Night out in a snowhole - December 2021

In the week before Christmas I fancied a night out, so I put a sleeping bag, thermarest and stove in my rucksack, grabbed my touring skis and headed over the border to Switzerland. Parking up at the Col de la Forclaz at 8pm I pulled on the ski boots, clipped into the ski bindings and headed off up through the woods.

The night was clear and I made decent progress to pop out of the forest and onto the ridge of the Point Ronde.

It was nearly 10.30 by the time I reached the summit and there was a chilly breeze on top, so after a couple of quick photos I whipped the skins off my skis and descended until I found a nice wind-lip which I thought would make a good spot for digging a snow hole.

After lighting the stove to make a cup of tea I started digging into the snow, and proceeded to enlarge the hole while my baked beans were warming up.

Finally I completed my (not so) cosy home for the night before realising that I had forgotten to bring a tin opener (luckily the baked beans were ring-pull) and therefore couldn't get into my Ambrosia Creamed Rice pudding. A few minutes of head scratching later and I attacked it with one of the tines of my titanium spork. Surprisingly it turned out that the fork was sharp and tough enough to puncture the tin lid, and a few minutes later I had the can half-open and was able to empty the contents into the saucepan.

Having enjoyed this feast I wriggled into my sleeping bag and settled down for the night. It's not easy to sleep when you're really cold, but I think I managed to snatch a few minutes here and there. At 3am I was woken by the sound of foot steps which were being transmitted through the snow. I knew there wouldn't be any people wondering round the mountain at this time, so I assumed it must be a wild animal. In the morning I spotted what looked like fox paw prints going up the ridge close to my snow hole.

At 7am there was a vauge hint of dawn in the eastern sky, so I made a cup of tea and packed my kit away.

Then it was a delightful descent through some pretty nice powder - these north facing slopes hold it well even several days after the last snowfall. This brought me back to the col and the car, before a drive home to pick up the kids and then creche drop-off for my son and breakfast in the boulangerie in Argentiere with my daugher.

MB Ultime 2021 - the world's toughest MTB race?

For several years the MB Race has been billing itself as "the world's toughest MTB race". That seemed like quite a claim given that their longest event was only 140km. For the 10th edition they decided to celebrate by creating the MB Ultime at 230km with 11,000m vertical. Could this really be the world's toughest MTB race?

Back in January Xavier Corin-Mick contacted me to propose forming a pair to race this event. Xav is notorious for being one of the strongest and most dedicated local cyclists, so it was with more than a little trepidation that I accepted his offer and we got on with submitting our application.

First up the organisers wanted to know about my palmares. This was to ensure that they wouldn't be sending anyone out onto the course who would be a liability to themselves and a burden on the emergency services. This was a bit of a wake-up call and made me think about whether I was up to the challenge. While none of the events I have done before were really in the same category (more bikepacking than Ultra-XC) and none of them were very recent they seemed to be satisfied with my 8th place in the Tour Divide back in 2016 and a win in the Highland Trail back in 2015.

Times have changed since those days and I now have two children under 3, so getting out for huge training rides is not as easy as it once was.

Training involved riding the fat-bike as much as possible during the winter, which seeing as I live in Chamonix is the only type of riding that can be done locally while the snow is on the ground. Once it finally melted in late March I was able to get the proper bike out and start some more adventurous rides.

Even without the snow I was pretty constrained by the time available and the general fatigue that life as a parent of young children can bring. I didn't do anywhere near as much training as I would have liked, but took my chances when the opportunity arose.

As the months rolled by the race date approached and I started thinking about conditions. In the woods around my home there is so little topsoil (due to having been glaciated only a few hundred years ago) that the trails can dry in less than 24 hours during spring and early summer. This is not so for the Aravis and Beaufortain ranges which were to form the route for the race and are home to proper mud when the weather is damp. As July progressed with rain almost every day it became obvious that the trails were not going to be dry and dusty. The 48 hours leading up to the start of the race put the final touches to the trail conditions with almost continuous rain.

As we prepared to start the race it was still raining, but while exchanging nervous greetings with other riders we noted that the rain had eased and it practically stopped before the 10am start. Looking around the other riders I noticed that everyone else seemed to have brought a super lightweight xc race bike - mostly full suspension but with some hardtails as well. My 14kg enduro bike with 2kg of tools, food and spare clothes strapped to it was starting to look rather sturdy by comparison when Xav pointed out someone who had brought a Rocky Mountain fat bike. This reassured me that I didn't have the heaviest bike on the start line after all, only the second heaviest.

Finally, after a briefing from the organisers 37 pairs set off to begin what they told us was not a race but an adventure.

I had printed off the route profile and sellotaped it to my top-tube so I could remind myself what was coming next at any point in the race. The first few kilometres showed a steady climb and this turned out to be mostly rideable but with a few inevitable pushing sections when bottlenecks caused the riders ahead to bunch up too much.

Xav had told me that I was in charge of setting the pace so that we didn't set off too fast and blow ourselves up early on. I was definitely feeling pretty steady and while it was frustrating to watch other riders pass me and pull away, I kept repeating my mantra for the opening section "let them go!". I think Xav found this mentally tough as he is naturally an extremely competitive rider (witness the ongoing tussle over a Strava KOM on a local climb that has become some kind of grudge match with another local rider).

Onto the first descent

The top of the first big climb brought us into thick mist and this was the point that some professional photographers had picked to take photos of the riders coming through. The shots they got were quite dramatic as we whooshed through the clouds, but I think a backdrop of an alpine vista would have been more appealing for most riders they were trying to sell their photos to.

Xav railing the berm

We plummeted down steep trail with Xav a short distance ahead until suddenly he stopped and shouted "off route!". Nightmare - we had overshot a junction by a few hundred metres and had to push back up the steep slope. As we did this more riders who had made the same error caught up with us and turned round. When we finally got back to the junction there were about a dozen riders who had been behind us negotiating the waterfall crossing to get onto the next bit of the descent. We were then stuck behind these riders down the next steep section until we finally got out onto the road at the bottom.

Thumbs up! (pic Olly Bowman)

My colleagues Emma and Janine along with Emma's daughter Sophie had dug out a cow-bell and were waiting at the bottom of this hill. They were somewhat confused why riders were coming from two different directions as evidently some others had missed the turn and not corrected their mistake.

Into the sunshine

The next climb began gently, but quickly ramped up as we passed through les Contamines. Here the organisers had taken the interesting decision to send us up a steep, unrideable footpath instead of the nicely graded zig-zag 4x4 track that went to the same place. Rustic German swear words issued from a fellow bike-pusher who evidently did not appreciate this route choice.

Once the summit of the Col Joly was reached, we turned onto a section of trail that Xav had warned me was a cow path and practically all unrideable. In the dry there would have been a few fun sections but the clay like mud ensured there were none. This mostly traversing section of 6km took over an hour to complete and was really awkward. Some parts were on slippery shale rocks that sloped towards serious drops. Not a place to be teetering around in stiff-soled biking shoes while trying to prevent an overloaded bike from taking off down the mountainside.

Another climb but still happy

Happily the next part was a descent of over 1,100 metres on lovely swoopy forest trails which led us to the first feed station at Beaufort. Biscuits, cheese and saucisson sec were gobbled rapidly before we were back outside to find that our bikes had been hosed clean of mud while we were eating. A quick squirt of chain lube and we were back on the bikes and climbing a road into the Beaufortain massif. An hour and a half of climbing led to a really interesting descent through a very steep forest. The trail was barely more than a tyre's width in many places and some of the switchbacks required some serious commitment (or for a couple of them a strategy of dismounting and turning the bike around).

Another long climb with a short burst of descent in the middle led us into a high alpage where the 4x4 track we had been following abruptly stopped. It was not easy to see where the route would go next as there was a band of cliffs above us. I was starting to get an insight into the warped mind of the course designer so it did not surprise me too much when I looked at the GPS screen to see that the route went straight up. Half an hour with the bike on my shoulder finally led to easier slopes and then the ridge of the Roche Parstire. Xav had gained a bit of a lead and was sitting shivering at the side of the trail. The misty summit was at 2,108m - the high-point of the whole route and it was 6 degrees Celsius. Not somewhere to hang about.

As we started to descend there were some course marshals (practically the first ones we had seen) who instructed us not to try and ride the next section - it was soon apparent why as the slippery rocks led to a right angle turn which would have been hard to make on the damp stone and the penalty for failure would have been a 5 metre drop onto the boulders below.

Muddy water bottle (pic Olly Bowman)

Safely negotiating this we suddenly dropped out of the mist and saw the sunset above the Chaîne des Aravis which was to be the setting for tomorrow's chapter of the adventure. A 1,300m descent with rooty sections, rocky bits and a little bit of almost everything else brought us back to Beaufort and some hot food while our bikes got another wash. On part of the descent our friend Olly Bowman (local rider and pro photographer) ambushed us with his camera - one of a few times he caught us on the course.

Team Axiom Vert CHX - photo by Olly Bowman

As we left Beaufort it was going dark and the next section was another long road climb towards les Saisies - the halfway point and a designated "base de vie" where there might be a chance of a lie down. As the stars came out we slowly worked our way up the hill and enjoyed the cool night air and the steady rhythm of turning the pedals. It wasn't to be all road, however and a quick dive through some woods led to a peat bog which ensured our riding shoes were nicely topped up with cold water as we pushed through the ankle-deep puddles. Emerging blinking into the floodlights of the centre sportif in les Saisies we were happy to have hit the half-way point.

After washing our bikes (les Saisies has a pleasingly palindromic name, but apparently no locals keen to volunteer to wash bikes at 1am) we were treated to a hot shower and a plate of pasta before having a lie down on rather firm gym mats. I had wrongly assumed there would be some kind of blankets and not put any warm clothes in the drop-bag that had been sent to Saisies, so all I could do was put on all my warm clothes. Fortunately I was tired enough to fall asleep pretty quickly, but I woke up less than half an hour later feeling cold. Xav had not slept and was keen to get going again. There was no question of me falling asleep again, so we quickly got ready and headed out into the darkness.

The next section was uphill so happily we had a chance to get some warmth into our muscles as we climbed up to the Chard du Beurre. This led into repeated descents, mostly pretty interesting but not too technical, followed by relatively short (300 metre vertical) climbs. By the fifth of these climbs I was starting to feel like we were going in ever-decreasing circles through the night, but to save my sanity the blue tint of the sky revealed that dawn was not far away.

Alpine hamlet (pic Olly Bowman)

Quickly my sanity was pushed to the brink again - the route dropped us into a steep sided gorge with a bridge over a torrent at the bottom. The only way out was a carry up a steep rocky slippery path. Halfway up this Xav shouted out that he thought we were off route again! Please no! Thankfully it was a case of poor GPS signal in the tree filled gorge causing his computer to have a 'moment'.

At about 6.30am we cruised into the village of Crest-Voland, where I suddenly realised that the discombobulation of pedalling through the darkness was over and that whatever happened the ride would be over at some point today. My body was in survival mode, but in my mind I was sure we could make it to the finish well before the 10pm time limit.

The next steep descent was what Xav had started to refer to as an "MB race special". This was a trail that had almost certainly seen fewer than a dozen pairs of mountain bike tyres in the last 6 months and while interesting to ride was a step beyond my capabilities in my fatigued state. The local knowledge of the organisers to find and include this kind of trail is impressive to say the least!

The bottom of this trail crossed the Arly river and the main road to Albertville, but our way did not spend more than 50 metres on the road before we came to a very well-marked turning to go up into some steep forest. The organisers evidently wanted us to be very sure that this was the right way to go because anyone seeing the forest would have immediately had their doubts. The trail on the ground was pretty much non-existent and after the initial scramble away from the road was blocked by three large fallen tree trunks. The almost metre-thick trunks were at an angle of 45 degrees, so climbing over them wasn't an option as it would have resulted in sliding off down the slope. Under them was the only way to go, but the gap was nowhere near as wide as my 780mm handlebars. By crawling myself through and then grabbing the bike by the stem I was able to drag it under first one tree, then another burying the end of the handlebars in the soil as I went. With this obstacle dispatched the rest of the climb was a standard-issue carry up stupidly steep hillside of the type we were now well used to.

Xav crushing yet another climb (pic Olly Bowman)

With great relief we burst out of the trees into a meadow which led to a paved road that would take us up the rest of this 900m climb to the Col de l'Arpettaz where Xav's wife Catherine was waiting for us. Breakfast of soup with pasta in it and a couple of cups of cola restored our spirits if not our bodies. Soon we were ready for the next section which rolled along the 4x4 track of the route de la soif (road of thirst) across the Col des Aravis and along the eastern side of the Aravis range. This section was without any shade at all, but there was no danger of thirst as the recent rain had kept the mountain streams babbling down the mountainside.

The next major obstacle was the Col du Niard, where the nice 4x4 track we had followed for 30km ran out and we started pushing our bikes up a steep slope. This gradually got steeper until carrying the bike was again the only feasible option, even if it wasn't an easy one. Part way up this section I picked up my bike for a steep pitch and took a step up onto the slope. My shoe lost grip and I fell forward, catching my wrist on a rock as I hit the ground. I shouldered the bike again, bleeding but not broken and stepped up - to almost the same result. This time the bike landed right on top of me and I struggled to wriggle out from under it. Finally at the third attempt I managed to scrabble my way up the greasy shale, and eventually the top of the col.

Xav singletrack descent (pic Olly Bowman)

A rapid descent on gravel tracks followed by a bike-drag through a lumpy cow pasture led to the final feed station at the Refuge du Tornieux. A first-aid crew had been stationed here to check on the status of any arrivals and they seemed to be taking more of an interest in my health than I was comfortable with. They kept asking if I was alright and telling me that I looked rather pale. I tried to reassure them that I was just a bit tired but it took a few fairly determined repetitions before they got the message "thanks for your concern but I'm quite alright". I hadn't expected to expend so much energy on rebuffing the attentions of the first-aiders. They did manage to help Xav by offering him some ointment that was more effective than the sun-screen he had resorted to using instead of chamois cream...

Leaving the last feed station, it seemed improbable that the course could maintain the same level of hardship in the last 26km to the finish, but the course designers were not done with us yet. For the penultimate climb (a mere 300 metres) they sent us up yet another steep, rooty forest footpath which involved a lot of pushing and virtually no riding. A short descent inevitably led to another climb, but I felt no worries, as even though this was a 600 metre climb it seemed insignificant, given we had already climbed 10,000 metres. It started fairly easily, zig-zagging up a gravel road but gradually ramped up to a gradient where pushing became inevitable. This final climb was also part of the course for the riders on the 140km "Ultra" version of the race. Some of them realised we were not in the same race as them and gave us words of encouragement which were much needed.

The final sting in the tail was a push through another bog and then up a steep, muddy path but all was quickly forgiven as this led to the euphoria of the Col de Jaillet - we could, at long last, say "it's all downhill from here". The last descent was made up of some fairly mellow trails that normally see a lot of traffic from the riders using the Megeve lifts. Xav was absolutely flying in spite of the fact that his rear shock had got stuck in locked out mode at some point. I was just holding on for dear life and trying not to get left too far behind. We finally dropped onto tarmac and swooped down the lanes that led to the finish area. As we rolled towards the line a wave of emotion hit me and I felt choked-up with tears. I was so relieved to have finished and so exhausted - physically and mentally. What a ride.

Bloody hell we made it! Photo by Olly Bowman

My wife, Sarah and children Aurora and Patrick were there to greet us at the finish. I was so happy to see them and to finally be able to put the bike down knowing I would not have to get on it again.

We stood on the finishing ramp for photos and the commentators explained to the crowd what we had just done. 5th overall out of 37 teams that started. A beer was handed to me and my happiness was complete.

Me (pic Olly Bowman)

It turns out only one team finished behind us. Another two dropped out at the final feed station, only 26km from the finish which seems unbelievable having already covered over 200km. It looks like they would have been well within the overall time limit, so there must be another story there - maybe the persuasive powers of the first-aid crew did for them and they let themselves be convinced that it really wasn't a good idea to carry on.

Xav (pic Olly Bowman)

So, to loop back to the question I posed at the start, is it really the toughest MTB race in the world? With an 84% drop out rate for this, the only edition held so far, it certainly must be up there. If you exclude stage races, such as the Cape Epic and Iron Bike Italy, and bikepacking events, such as the Tour Divide and Iditarod Trail, I haven't been able to find anything of comparable elevation gain. Even if you count the 4,350km Tour Divide then the total amount of pushing/carrying is much less than the amount in the MB Ultime (unless you run into deep snow, or sticky mud like I had in Montana). In terms of technical descending there is hardly any in the Tour Divide (the same goes for the Cape Epic from what I've heard). On the other hand, the Iditarod Trail's challenge really lies in surviving the cold and the wilderness rather than riding bikes.

Maybe the MB Ultime really is the world's toughest mountain bike race...

Tour Divide 2016 - New Mexico

The feeling of crossing into New Mexico was great - I had tackled the big mountains of Colorado and now only had one state left to cross. This one would have different challenges, but still plenty of big mountains.

Into the final state.

The first part of the trail led over the Brazos ridge and past the Cruces Basin Wilderness. I got pretty close to some elk who were startled when they noticed me and ran away very quickly. I think I saw some old snow here under some trees left over from the winter, but I may have hallucinated this. The trail does go up to around 3,300m (11,000 feet) though, so it does seem possible.

I caught up with Jose who was pushing his bike up a steep section of trail. We stuck together through some technical descending and some more ups and downs and eventually came out onto some gravel road. Jose was keen to stop for the night and as I did not have any particular target in mind I decided to stop as well.

Next morning saw us up and away pretty early and soon we came to the Hopewell Lake campground. We had been told that there was water here, but neither of the taps we found were working, so we carried on. We hit Vallecitos where we did find a working tap and weirdly free WiFi at the community hall (but nothing else at all). Then carried on with dogs snapping at Jose's ankles. The dogs failed to draw any blood, so we shrugged them off and continued up the next climb. Which took us over to El Rito.

Evidently someone important or well liked had died, as the town was completely full of parked cars and people dressed for a funeral. Fortunately the guys running the shop were not at the funeral and were still serving.

The shop was a bit strange to say the least. As well as selling food and drink it had some hardware, most of which was in very dusty cardboard boxes. Display space was evidently not at a premium as some of the items on the shelves looked like they hadn't been touched for many years.

It wasn't far to Abiquiu, so in fact we probably didn't need to stop at the weird shop in El Rito at all. The gas station here has a pretty good restaurant inside, as well as a really good selection of cereal bars and all the usual stuff I needed to buy.

A bike that neither of us had seen before was propped up in front of the shop, but I recognised it from photos I had seen on the Singletrack forum as Rob Colliver's bike. Sure enough Rob himself was inside sporting his trademark bib-shorts-over-cycling-jersey look.

We sat down with Rob and had a good chat about how the trail had been treating all of us. It was good to chat to another Brit and get a different perspective on the Brexit referendum result that had just been announced. Rob was away up the trail first, but Jose and I were not too far behind after I had finished off my enormous chicken enchilada.

The next section climbs Polvadera Mesa, which is rightly notorious. Once we got in to the main part of the climb we found that it was alternately dry, deep sand and lumpy bedrock. The gradient was just steep enough to make this a serious challenge and Jose repeatedly fell off into the sand when his tyres went sideways. We caught and passed Rob on this climb and then rested for a moment at the top. I went slightly off route to try and have a look at the view, but frustratingly the trees were too thick to see out.

We descended for a while then the trail sent us up and down repeatedly. Jose was pretty knackered after the big climb and although I was tempted to push on to Cuba he convinced me to stop early as we were not going to make it there at a sensible time. As we were getting into our sleeping bags Rob passed us and shouted a cheery hello.

We were on the trail again by 5 am with Jose a few minutes ahead of me. Rob had slept a few minutes down the road from us and was packing up as I passed. Just before reaching the paved road I passed a party campsite with music still playing at 6 am and toilet paper directing party goers to join the fun. I was glad not to have passed here in the dark when the track would probably have been full of drunken revelers in massive trucks.

Dead straight for 40 miles.

I arrived at McDonalds in Cuba at about 6.30 am to find Jose already filling up with multiple cheeseburgers. Rob arrived soon after me, and as he was the only one of us who had been here before (albeit 4 years earlier) we quizzed him on the next section which was to be long, hot and dry and all on tarmac. He reassured us that there was a shop at Pueblo Pintado, which was where the road made a sudden turn to the south.

After eating and filling up all my water bottles I set off. This section crosses Indian reservations, which are not renowned for being particularly welcoming of travelers. I passed an open laundromat after about 40 miles, but didn't stop as I had my sights set on the shop Rob had mentioned. Unfortunately when I got there it was all boarded up and there was clearly no chance to get water, so I would have to keep going for another 70 miles to get to Grants.

Soon after this I passed Jose who had left Cuba a few minutes before me, but I wasn't in the mood for chatting, so I kept my head down and powered on towards Grants.

As I approached Milan there was a big thunderstorm passing through the town and the roads were soaking wet, but I was fortunately just behind it, so didn't get wet. The rain started again as I rode into Grants a couple of miles later, so I quickly dived into a Pizza Hut for a late lunch. By the time I had stuffed my belly with pizza the rain had stopped and I carried on for a few miles to a shop at the interstate crossing.

There were still a few hours of riding time left, so I carried on past the spectacular cliffs of the El Malpais National Monument with another great sunset. It had become quite noticeable that the the sun was now setting much earlier than it had further north.

I reached the turnoff for Pie Town and started looking for a place to stop for the night. The wind was blowing strongly and I was worried that the big thunderstorms I had seen earlier would come back in the night. I couldn't find any shelter beside the road, and explored a couple of dead-end side roads hoping to find a spot to sleep, but with no luck. Finally I settled for sleeping in the lee of a bushy tree which at least gave some shelter from the wind.

I was excited to get going the next morning as I knew that Pie Town should be reachable for breakfast time. I found the Pie-O-Neer closed, but was very happy to be welcomed in to the Gathering Place for a hearty breakfast. Salsa Cycles had generously paid for a pie for each Tour Divide rider reaching Pie Town, so I claimed an apricot pie on them and paid for a cherry pie with my own money. I then had to improvise a pie harness using my waterproof to attach them to my seat-pack as they wouldn't fit inside any of my bags!

Here I also managed to call Sarah for a chat, as it was our first wedding anniversary!

As I was leaving Pie Town I passed the Toaster House, which I had never heard of before, where Pavel was pumping up his tyres. This seems to be a kind of hostel/open house where the owner allows bikers and hikers to stay and pay on an honesty basis with no warden in residence. If I had known about it I might have pushed on to get to it the night before.

I continued, laden with pies over Mangas mountain, where I saw a few northbound riders. One of these gave me a great tip that there was water to be had from a garden hose at the church on the highway crossing. I also stopped there and ate some pie in the shade of the porch - a very welcome break from the heat.

The next target was the Beaverhead work station, and after a few hot and arduous hours I made it there. As promised there was a coke machine, a tap and a loo - it felt like heaven to me!

From here I carried on into the Gila wilderness in the evening, enjoying the fantastic views from the top of the hills. The track drops into deep valleys and climbs out of them again and again. Finally I decided to stop and rest for the night. As I was looking for a suitable spot I saw some flashing LEDs a few metres off the trail. I realised it must be Jose who had been ahead of me since the morning having started a bit earlier. Another couple of hundred metres up the trail I stopped and ate the last of my Pie Town pie before bedding down for my final night on the Tour Divide.

Starry sky in the Gila on the last night.

It felt very special getting up and knowing that this would be the last day on the trail. I was more organised than normal, and was on the move at about 4:15 am.

The ride started with a descent into a canyon and a climb up the other side. As I reached the top I looked back and saw a light behind me - presumably Jose who had started slightly later than me. What felt like a lot more ups and downs finally brought me to a bit of tarmac which gave a brief rest and then the famous CDT alternate began from Sapillo Campground. It was tricky to find the correct way out of the campground with just the GPS, so I got the paper map out and read the description which set me going the right way.

A steep push up through scrub and cacti led to the ridge and great views back into the Gila. I kept following the ATV track down a steep and technical descent until I glanced down at my GPS and realised I was off route! A ten minute push back onto the trail to find the singletrack turn off followed.

I then made a really stupid mistake. A particularly impressive cactus had caught my attention and I decided I needed a photo of it with my bike propped beside. Unfortunately my weary brain didn't register the danger posed by a spiky cactus to bike tyres and I managed to put a hole in my rear tyre. The tubeless sealant didn't do any good at sealing it, so I had to get the tubeless repair plugs out and block the hole up. A stupid mistake which must have cost me another 20 minutes on top of the 10 I had just lost from going off route.

Spiky cactus.

I concentrated especially hard through the next section to make sure I didn't ride off the narrow and overgrown singletrack into any more cacti, and was very relieved to finally make it out onto the tarmac road. From here I had assumed it would be an easy freewheel down into Silver City, but was proved very much wrong as there was a stiff climb up to Pinos Altos to deal with first.

I hit McDonalds in Silver City for a late breakfast and was served by a very polite elderly lady - not exactly the usual age range for McDonalds staff. A few minutes later I was horrified to see that a man was berating her about the price he was being charged for his meal - essentially because he had misunderstood the pricing on the menu. This was an unwelcome reminder that the real world was beckoning as the wilderness adventure was coming to an end. I would soon have to deal with other people, some of them angry and rude.

McDonalds breakfast didn't seem to have quite done the trick, so I went into the centre of Silver City for a second breakfast at a nice laid back cafe, and then on to the co-op for my final resupply.
Leaving Silver City up a big hill on the highway my legs were feeling strong and I was in good spirits, so I was highly amused to pass a driveway which was lined with what must have been 50 toilets. Bizzare!

Why not line your driveway with old toilets?

Dirt roads led on through the desert, sandy and washboarded. I didn't really care too much as I knew that the number of miles remaining was steadily ticking down.

The final shop on the route is a trading post at Separ on the interstate which sells tacky souvenirs, fireworks, ice cream, coffee and microwaved burritos. I bought some food and sat in the shade for a while before getting out into the howling headwind along the final stretch of dirt road of the route. This was a horrible frontage road parallel with the interstate that the route follows west for about 5 miles before turning southwards for the last section.

It was a massive relief to turn south and on to tarmac - from here it should all be easy! To get to Hachita it was mostly pretty easy, and I refilled my water from the tap beside the community centre. There can't be too much community left in Hachita as it is something of a ghost town with no shops, lots of boarded up houses an abandoned looking church.

The final section of road had lots of big black tarantulas and giant millipedes about 20 cm long. I tried not to run these over, and was a bit wary of them when I stopped to sit on the side of the road and enjoy the last sunset of the ride. One of the many border patrol cars (pretty much the only vehicles on the road) stopped to check that I was ok.

Last sunset - storm cloud with lightening in the distance.

As darkness set in I was feeling pretty sleepy and was actually in danger of falling asleep. Then, with 26 miles to go I looked over my shoulder and saw a single light following me. It looked like a bike light, so I figured that either Pavel or Jose must be close behind me. I rode hard for the next 10 miles and checked again. The light still seemed about the same distance behind me, maybe half a mile. This meant I had to keep riding hard. I ate and drank while trying to keep the power down and kept checking over my shoulder every few minutes. The road side has mile markers which count down all the way to the border, and I was trying to keep my mind busy working out how much faster the rider behind would need to go to close a half mile gap in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6 miles. Once I got to 5 miles and was still feeling pretty strong I was confident that I had enough of a gap that I wouldn't be caught. My knees were burning with pain from riding too hard for so long, but I knew that another few minutes was all it would take.

Finally the bright lights of the Antelope Wells border checkpoint came into view. I rode up to the sign on the fence and painfully unclipped from my pedals then leaned the bike up. It was over.

Finishers - Me, Jose and Pavel.

4 minutes later Pavel rolled in with me cheering. He was delighted to have made it, and though he knew he had been close behind he wasn't too disappointed that he hadn't caught me at the end. We hugged and talked about the race. I couldn't believe that after almost 19 days we had finished so close together. Pavel thought that Jose was close behind, and pretty soon Juan, who Jose had booked to pick him up from the finish, rolled in and handed us cans of coke. Then Jose arrived and the party was complete. After posing for a few photos we threw our bikes into the back of Juan's car and headed off, glad not to have to spend a night with the tarantulas at Antelope Wells.

Tour Divide 2016 - Colorado

I had been looking forward to Colorado. It was the only one of the US states on the route that I had visited before. My previous visit had also been with a mountain bike for the Singlespeed World Championships in 2009. On that visit I rode some fabulous trails, met some great people and ate and drank great food and beer. My expectations were high, and Colorado was not about to disappoint!

First of all there was a long steep climb up a gravel track in the late morning heat. As I went up I was passed by three vehicles coming down - the people in each of these cheered as they passed me. This was motivation enough for me to keep riding up the steep sections instead of pushing. Eventually I reached the Brush Mountain Lodge, where I was met by Kirsten, the famed trail angel who plied me with a giant heap of blueberry pancakes as well as melon, lemonade and water.

Billy Rice and his kids were in residence, having just held a debrief of Juliana Buhring's RAAM team. It was Juliana and the team who had just left and had been cheering me on up the last climb. Billy has ridden the Tour Divide route several times, including a double (Northbound followed by Southbound) and on a tandem with his 16 year old daughter Lina. He offered me some sage advice about the challenges coming up in the next couple of days which I tried to absorb while inhaling yet another pancake.

Leaving the awesome Brush Mountain Lodge - photo by the amazing Kirsten.

Soon I was on the way again over the hills to Steamboat Springs where I decided that my brain and my legs were done. It hadn't been a very long day at only 185 km and 12 hours moving time, but the 330 km effort from the day before and the lack of sleep had taken a lot out of me. I checked into a very dated looking motel where the Swiss owner was determined to tell me his life story even as I was falling asleep on the desk.

After a quick shower I headed out to find food. The curry house across the road was just closing when I got to it, but the friendly Australian guy running it gave me a free portion of rice which was perfect for the next morning's breakfast. I did manage to get an amazing steak from a restaurant a few blocks down which set me up for the next day's hilly ride.

The next morning started with a few road miles and then a climb to the pleasant Stagecoach Lake followed by some more climbing over the Lynx Pass and then some fairly technical descending. Billy Rice had warned me about the Radium section being like an oven and I was about to hit this in the early afternoon. The route descends into the Colorado river gorge before climbing steeply out of it. The walls of the canyon reflect the heat and make it into a furnace. Fortunately I was feeling pretty strong at this point, so I kept on riding and made it out in a reasonable state.

The rather lumpy profile of the Colorado section.

I was keen to get some food in before the final climb of the day, so I made the 2 mile detour into Kremmling where I enjoyed some tacos and ice cream before climbing the Ute pass which was all on tarmac, but still pretty steep in places. The view from the top was made more impressive by the storm over the Eagles Nest Wilderness.

Evening storm from the Ute pass.

After a swift descent there was a gradual uphill to reach Silverthorne which was lit up by double and triple rainbows which made it much more enjoyable.

Rainbows on the way into Silverthorne.

It was properly dark by the time I reached Silverthorne and I was delighted to find an Indian/Nepalese restaurant still serving food and beer. After pakoras, curry and lots of rice I set off to find a bivvy spot beside the Dillon Reservoir.

Dawn beside the Dillon Reservoir.

After a peaceful night beside the reservoir I headed on to breakfast in Breckenridge. Here Colorado bike infrastructure impressed me as there was a tarmac cycle path all the way there - albeit with a slight headwind and uphill gradient that made me feel that I'd really earned my breakfast by the time I rolled into town. Some locals spotted me and shouted out "go Tour Divider!" so I stopped and got their recommendation for the best breakfast in town. Amazing Grace provided me with coffees, hot food and muffins which got my body ready for the day ahead.

Breckenridge is renowned for being a high altitude mountain town - many athletes use it for high altitude training, so it was no surprise that the next pass was to be a high one. Fortunately the track up Boreas pass was a good one at a nice gradient and I even chatted to a local who was out for a morning mountain bike ride as I climbed the pass.

The highest Divide crossing on the route.

After the obligatory summit photo I set off down, passing some skiers who were carrying their skis up from the track to get in some turns on the remaining snow patches - a very Scottish activity! They had parked their van right in front of the signpost for the Gold Dust Trail. I only overshot the trail by a couple of hundred metres and was quickly on my way down this lovely piece of singletrack. Part of the trail follows an old water race which was built in gold rush days and this makes for a lovely bermed route across the mountain. Other sections are rooty and rocky and overall it really lived up to its billing as the best section of trail on the whole Tour Divide route.

I arrived in Como just as a torrential thunder shower began, so I passed a few minutes buying and writing a couple of postcards in the museum before continuing into South Park as the rain stopped. The empty spaces of South Park were periodically broken up by abandoned subdivisions. It seems that small parcels of land have been sold off for housing, but since land isn't exactly scarce around there they have virtually no resale value, so if the owner decides to move on the home they have built is simply left to rust and rot.

After passing through many empty miles I reached Hartsel and was glad to be able to get some lunch in the characterful Highline Cafe and Saloon. I chatted to a fisherman who had been driven off the river by the thunderstorms while I ate and drank then hit the trail again heading over the hills to Salida. The descent to Salida was long and exciting with some dangerous sections of loose gravel, big drops into the gorge and no crash barriers. I was glad I was tackling it in daylight rather than having to do it in the dark.

I rolled into Salida and checked in to the very friendly hostel, then went for a huge pizza and a beer at the Moonlight Brewery which left me feeling very full and happy.

The next sections on my route card showed some alarmingly large numbers in the height gain column, and sure enough I was onto the big road climb up the Marshall Pass as soon as I left Salida. After turning off the initial tarmac section the pass went up a long way on the gravel and I was certainly ready for a break after cresting the top. A nice and not too tricky descent brought me to the tiny settlement of Sargents "Eleveation high, population low" and the Tomichi Creek Trading Post. Unfortunately I was a little too early for lunch, so I made do with microwaved breakfast rolls and coffee. While I was finishing my breakfast David Stowe arrived. I hadn't seen him for a few days, so we caught up with how we had each been going on the trail.

The rest of the day passed by as I crossed the Cochetopa and Carnero passes on dirt roads dodging thunderstorms. As the light was beginning to fade I passed a sign for the Ghost Ranch and reached an interesting section of trail which wiggled around some hills before dropping into Del Norte.

I found Jose and Pavel at the fuel station in Del Norte. Pavel had been knocked off his bike by an old man driving a truck, and was not looking too good. He had had to get a lift with the police to Del Norte where he had replaced his broken handlebars at the bike shop and then the police had driven him back to where he had been knocked off so he could continue his ride. He must have lost a few hours to this as well as having very sore ribs and being a bit concussed but he was determined to carry on an find somewhere to bivvy. Jose headed off to the motel and I followed after having a microwave burrito for dinner.

The motel was like so many others down the divide, looking like it had not had any money spent on it since the 1970's but at least it was cheap.

From Del Norte the climb of the Indiana pass ramps up almost straight out of town. Planning for the divide I had been a little apprehensive about the altitude on this section. The top of the pass is at nearly 12,000 feet (3,600m) which is seriously high for someone who lives at sea level like me. The route also remains above 11,000 feet for almost 40 miles. Fortunately having been on the trail already for two weeks meant that I was fairly well acclimatised to high altitude and I didn't suffer too much apart from feeling a bit sluggish on the steep uphill sections.

Top of the Indiana Pass, high point of the route at 3,630 m (11,910 feet).

The top of the pass gave stunning panoramas of the surrounding mountains, but also a view of Summitville - a site where the mountain had been torn apart by gold mining from the 1860's until the 1990's. The most recent firm to exploit the site was wound up leaving massive environmental problems including run-off of toxic chemicals and heavy metals. The US government stepped in declaring it a federal superfund cleanup site and spent $155m on decontamination. The work goes on and there is still a lagoon of scary red liquid below the old mine workings.

Marmots on rubble at Summitville.

After staying very high for a long time there was finally some descent through fantastic scenery to reach Platoro and lunch. This tourist town has a couple of restaurants and I picked the Gold Nugget Cafe where I had a good burger and an excellent bread pudding with whisky sauce.

Red Mountain helping Colorado live up to its name.

The day was hot by this stage, so I was able to justify a stop for ice cream and a quick snooze at the gallery in Horca. Here Pavel passed me just as I was about to set off, but I overtook him on the road climb up the La Manga Pass. I think Pavel was suffering from the effects of his crash the previous day.

After cresting the pass, leaving the tarmac and crossing a narrow-gauge railway I reached the New Mexico state line - the final state on the ride!

The final chapter - New Mexico

Tour Divide 2016 - Idaho and Wyoming

It was just after 6 am when I reached the top of the Red Rock Pass and crossed into Idaho. It felt like a huge milestone to move out of Montana which I had been in for the last 6 nights. A fast descent with some nice woodland trails towards the end led to breakfast at the Island Park gas station.

Dean rolled up as I was preparing to leave so we had a quick chat before I hit the rail trail heading down towards Warm River. This section gets a warning in the ACA maps that extremely soft volcanic soils can be hard work. They are tricky for the first section, especially as the ATV's that have used the old railway line have turned it into a series of roller-coaster bumps, but fat tyres make this manageable. After a while the track improves and leads to a lovely trail descending beside the beautiful Warm River.

A few road miles led me to the Squirrel Creek Ranch where I topped up with burger, chips and ice-cream while chatting to a couple of English guys who were riding north touring the route. It turned out that one of them had worked with a good friend of mine in Antarctica, so we exchanged some stories of adventures we had shared with Stuart.

Back on the road I caught up with Luke Bodewes as the road started to climb towards the Wyoming state line. It was good to chat to Luke for a while as he had a lot of experience - this was his third time on the route despite being only 17 years old! We passed into Wyoming without any fuss - two state lines in one day meant that this one didn't feel as special as the last one.

We carried on through the woods and I stopped to dig out some food while getting attacked by a swarm of ravenous mosquitoes who chased me for a good few miles afterwards.

Soon after this I rounded a corner to see a black bear strolling onto the track. The bear became aware of me riding towards it and quickly spun round and retreated back into the forest. I slowed right down and as I came to the point where the bear had been I saw it watching from among the trees. I snapped a quick photo before riding on - a fantastic encounter with this beautiful creature.

The trail led to Flagg Ranch where I bumped into a rider who was doing the Trans Am Bike Race which intersects the Tour Divide route here. We sat down together for dinner in the rather posh restaurant and swapped stories from our rides. After a visit to the shop to restock I got back on the road.

The route skirts the edge of the Grand Teton national park and I had a superb view of these mountains from as I cycled past.

Tetons from across Jackson Lake

As darkness fell I found myself at the base of the Togwotee pass and began climbing with tired legs. I found a meadow where I could get off the track and bedded down for the night. Thoughts of bears were in my mind after the earlier sighting, but none came to disturb me. Instead I was woken by a truck coming down the track at 2 am. The truck stopped and shone a bright spotlight at me. I was waiting for the door to open and someone to come and tell me to get off their land, but was relieved when the truck drove on. I didn't sleep well for the rest of the night as I suspected they might come back.

The next morning started with a huge climb, first off road and then on, to the top of the Togwotee pass which I reached after about 3 hours of riding. At the top of the climb I stopped to change my disc brake pads - the only time in the race that I needed to do this. Unfortunately my brakes didn't seem to want to work with the new pads - I couldn't decide if the altitude was causing the problem or something else - it seemed like there was air in the system. I ended up having to let some hydraulic fluid out of the system to get them working without dragging continuously.

I picked up a couple of muffins and a coffee at the Java Mountain Lodge campground (rather disappointed that they weren't serving proper breakfasts at the cafe) then set off into the Union Pass area. This was probably the most frustrating section of the whole ride for me. Every summit seemed to be a false summit, there were no real views to get a perspective on where you were going and the track always seemed to be loose, slow and difficult to ride. After following this track for several hours I was really fed up, and was delighted when it finally dropped down to the Green River. I encountered a fierce headwind here which blew dust devils up from the dirt road. Reaching a paved road was a big relief even if there was still a headwind.

By the time I reached Pinedale I was both mentally and physically exhausted, so I checked into a motel and went out to search for food which I found, along with nice beer at the Wind River Brewery.

Next morning I felt a little daunted knowing that the Great Divide Basin lay ahead. I stashed an extra water bottle on the bike and loaded up with plenty of snacks then headed off towards Atlantic City. The first section had a fantastic tailwind and I flew along enjoying the views and the wildlife - vultures and pronghorns.

Atlantic City Mercantile is pretty much the only place to get food in this tiny former mining town. The interior is filled with antiques and has an old frontier town atmosphere. Dean was there when I arrived, just finishing off his burger. I also ate a burger and ice cream and ensured my water bottles were all full. Bailey Newbrey and Justin Chadwick arrived just before I set off, so I wished them well before heading off into the Great Divide Basin.

The vast emptiness of the Great Divide Basin.

The continental divide is a line following the ridges for most of its length, but in the Great Divide Basin it splits, and the rain that falls in the Basin does not flow to either the Atlantic or the Pacific, but flows into pools where it is absorbed or evaporated. It was mid-afternoon by the time I left Atlantic City, so the desert heat was starting to reduce a little.

Most of the way across the Basin I had tailwinds which made it much easier to deal with. I think I only saw one vehicle in crossing the Basin, but I saw plenty of wildlife - pronghorn and mustangs being the most interesting of these. I also passed Dean who was taking it steadily on his singlespeed and Jose who had punctured.

As night fell I was treated to a fantastic desert sunset with the Wind River Mountains which I had passed in the morning just still visible on the horizon.

Desert sunset.

I rode on into the darkness eventually reaching signs of human activity as I approached the hydraulic fracking town of Wamsutter. Then I saw a bright white light approaching me in the distance. As it became nearer I realised it was another bike rider. It turned out to be the first northbound racer. We both stopped and said hi - he told me that he had just seen Pavel who was only a few miles ahead of me.

Soon after that I arrived at the 24 hour service station on the I80 interstate at Wamsutter. The Subway was still serving food, so I ordered a footlong sub and also grabbed some more snacks and a coffee before topping up my water and getting back on the trail.

I wasn't really sure how long to keep going, but I didn't feel too tired, so I carried on until about 2 am when I lay down beside a fracking depot for about 3 hours of sleep.

The next section was very dry and had no shade, so even though it was early morning it started to get hot very quickly. I disturbed a sunbathing snake on the trail which quickly slithered away into the undergrowth.

Not sure what kind of snake this is. Prairie Rattlesnake maybe?

After a long, gradual climb and some short, steep annoying climbs I rolled into Savery where I was surprised and happy to find that the Little Snake River Museum had laid on an honesty shop for riders. I ate some snacks and filled up on water while enjoying a few minutes out of the sun before continuing up the road to the Colorado state line.

Next section - Colorado

Tour Divide 2016 Kit

I've been asked about the kit I took with me on the Tour Divide, so here is a wee run down.

Bike: Shand Cycles custom steel 29er with steel Salsa CroMoto fork.

This bike is more than 7 years old and has been well used and abused.

Drivetrain

The bike was originally singlespeed only, but for the Tour Divide I decided to add gears. I swapped out the Paragon sliding dropout for one with a mech hanger. I used an XT 1x11 setup with a 34t chain ring and an 11-40 cassette. This range of gears worked pretty well for me. I didn't change the chain at all during the ride and by the end it was pretty knackered and fell off the chain ring quite a few times (maybe a narrow-wide chainring would have helped this).

I kept the singlespeed White Industries ENO chainset and used a Shimano square taper bottom bracket - the previous one had lasted so long that it became seized into the frame. I had to take the frame back to Shand to get it removed - this was achieved with some heat which left the frame missing more paint than it already was!

Wheels

The wheels were Hope pro 4 rear hub and SP PD8 front dynamo hub laced to WTB i25 rims. Tyres were WTB Trail Boss 2.4" front and Wolverine 2.2" rear, both tubeless. Hope Mono Mini brakes - 7 years old like the frame and forks but still working pretty well.

Power

The dynamo hub was connected up to a Tout Terrain Plug III USB power converter so that I could charge my Garmin Edge 1000 via a cache battery. Unfortunately the Plug stopped working on day 2, so I had to resort to charging my backup batteries from mains power when I stopped at motels and buying AA batteries to run my emergency usb battery pack (although I only used 8 AA batteries in total). I haven't figured out what went wrong with the Plug yet - it's 3 years old and has some corrosion on the USB socket, so maybe it was just a bad connection? The green LED light is still lighting up.

I used an Exposure Revo headlight powered by the dynamo hub. This worked perfectly for Tour Divide type riding, although I deliberately avoided doing any hike-a-bike sections in the dark. Dynamo lights are not good at walking speed. I mounted the light on top of the front dry bag using a cut down plastic mud guard.

Luggage

On the bars an Alpkit Yak harness with a dry bag containing sleeping gear. Two Alpkit Stem Cell bags, one with my Canon G16 camera, one with food.  Frame bag is an Alpkit Possum containing tools, electronics and food. Seat bag is a Revelate Viscacha with spare clothes, maps, inner tubes, first aid kit, headtorch and anything else.

Water

I just carried two 650 ml bottles in the cages on the frame. This was a lot less than most people seemed to carry - some had four or five large bottles attached to their bikes. Until I got to Wyoming this was enough, though I did fill up from streams in Canada and Montana when necessary. One of these times I used water purification tablets as the water didn't seem that clean, but the rest I didn't bother as the sources were high mountain streams.

I was able to tuck a couple of 1 litre bottles behind the dry bag on my bar harness for the Great Divide Basin then Colorado and New Mexico. This worked pretty well, though there were a couple of times the bottles bounced out when I hit a nasty section of washboard.

Sleeping gear

In the dry bag on the front I carried a Terra Nova GoreTex bivvy bag, a Thermarest Neo air mattress and a Rab Neutrino 200 down sleeping bag. As a bit of a luxury I carried long johns, spare thin socks and a merino long sleeved base layer. Most nights I was really comfortable for sleeping, although in Montana there were a couple of cold nights when I would have preferred a warmer sleeping bag.

Tools and Spares

When deciding what bike to bring and how to build it up I had gone for as many reliable options as I could. This and a healthy dose of luck meant that I didn't have any mechanicals apart from the chain coming off (easily fixed) and one puncture (caused by leaning the bike against a spiky cactus and fixed with a tubeless repair plug).

I carried enough tools to fix most problems I considered likely to occur: Gerber multi-tool with pliers and sharp blade, Park Tool I-Beam 2 multi-tool, Park Tool Mini Brute chain tool, spoke key, Weldtite tubeless repair kit, pump, chain lube.

Spares were limited to 3 sets of brake pads (only used one set), two inner tubes (used none), spare chain links, inner gear cable.