down then realize that I did indeed go the right way in the first place and have to ride up again. I belted it downhill, angry at myself and everything else I could think of. I screamed out most of the way, trying to cry. But, I wasn’t that upset, just tired.

My morale took a further hit when I stopped in to a supposed restaurant at Timberline Golf Course. Deep fried frozen chicken breasts were for dinner as the only cooking facilities they had were for bar food. I sat and talked with the bartender/cook and two Vietnam vets, and again the drinks were free and flowing fast- the bartender used me to “sample” some new shots he had created. It was pretty interesting conversation, I gained some respect when I told them about the race and when I demonstrated I had knowledge about their war. One of the guys was a clone of Walter Sobchak (John Goodman) in The Big Lebowski, and the other guy was pretty sharp. They both chain smoked and seemed to be half retired/half flying small planes in an out of Canada (if you know what I mean). They all offered me places to stay for the night, but there was still some light left, and I was behind so I set off laughing at a joke I came up with: “Riding through Idaho has been great. Lots of nice people and no Ida’hoes’ “ (at least I thought it was funny, and though I constantly reminded myself to mention in when I called in, I didn’t. Retro-this was a trend, I would work out the exact lines I wanted to say and then end up mincing them all up).

Out of Warm River and looking towards the Tetons. Tomorrow morning I would be on the other side of them.

I didn’t go much further, I was still pretty pissed off and wasn’t motivated to keep riding. I pulled into the Squirrel Creek Guest Ranch, which not surprisingly, was closed. After sitting around for a while and working out the drinks machine didn’t work, after I put money in it, a guy came out of a trailer and I got a cheap room and some ice cream. The guy told me I was two days behind Matt Lee and for the first time I questioned what was pushing me to keep riding in front of a bunch of guys I had only just me and probably would never see again.

(Retro- Josh Ficke, Steve Wilkinson et al seemed to be in Lima this morning, only 30????? Miles behind.)

Day 6- Elkhorn Hot Springs to East of Lima Reservoir 136 miles.

2007-11-06T22:22:00.000+11:00

I got up early and set off while it was still dark. Again I payed for the previous days riding- I slowly rode through Polaris but had to stop 10 miles later. This morning, there wasn’t much pain, just the feeling that my legs were exhausted. Its disconcerting when you feel fine and reasonably fresh, but your legs can barely turn over. After 15 minutes sitting by the side of the road, some food and a massage put me back on the bike.

I began to feel better as the sun came up and I started conversations with the cows that I passed. Sneaking up behind the calves always brought a laugh as they ran away, I tried to take some photos from the bike and almost crashed into them.

I think by this stage, breakfast had become my favourite meal of the day. Hot fatty food, no matter what the temperature, always slid down well, so I was looking forward to getting into Grant. But, another ghost town- the hotel, restaurant and bar were all closed. I rode out of the town despondent, but then a little sign lifted my spirits slightly: “Food” and an arrow led me to a house. I knocked on the door , and was invited in by a big ex-marine called Michael. He and his wife Barbara explained to me the towns situation (the only income comes in the winter from hunters and snowmobilers), and said they offered food to people that came through. I think I ate their whole breakfast, but the $10 I gave her covered it. I chatted for a while, Mike showed me a mule deer? that was out the back, then offered me a quick tour of the area. After their hospitality, I couldn’t refuse, so I jumped in his truck and we drove down the road. Mike pointed out wildlife that I couldn’t previously see on the way down to Clark Canyon Reservoir. On the way back to Grant we stopped at an elk farm and I snapped a pic of a pretty big elk. We drove back to Grant and I got back on the bike, I had lost an hour or so but I got to meet some interesting people so it was worth it.

Towards Medicine Lodge- Sheep Creek Divide

The climb upto Medicine Lodge- Sheep Creek Divide was long, hot and dry. The grade was not that taxing, but its 25 mile length got a little tedious. It was the middle of the day and I was running out of water- all the little creeks running alongside and perpendicular to the trail didn’t have too much water in them. I came across an empty cabin, climbed its fence and luckily found a tap around the back. I purified the water just in case whilst watching a bull trying to mount another younger bull. The grade steepened over the last few miles to the summit but what was worse was the small climbs on the first downhill miles. It’s a terrible feeling when you summit thinking you have achieved something only to have a view of smaller climbs in front of you. I rode down hoping out loud that the climbs I saw were from a different road that I wouldn’t have to ride, but, of course, I had to ride them.

A really viscous headwind picked up (or I rode into it) after I crested the last small hill. Even through the trail was now downhill 25 miles to the highway, I had to work hard to slice through the wind. Riding through a large bowl at the top the wind was definitely worse, but after I turned into a rocky canyon it became a little more bearable.

I had lost time in the morning, taking time to warm up then going on a tour, but I was still making good progress for the day, but my spirits were about to take a shock as I turned onto the 7 miles of frontage road into Lima. There were dark clouds over Dell to the west that looked to be coming my way and so it confused me that I was now riding into the most severe headwind of the trail so far (Tom Cruise taught me that wind moves away from a storm?). It seems that Nature was against me because my speed was seriously checked- coming into Lima I was going about 6 mph when normal paved road speed was double that.

I pulled into the red board diner, glad that it was open in the early afternoon. My normal meal of burgers, chips, Sprite and beer was demolished, as well as some pie. I left with some takeaway, and called in (but was cut off straight away- after TPurvis had communicated that we should be leaving brief messages I had been leaving short ones with information principally about my location, and so I assumed that his answering machine had been filled with messages from others).

Lima Reservoir

It was overcast as I rolled out, but luckily it didn’t rain and the wind had died down. I wasn’t really in a mood for riding through the late afternoon and early evening, but somehow, I managed to do another 35 miles before dark. The first 15 were pretty boring, but after that, riding into dusk was fantastic. I had planned to stop a little earlier, but when I reached the destination, I just kept on riding. I swapped the prospect of being trampled by cows for being eaten by mosquitoes when I jumped a barb wire fence and camped out of sight behind an old shack. This day was a good day. I felt like I had adapted, my heart rate was down, and I was waking easier. 20 miles could be added per day, except for the lack of knowledge of what was to come. Talking to Michael by phone in Lincoln, there are apparently 8-10 guys still in front, but now only tracks for 6.

Towards Idaho

2007-06-20 23:51:23 GMT
This is Alex Field, I'm in Lima... (call ends)

This message was extremely poor in quality. It was 5 seconds long and I had to hook up external speakers and max the volume to hear it at all. But he clearly said "I'm in Lima"

Day 5- Butte to Elkhorn Hot Springs 85 miles

2007-11-06T22:21:00.002+11:00

It was about 0100 by the time I got to bed. I had eaten as much junk form the servo as I could stomach, and spent some time trying to get my legs comfortable in bed. Sleep was restless, and I slept in. Hobbling down the hotel corridor I got some free breakfast and set off at about nine. My knees had sharp pains when I pushed, below my kneecaps, and ache over most of my quads. I just couldn’t get going, the flat 10 miles from Butte I slowly turned the legs over, hoping that they would get better. I had no other alternatives, as I knew that only long periods of rest and care would allow me to ride at normal pace again, and there was no way I would prolong this race any more.

After turning off the highway I got off, sat down and got something to eat. I knew that yesterdays push to get to Butte, and that I rode aggressively to get there was the cause of the trouble, but whilst massaging my quads and the connective tissue around my kneecaps, I did notice some flexibility come back. Whilst this improved them, it still took me three hours to climb the ten miles up to Continental Divide Crossing Number 5. I felt better after a long break, massage at the summit and consumption of a third of my food stocks that I had carted all the way from Helena. I just spun along the flat top of the mountain, but didn’t enjoy the steep descent to the I-15.

Having warmed up my knees over the morning, the climb up Mount Fleecer was quite enjoyable, and for the first time that day, I was able to stand out of the saddle without massive amounts of pain. The descent was a different story, and finding it took a little bit of compass work. I walked up the last steep section, but didn’t want to continue up further than I had to- I thought I identified the “solitary fence” and took a little bit of a risk losing valuable altitude riding down to it. However, I soon identified the steep rocky section that I had read about. Running horizontal dropouts, a 185mm rear disc, a rear quick release mounted rack, and having no tuggnut (Why did I leave it at home?), my rear wheel didn’t take long to slip in the dropouts and lockup. 10 minutes of straightening the thing out inspired me to walk the rest of the way.

Fleecer Ridge. Its steeper than it looks.

I rode under sunny skies to Warm River, stopping at the servo/grocery store, then a bar that was deserted, and finally a café/bar where there was cold beer and hot hamburgers cooked by a very nice woman.

The 2200ft gradual climb over 30 paved miles of course meant a headwind and really annoying

pavement cracks, that seemed to resonate perfectly with the ‘Get Pissed Off’ section of my brain. As the climb steepened, I felt better and better, increasing my climbing pace (Retro- to the fastest I would climb all race) until I was flying. Fantastic feelings were enhanced by some fantasy dreaming and awesome views of the Pioneer Mountains. I came flying down a wide, brand new road, almost hitting 60 mph on my way to dinner.

I started carrying the camera on my chest, allowing for 'action' photos.

I had planned to stop at Elkhorn Hot Springs or the Grasshopper Inn, and asked a workman in a Ford which one was better. I cant remember the whole two minute conversation, but I ended with a joke and a big smile. He smiled in a way that showed we were both on the same wavelength, and he offered me a tow. I politely declined (it was all downhill- Ha!), and I managed to drop him on the twisty descent anyway.

It was only 2000, and the sign above the Grasshopper Inn said the restaurant closed at 2030, so I was a little disappointed when they said the kitchen was closed. But, I got a big reheated pastie, and several beers bought for me by the workmen I had met just previously, so everything was okay. I chatted with the owners, some locals and workmen for another 30 minutes (whilst the head honcho went off and shot a badger that was digging holes, then brought it back-still twitching- to show to all the kids), then got a room. On the way out of the restaurant, one of the young local mothers, with baby, came up with a look of amazement in her eyes, and said how amazing what I was doing was and wishing me luck. This stuck me as unusual, I had at no time really considered what I did to be that impressive. But, that moment there on the steps of the restaurant, really opened my eyes that people are amazingly different. I imagine her struggling to keep up in high school gym class- I guess its all relative. I spent almost two hours watching “The Deadliest Catch” on the Discovery channel, massaging both my legs as much as I could. I also put some Betadine on the first saddle sores I had every got.

2007-06-19 14:38:31 GMT

It's Alex Field, on uh, must be Tuesday morning. And I'm in Butte, I got here last night. Yeah, it would be good to know where more people are so I could see if I could try and ride with someone. Apart from that ... (call terminates)

Audio: GDR Episode 5 11.10-11.40

I was pretty bored and wanted to know if there were people around me to ride with.

2007-06-20 10:51:01 GMT

Yeah, it's Alex Field. It's Tuesday night, Polaris... (garbled--call ends).

Another very poor phone connection, but Alex did leave a very short message (I heard him hang up perhaps four garbled words after the word "Polaris"). He sounded very tired.

Audio: GDR Episode 6 2.34-2.42

Still not that tired!

Day 4- Lincoln to Butte 130 miles.

2007-11-06T22:21:00.001+11:00

I woke at 0400 in an attempt to make up some time, and after 8 hours sleep, the going was good. Continental Divide Crossing Number 1 was cold- really cold. I had brought more clothing (no spares of anything though) than the gear lists of previous racers, but I guess my sun-loving Sydney body was not nearly as well adapted as some of the other mountain men (Retro- just wait until New Mexico!).

The sun came out on a very high speed descent (serious acceleration and speed attained on a somewhat rocky trail- broken bones if I was lucky in a crash- and no one for miles ) and I daydreamt about horseriding with a future daughter for a few hours until Continental Divide Number Two. Boredom on the trail was quickly solved by losing myself in my brain- spending hours on a single mundane topic, but there is no chance of most of it being repeated here. After losing 45 minutes on the top of the crossing- going down, and then back up the wrong road- I was a little pissed off, but managed to find my way to the descent into Helena.

Big towns equal big supermarkets, and I stocked up on bars, bagels and some drinks. I needed to find a bike shop to get a chainwhip to take off my cassette, so that I could replace a spoke that had broken (a new rear tyre would be good too- at this stage, the 10mm cut in the sidewall was being held together by duct tape, willpower and lots of stoppies). The problem with big cities is that its hard to find the bike shops, even when you know the address. After chasing a cop car through the cbd, I got some directions to the Great Divide Cyclery. They didn’t have any 29” tyres, but after the boss left, the mechanic lent me some tools and a truing stand. I was also after some winter gloves (I was using my second set of socks as gloves. They were working well to stop the wind and cold, but they meant I couldn’t use my thumbs to help braking on the descents), but they didn’t have any decent ones. I had also lost my chamois crème at the bottom of Huckleberry Pass, someone must have picked it up?, and I came away with some Brave Soldier balm (Retro- was fantastic throughout the race). After getting some lunch at a café around the corner, I made my way up Grizzly Gulch , and even though I was following the maps directions, the lack of road signs got me worried. At one stage I was certain that I was on the wrong road, and became demoralised even though there was no real evidence for it. Luckily, I stopped a guy on a motorcross bike and he gave me good news. I was in good spirits as I came through a pine forest to top the climb, but these were quickly extinguished by the Lava Mountain Trail. I had not given previous thought to my potential speed on the more technical, singletrack sections of the route. Hence, I was disheartened when I had to push at about 2 miles per hour for most of the 2 mile long section. But, I began to notice a trend- you get to a descent, grab something to eat, and fly down on high spirits. The descent into Basin was my second favourite of the entire route, with what seemed like interesting places to stop and visit (old mines and camps etc). But I didn’t stop and visit, dinner was calling, and I made it into “Two-Restaurant” Basin to find that the pizza place was closed on Monday nights (Retro- Yes, this is a trend). I sat alone in the restaurant across the street and chatted with the waitress/owner over several beers about the guys that had come though in years past and the night before.

I could have stopped in Basin for the night, and as I left under a setting sun, I wondered again what was driving me to get to Butte that day. I indeed was a passenger to my randomly decided daily goals, and so I just sat back and rode. I climbed gradually in the dark, stopping for lights only when I hit an old rail tunnel (that’s why the climb was gradual), but putting them again on later when a branch across the trail took my helmet off. I crept up on a skunk jogging along, he seemed surprised when I passed him. The lights stayed on when I got on the highway, and I thank Whoever that I brought a rear light. The Interstate was deserted, but when trucks or cars passed, they crossed to the middle lane to give me a wide bearth. After working hard and spending a long time on the highway (in the dark it always seems like its further because there are no reference points, and no vegetation to go flashing by), I came upon the lights of Butte. The lights provided a fantastic sight, and I freewheeled at about 50mph down into the town. I followed some signs to the motel area, and given that it was after midnight, I felt lucky to find a 24hr servo, and a cheap motel.

2007-06-18 19:25:13 GMT

It's Alex Field, um, I don't even know what day it is,(it's Monday) but it's 1:30 and I'm in Helena. Looks to be, um, well after a partly wet morning, that turned good, I managed, uh... yeah I'll probably get to Basin or Butte by tonight sometime, but we'll see. But uh, anyway, I guess I'll report in again later.

Man, Alex sounds spent. Hope the improving weather helps him keep it up-TP

Ha! This is how I sound normally.

Audio: GDR Episode 4 13.35-14.12

Day 3- Seely Lake turnoff to Lincoln 62 miles

2007-11-06T22:20:00.001+11:00

I cannot remember why, but before I went to sleep I was worried about bears checking up on me. I slept soundly anyway, but woke up pretty sore. I didn’t have much of a breakfast, but the 1000 feet of climbing to Ovando wasn’t really a problem.

After waiting, what seemed like an eternity, for the food to arrive at the little café I stopped at in Ovando, I demolished a full cooked breakfast and full stack of pancakes (Retro- this would become a normal breakfast- If I could find a café that was open).

I telephoned in for the first time from the bar up the road, and continued off under overcast skies. It hadn’t rained all morning, but Mother Nature made up for it on Huckleberry Pass. I was climbing at 5 miles per hour, fully clothed, into snow driven by 40 knot winds at the 1900m summit. As I descended, snow turned to sleet, sleet turned to rain. The road was hardpack dirt and holding up well, except for the corners. Deperately trying to lose altitude and the weather, a couple of short climbs on the descent were demoralising. During lunch in Lincoln, the wind picked up even more. I had planned to make it to Helena by nightfall, another 62 miles and 5000 vertical feet (1500m vert) away, but with the previous nights events and the weather report of high winds and rain (most probably snow at the 2000m+ altitudes of the trail) I decicded to find a motel. I phoned in for the second time, disappointed at having covered only 62 miles (or half what I needed to) in one day.

(Retro- Bruce Dinsmore, Steve Wilkinson and I suspect some others rolled into Lincoln at around 8pm but leave at 7 the next morning whilst I left 2-3 hours earlier).

Call In:

2007-06-17 11:36:28

It's Alex Field and it's, what, 11:30 or so on Sunday, and I'm in Ovando. So, uh, I guess I'll be in Helena by sometime tonight. And I'll give another update I guess tomorrow. Thanks, bye.

Alex sounds really tired. -Tom P.

Audio: GDR Episode 3 12.05-12.25

You guys can be the judge of weather I sounded “really tired” or quite normal.

2007-06-17 17:39:51

It's Alex Field again. I got to Lincoln a couple hours ago and realized I didn't have enough time to get over the mountains to Helena so it looks like I'll only be doing 60 miles today... (garbled) And then hopefully, the snow and the 40 knot winds will die down by the time tomorrow morning comes around, and I can try to get to Butte or Basin by tomorrow night. But we'll see how it goes.

Audio: GDR Episode 3 12.28-13.13

Day 2- Whitefish to Seely Lake turnoff 135 miles.

2007-11-06T22:18:00.000+11:00

The sleep was pretty shitty- very hot and stuffy. I slept in an hour till 5 in an effort to get Kevin and Hodge to come with me, but ended up leaving Hodge as I took half as long to get ready, and he needed to go find some coffee? (Retro- this early start and riding consistently through the rain pushed me out ahead of the big group of guys behind, that included the Englishmen).

Hodge caught up and passed me on the way to Columbia falls, but when he stopped at a café to get breakfast with Black Surly Dude (Retro- Matt McFee), I continued on. After meeting up at the bar the previous night, Nathan and Andy had continued on to Columbia Falls and slept next to a bridge, but had slept in (which they told me defeated the point of riding on into the night. This was one thing that I discussed with myself the whole race- wether it is better to sleep early, and wake early, or to sleep late, and ride late. I was coming from a different time zone, so I had the luxury of chosing the first option. I thought that waking early would give me more buffer time if something happened during the day- or more time during the day in general- in order to get to a hot dinner in time. It also allowed, on the last day, the ability to get 30 more miles in).

I left them and soon later I had my first real mishap. I punctured the rear, bent my rear quick release, then after putting the tyre back on, I had to fix a second puncture in the rear that I hadn’t seen originally. I was passed by Hodge and McFee, and became pretty despondent at losing 45 minutes.

I caught up with Hodge, and rode with him for an hour or two, but he stopped to find shelter when the rain that was bearable for the previous several hours intensified. He didn’t have any rain pants. Saw a baby fawn that couldn’t have been more than a few days old, try to run away from us with difficulty (Retro- JP may have seen the same one).

Even though the rain stopped, I wasn’t feeling that great. I was pretty bored, and looking forward to a hot meal at the cafe at Swan River. But, guess what? The café was closed for that day- fantastic. After an attempt to do a shit failed, I got some food from a servo and continued on.

I contemplated going to Bigfork, but I decicded that a hot meal was not worth the couple of miles extra that I would have to ride to get there. I didn’t even bother to stop in Ferndale, and slowly made my way up the un-named climb. I felt a bit better on the descent when the sun came out, downed a cold can of Stagg Chilli, and set out on some of the most boring riding I have ever done. The highlight was getting lost somewhere on Cold Creek Road, but I managed to find some some construction going on near an obelisk on the side of the road. A guy came up to ask if I needed help and I swear to God it was Emelio Estevez (“…and I tipped my hat. Like so.”). I didn’t make it known that I knew who he was. He said he had 640 acres in the area and was always helping people who got lost on “his”? roads. I asked where to go in order to follow the trail, but he said he didn’t even know where most of the roads went, so he recommended the highway. I thanked him and found the trail again on my own, passing where he told me Charlie Sheens house is (Road 903/Cold Creek Rd, if anyone is interested).

After a few more hours on the trail, I was getting hungry, and realised that I wouldn’t be making Seely Lake in time for dinner. I turned north onto the highway, prepared to ride the 5 miles to Condon. Luckily, there was a steakhouse much nearer than that, and I got dinner from well meaning folk that was only palatable with copious amounts of beer (must not have been that hungry). Watched the young local girls playing around with a rope, that took me some time to realise was an instrument used to practice the tying of the cows hooves in a rodeo contest.

I took off and daydreamed about having a normal holiday at the quite picturesque Holland Lake. The initial climb up Richmond Peak was much easier going after I stopped halfway up t go to the toilet. I didn’t stop for long as I was near an area marked on the map as ‘Grizzly Basin’. The sun had set and I was still making my way up to Richmond Peak. I cant remember what was driving me, but with some hindsight I should have stopped- I tend to get into a rhythm and switch off the brain until the slow, boring work is finished. Clothes and lights went on when I thought I was near the top, but it was another hour of bush-bashing through baby conifers, and riding along a foot wide trail with a steep rocky drop on my left. The descent was tiring. I had done some riding at night in preparation in order to test lighting systems, but after the climb and probably due to the fact that it was 2am (19hrs riding so far), trying to concentrate on a bumpy road in minimal light was giving me a headache. I stopped at the bottom of the descent, got my sleeping gear out, didn’t really eat anything, and went to sleep.

Race Day 1- Roosville to Whitefish 100miles

2007-11-06T20:52:00.002+11:00

I missed the morning meeting at Café Jax as I was making final preparations, trying to work out when the new tyre was going to arrive, and posting some gear off. Apparently I didn’t miss much, rules of the race from a guy that took no responsibility for the race (more on that later). I joined in with a group that rode quickly up the start. After milling around for a while, everyone lined up- quite a few more than everyone was expecting (I had the impression that there were 10 guys interested in racing?).

When we set off, the pace seemed to be quite high. Though I was concerned about making it to Whitefish in time to get some dinner (100 miles @10miles per hour= 10pm), my strategy was to ride conservatively until the last 500 miles, as I had no real idea of what was achievable. And so, after about a mile, I was second last, riding with Nathan Bay on a singlespeed. He left me as I stopped into the motel one last time to check if the tyre had arrived. No luck with the tyre, but within 10 miles I had caught up to Nathan, and Steve Wilkinson and Josh Ficke had caught up with me. I let Steve go (but he seemed to be a little sick, at least working harder than I was) on the way up the Whitefish Divide but in an interesting pattern emerged. At the top of the divide, and again 35miles later at the top of the Red Meadow lake climb, I would catch the three Englishmen and their alcoholic friend, stop for a minute to chat, leave them behind, then be passed by them later. The 35miles from the Whitefish Divide were quite enjoyable, with lots of downhills, fantastic views of Glacier National Park, and having Nathan Bay to chat with. It was a welcome change to the previous week of talking to myself, and interesting to get some local insight.

I took off on the 30 miles downhill into Whitefish by myself (Retro- the best downhill of the race), in an effort to get some hot dinner by 10pm. Luckily I spotted some GDR bikes at a bar, walked in (had to show ID), and demolished a burger, some beers, some hot potatoes, and some of Scott Hodge’s chips. I was feeling fantastic, but I cannot say the same for Kevin Montgomery. He hadn’t touched his food, and wasn’t looking that well. I don’t know what his situation was, but he seemed disappointed that he had only made it to Whitefish (he had wanted to get to Ovando, 170 miles away, by the second night).

I was surprised by Whitefish. The road in had a fantastic view of the lake, and it quickly became apparent that this was a summer holiday resort. Nice, big houses, boats, expensive cars and restaurants, also meant that the bar had a good atmosphere and some good looking people. I was getting a bit of attention, but I like to think it wasn’t because I covered head to toe in tight black cycling gear. I was extremely tempted to stay and drink on. I asked Andy Buchanan and SHodge wether I would be breaking the race rules if I picked up, and found a real bed somewhere. So long as I rode my bike there was the consensus. Kevin overheard this and it cheared him up for a second, and with Hodge we ended up getting to sleep in the hallway of the bikeshop, whose owner we met outside the bar.

I was surprised by peoples goals. Even though the first day was only really half a day, I got the impression that people wanted to achieve more than they would be able to in a normal half day. 100 miles the first day equalled a 200 mile day from the way I was looking at it. To average 120 miles, I would only have to ride 20 miles from midnight after the 20^th day to hit 21 days.

Eureka

2007-11-06T20:52:00.001+11:00

Eureka wait day 1:

With the shower and ice machine calling I rode up to the Ksanka motor inn. After a trip to the supermarket for food for two days, I sat on the bed, watched 'Ellen' on tv, and tried to ice my knees down. After a while I realised that my knees were not really swollen, so the icing stopped and I spent most of the day washing and preparing.

Eureka wait day 2:

After another strenous day of tv watching, my knees were beginning to stiffen up. Some GDR racers rolled in and told me they were headed to the same pizza place I had eaten in for the past two nights. I passed, got a quick meal at the restaurant just north of the motel, then rode down to join them. The guys were very welcoming, but we didn’t talk for long- all the guys had ridden down from Banff or up from Whitefish.

Canada: Days Three and Four

2007-11-06T20:04:00.000+11:00

Canada Day Three: Elkford to Fernie: 55 miles

My knees were not liking the climb out of Elkford, but a good climbing rhythm made me happy. The headwind for the three miles after that made me unhappy. Rolling downhill to the highway was a blessing, as was the flat pavement into Sparwood. I rode around for 15mins trying to find a restaurant that was open for lunch, eventually I grabbed a large pizza from a place that was popular with motorbike tourists. I managed to get some stretching in whilst I waited for the pizza with some reduction in the stiffness I was feeling.

The downhill pavement run into Fernie was great until the last 10miles when a slight headwind blew up. It was sunny and warming up- meaning that by the time I got to Fernie I was uncomfortable under all my clothes.

I found the Raging Elk hostel, and got the whole place to myself (and I think it was only about $15 a night). I slowly walked a couple of kilometres to the bike shops to try and find a new tyre. Two bike shops- no 29” tyres. So, I only made out with a rear pannier pack for food, and a new thick wired computer. Checking the mtbr.com forums I was worried to read about some guy that had only gone 800 miles in 20 days, and begin to doubt my ability to come under the cut off times. I was a little insulted to hear about Mike Curiak’s predictions for the race and top three placings- he, as I, had no idea who most of the people racing were. I never considered myself to be racing, and indeed, knew I would only survive this new venture if I didnt ride at race pace. But, to discount other racers would be dangerous.

Walking back to the hostel, I decided that something had to be done about the tyre, so I called a few places that I had the numbers for. Eventually, I found the universalcycles.com had a Kenda Small Block 8 that they said could get to me in Roosville the day before the race. (Retro- tyre didn’t get to me the day before, or even at 1300 the day of the race).

Wasn’t feeling too good after dinner, by the time I got back to the hostel I was feeling a little sick, but after some time 'it' passed and I got a good nights sleep in.

Canada Day Four: Fernie to Eureka 65.3 miles

After a sleep in I couldn’t be bothered to ride back up to the big supermarket, so I started off down the trail. It was easy going, but without a speedo (Retro- the one I bought wouldn’t go on until Eureka) I was a little doubtful that I was on the right road at times. But, the road continued to follow the river (there was nowhere else for it to go) and I made good time into Elko (enough with the Elk’s already!). On the hardpack into Elko I began to daydream about how much easier riding this race with a support team would be, something I would think more about in the future.

The servo was the only thing in town, and I sat out of the cold at one of the tables inside. With a backdrop of dead animals, both stuffed and in photos on the wall, I ate my salami stick and cheese. The old Canadian guys talking shit seemed friendly enough (Retro- there is a noticeable difference between Canadians and Americans. 30 miles from the border and I could still sense an English influence).

Taking off down the hill from Elko, I came upon a burger shack. I was still hungry and was interested in the idea of hot food so I demolished one. The rest of the trip to the border was boring compared to the country I had come through in days previous. Especially, the Dorr Cutoff road- a dirt road that goes off the highway towards lake Koocanusa, adding several miles to the trip. I was tempted to stay on the highway and get to Eureka, but I took the dirt road thinking there would be some impressive vistas over the lake or a mountain range or something. Unfortunately, there was nothing but forest, which was disappointing.

Dorr- cutoff road

Passing through the border, I was asked 15 minutes of questions about what I was doing, where I was going etc, but I think it was because the guy was bored. Eventually, he told me to move on when another car came up behind. As I passed through the border post, I wondered were in the large green-grey buildings- cops? tanks? a rapid response platoon that is there to protect the border if the Canadians come rolling through? On the topic of US borders, and the several hours it took through LAX security, I saw a thing on CNN about the US-Canadian border in suburban Vermont, where there are no guards- you can drive straight through. Whats the deal with that? I feel a little insulted by any country that thinks that x-raying my shoes at the airport would stop me if I wanted to blow something up- Australia included.

By the time I got to Eureka the only pizza restaurant with beer was closed, so I grabbed a take away one and rode down to the park by the river. The servo didn’t have ice for my knees (and the woman had no idea if there were public toilets or showers in the area), so I bought some iceblocks and beer to try and alleviate the pain.

Canada

2007-11-06T19:03:00.000+11:00

Even though I had a delayed flight from Sydney, I made the bus I was booked on that would take me from Calgary to Banff. Beginning from Banff was only because I could get a frequent flyer ticket to Calgary and not to Whitefish or similar. The bus driver seemed shocked that I hadn’t arranged accommodation in Banff, as I had planned just to rock up to the closest campground, but I ended up getting a bed at the youth hostel. I walked into town, had a half decent meal (and a couple of fantastic beer- poured into an ice cold glass, the beer froze at the bottom then floated to the top), but was puzzled by the waitress. She was young and good looking, and kept flirting with me, I thought she may just be working the tip ("Hi! Welcome to Raisins!"), but I took it as she wanted me .

I had hoped to get going by midday the next day in order to shorten the distances I had to ride per day to get to the start, but after shopping for rainpants, getting the bike put back together (and taking it to a shop to bend the derailleur hanger back), posting off my travelling clothes, and slicing the sidewall of the rear tyre, it was about 1700. It had rained most of the time I had been there, and after the tyre mishap, I was a little demoralised. (Retrospective- I had put pressure on myself to get to Eureka quickly, and by riding the 200 miles over 5.5 days, because I was unsure about how far I could easily ride per day. This stress was not necessary, in the future I would do it in a couple of days easily). After having dinner at the franchised spaghetti place (“The pastas are quite large- most people aren’t able to eat a whole one by themselves”- Yeah right, two pastas, several beers, and a loaf of bread later I was asking what they had for dessert), I was feeling a little better, and amazed by the several daylight hours that I had left, I set off in the rain.

Canada Riding Day One: Banff to Spray Lakes: 17.9 miles

Reading the local paper in Banff, there was a bear attack on the same trail that I was riding, only a few days before, but I spent most of the time looking at the scenery- fast flowing rivers and massive chunks of rock behind them are quite impressive. I made good progress and stopped for the night besides Spray Lakes Reservoir when it started to get cold and windy.

Canada Day Two: Spray Lakes to Elkford: 91.7 miles

Morning vista from Spray Lakes campsite

The trail beside the lake was closed due to backburing, but I wasn’t about to ride several miles back to go around- the trail was safe anyway, being so close to the water. My morale took a hit not long after passing Canyon Dam- incessant rain and lots of clothing made me loose my cool. So, I pushed for about 500 metres, then got sick of that and started riding again.

Spray Lakes Reservoir

The gravel road through the Peter Lougheed Park was of good quality, and had fantastic views (I can understand why I saw so many tourists), but tiring (Retro- I had ridden only 30 miles, but my mental capacity for riding long distances was pretty small. I would get used to riding as the days went on- those first few days I would get bored quickly, and 10 or 20 miles seemed like a long way. But, by telling myself to shut up and keep riding (and by going into dreamland) I was able to ride all day without wanting to stop by the time I got to Mexico).

I saw two black bears (mother and cub) sitting on the gravel road, but before I could whip the camera out, a motorbike tourist had honked his horn and they had run away. I tried to stretch my quads at the Boulton Creek trading post (Uh Oh! Already?), and got a hot meal, the again set out in the rain to ride Elk Pass. The elevation gain was not a problem, but the mud at the top was. Luckily, the sun came out for the descent and it stayed that way for the rest of the day. After reading some info on bears, I thought that they would not pose a threat, but on that descent, I realised why people carry whistles- coming around a corner at speed and colliding with a bear would not be pretty.

Descent into Boulton Creek

The road to Elkford was long, but with amazing mountain ranges running down both sides of the trail. I met two guys with trailers, who I mistakenly thought were racing.

For most of the ride so far, the three computers I brought have been only working intermittently. They would take it in turns to give me info, so that most of my navigation was done by looking at the directions and terrain on the map. Made the last few miles into Elkford even harder as I underestimated the distance and picked up the pace. It wasn’t raining in Elkford, just overcast. I got an expensive room in a motel as I didn’t want to sleep out in the rain, then rode down to the only restaurant I could find. I was the only one in the seafood (with Chinese buffet) restaurant, and I put down a whole lot of food. I sat up for a few hours watching tv, eating fatty food from the servo, and icing my knees.

The road to Elkford

Preparation

2007-11-06T17:51:00.000+11:00

This is an account of the http://www.greatdividerace.com/ from June 15th to July 5th, 2007.

I built my mountain bike six weeks before the start of the race. I covered about 500km of trails in those six weeks. I had time to do more, but my inner-city position means that I had to drive at least one hour to get to a dirt trail of decent length. The first long off road ride I did was scary- the Old Great North Road from Wisemans ferry, built by the convicts 180 years ago and haven fallen into disrepair since then. Scary not due to the physical aspect, but because I quickly realised that my technical skills of picking lines through extremely rocky roads were pretty much non existant- I think I was on about 3 miles per hour by the time I turned around, well short of the 10 miles per hour I was hoping to race at. The 10 miles per hour was pretty arbitrary, I couldn’t find average speeds for any previous racers. I think it came from a calculation from 8 hours sleep per night and finishing in 3 weeks. The longest I had ridden previously was about 100 miles on flat road, so I had no idea of what speed I was capable of. I rode the Old Great North Road a few times more, but bypassing the rockiest sections, it turned out to be a great ride- hardpack and hilly, but the furthest I got was 55 miles. I was worried at this point about what I could achieve when racing- but ignored myself because I didn’t have any idea about what the actual trail would be like and I had a non-refundable plane ticket.

A couple of weekends I tried longer, overnight rides with little success. In the western Blue Mountains I froze (even though the temperature was higher than what I was expecting in the US), got lost, then broke my rear rack (Topeak), but picked up some tricks. I again froze riding in the Shoalhaven, and got a little depressed, but had a good ride from Leonie and Ben’s in Mittagong to Wombeyan Caves (several thousand vertical metres over 60 miles). I did benefit from these rides in experience, and it forced me to take more clothing even though most other racers gear kits were pretty skint. However, physically, I would have been better off going for my normal hilly road ride.

I have written this account several months after the trip, and can still remember almost every turn and thought. On the first few race days I have listed the audio podcast number and time at which I am recorded. The web address is http://mtbcast.com/wordpress/?cat=11, but I was getting tired of trawling through hours of audio, so I assume that readers would be too. So, take your time to read it and post your comments, email me or contact me through a private message on the mtbr.com forums (username is afie).

No sleep the night before the plane left.