Ride the Divide
by Scott Picquet, Chandler Police Department and IPMBA Member
This race is so vast and there are so many experiences to share it are tough to summarize them all. The physical exhaustion, long days, rain delays and travel make the hours and days run together. The following are some of the highlights from my Tour Divide Race.
How I decided to ride Tour Divide 2014 is quite simple and my wife’s fault. Right around Thanksgiving 2013, my wife, Tiffany, discovered the race. She and I were hanging around the house, literally, in our ENO Hammocks. Knowing my love of endurance sports, cycling and the outdoors, she showed me the Tour Divide documentary and some web information on the race. Within 30 minutes I said, “I’m doing this”, quickly followed by, “when is this thing?”
After looking online I realized "The Grand Depart" was scheduled for June 2014. The decision was simple. By my calculations I had about 195 days to prepare for the race. All I needed was a bike, the bags, and a few training rides totaling a couple thousand miles and I should be ready.
After signing up, I realized there were other Arizona folks also in the event. Four of us lived less than six miles apart, which proves there must be something in the water. I was able to meet my neighbors before the race, Tony Arroyos [GD], Lindsay Shepard [ITT], Bill Peshka [ITT]. While on the route I also met Tanner Morgan [GD] from Yuma, AZ, and Steven Ahrenberg from the west valley of the Phoenix area.
The Grand Depart
The Grand Depart was met with a major winter storm, which also happened to coincide with Friday the 13th and a full moon. I stayed at a hotel down the street from the hostel so I rode the first mile to the start line in the rain. The rain continued, lasting for the first five miles of the route, when it turned to snow. I watched the thermometer slowly drop, and as the temperature hit freezing, the snow began to stick. This continued for many miles, and I recall one rider in the pack choosing the optimistic view, saying, “at least it’s not raining anymore.”
After several hours of this, I felt a little twinge in my throat, which I immediately recognized as that first feeling of getting sick. Luckily before I left for the trip I had met with my family doctor and he prescribed a three-day antibiotic for me “just in case.” Who knew "just in case" was going to happen halfway through day one? I immediately started the prescribed dosage. I still got very sick but was able to get through it. I am sure without the preplanning I would have ended up in the hospital.
Once the snow stopped it was nicer, but it continued to rain and was 40 degrees Fahrenheit or colder the rest of the entire first day, over which we covered 109 miles until reaching Elkford, BC, Canada, cold and wet.
Sometime during the first day, I came to a lodge where many of the racers had stopped to eat and it was very busy. I did not need a long rest here, but I came across a cyclist who had a broken chain. He was fixing it in the rain and did not have the proper tools or knowledge to put it back together. I used one of the quick links I brought with me and spent about 30 minutes fixing his bike. I could not see leaving another rider stranded out in the elements.
Fortunately, this night I was able to get the last hotel room in town and shared it with Ralph Zastrow. TIP: Call ahead for rooms if you are reaching towns where large groups of riders will be or if you are getting in late.
The next day I pushed on to Sparwood, riding most of this section in the rain. In town, I met up with a large group of riders who were waiting out more rain showers and snow. I ate at Subway, checked the weather, resupplied the bike and got Dayquil to help with my new traveling companion, a cough and cold settling into my lungs. Once the rain cleared, I moved on out of town until dark. This section of the trail was very much grizzly territory and there was a lot of bear sign.
That night I camped with a rider named Jeff. He was a pleasant guy with a tremendous apprehension about having a grizzly bear come into our camp. We practiced bear safe procedures and had no issues but we had seen bear sign all day long. When we woke in the morning, it was raining again, so we started off in the rain. I never saw him on the course after this.
Days 2-8
How about rain and snow? Oh yes, and more rain. Then there was a slight bit of blowing and drifting rain. Then some cold. Fake sunshine and then a little more rain and, for good measure, a lot of snow. I think you get the point about the weather patterns.
Rather than describe the entire travel log of days two through eight, I will share with you some of the impressions I gained from these days. Many riders got very sick, including myself. At one point after passing through Red Meadow Lake Pass, many of us waited in hotels after making what I believe were wise choices to not go up on the passes, which were already snow-covered and with more snow accumulating each day.
I knew I was not going to win the race, so making safe decisions about weather became my priority. I ended up in a hotel for more than two days, waiting for more favorable weather. It was pretty interesting to share a hotel room with other Divide riders. Many guys passed the time lying on the beds, icing their knees and putting their feet up in the air to reduce the swelling in the legs, which is a normal side effect of the race. The waiting around was agonizing and the temptation to make poor decisions was always there, testing each rider’s patience. I watched a group of about 12 riders head out into a storm to go over a pass as I was stopping for the day with Tony and some other riders. I later learned over half of that group did not finish due to hypothermia, pneumonia and mental exhaustion. It is okay to push the limits of mind, body and spirit, but use good judgment in decision making. This race is risky enough that you do not need to take unnecessary risks.
Day 10
Most Divide racers have found that day ten is a pivotal day. Historically, those who can push into day 10 have a high likelihood of finishing. The body seems to adjust and adapts to the long days, repetitive motion and the overall routine of days on the divide.
Day 10 found me about 18 or 19 miles from Basin, Montana, riding with Tony Arroyos, also from Gilbert AZ. He and I were working our way up an unridable section of the trail. Due to the previous ten days of rain/snow, this section of trail was muddy and tree roots were exposed where the volcanic mud had washed out.
These conditions made riding particularly hazardous and most sections were impossible to ride, so we decided to hike-a-bike. In one particularly large, muddy section, I stepped on a root to stabilize myself for the lunge forward past a mud hole. My foot slipped off the root, causing my knee to strike the bike frame. This in turn knocked the kneecap off the top of my right knee and to the outside of my leg. Needless to say, this hurt quite a bit. I fell to the ground in excruciating pain with the bike on top of me. I immediately saw the kneecap sitting on the side of my leg parallel with the back tendon, so I pushed it back into place. Setting it back hurt as badly as knocking it out of place.
Tony, seeing my predicament, came to me and removed the bike. He asked me if he should hit the emergency button on my Spot Tracker. I asked him to hold off, giving me time to assess the mechanics of the knee and find out how much damage had been done.
In high school, I had this injury to both of my knees, which were surgically repaired, and they had given me no issues up to this point. The first two times I experienced this injury, the swelling was so bad I could not bend the leg. Fortunately the swelling was not as bad this time and I did not lose the ability to bend the knee. It was sore and a little swollen, but in about five minutes, I was able to walk. I told myself, "if you can walk, you can continue to push the bike up hill," which I did for several more miles. Please understand these are not miles of a flat parking lot or paved sidewalk. This section is extremely steep, wet, clogged with tree roots and physically demanding even without a bike.
This was a sobering moment for me. When I felt the knee give way and I hit the ground, I was sure for a brief moment that my race was over. This race is an unforgiving personal challenge. Divide participants overcome mental and physical demands that are incomprehensible by some. You can do more than you think you can. Focus and goal setting are key.
Tony stayed with me for quite a few miles until we got past the unrideable section. When we got to a reasonably rideable section of the trail, I mounted my bike. I was riding XT clip-in pedals on my Volcanic mountain bike, so this became the moment of truth. Would knee would stay together during the clip-in and unclipping process?
Fortunately, I could clip in and out with only minimal pain. After we were assured I could pedal and get myself to the next town, I told Tony not to worry and go ahead without me so I would not slow him down. I could pedal, which was a relief, but did not have full power for the down stroke.
As I crested the pass outside of Basin, I came across a morale-building gift left by Tony -- a small can of WD-40 and some gummy worms. This speaks volumes about Tony's character.
Gummy worms are significant because they are a staple food for many Divide racers. Supplements like GU and Stinger Gels are often not an option because the resupply towns are very sparsely populated and their stock - if any - is easily depleted. Gummy worms carry about 200 calories for six worms and are a good substitute for a GU pack. This kind gesture was a huge morale booster for me.
I filmed a diary video at the top this mountain pass and spoke about some of my observations and realities of the race. I will share with you the excerpts and what was going through my mind at the time.
Mind Set and Reflection
“.... It’s about the journey. Anybody who is still out here on day ten or longer is fortunate. This is the real deal; it's extremely tough. It’s mountaineering, it's backcountry, it’s biking and it’s mentally and physically demanding. I am thankful that I was able to get off the mountain. Luckily I had that injury twice before so I knew exactly what it was, and this time I could walk. The first two times I was not able to walk, so maybe those cycling muscles are strong enough to keep that kneecap in place because it did not go all the way around behind the knee. I only have a few more hours of daylight and I'm headed to Butte to get in a motel. Remember, it's about the journey."
I can honestly say that despite this and the other mental and physical trials encountered on the Divide, I never once thought of quitting. I was constantly mindful and sometimes fearful that I would have something happen like I had observed happen to so many other riders. I was often concerned that a silly mishap or injury would not allow me to finish. This course is tough, indifferent and unforgiving.
What I repeatedly learned from this is as follows: Don't be selfish or prideful when "your" expectations are not met. This is where discouragement starts. Discouragement leads to distraction from the goal.
Rawlings, Wyoming: The Halfway Point
For Tour Divide Racers, Rawlins, Wyoming, is a section that brings the satisfaction of knowing they are halfway done. This by its nature should be a triumphant thrill. I fully anticipated this to be the case for me, but a strange thing happened there. I came out of the Great Basin, which was one of my favorite sections, arriving in Rawlins late morning. My plan was to get rest and a hotel then push on early the next day. So I grabbed lunch, checked into a hotel room, showered, did laundry, resupplied the bike and did some quick bike maintenance.
Then the mental game of the Divide caught up to me. I was quite frustrated to be sitting in town at such an early afternoon hour when it was still light out, but did not wish to leave the creature comforts of the hotel. After wrestling with this, I phoned home and talked about my dilemma with my wife. This is where blue dot watchers may have it worse than racers. Tiffany knows me well and by my call home, she experienced first hand my mental battle and frustration. All Divide riders experience frustration at one time or another.
After my call, I turned off the lights and tried to sleep, thinking I would set out again at 2 or 3 am. That lasted for about 20 minutes or less. My body would not tolerate idleness. Knowing the bike was fully packed and it was still light out, my body and mind were restless. So I got up and onto the bike and headed out. I stopped at the front desk and asked for a prorated rate on the room but there was no price break. So perhaps I set a record for the most money wasted on a shower and laundry of any Divide racer. Acting in a positive matter and getting back on the bike improved my attitude and spirit. When I got back on the bike, the perception and reality of progress quickly became the focus and the bad thoughts of being idle were left behind, along with a little more than $125.90 worth of hotel expenditures. I went on until dark and found a really nice campsite overlooking Teton Reservoir.
Most things can be fixed with your attitude. Be solution-oriented.
Brush Mountain Lodge
True to the lore of previous Tour Divide racers, Brush Mountain Lodge exceeded expectations. Just prior to making the turn towards Brush Mountain, I sat down on an aspen log and used my Benchmade knife to cut up some summer sausage for a snack. I then took the knife and stuck it in the log next to me. My inner voice said, "don't do that, you will forget it." I ignored that advice, and as you can imagine, I did forget it. I rode off, not remembering it until I arrived several hours later at the lodge.
I was greeted by the world-famous Kirsten, who was quick to offer food, water, soda and all the finer things of culinary delight for hungry Divide riders, including cheeseburgers, ham and cheese sandwiches, and chips. I was able to do laundry and shower there during the lunch break. Kirsten hooked me up with ham and cheese to go and peanut butter and jelly for the road.
Kirsten had been tracking me when she saw my blue dot stop just after the turn from the highway to the dirt route leading to the lodge. She noticed I had stopped moving and was about to go check on me. I explained to her I had torn a tire on a very sharp rock and had to fix it. I initially tried twice to fix it with Stanza, but the tear was too big, so I had to put a new inner tube in the tire.
This required hand-pumping the tire several times, which took a lot of time. I would have been better off had I carried a CO2 system and a pump. Anyway, due to the delay and heat of the day, I ran out of water so after fixing the tire I had to resupply water from the available sources in the canyon which took more time. Ultimately I made it to Brush Mountain in good spirits and ready to eat.
While I was eating, it dawned on my that I had left my knife in the log. Kirsten, seeing my non-verbal response when I realized what I had done, asked what was wrong. I explained to her about the knife in the log and she immediately insisted she would go back and get it. I explained it was quite far, but she insisted, so I used my Spot tracker to show her where I took my lunch break. Sure enough, when I returned home following the race, my knife was waiting for me. Kirsten and Brush Mountain Lodge rock the house.
I pressed on after the laundry and food resupply, and as I was leaving, Kirsten told me that was the fastest stop at the lodge she had seen. I really wanted to stay but it was too early in the day to quit riding.
Boreas Pass
As my progress continued, I found my pace had quickened and was consistent. When I pulled into Steamboat Springs, Colorado, I dropped my bike off at Orange Peel bike shop and walked to a restaurant around the corner for breakfast.
I asked to have the rear tire replaced with a new WTB NANO, but there were none in stock. The wornout, cut WTB rear tire was replaced with a Maxxis. I also asked the mechanics to check the bottom bracket, which was creaking. Upon my return, I found a new tire mounted and the bottom bracket replaced. The mechanic made a heads-up discovery as well. The nut/bolt assembly that holds the front chain rings together had vibrated loose. I was relieved by his attention to detail and discovery, which prevented a sure problem later. That was the last of the mechanicals, aside from oiling the chain for the rest of the race. I have to say I missed the WTB NANO because the bike handled completely differently with the Maxxis.
With bike and body strong and in unison, I began the climb up Boreas Pass. I was surprised at how consistent and seemingly easy the pass was. I made it to the top and took a five-minute or so break to check out the railroad history displays. I then started down the other side of the pass like I had done countless times before. Up to this point, each mountain pass followed the same theme of climbing the steep pass for hours and hours and enjoying the fast descent on the other side. I was quite happy because I was able to check Tony and Tanner's pace and I looked forward to catching them at their camp later that night.
I began my descent down the backside of Boreas Pass and was enjoying the fast descent for about three miles when I glanced at the GPS and realized I was off-route. That was a sinking feeling I cannot describe. I stopped, studied the map, and did some contemplating. Okay, actually, I was really pissed at myself. I discovered I only had one option. Go back up three miles. What takes minutes to descend can take hours to ascend. That's exactly what happened. By my estimations, this cost me at least two hours of forward progress on the route. I finally figured out that on the descent from Boreas Pass, there is a sharp right hand turn into some pretty awesome single track. The turn is not marked well and very easy to miss.
Once I got to the correct turn, it was getting dark and storms were gathering. Those are less than optimal traveling conditions, especially when above 10,000 feet. I started the descent thinking I could ride until very late and possibly find Tony's camp. After about 25 minutes, it was dark. Although I had good lights, riding the single track proved too risky. Frustration began to set in because I was now walking a descent and angry at my lack of attention to detail. It seems like a simple thing, I had done about 100 miles already when I missed the turn. A tired mind does strange things. Finally my decision was made for me. The lightning and thunder let loose and it began to pour rain. I resigned myself to the fact I was doing the rest of this race alone, pitched a camp, got a nice fire going, and went to sleep to pick up again on an early start.
Pay close attention to the prescribed and correct route to avoid frustration and costly time mistakes.
No Hotel
One of the most enjoyable parts of the Divide was the fact that I was able to travel from that last part of southern Montana through Idaho, Wyoming, and Colorado, without staying in a hotel. I count Rawlings as a real expensive laundry stop. A funny thing: after the nights out and the fires I would build in my camps, when I did get to a room in New Mexico it was quite nice and the last one in Abiqui. I walked in, flipped the light switch, and to my surprise, the fireplace lite up. That is a cruel joke to play on a Divide racer. I sure did sleep well and enjoyed the long shower.
Almost to the Finish
Now that I was in New Mexico, pushing 100+ mile days was routine and enjoyable. There were times when I would bonk two or three times a day for want of calories, but I had learned how to manage and recover quickly. My goal for the final push was to ride to Silver City, NM, get a room, and then an early start to the border. Well, once again the Divide has its ways of changing plans. New Mexico in monsoon season means more weather. I started my day well north of Pie Town and was making good time. Then I came to the mandatory CDT alternate north of Silver City.
After all the stuff I had been through, this section of the course is one that really made me angry. This is not designed for riding and has had some severe weather damage done to it due to flash floods. Having much experience in backcountry of the Southwest and knowing how to avoid flash floods, which can prove deadly, I will tell you this: DO NOT ENTER this alternate if it is raining.
I did not realize that part of this section has some of the same characteristics as a slot canyon and would never have entered it, had it not been on the route. I simply lacked the local knowledge to make an informed decision and I was lucky. I got caught in a major rainstorm and was in swift moving water in a low area. This is after passing on the high ridges and sheer ledges. I finally reached a point in the CDT alternate where I had to seek high ground and shelter in a downpour, and bivy up for the night. I stopped 140 miles from the finish on high, wet ground in a lightning storm and made camp.
I took off early the next morning and rode into Silver City early enough that most places were closed, but I did manage to find a quick breakfast. I continued riding through what would be two morning thunderstorms. I was making good time and was set to be picked up at the border by my wife and mother in law that afternoon. As luck would have it, five major monsoon storms converged on me in an amazing display of lightning that forced me to take shelter in an abandoned barn.
I had spotted the barn about two miles ahead of me to the side of the road when I realized the storm to my west was going to be the first one to overtake me, so I headed to the building as fast as I could. I got to within 200 yards of it when the wall of dust preceding the storm hit me, reducing visibility to about five feet. I waited about 15 minutes until the shape of the barn became visible in the dust and headed inside. Just after I found refuge, the winds got stronger and the rain started.
I was stuck, not so much because of the rain, but because of the 50 to 60 mile per hour winds and lightning that was striking literally every five seconds. I had cell service and a good charge on my phone, so I was able to check the radar. I realized that I had to just wait it out as I was literally in the middle of five red cells that had formed right on top of me.
I laughed, knowing I was a quick 30 miles from the end, but was thankful it was on pavement and that I had avoided the mud that could have been formed on the roads to the north of me. After about three to four hours in the shelter, the radar showed the red cells had moved further into Mexico. I spotted a window of opportunity to finish before the next one hit, so I headed out into the rain. I was okay with this since the lightning was quite a ways off in the distance now. There was a lot of rain. In fact upon reaching the border, I discovered the last 400 yards of road covered in water that measured about calf-deep when I waded through it.
I worked my way to the famous brick-and-metal border sign and rode into Mexico, dodging the stray dogs on this rainy summer night. I had trouble locating the sign but found a couple of the Mexican Marines standing guard and asked them in Spanish where the sign was. They directed me back about a 1/4-mile to the old border sign. I asked one of them to take my picture for me, which he did. I then returned to the other side of the big puddle where Tiffany was waiting. She was not able to get to the exact finish because of the boot on her healing but still broken ankle. I joked with her that this race is so tough people break bones just watching.
The feeling I had at this finish line is one of the most humbling experiences in my life. I am a fortunate man to have finished. Those of us who were even permitted to start this race are fortunate. It is a challenge that is nearly indescribably tough and rewarding. An unexpected side effect of finishing this race is that when people hear about the accomplishment and realize how tough it is, it inspires and interests them. I do not like to talk about myself, but after this race, I realized it inspires others to do more than they might otherwise think they can. That makes it worth sharing.
What is next? I was fortunate enough to finish the Tour Divide, the toughest mountain bike race in the world, traversing the spine of the Rocky Mountains, 2,745 miles, self-supported. I have learned from my success on Tour Divide that once a person has accomplished a difficult and unique achievement many that watched, were inspired by and enjoyed, will often ask…"what is next?” Don Henley of the Eagles once said, “Success can sometimes be just as disconcerting and frightening as failure, especially when you have questions about your own worthiness and abilities.”
What is next? This question is the heart and soul of setting goals. Once a goal has been set and made public, personal motivation is high and failure becomes less of an option. This fear of failure fuels fierce focus. The focus is then channeled into accomplishing a series of small tasks, which, in succession, lead to the realization of the goal. Therefore, success, though it can be disconcerting, grows from facing self-doubt and fears while staying focused on the fine details leading to the goal. Humility holds the keys to success. Without humility, you will turn away those who may be interested in your accomplishments and inspired by you. Humility also keeps those who were inspired by your accomplishment motivated, supported, and interested in their own self-improvement. This then starts a cycle of pushing the doer to decide and reach for what is next.
Ssetting a goal and getting to it is the answer to "what is next?" The goal is the guide to personal accomplishment and overcoming the disconcerting and sometimes frightening fear of failure.
What is your goal?
Scott Picquet Tour Divide Finisher 2014