Continental Divide Ride

[MotoNews]

Published in: Rides

“What do we do?” I ask through the headset. “Keep riding and hope for the best,” says Edward. “I don’t see any ditches, and we’re taller than the fence posts, which are the only things out here. It’s a gamble but I don’t know what else to do. I’ve never seen a storm like this.”

Ominous black sky meets the horizon of an absolutely flat New Mexico landscape, punctuated by brilliant flashes of light. It seems like Mother Nature had gathered her full force and fury and is about to unleash it. The sharp crackle of lightning both frightens and invigorates us—there is nothing more magnificent than a full-blown Western thunderstorm.

It is our second to last day of riding the Rocky Mountain range from Canada to Mexico, loosely following the Continental Divide Trail (CDT). Following the dramatic peaks and valleys that make up the backbone of America, we visit some of the most remote places the United States still offers. This seemingly endless dirt road is one of them—the GPS says we are approaching Pie Town, New Mexico, although in this moment we fear we might not make it.

We travel on smaller bikes—I am on a Suzuki DR350 SE and Edward is riding a Suzuki DR-Z400. Both are older models, yet have proven highly reliable. We do most of our own maintenance, which is thankfully very little. With the current gearing our top speed is about 50 mph, which is about as fast as we like to ride on gravel roads, except for today. Today we cannot get off the exposed, open plain quickly enough.

Edward is in the lead since he is better at navigating by GPS. We have been watching the weather brewing around us for the past hour, but we are from the East Coast, and therefore naïve to the swift and heady approach of the thunderstorm.

There is nowhere to run but forward, and we are pushing both the limits of our bikes and riding abilities to get to shelter.

We are following a modified GPS route given to us by Mark Sampson of BigDogAdventures.com. Because the CDT was primarily designed as a hiking and bicycling route, motorcyclists have to choose their own routing. Therein lies the beauty of riding the Continental Divide Trail—each rider devises his or her own route and lets following the trail become a part of the adventure.

There is an official Continental Divide Trail, a close cousin to the route we ride, that is administered by the U.S. Forest Service. The Trail charts a course through Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado and New Mexico. There is an excellent bicycling map put out by the Adventure Cycling Association that most motorbike travelers use as a guide for the route, and that’s the basis for Mark’s GPS file.

Our own CDT route starts on the Canadian border in Glacier National Park. With so much light that far to the North, Edward engineers a brutal twelve-hour travel day, and we cover 400 miles of dirt. The roads are very good with only a few ruts and we cover ground quickly, continuing to ride after dinner. We camp in the National Forest.

Montana is rough, rugged, and green. We ride through the exceedingly remote Bob Marshall Great Bear Wilderness Area. We are here in August, and even now the presence of the glaciers is felt. This is a part of the country where winter lingers, and where the touch of civilization has had no impact.

Night temps at elevation are cool, and we are happy to have our Big Agnes 30 degree bags that zip together.

We pass a few bicyclists, and cross into Idaho. We ride almost three hundred miles through both the Targhee and Salmon National Forests. We pass a CDT hiker and wave, feeling a sense of camaraderie of sorts even though we are on two wheels instead of two feet. We cross into Wyoming and ride a rather tough section of the CDT. There are cows on the open range, but our slow speeds make moving bovines a non-issue.

In Wyoming we meet the most unusual of the CDT travelers—a pair of unicyclists from California. Crossing the USA from West to East wasn’t enough for Gracie Sorbello and Matt Burney—they were now riding North to South and fundraising for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society via their web site at http://divideby1.blogspot.com. We stop and chat and then ride on.

South of the Tetons, the CDT passes through the Wind River Range and then down into the huge emptiness of the Great Basin Desert, where neither grass nor sagebrush grows. It’s necessary to buy gas from Wild Bill’s Gun Shop in Atlantic City, Wyoming, where we are happy to pay ten dollars for two gallons of gas.

The rest of Wyoming is uneventful, and we climb back up into the Sierra Madre Range, which is considered an extension of the Front Range of Colorado.

Our peaceful evening camping near Steamboat Lake, Colorado is interrupted by rifle shots at dusk. It’s something we don’t hear often in the East, and we wonder if it’s for dinner or for entertainment. We detour to Big Agnes Headquarters in Steamboat Springs, and are amazed that they fix all our camping gear on the spot. They are sympathetic to travelers, and are entertained by our tales of living together in their Seedhouse 3 tent for several months.

In Colorado we make several detours visiting friends and family. I attend a Horizons Unlimited traveler meeting in Gunnison, while Edward visits with ADVrider friends. When we meet up again in Salida, I see that Edward needs a day of recovery and we head to Virgin Valley Hot Springs for a day off. We sleep soundly after a thorough soaking in the natural hot springs, and ride Marshall Pass the next morning.

We see squiggly tracks in the muddy trail, and are pleasantly surprised to know the unicyclists have leapfrogged us. When we come upon them we invite them to camp with us in Del Norte. We tell them we’ve read that travelers can sleep in the town park for free if we get permission from the Sherriff. I chat with men in orange coveralls watering the lawn out front while Edward goes into the jailhouse and makes the arrangements.

After breakfast with Gracie and Matt, we get a late start then ride until dusk. We boondock near South Fork at ten thousand feet and cook chicken fajitas in the dark. The next day we are served three espresso shots by Patrick from Hawaii at a funky new age shop. We’re jazzed as we ride by Summitville, a gold mine cum superfund site. We stop to talk to a hiker who is in desperate need of water, and give him ours.

As we cross into New Mexico we see a narrow gauge steam locomotive chugging up the pass. Like children we race ahead of the train and place pennies on the track and motion the engineer to blow the horn as the train passes close by. It’s here that the trail becomes quite different—a recent storm has created chasms in the roadway and the ruts are deep and unruly. There is still hail on the ground and the track is muddy and slick.

We spend the entire day at ten thousand feet, riding long hours but few miles. We skip lunch and do not pass through a town before nightfall, only to find the canned chili we heat for dinner has gone bad in the can. We throw it out far away from the tent and go to bed grumpy. A morning consultation with the GPS tells us that we have to exit the forest then ride fifty miles out of our way and in to Taos for gas and supplies.

It’s in New Mexico that I get my first flat tire of the trip. Edward shows me how to fix it, balancing the bike on a pile of rocks found roadside. It takes him a half an hour. Edward then pats my shoulder and says first one is on him; the next one is on me. We camp in an open field in the forest, and are reminded of the Serengeti plains. We wake to coyotes singing at dawn.

Sure enough, I get the second flat of our trip the next day. I coast into Cuba, New Mexico, where I find a tree with shade, unload the bike and get to work. Edward leaves me to my task while he gets supplies for oil changes, and checks in with me several times over the course of the afternoon it takes me to change my tire tube. He brings me lunch, then later an ice cream, and finally we’re rolling again. I feel empowered and happy.

There is a re-route due to bad weather—the road is washed out and a section of the trail is closed. We pound some pavement, and stop to help a bicyclist fixing a flat tire. His name is Randy and it is his third flat of the day. He is on sabbatical from his job and has dreamed of doing this ride for years. He was unprepared for the fifty mile reroute on pavement, and is grateful for the help. We leave him with food and water and our email addresses to let us know when he finishes.

A day later we are relieved to beat the storm heading into Pie Town, and to not be struck by lightning. Our near death experience brings out our appetites, and we stuff ourselves with pie and coffee and brace ourselves for a wet ride. Town folk are concerned for us, and confide there is a hostel in town for CDT travelers. We watch phase two of the storm from a Dodge van seat bolted to the porch.

The following day we ride past a gaping hole in the ground, the signs indicating it is the oldest copper mine in the USA. Still active, it is a cacophony of noise and dust. We have breakfast in Silver City and stop by the Suzuki dealership to replace our tire tubes, but they don’t stock them. We see Copper City ATV and Cycle on the way out of town, and stop in. I leave with a spare tube and Edward leaves with a 2004 KTM 950 Adventure.

We leave Silver City late, and continue south. Darkness falls, and we are unclear what is private ranch land and what is public land. We decide to play it safe and camp in the middle of an intersection of dirt roads. We don’t want to be woken up with a shotgun. Instead we wake to headlights at 2:00 am. I stay inside the tent and let the locals assume it is two men traveling rather than go outside with Edward.

The last day of riding is through open range—horses this time. I am leading since Edward does not have a GPS mount for his new KTM. We’re tired after a short night’s sleep, and Edward does not like riding in circles when I miss turns and recalculate the route on the GPS. We get to the highway fifty miles north of the Mexican border at Antelope Wells. We are exhausted from our travels.

“What do we do?” I ask through the headset. “Turn left and let’s go home,” Edward says. “There’s a storm on the horizon.”

Sidebar Ideas:

• EW Journal Entry: CDT Day Four. Cold night w/frost. 36º. Rode Towards W Yellowstone & Tetons. Horse drawn wagons. Boondocked outside Pinedale MT lake. Drank Beer and watched sunset.
• EW Journal Entry: CDT Day Eight. Rode to Valley View Hot Springs. Soaked in a small hot spring while a big thunderstorm passed through. Cooked chicken piccata dinner in community kitchen and slept in tent next to small stream. Great Rest Day.
• EW Journal Entry: CDT Day Ten. Alisa put her earplugs in too deep and I had to use pliers to remove them. Camped between prairie dog hills. Industrious critters.
• EW Journal Entry: CDT Day Twelve. Left the toaster house, gave donation. Roads were wet & muddy. Tires gummed up. Nice Roads through Carson National Forest. One canyon down and then up. Have to ride another 135 miles today, not sure we have the range. 1 thunderstorm, some stream crossings. Found a remote campsite in National Forest by 5:00 pm. Alisa went to sleep very quickly. Bright moon.

Resources:

MAPS:
DeLorme’s Atlas & Gazetteer for Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado and New Mexico - Available in bookstores or on Amazon.com.

USFS/BLM maps – available at US Forest Service offices or BLM offices.

Adventure Cycling Association - http://www.adventurecycling.org/routes/greatdivide.cfm

INTERNET/INSPIRATION:
Continental Divide Trail Alliance www.cdtrail.org

TrailSource.com (free printable Continental Divide Trail maps and guides) http://www.trailsource.com/continental-divide-trail/index.asp

Continental Divide National Scenic Trail http://www.blm.gov/wy/st/en/programs/nlcs/Continental_Divide.html

MOTORCYCLE SPECIFIC INFORMATION:

Big Dog Adventures www.bigdogadventures.com/

Adventure Rider Ride Reports www.Advrider.com

Horizon’s Unlimited Traveler’s Resources www.HorizonsUnlimited.com

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