tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35350044623236391642024-03-05T10:24:13.298-08:00Far Out WanderingsTour Divide, Bike, Hike, Run, Camp, Ski, Photo, Fly Fish, Extreme Knitting.The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-39318939791628664342016-06-05T10:00:00.001-07:002016-06-05T10:00:26.173-07:00Running Down a Dream<div class="s26" style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 36px; text-align: right;">
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My 2015 Tour Divide story from the <a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/christopher-bennett/the-cordillera-volume-7/paperback/product-22456699.html">Cordillera</a> volume 7. I've mentioned the Cordillera <a href="http://faroutwanderings.blogspot.com/2015/11/the-cordillera.html">before</a> in this blog. The compilation of stories and information from Divide racers and fans is great material to get a feel for this event. Proceeds from the Cordillera sales go to a college fund for <a href="http://tourdivide.org/blog2010/memory_dave_blumenthal">Dave Blumenthal's</a> daughter. Hopefully you'll purchase the book to get a better insight into the mindset of some of us riders and to support the family of another racer. Also please consider contributing this year, either as a rider or a dot watcher. </div>
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As I get ready to leave for Banff to set out on my 3rd start of the Tour Divide I can't help but recall the previous 2 years. How different each of those years was. No Divide run is ever the same. I can't wait to see what this year brings for all of us racers.</div>
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I thank all of you that have cheered me on, offered congratulations and supported me in any number of ways. Thank you! The heartfelt congratulations of my peers, friends and family means more to me than any record. The first photo in this story below was snapped in Wyoming, around mile 1100 in the race, shortly before I got to Atlantic City. I had just made a promise to myself. To try and finish for all the dreamers that have given their heart and mind to succeed at something and come up short. It's easy to say, "keep trying, keep going". Sometimes you can't. Sometimes you can. Sometimes you catch your dream however distant and hazy it may seem. Sometimes you have to change your plans, sometimes you need to stop chasing. However, you never need to stop dreaming.</div>
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<b id="docs-internal-guid-7ad249bc-2159-a8f9-17e3-4b9589075a91" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">A deep reddish, golden hue illuminated the western half of all the world around me. The eastern half of the world began to darken into mystery, into dream. Several Choristoneura occidentalis fluttered with spastic joy around the loosely hung string of Christmas lights overhead. My mind momentarily had me wandering into a western trout stream with a vintage bamboo fly rod in hand and a Spruce Moth imitation at the end of my line. My eyes were open but all I could see was a beautiful dream.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I was sitting on a porch, in New Mexico, in a place called Pie Town, at a magical little abode called the Toaster House. It was sunset. The air was totally still and retained the raw warmth of a southwest summer day. Storms danced opposite the setting sun and seemingly not wanting to be outdone by the giant color wheel on the western horizon they lighted the sky repeatedly with powerful bolts of electricity. I had a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in one hand and a Totino's microwave pizza folded over like a taco in the other. I was comfortably lounged back in a slightly reclined position in a bucket seat that had been removed from an automobile. Sitting across from me was Matthias, a young 19 year old German who had come to this place along his journey. A journey taking him from US east coast to west. He was walking from coast to coast pushing a heavy, unwieldily stroller. Mostly alone. He sat on bench seat that looked like it had come from the back of a Chrysler minivan.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">A few days earlier I had finished the Tour Divide in first place, in record time. I recounted to Matthias how I had been lined up for the start in Banff, Canada about 20 days earlier with my sister-in-law Charlene and our friend Jen as my spectators. Jen said to me, probably to calm my nerves, “You are totally gonna win this thing.” I responded, “Wouldn’t that be funny.” But somewhere inside I dared dream it could happen. It was a distant, hazy dream. Very distant, extremely hazy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Matthias and I had proclaimed the other insane during our initial meeting earlier in the day. Now, at this late hour on a June evening we sat in our respective chairs, buckled in by seat belts still attached to our vehicle-less seats. Each of us engaged in the art of conversation with someone the other considered a bit off kilter. Nita, the owner of the Toaster House stopped in to see us. The glow of the New Mexico sunset graciously gave way momentarily to her radiant spirit. She had brought more pie from Kathy at Pie-O-Neer Pies just in case a few after-hours Divide racers stopped in later. With an “Aloha”, she wished us goodnight and happy travels.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“What’s your dream?”, I asked Matthias.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I was unable to turn the pedals. My left leg locked into a fetal-like position. No amount of will power would turn it over in a circular motion. No free ride via the right leg this time. I had come so far, worked so hard, eaten a king’s ransom of junk food. Visions of my last year’s race played in the shortcircuiting neuronal connections under my helmet. The real fear of not finishing again engulfed me. A few tears rolled from my eyes. The third of four times during this race I would shed tears. Here I was, alone. Only about 10 miles from Antelope Wells. 10 miles from the finish. 10 miles short of keeping a promise to myself. 10 miles short of realizing a dream. No thoughts of first, second or third were in my mind. Only disappointment in myself for not rationing water better in the hot New Mexico sun where the temperature approached the century mark on the thermometer. I had been out of water for nearly 40 miles.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">My speed was decreasing from a full powered 24 mph time trial effort to an ugly, wobbly coasting speed that could have allowed a kid on a trike to blow by me. I pleadingly took a pull on the hydration hose from my frame bag. Nothing. I clumsily pulled the liter sized bottle from the downtube of my bike as I swerved into the left lane of roadway, unscrewed the lid and tilted it towards my parched lips. One drop. A drop of hot, rancid orange juice fell to my swollen tongue. It burned and irritated my desiccated mouth. My eyes scanned the side of the road. I looked frantically for liquid in any form. A bottle tossed out by a passing motorist, a cattle water tank, a 10 year old selling lemonade. Nothing. For the first time in over 100 miles I looked behind me. Empty road made blurry by the heat waves rising from the tarmack. Glorious rain storms vignetted the blurry image. Rain poured from the sky in the distance; too far away from me to be of any aid. I squinted to try and focus the image. Nothing but a blur. Yet somewhere in those heat waves rising from the roadway I knew one of the most powerful and talented ultra-athletes in the world could materialize at any moment. I swerved severely again as I turned my head forward almost toppling my bike into the ditch. The lyrics from Marty Robbins, Cool Water evilly played in my mind. “This may be it”, I said aloud to no one other than a jackrabbit crouched beside the road. It seemed like hell to me. Winston Churchill’s quote, “If you’re going through hell, keep going” echoed in my head. Just keep going I chanted to myself. My mind began to wander uncontrollably. I was no longer the keeper of my body. It was as if I was a spectator to all that was happening. A silent, helpless observer of a grand dream unravelling. I could no longer see the road. All I saw was the replay of my previous days. I was in a waking dream. The visions of those previous days on the Divide began to consume me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">About four hundred miles ago I had laid down in a ditch alongside highway 509 north of Milan, New Mexico and had mentally declared my race over. My legs were still strong. I had been cruising all day. I had caught up with Jay and Neil three times on this day. The first contact I had with them since the beginning of the race. My legs felt unstoppable. I had been riding so fast, so far that it literally felt as though a rope or cable was attached to the front of my bike and was pulling me forward. At one point I even reached in front of my bike and waved my arm to look for illegal “assistance”. Nothing was there. Just some sort of powerful invisible force pulling me south. Yet after passing Jay and Neil for the third time I pulled over, they passed a few moments later and then I silently rolled into the ditch along the highway.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I looked at the glowing screen of the phone in my hand and the message I had just typed to my wife Valerie. One word, “Done”. I turned off the phone as soon as the message confirmed as being sent. A few cars whizzed by as I laid on the ground behind a large shrub, eyes now fixed on the endless expanse of stars overhead. I had allowed myself to be caught up in a race with other people. I was plotting out splits in my head, crunching numbers, calculating caloric intake, figuring out when to attack. The intimate dialogue I had been having with the Divide was gone. My thoughts were not my own but those of someone who was intent on “crushing it”. The negativity of my thoughts towards bike racing, towards my fellow competitors and the Divide in general made me ashamed. A tear ran down my cheek. I began to doze off.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Although sleep comes easily on the Divide I had no dreams after day one until tonight. There is not enough time for dreams, just enough sleep for exhaustion to give way to slightly less exhaustion before you are back on your bike again. This night was different for me. Dreams rapidly set in. Not my normally disconjugate dreams like the one I had the night before the grand depart. It was odd but a normal style of dream for me. Kermit the Frog was chasing me around with a fine Swedish made Gransfors Bruk axe while Tinkerbell swooped in to save me with a giant fly swatter. No, the dreams I’d have tonight were of reality. Replays from the previous days. Dreams that made me remember why I was out here. I fell asleep to the visions of the dream I was currently in. The Tour Divide.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Somewhere on the Navajo Nation Reservation a couple of exuberant teenagers on horseback came riding up along side me. Horses in full gallop.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Where you coming from, cuz?”, they shouted.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Canada, Eh”, I yelled back.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Where you going to, cuz?” they bellowed back with smiles from ear to ear.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Mexico! Ariba!!”, I bellowed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">We all hooped and hollered over the desolate landscape being illuminated by the setting sun. I attempted to do a bit of a wheelie which turned into an awkward yank on the handlebar followed by about two inches of air under my front tire for a nanosecond followed by an ungraceful swerve. The teens howled with laughter. I’m pretty sure their horses snickered a bit too. I shifted a gear, my muscles pulsed, I let out a shout as I waved my right arm over my head and declared a race. They shouted with excitement as I cranked ahead of the running horses. As I glanced behind me and saw the dust rising from the horses I could hear their joyful shouts behind me, “Mexico! Mexico! Ariba! Ariba”. I waved to them and was off.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">A large truck rolled by on the 509. I rolled over in my sleeping bag. Sleeping in ditches is noisy I thought to myself and then fell back to dreamland.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“What the hell is that!”, I internally shouted in my sleepy head. Dylan? I was laying somewhere outside of Lima, Montana near the Sheep Creek Divide. It was before dawn on day five. The previous couple of days I had managed to make a bit of a gap between me and a few riders who I knew were super strong, and as it turns out, super nice guys. Ryan Correy and Dylan Taylor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I knew of, but had never met, these guys before I started the race this year. Dylan was in for the triple crown of bikepacking and Ryan has a list of impressive achievements to his name. I felt honored to be riding near them. I had met them both on day 1. Dylan and I met and chatted a bit back before Elkford, BC and I had subsequently met Ryan at the most popular Divide stop before leaving Canada. The A&W in Sparwood. I had read Ryan’s blog before the Divide and viewed him as a top contender for this year’s race. I introduced myself to him and was greeted by a smile rather than the all too often ultra-competitive scowl given out by many top athletes in the heat of competition.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">We had all eaten breakfast in Lincoln, Montana on the morning of day four. Ryan made mention of his knee bothering him and something about the blazing pace we were all caught up in. “This isn’t sustainable”, Ryan commented. He looked tired. Ryan left the restaurant as Dylan and I mowed through 4 plates of food apiece. I think there was some magic on my plates. The huge heap of what was called but didn’t really look like chicken fried steak would prove to fuel me over the multiple Divide crossings that lay between breakfast and Butte, Montana.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I was going uphill and I was flying! What the heck? How is this happening? Last year I was crawling through here. Of course I had a fractured leg and torn muscle then. It’s a whole lot easier riding with two good legs I mused. After my 2014 attempt on the Divide had proved to be a bit of a bust, so to speak, I had engaged in a promise to myself. Finish the Divide. Don’t go out to beat anyone. Go out to do it as fast as you can. Go out there to live your dream of completing a grand tour of racing as fast as you can. Go out and have fun while going fast. The more fun you have, the faster you’ll go. I rode my heart out in training. I stretched, I ate right, I meditated, I tuned my bike to perfection. I would finish this race and I would have fun no matter what.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Here I was, powering like crazy up some rather rough and steep climbs. Dylan had stopped briefly and I zoomed ahead. I never intended it to be a breakaway of sorts. I just felt incredibly good all of a sudden. Over the previous few days Dylan and I had formed a bit of a Divide friendship. This happens when you just can’t shake a fellow rider. You may try but alas, you find a fellow cyclist whose overall speed through a 20 hour day ends up being the same as yours. Last year Calvin Decker, second in 2014, and I had formed this type of relationship prior to my early departure from the race. Friendships on the Divide are few but strong and a bit odd. Afterall, you are friends with someone you are competing against. I think that the attitude of not competing against one another but challenging yourself over a course is the main reason many racers on the Divide can share lasting friendships during and long after the race. There is a commonality of the challenge but it is a wholly personal journey. You don’t work together but you do share some amazing moments. Embracing those moments and not the race can make for the experience of a lifetime.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">At some non-descript point early in the race I made some non-memorable comment to which Dylan replied, “No regrets out here.” I took this to mean don’t have any regrets from your race. Don’t finish wishing you could have done more. Don’t finish with unfinished business. Those simple words set the stage for my Divide. It’s a simple statement. Words we probably all contemplate and think about before the race. For some reason hearing those words from someone else really made it sink in. From that point forward if my legs felt good, I’d go for it. “It” being an abstract version of some race I have never finished before. A challenge we all compete in at some level or another, at some point in our lives. Often “it” is just a dream. Here I was pedaling my legs off and thinking way too deep about the simple things. Dangerous. I came by Ryan on a brutally rocky bit of an ascent. I made a comment to him, something to the effect of, “I’ll see you up there!”. I never expected it to be the last time I’d share a moment with Ryan in this race as I was certain he’d come flying by me further down the road.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Laying near a large rock wall in the Big Sheep Creek area I again yelled, “Dylan!”, this time aloud. Heck! It was 3am and this goofball has caught up to me and is going to let me know it. Damn! I grabbed my bear spray and my helmet which had my Fenix LD22 light mounted on it and turned it on. No bicycle? Teeth. Eyes. Fur? That’s not Dylan! In my exhausted state I had found a rather comfy little patch of gravel to lay down on. A rock wall behind me formed part of the narrow canyon I was in, it still radiated some warmth from the day. As my eyes focused a bit better on what I was looking at in the beam of light I realized it was a rather put-off coyote. From what I surmised I had slept in the only path to and from her den at the base of the rock wall. The canine was likely out on her nightly shenanigans when I decided to put my sleeping pad in her pathway. Now, at 3am she was coming home for some shuteye only to find a rather smelly cyclist trespassing on her front porch. I fell back asleep when I realized it wasn’t Dylan.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! My eyes lazily opened. Stars still blazing overhead. Jay P and Neil are probably far down the 509 in Grants by now I thought. I contemplated getting up then pushed the snooze button on my small Casio travel alarm. Time for more dreams.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="IMG_0961.jpg" height="274" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/tJk_v_ZFcJyPx9Cg-zZ26wLuDDYVtcvZkRupZDwEfc29fUmzEd4CZFc1hQlDC7m0SuA59joNzblMSLvGsxzom5voZnTEoSFLbjoVALvlvhNXL2SfBdUYtDGaj32NMqK2oA=s1600" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="471" /></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Night began to push the sunset from the horizon in Montana. I was descending from the Sheep Creek Divide, one of the least traveled roads in the US, or so I’ve read. My battery powered headlight on my handlebar was begging for a fresh set of double A’s. I didn’t oblige. I decided instead to pedal on into the darkness along that stretch of dirt road. It’s a piece of the Divide I’ve covered three times previously. Twice on tour and once in my abbreviated 2014 Divide attempt. It’s a lovely stretch of road to me. An isolated, undulating, broad valley, mountains in the distance, a few creeks. I pedalled slowly into the welcoming darkness. Intense starlight and a touch of crescent moon illuminating just enough my two track pathway. I began to hear breathing that was not my own. I stopped and switched on the light atop my helmet which still housed fresh batteries. There were eyes everywhere. I had ridden into a huge herd of elk. As my light shown upon them they began to bugle in chorus. The sound resonated into my soul and physically vibrated the ground beneath me. I turned off my light and remained motionless. It felt as if a huge hide-covered cedar drum was being beaten as the herd scattered. I left my lights off and continued down the dark two track road along the Divide. The world was beautiful.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Ugh! What am I doing here? Laying in a ditch in New Mexico along a highway. Racing my bike down the Continental Divide. “I hate racing!”, I cried out to the starry sky. Tired, sore, hungry. I pushed the snooze button again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was in Colorado. It was day 8. Early that morning I had left the comfort of a warm breakfast, hot shower and the embracing hug of Kirsten at Brush Mountain Lodge. I plugged away at the climb over the Watershed Divide Crossing. I had just reached the summit, head down, as another cyclist heading north, head down, summited out as well. We nearly collided. We both looked bewildered in the high mountain air. I stated, “I must be at the top”. The other cyclist, a tourer from Croatia, stated, “That must mean I am at the top too.” We exchanged greetings and were on our respective ways. I began descending towards Clark, Colorado. I was cruising again, flying downhill. Rough two-track transforming into buff gravel road. Fast surface. Ahead I could see another cyclist approaching. He was out of the saddle and powering uphill as I glided down. It was the first northbound racer, Kevin Jacobsen. I shouted at Kevin and air-high-fived him as we passed, not wanting to slow his singlespeed progress. I was still flying when a sense of wanting to stop overwhelmed me. I applied the brakes as I rounded a corner and came to a full stop. I looked around. The greenery around me was astounding. I had just come through the desolate Great Basin the previous day, it’s a place where your color receptors don’t get much of a workout. I think the only color out there was the red jersey of Seb Dunne. Dylan and I had caught up to Seb in Atlantic City, Wyoming. After crossing through the Basin with Seb and Dylan I made a hard push and separated myself from fourth and fifth place.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="IMG_0980-Edit.jpg" height="250" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/uLQ6JMuarGglxSSiv2WDDcY8Ll-yZkb0Z7rveEBdowq3AiX1NHjHRMLe_PT-adzW4sTfJEF30LZkUAI8iIS9bgKvd9GMauBEzAByz0a_0OGwHp8wkglLbY_3UDNdrl-2lg=s1600" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="422" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">The yellow flowers of the Wyethia mollis, aka Mules Ear, carpeted the slope next to me. The leaves of some quaking aspens melodically rustled in the cool breeze. A few small colorful wildflowers of red and purple competed with the canvas of green and yellow . As I looked slightly uphill I noted a large metal cross with a wreath hanging on it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I paused. Tears began welling up uncontrollably in my eyes. I dismounted my bike and bowed my head. I never knew Dave Blumenthal. During my failed attempt on the Divide last year I had an early layover in Lincoln, Montana. I stayed at the Three Bears motel. The owners and I chatted for some time while I shivered in their lobby checking into the establishment. As we chatted they asked me if I ever knew Dave. I told them no but that all Divide racers know of him. They sat for some time telling me of Dave. I got the impression they only knew him from the one night that he had stayed there a few years prior. I could obviously tell that he had left a life-lasting impression on them. I remounted my bike, waved to the cross on the hill and said, “I hope we meet down the road, Dave.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! I awoke from my ditch on the highway 509 outside of Milan, New Mexico. “Time to get back on that bike and pedal forward” I stated to myself and my rubber ducky, Lucky. I had attached Lucky to the seat stay of the bike prior to my 2014 attempt just as a bit of fun, but also a companion to my sleep deprived mind. He had traveled far with me. He is a better conversationalist than a cow, the oft default interlocutor on the Divide. His beak was in pretty poor shape at this moment. I had been riding near Dylan somewhere in Montana when I started to hear an odd noise from the back of the bike. Dylan began to shout, with great urgency, “Duck, Duck, Duck!”. Initially I looked up, afraid of being clotheslined by an unseen object. I quickly realized Lucky had taken a bit of a swan dive and was kissing rubber.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><img alt="_XE16097.jpg" height="190" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/M0bBTilN8jtBv09K7jDMe-yfCCtkAKOIoWWqUdKi3jt-nmom603B1wALhtnYDuHn6KZb1YDlAyNQQCf0iR-2Cr5FZvL2MviADVYsV7n3xkMxr8XazeDQ2UawYT0ou-jk=s1600" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="273" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I looked up to the dawn sky and said, “Let’s get out of here; absolutely zero regrets. There’s a big dream unfolding out there.” I looked back at Lucky, “Not everyone can be out here. There are lots who would love to be. All we gotta do is get to Mexico and have a lot of fun.” I shook off sleepy dreams for the last time and climbed out of the ditch, swung my leg over my bike and headed down the road toward Grants and the end of the race.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">My fuzzy brain began to come back to the here and now for the final stretch of the Tour Divide. My cottony mouth ached for water. My left leg was contracted up involuntarily. Just a little bit ago I was turning over the pedals with the force of a driven man. There had been a few spectators in cars and vans shooting photos, and video. Now, just several miles from Antelope Wells I was alone again. The spectators had all driven ahead to the finish. The main thought in my head was that I wouldn’t be the first rider they’d see at the border. Heck I may never get to the border. I should probably be in the back of an ambulance with some IV fluids running into my veins.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just a couple hours ago I was at Separ. I had come blazing down the dirt road from where I decided to make my “run for the boarder” at the turn near White Signal. The final real stretch of dirt on the Divide, the Separ Road. Something like 125 miles from the finish. What made me think I could hold onto a break for that amount of time? I really didn’t know if I could but several dreams kept bouncing around in my head and I for one wasn’t going to have any regrets. I needed to chase those dreams.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before making that final charge at White Signal I was in the company of Jay Petervary and Neil Beltchenko. Both are amazing cyclists with some pretty impressive wins. Jay is of course legendary and can consistently put in win after win in ultra races. He works hard and earns his keep. The guy is absolutely amazing. I felt like a poser out there with my heavy kit, backpack and rubber duck. I knew these guys had been up front together most of the race but I had no idea the type of racing relationship they had formed over the past few thousand miles. Earlier in the day we had all rolled into Silver City together and aimed directly for the McDonald's on route. Nervous would be a grand understatement for how I felt there. I couldn’t bring myself to eat in their company. I was a wreck. I ordered a milkshake and then proceeded to go to the Exxon Gas Station kitty-corner away. I aimed for the comfort of the glass heated cabinet full of fried delights. Two burritos were all I could stomach. Normally I’d down several burritos followed by a few donuts and a Redbull.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had unknowingly pedaled up alongside Jay on day one of the race. About 55 miles into the Divide. I was cruising downhill towards the Boulton Creek Trading Post when I pulled up alongside another rider. As I glanced left at the rider I realized that it was Jay P. Jay P! I started to make my introduction just as Crazy Larry leaned out the passenger window of an SUV. He held a camera out at us and in his usual super enthusiastic voice began cheering us on. I recall thinking at that moment, “What the heck am I doing up here alongside Jay?”. I rolled into the Boulton Creek Trading Post ahead of Jay and several other front runners. I think I was in third at the moment that I pulled into the store. Standing there, like last year, was Joe Polk from MtbCast. I resupplied as most of the front racers whisked by without a stop. I was happy to get a treat and chat with Joe for a brief time, reset my internal dialogue and charge ahead with my personal race.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There in Silver City, New Mexico I wanted to do the same. I didn’t know what to do. I’m no racer, not anymore I thought to myself. What am I doing up here? I’m just some 40 year old guy with a dream of finishing the Divide as fast as I can. What the heck! I kept telling myself, “I’m not here to race these guys. I’m here to race myself. I’m here to have fun!” Apparently I was talking aloud as a few patrons of the gas station stared at me as they entered the store. I was sitting there talking to half a burrito and a beakless rubber duck. I got back on the bike.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Shortly after exiting Silver City I caught back up with Jay and Neil. We exchanged pleasantries and made a little idle chit chat. Occasionally either Jay or Neil would pedal ahead just a bit and the other two of us would catch back up. It was a pretty leisurely ride really. No definitive push but just enough perhaps to see what the others had left in their legs. I guess I really had no clue what was going on. Here we were, less than 150 miles from the end of this monster of a race and the three of us were out for an afternoon cruise on loaded bikes. My legs were feeling good. Really good.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">The night before I had made a huge push until about 3am. Not so much in order to catch anyone but just in order to reach a point on the Adventure Cycling Association Divide maps. It was a pretty arbitrary point. When I sat in Pie Town munching away on pie I pointed at a place on the map and decided I HAD to make it there that night. I was in Pie Town for some time. I got two pieces of pie and small chicken pot pie. I had been dreaming of pie most of the distance down the Divide. Prior to leaving Banff, Salsa Cycles handed out stem top caps with a little engraving of a pie on it. The “token” was worth two pieces of pie in Pie Town. Free pie! I mounted that topcap on my bike before departing Banff. Every time I’d look down I’d see that little laser engraved pie taunting me just a touch. I had been wanting pie for literally thousands of miles and I’ll be darned if I was going to pass it up just cause I was in a race. There in Pie-O-Neer Pies I made my decision to get to the top of a hill near a primitive airstrip close to Divide crossing #27. Nearing my randomly selected end point of the day, around 2:30 a.m. I weaved back and forth up a moderate climb in the dark. My headlight shone upon something alongside the road. I looked, with my helmet mounted light I could see a couple of bikepackers laying there. Was it Jay and Neil? I didn’t know. I thought maybe, but no, they’d be way ahead of me by now. Right? Maybe not. Nah, there are a lot of tourers out here too. I pulled out a piece of to-go pie from my feedbag and downed it in two bites.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="11667259_956852997692543_2254764931840393325_n.jpg" height="214" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/JGeSx8uP-Iss0V8W_SiI28AwPMtr2geSzC7WY9N2xlj553n23X64Y0ZRjOYO39ecNYomG_qR7y9uvNZ9eXg67T6p6BTdoZ3HXObpQmopsU99e3CLJ3H4IHsyCuPtPsekKQ=s1600" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="378" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">When I got to my stopping point, it was close to 3 a.m. I rolled off the bike behind a large juniper shrub just off the road. I put on my Montbell down jacket, laid on the ground, took note of the gorgeous stars, made a wish upon one shooting through the sky and fell fast asleep. No dreams. I awoke at around 5a.m to the sound of my alarms, I had set three separate alarms, which were almost immediately followed by the sound of bikes rolling down the gravel. It was Jay and Neil. I pushed snooze on one alarm and slept at least another 15 minutes.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Now, as we all rolled down the highway pavement outside of Silver City I eyed in on my GPS. I knew there was one last stretch of dirt between us and the finish but I didn’t know exactly where it was. I could see a few storm cells brewing around us on the hot June day and I wanted to get done with that stretch before the rain started. My legs still felt good. Amazingly strong. At some point the three of us were all within conversation distance. I nervously made talk. “You guys probably think I’m a nutjob but I just wanted you to know it’s an honor to be here with you both.” I meant it. It truly was an honor to ride with everyone out there. We were all out there doing something grand. Something that so many other people wanted to do. Shoot, there we were, doing it. That’s pretty awesome. I continued on, “So what’s the plan here guys? If someone goes out do the other two knife him?” I made this statement nervously and I’m not really sure what I meant by it. I half hoped that they would both say something like, “We grab some beers at Separ and have a blast riding it in”. The other half of me believed that the Divide is about getting done with your journey as fast as you can. Stay true to the race, stay true to your dream. It was just that this dream of mine was taking on a crazy conclusion. We coasted away from one another a bit so I couldn’t hear any response, if there was one.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="IMG_1083-Edit-Edit.jpg" height="409" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/PhBq_EbXQ5-JcImgDdv3V6U4_E2JKXZPO0DarbfrlpGmxNz4MgTwhvtpaCzVWOJWW2xuMTJzgwGfv8r26XZKQE3T7dV7VxFlZ3JAxCYtshpV75lJMU219PSNU7oKycTROw=s1600" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="640" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I reached down to my barend shifter and pulled it. I found my gear and began to pedal faster and faster and faster. I passed Jay and then Neil. I was moving. Far faster than I thought I was capable of at this point. As I rounded the corner to make the left hand turn onto the dirt Separ Road a cattleguard separated the pavement and dirt. I hit that cattleguard with so much speed I slid from one side to the other in the apex of my corner. I almost flew off the edge of the road but there it was again. That feeling that something was pulling me from in front of the bike. This time I just went with the feeling and revelled in it. I was flying, effortless power poured from my legs. I figured I’d start slowing down at some point but it never happened. I felt like a passenger on the ride of a lifetime. I didn’t look back.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I plugged my music in. Only the second time I’d done so in the race. Tom Petty came on. Running Down a Dream. I pondered what was going on. My legs felt bottomless, I was in the big ring of my triple, spinning smoothly on a hot, sandy, windy road in Southern New Mexico. My mind wandered again as I tucked into my aero bars. I began to think about a lone bike packer I had seen way back in Colorado.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was barely into third place somewhere around day 10 as I pedalled up to the highest point of the Tour Divide. Indiana Pass, south of Del Norte. It was early morning as I approached the top of the pass. The sun was just breaking over the horizon. I could see the silhouette of a lone bikepacker. I tried to see who it was but the sun rising behind the lone rider made that impossible. I slowed to a stop as I approached.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Hi Josh” said the silhouette. It was a familiar voice but I couldn’t place it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Who goes there?” I stated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Sam”, was the response.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I moved just a bit to see the face of the mystery rider. Sam! It was Sam Newbury. The sometimes pilot and often stoker of the 2014 Tour Divide Newbury Tandem. He had come out on a “day-ride” to this area from his home in Durango. Sam’s an awesome guy. Soft-spoken, kind and one heck of a strong rider. He’s one of the best guys you’ll ever meet. I’ve often thought that if he challenges the Divide again we just might have a new record. My wife and I had met Sam and Katie two years ago on a tour in Montana. Looks like we had all been out there scouting part of the route. I got to share about a mile with Sam in Colorado’s high country. My brain was sorely deprived of oxygen and sleep so I don’t recall a whole lot about that wonderful meeting but I do recall him mentioning something about his brother and aunt who were cheering my blue dot on. I really wish I could remember the quote he left me with before we parted ways. Perhaps it was a modification of an old Irish Blessing befitting bike packing. “</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">May the road rise to meet you, may the wind always be at your back, may the sun shine upon your face, the rains be around you but not upon you and may there always be air in your tires.” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I really have no clue what he actually said but it sure was nice to see one of my 2014 Divide compatriots. Sam easily rode away into the morning light as I huffed and puffed my way along the high mountain road. My mind tried to rationalize if I had actually seen Sam or if it was all just a hypoxic dream.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I motored down the sandy Separ road I was beginning to think that Sam and his aunt cheering on my blue dot were manipulating the situation now. I had wind at my back, air in my tires, sun on my face and there was rain behind me but not on me. Surely I was floating over the road as it seemed perfectly smooth. My GPS registered 26mph. Still comfortably tucked into my aero bars I pushed even harder.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I reached the famous Continental Divide store at Separ. Came to a skidding hault. Jumped off my bike and ran inside, passing by the counter I said to the attendant, “Sorry if it looks like I’m in a hurry but I am. I’m running from two super fast guys!” I flew to the drink fridge and grabbed two Gatorades to pour into my frame bag and an orange juice that I poured into my downtube mounted water bottle. As the checker rang me up she looked at me quizzically and said, “Are you running away on purpose or out of necessity?” As I hightailed it out of the store I responded, “For FUN!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Right now I was having a minimal amount of fun. My cramped leg unable to turn a pedal. I needed liquid. I had been drinking at a rate commensurate with my speed these past 100ish miles. My starting point of the morning was some 200 miles behind me. It was hot. “</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cool clear water…</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” The torturous lyrics of Marty Robbins still played in my head. I was traveling at about 5 miles per hour and ready to topple over. I looked up to the sky and said, “Sorry”. I’ve let down my spot watchers, myself, those who can’t be here and those people who always wanted to be out somewhere, anywhere doing something great. Something monumentally fun. I looked over my shoulder again expecting to see the freight train of Jay and Neil bearing down on me. The bike swerved uncontrollably again. My head whipped around forward as my bike careened towards the edge of the road.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">I righted the bike but did not aim it back to the center of the road. I continued in the line the bike was aiming. Towards a culvert along the side of the road. A culvert of water! I bounced off the road, slammed on the brakes and toppled off the bike into the dirt. Grabbed my liter bottle from the downtube and took off the lid. Down on my hands and knees I looked into the water. Not healthy was my assessment. I’m pretty sure I could flagella equipped beings finning around in the puddle. I plunged the bottle into the abyss of goo. As my bottle filled my eyes tracked the source of the water to the culvert. As my eyes raised along the line of the water it met a fenceline and there behind the fence a face looked at me. “Moooo”, was the response. A lone cow peered back at me. Think of it as chocolate milk I thought to myself. I downed the entire bottle and thrust it back down into the semi-liquid puddle. Two in the stomach and a third to go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Almost immediately my seized leg relaxed. My whole body eased up, except my stomach, and my eyes became clearer. I remounted my Salsa Fargo and was off. The cow proclaimed, “Moooo!” as I rode away. I had the bottle in my hand and was slowly drinking it down as my speed increased again. I peered over my shoulder one more time as I made the final corner and slight climb towards Antelope Wells. I saw no one behind. Just storms in the fading light. Over-splash of muddy, nasty water dribbled down my chin and onto my orange jersey. Full-bodied, earthy a bit smoky, nutty and with heavy overtones of….mooo. I holstered the bottle and rode on.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">Involuntarily a huge smile formed on my face and tears filled the eyes hidden behind my polarized lenses. An overwhelming sense of joy grabbed me and almost tackled me to the hot pavement. I sat upright and zipped up my jersey. I was there. I could see the border. Antelope Wells in all its glory. Several people had made their way to the finish. It was well after the 4pm gate closing time but local Hachita stalwart Jeffrey Sharp had somehow managed to coax the border agents to leave the gate open so that we could roll all the way to the US/Mexico bronze plaque border monument. The prize of the Divide. A photo by the monument.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="IMG_1150-Edit-Edit-Edit.jpg" height="307" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/PNd-ri_KrQVlWEC5mQJEj00aVJSW8B31YC-czWNzZrhXLhv4w5a24Rlw-CV22bxQZBhabepxuFGiDPq46dfMBL54Ui8GCupMustE1vkLApQNblQvbz5Ui6aczDv2pBGC=s1600" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="411" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I recall Jay rolling through as we high-fived. I recall Neil giving me a big hug. I remember sitting with the two of them, bikes behind us, with beers and oranges in our hands. It all seems like a dream to me. A fuzzy sort of dream. Luckily no axe toting frogs were there. Just a few guys who had found their way down the Continental Divide in a friendly wager to see who could get there first. It was indeed surreal and I’d had a blast doing it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"><img alt="3Finishers-Edit.jpg" height="317" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/97nOxPYES-ObRMaM8tKO6-du6EvrStgI9yXiL6jdyF3ukFYPTVRmhlJVVQAdsqI1yxqwkUF_X0oRpZ9-GBP__7C-6_xvwewLnRLvpWuxHKjlVx5QJ2IVOmiIPoM6rfrWmkg=s1600" style="border: none; transform: rotate(0rad);" width="422" /></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">My dream was a reality. What do yo do with that? You embrace it. Much of my youth revolved around cycling. I’d ride the endless country roads of my childhood dreaming of being in the Tour de France. Mostly I’d ride alone. Just a weird kid on his ten-speed. Dreaming. Time trialing through France, climbing the Pyrenees, racing the peloton, a winning breakaway, zipping up my jersey on the final stretch down the Champs-Elysees. Running down a dream!</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 5pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">On the porch in Pie Town, New Mexico, strapped into my bucket seat the sun faded ever more leaving behind deepening tones of ruby in the sky. Lightning continued to flash with authority in the east. The string of Christmas lights overhead happily shown on without a care in the world. Spruce moths continued to flitter away. Matthias looked at me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“You’ll really think my dream is crazy” Matthias stated again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What is</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">your dream?” I repeated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;"> He looked me square in the eyes and read my face.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: white;">“Tonight we dream big. Tomorrow we run after those dreams. We may not catch all of them but we’ll have a whole lot of fun trying!”</span></span></div>
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-46053778791441211412016-02-19T22:33:00.001-08:002016-02-20T21:20:07.420-08:00Tour Divide Version 2.5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKGYg0w6pyYbCn5tfOt9AnZCGbRFmEOwbbNBd1fJT48xiS2fbpCzcirJLaHbT-1K4YrQlkJtcA9GYj1AuJO03022RmVC1Pzx0tIo3ys5LMOkhJEj5ftGvCaE1cOH6eRJgrPMTHNy0AZDu/s1600/2014+Dreams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKGYg0w6pyYbCn5tfOt9AnZCGbRFmEOwbbNBd1fJT48xiS2fbpCzcirJLaHbT-1K4YrQlkJtcA9GYj1AuJO03022RmVC1Pzx0tIo3ys5LMOkhJEj5ftGvCaE1cOH6eRJgrPMTHNy0AZDu/s640/2014+Dreams.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Synopsis of my 2014 Tour Divide run: DNF, broken leg, torn muscle, infected wound, bears who wanted my chicken strips, power sapping wet/muddy roads. grin and bear it mentality and more rain than Seattle in December.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtZlv4_3Weor177koAAwqLj8eI2FUFHTMFHW9pCbiN5N_n_RmkksJQeMrVNucqcXvR46ePEZok5IQmlR8GMZyvZa445J1Qy81evBhKMlmTyMVnxkb2JReYcsJYqYsnXtNtVK7mToLxlQs/s1600/2014+Rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtZlv4_3Weor177koAAwqLj8eI2FUFHTMFHW9pCbiN5N_n_RmkksJQeMrVNucqcXvR46ePEZok5IQmlR8GMZyvZa445J1Qy81evBhKMlmTyMVnxkb2JReYcsJYqYsnXtNtVK7mToLxlQs/s320/2014+Rain.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2014 Rain</td></tr>
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Synopsis of my 2015 Tour Divide run: First place, course record, free pie, sunshine every day, singing elk, smooth buff roads (well sort of), miles by smiles and less rain than Death Valley in July.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTDWGE5dCIdNPOXf3ExdTNv8F_wQbUqNcmcrd0hwt_eT_Zc7AjCoLhfTzzVUhfy793J3dlQ-xn5k52q7KW_DLp8fCP4mD6liQk07l-Z5en5fVh3PpKuyc2dJupjXuZ24utzv47o9Z6BX3/s1600/11168063_956852934359216_5351682784340552973_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTDWGE5dCIdNPOXf3ExdTNv8F_wQbUqNcmcrd0hwt_eT_Zc7AjCoLhfTzzVUhfy793J3dlQ-xn5k52q7KW_DLp8fCP4mD6liQk07l-Z5en5fVh3PpKuyc2dJupjXuZ24utzv47o9Z6BX3/s320/11168063_956852934359216_5351682784340552973_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2015 Free Pie! Yeah Salsa Bikes!</td></tr>
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Two totally opposite runs down the Divide for me. Should be happy with that right? Should be able to pack my bags head out on long tours and smile from here to eternity based on what I had been able to achieve through hard work and perseverance. Pat myself on the back and ride off into the sunset. A fellow should be good to go on a result like that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-5eqY__LVvVEqUnNZjz1BL7bbElb0ttvgET09bsk8YF1fF33FfV1iu9oBlz2KXshTB9cf6vf0o19cEyFCKBq8IFBwEyFV-84zBvLFE8BUY09mmRnGDAM_NINvs4vgaLAuat-nL0RS4Ki/s1600/JoshandJayP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-5eqY__LVvVEqUnNZjz1BL7bbElb0ttvgET09bsk8YF1fF33FfV1iu9oBlz2KXshTB9cf6vf0o19cEyFCKBq8IFBwEyFV-84zBvLFE8BUY09mmRnGDAM_NINvs4vgaLAuat-nL0RS4Ki/s320/JoshandJayP.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1 2015</td></tr>
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Then what the hell am I doing signing up for this race again? The conditions and my luck in 2015 were about as prime as any rider can dream of. The conditions and my luck in 2014 were like a bad comical tragedy. I've used a certain word more than once to describe my 2014 ride. Horrid. The weather was horrid, I felt horrid, the food I put in my body was horrid. Quitting was indeed horrid.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xCGDHvbt8oMEMDrnYiTK1w5BAgGId_7-BAlPLq79wRSy-t48gb6Vnamoq2YhTtVpBL0Q-2tltZZwitVBEeYty_0XMR3L279cpGwt7RZF7lMpjy5TnGFes_e_4_ETCW7CUBSEUJphFaAf/s1600/IMG_1033-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xCGDHvbt8oMEMDrnYiTK1w5BAgGId_7-BAlPLq79wRSy-t48gb6Vnamoq2YhTtVpBL0Q-2tltZZwitVBEeYty_0XMR3L279cpGwt7RZF7lMpjy5TnGFes_e_4_ETCW7CUBSEUJphFaAf/s640/IMG_1033-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Of course despite everything in 2014 I was truly happy. I had a blast! My 2015 run, there is video evidence in the last 100 miles of the Tour Divide on Facebook somewhere of me being "super happy!" I had worked so hard to get back out for another shot at the race in 2015 that I could have been dead last place and my reaction would have been exactly the same. Super Happy! A theme from my 2015 run was being happy on the bike and smiling. That is true. I was happy. Yes, it hurt a whole heck of a lot and I shed some tears too but man oh man was I happy. As I mentioned in one of the online interviews post-race it was like being a kid with a really cool bike, a credit card and carte blanche in the candy aisle. It's a whole lot of fun!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNKz5ZDOxP8sAPzk9_bRZfaXw67j6WRFqbFjhLxtEpE-W9lbE6Y21zetDbbVoZWsIG8GEBcgK8UGTRzMBT3F_Ghmbb8XFtPwpms-k8BLyjR5szVO0MynDD6cxEooluidHDYom4ISAXkCg/s1600/IMG_1191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNKz5ZDOxP8sAPzk9_bRZfaXw67j6WRFqbFjhLxtEpE-W9lbE6Y21zetDbbVoZWsIG8GEBcgK8UGTRzMBT3F_Ghmbb8XFtPwpms-k8BLyjR5szVO0MynDD6cxEooluidHDYom4ISAXkCg/s400/IMG_1191.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pie Town Magic</td></tr>
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The Divide is so much more than a bike race. Or at least it is to most of us who never, or only very secretly dare, dream of winning. Most of us enter the Divide with the knowledge, which seems like fact, that we will not place first in this race. Heck, most of us have no clue what we are doing out there. Many of us have no idea how our bodies will react to such an ultra-distance event. Most of us are just out there to challenge ourselves over the course. We all have our reasons.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILz_7GGl__sgKl1wZLdOXuzMpwk0pcCfbADJbuc1Ot3p8xufYU7Eryu5oe2eC1AUScErUERUtVMNr6ok5Bj8l2OUKupAC4r-G7KKXePF_qRL84WWlZXzQiFHCHFmrNa9ymjS8O7GqTOHZ/s1600/IMG_1154-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILz_7GGl__sgKl1wZLdOXuzMpwk0pcCfbADJbuc1Ot3p8xufYU7Eryu5oe2eC1AUScErUERUtVMNr6ok5Bj8l2OUKupAC4r-G7KKXePF_qRL84WWlZXzQiFHCHFmrNa9ymjS8O7GqTOHZ/s640/IMG_1154-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children at Play</td></tr>
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So what are my reasons for wanting to return in 2016? No clue. Some of my friends tell me, "Well you are the defending champion, you have to race." I'm not sure that in a race like the Divide there is such a thing as a "defending" champion. We all survive the course. None of us conquer it. None of us "own" this race. It's a monster! Statistically, there is about a 60% completion rate for the racers. Let's just say 50% as it sounds more impressive. So all of us that toe the line for the Grand Depart have a fifty-fifty chance of finishing. Indeed, my own stats from the two years I've lined up match these numbers. One DNF, one finish. Why play the odds?<br />
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I keep coming back to one simple reason. Simplicity itself. After dropping out in 2014 and before starting in 2015 I wrote my account from my <a href="http://faroutwanderings.blogspot.com/2015/01/my-tour-divide-2014-story-ingredients.html">2014 run</a>. I ended that story with a statement. "I yearn for the simple life again." The Divide is so complex, so vast, so encompassing that it requires simplicity to understand it and to finish it. The less we take, the faster we go. The times I was having the most fun were the times I was going the fastest. Riding your bike is easy. Everything else is hard.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRm374tCOXcOTHpqFWGefOsMzAHqMZCPI03_-tqnr7CewWw26j1Tt73h8aU3oQBK-TOdbJ-gBofxMgumEEbAdIufZleR4FpCx3wSxaDEQWTsPBcI5N74gVh2NUprtmA_uHH6vmkXKkPqKs/s1600/2014+Dream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRm374tCOXcOTHpqFWGefOsMzAHqMZCPI03_-tqnr7CewWw26j1Tt73h8aU3oQBK-TOdbJ-gBofxMgumEEbAdIufZleR4FpCx3wSxaDEQWTsPBcI5N74gVh2NUprtmA_uHH6vmkXKkPqKs/s640/2014+Dream.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Perhaps I'll just be taking the easy, simple path this June. I'll just go ride my bike. I'll be a kid on a really cool bike with a credit card, stars overhead and miles and miles of the unknown before me. A great story ready to unfold. It doesn't matter the placing. I know, many people wonder why race if you aren't concerned with first place. It's simple and if the simplicity of it escapes you then I urge you to take on some grand, crazy personal challenge. I believe that most of us that dream of the Divide are simply that. Dreamers. However, as I can fully attest, dreams can come true. It's simple, you just keep chasing them. If you don't catch them you can have a whole lot of fun trying.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXslsJxExXasSQacYc6Le8JHQBF1wT0af782TaSNB6bD7fAxKoYGr-9fecNuAVz0Ageavw0_DaUJXoRA-_AWGpfuh66lPg1Nl77iIHyWi6FXt6-hjkEhvWK71WJTRiDuF3Mxhhg9wd9jj4/s1600/_DSC9926-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXslsJxExXasSQacYc6Le8JHQBF1wT0af782TaSNB6bD7fAxKoYGr-9fecNuAVz0Ageavw0_DaUJXoRA-_AWGpfuh66lPg1Nl77iIHyWi6FXt6-hjkEhvWK71WJTRiDuF3Mxhhg9wd9jj4/s640/_DSC9926-Edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-67448202588307836112016-01-07T18:00:00.000-08:002016-01-07T18:00:14.929-08:00Some Wintertime Fun!Oh what a wonderful world! Been out having some fun this new year. Fatbiking, snowcamping, backcountry skiing. It's been a blast! Lots of the year yet to come. Excited to see what's around the next corner.<div>
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-51592262461146618842015-11-29T22:49:00.000-08:002015-11-29T23:14:19.205-08:00The Cordillera<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMLWP7klGihE1K7oXKtA7xSt6Gec1pDbQlYg9NFWRc79f32pIi-5lAPEXdY4tbEp0n7ktB584H_FdndkIIrG5qXQfNRHoTpcpzBYY4DgJ0LyXuICVQDMI9KBJ6Wd4kTWozMG6c9eb2qgf/s1600/product_thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMLWP7klGihE1K7oXKtA7xSt6Gec1pDbQlYg9NFWRc79f32pIi-5lAPEXdY4tbEp0n7ktB584H_FdndkIIrG5qXQfNRHoTpcpzBYY4DgJ0LyXuICVQDMI9KBJ6Wd4kTWozMG6c9eb2qgf/s1600/product_thumbnail.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Do you need a good book for a cold winter day? Do you want to race the Tour Divide? Do you want to read stories from some of the racers of the Tour Divide? Do you want to know what gear the racers used? Do you want to read my personal 2015 Tour Divide story? The Cordillera is the place to find it. Here is the most current volume of the </span><a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/christopher-bennett/the-cordillera-volume-7/paperback/product-22456699.html" style="text-align: center;">Cordillera, Volume 7</a><span style="text-align: center;">, which contains insights, stories and data from the 2015 Tour Divide. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuaIg_OX_Gw1APfGpLWT0kECZuX-GO_9VerVAMvhwpt8lvTQqTuJd6I1SsZ1Mmst1WsANb1T2VXH0g-ZFl4pfdKikt63tQCvP3EjJMTtIRBAOlCVxD-5RuEIcUV3CJMlv_qZKS0KXEi59P/s1600/Sam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuaIg_OX_Gw1APfGpLWT0kECZuX-GO_9VerVAMvhwpt8lvTQqTuJd6I1SsZ1Mmst1WsANb1T2VXH0g-ZFl4pfdKikt63tQCvP3EjJMTtIRBAOlCVxD-5RuEIcUV3CJMlv_qZKS0KXEi59P/s400/Sam.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam Newbury - Cordillera V7 Cover Photo Photographer</td></tr>
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I have read every volume of the Cordillera and consider it essential training material for the Tour Divide. Bikepacking racers are a weird little clan and this book is probably the highest concentration of stories and thoughts from our little band of misfits. The proceeds also go to a college fund for Linnaea Blumenthal, the daughter of our Tour Divide brother Dave Blumenthal who was killed on the route in 2010.</div>
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I'm sure this new volume will contain many laughs, emotions and tears from this years race.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeX8Oj2OmytR4N8DhwS6bs6BlcExOVvav2KLRuWZgJfPOANGmAvLCUsrNxgyYkUSPGAzwRyHxwfMTg_TDwZy-qw2syq-pFKScJ4_u4PRNglNngfkSyYzYltrNim2HfeCzGlcyjLAl3O45/s1600/book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeX8Oj2OmytR4N8DhwS6bs6BlcExOVvav2KLRuWZgJfPOANGmAvLCUsrNxgyYkUSPGAzwRyHxwfMTg_TDwZy-qw2syq-pFKScJ4_u4PRNglNngfkSyYzYltrNim2HfeCzGlcyjLAl3O45/s320/book.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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Here is an excerpt from my story in the <a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/christopher-bennett/the-cordillera-volume-7/paperback/product-22456699.html">Cordillera, Volume 7</a></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-c43ac045-5724-13cb-0e6e-1b4773166cf3"><span style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My speed was decreasing from a full powered 24 mph time trial effort to an ugly, wobbly coasting speed that could have allowed a kid on a trike to blow by me. I pleadingly took a pull on the hydration hose from my frame bag. Nothing. I clumsily pulled the liter sized bottle from the downtube of my bike as I swerved into the left lane of roadway, unscrewed the lid and tilted it towards my parched lips. One drop. A drop of hot, rancid orange juice fell to my swollen tongue. It burned and irritated my desiccated mouth. My eyes scanned the side of the road. I looked frantically for liquid in any form. A bottle tossed out by a passing motorist, a cattle water tank, a 10 year old selling lemonade. Nothing. For the first time in over 100 miles I looked behind me. Empty road made blurry by the heat waves rising from the tarmack. Glorious rain storms vignetted the blurry image. Rain poured from the sky in the distance; too far away from me to be of any aid. I squinted to try and focus the image. Nothing but a blur. Yet somewhere in those heat waves rising from the roadway I knew one of the most powerful and talented ultra-athletes in the world could materialize at any moment. I swerved severely again as I turned my head forward almost toppling my bike into the ditch. The lyrics from Marty Robbins, Cool Water evilly played in my mind. “This may be it”, I said aloud to no one other than a jackrabbit crouched beside the road. It seemed like hell to me. Winston Churchill’s quote, “If you’re going through hell, keep going” echoed in my head. Just keep going I chanted to myself. My mind began to wander uncontrollably. I was no longer the keeper of my body. It was as if I was a spectator to all that was happening. A silent, helpless observer of a grand dream unravelling. I could no longer see the road. All I saw was the replay of my previous days. I was in a waking dream. The visions of those previous days on the Divide began to consume me.</span></span></div>
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-67263227393494345482015-11-16T16:00:00.000-08:002015-11-16T16:00:18.964-08:00Trainer TimeThat time of year. Short days, long nights, wet, soggy, cold. Always looking for something to get me going before heading off to a nightshift at work.<br />
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<br />Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-6804112520746643472015-08-26T01:02:00.000-07:002015-08-26T07:24:58.383-07:00Maybe It Was Just A DreamWhat do you do after completing the Divide?<br />
You think about it a lot. It's a dream that has become reality. What do you do with that?<br />
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Riders put a lot of time, effort, sweat, tears, money and backside into completing the Divide. Why?<br />
Everyone has their reason. A vision quest, in search of simplicity, happiness, chasing dreams, conquering demons, setting records, raising funds... I'm sure that some of us don't have the answer figured out. Maybe some of us never knew the question.<br />
There are always questions from the curious and congratulatory Divide spectators. Some crazy, some not so much. Perhaps their questions aren't so odd. Perhaps they can help us find the answer.<br />
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"Why did you do it?".<br />
"How do you carry enough clean underwear?"<br />
"What do you do now?"<br />
"Are you going pro?"<br />
"Did you get any sponsors?"<br />
"What did you win?"<br />
"Were you going for a record?"<br />
"Why did you race if you didn't think you were going to win?"<br />
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Why did I race if I didn't think I was going to win?<br />
There's always a dream.<br />
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I was sitting on a porch, in New Mexico, in a place called Pie Town, at a magical little abode called the Toaster House. It was sunset. The air was totally still. I had a Pabst Blue Ribbon in one hand and a Totinos microwave pizza folded over like a taco in my other hand. I was comfortably lounged back in a slightly reclined position in a bucket seat that had been removed from an automobile. Sitting across from me was Matthew, a young 19 year old German who had come to this place along his journey. A journey which was taking him from the US east coast to the west. He was walking from coast to coast while pushing a heavy, unwieldily stroller. Mostly alone. He sat upon a bench seat that looked like it had come from the back of a Chrysler mini-van.<br />
I had just finished the Tour Divide bicycle race a few days before. In first place, in record time. We each vocally proclaimed the other insane during our meeting earlier in the day. Now, at this late hour on a June evening we sat in our respective chairs, buckled in by seat belts still attached to our vehicle-less seats. Each of us engaged in conversation with someone that the other considered a bit off kilter.<br />
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"What's your dream?", I asked Matthew.<br />
"You'd think I was crazy. You'd think I was nuts.", stated Matthew.<br />
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I paused for a time, smiled and said, "Try me Matthew."<br />
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<br />Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-80202080607517037812015-07-14T02:13:00.000-07:002015-08-08T22:03:21.929-07:00What a Race!<div>
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What a race! The Tour Divide. It's absolutely amazing. I'm still trying to figure out exactly what went on out there. The whole thing is a bit of a dream to me. I'm sure it's gonna take me a while to remember all the bits and pieces from those two weeks on the bike. In the meantime. I've written out my entire 2015 Tour Divide kit for the website <a href="http://www.bikepacking.com/gear/josh-kato-tour-divide-pack-list/" target="_blank">Bikepacking.com</a>. It contains some of my thoughts about the gear I used. I'll be putting together a listing of my bike and parts in the near future. It's easy to geek out on gear and bikes. It's not so easy to formulate my thoughts and experiences from the race. It's a lot of personal emotion and trying to translate that is a bit challenging for a guy that's spent a bit too much time at elevation. Indeed, my story about the 2014 race took me more than half a year to tell. However, I think that the interview I did with <a href="http://www.outsideonline.com/1996951/king-tour-divide" target="_blank">Outside Magazine</a> shares a few of my thoughts and experiences from the race pretty well. Of course there is also Eddie Clark's coverage of the event at <a href="http://www.mountainflyermagazine.com/view.php/2015-tour-divide-final-report.html" target="_blank">Mountain Flyer Magazine</a> that is fun to see. Eddie got some lovely shots out there. It was great bumping into him out on the back roads of the Divide.<br />
I've also recently done a quick interview with <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Be-Brave-Strong-Journey-Across/dp/1463533136/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1437248986&sr=8-1&keywords=be+brave+be+strong" target="_blank">Jill Homer</a> for <a href="http://www.revelatedesigns.com/" target="_blank">Revelate Designs</a> blog. More of my thoughts about the race including why I almost decided to stop racing within a couple days of the finish. A link to the interview for Revelate- <a href="https://www.revelatedesigns.com/blog/index.cfm/2015/07/17/Tour-Divide-Winner--Josh-Kato-Interview" target="_blank">Revelate Designs Blog</a></div>
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In the meantime I wanted to give a big shout out to EVERYONE that competed in this years Tour Divide. I'm sure there are a lot of awesome stories out there. This is a race that truly has winners in everyone that completed their challenge. I had a blast meeting a few of the racers as they came through Pie Town on their way south as I made my way back home. It was a pleasure to meet all of you!</div>
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To those that didn't finish and tried their hardest to do so. I've been there. It is an emotional thing to pull out of something you've poured so much energy and time into. I have full respect for everyone that lined up. Pulling out of of the Divide last year is indeed one of the hardest things I've ever done. I raise a glass to all of you starters, finishers and dreamers!</div>
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The Tour Divide is a special sort of race. It defies the tradition of many other cycling events. I love that about it. Every year the bikepacking.net forum has some comments about changing it somehow. Teams, rest-breaks, support personnel and any other number of modifications. I still maintain that the Tour Divide is a supremely simple event. It's beauty is that it is a beast of a race and yet once you break it down it is so, so simple. You just go from point A to point B as fast as you can, on your own. Ride when you want, sleep when you want and be sure to eat a lot in between. During the race you will learn all you need to know about yourself. All you have to do is ride and listen.<br />
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Oh, and have A LOT of FUN while doing it!!!<br />
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-426121933557380592015-03-19T01:58:00.000-07:002015-03-19T01:58:02.628-07:00Passing Time<div>
Went out on a ride today. Not so much a training ride as just a ride. A ride I really enjoy. We all have those. Places we like to ride just because we enjoy being there. Places we like to go in our daydreams when stuck behind the walls of societal obligations.</div>
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Not too many miles today, 50, but plenty of climbing up some of my favorite canyons. The snowy mountains in the distance that I've played in so many times tempting me from afar. Raptors gliding alongside me playing in the air currents as I granny-geared up the steep switchback laden climb of 13 miles and 5000 vertical feet of elevation gain.</div>
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I've always enjoyed climbs on the bike. I'm not a particularly fast ascender, I just like going uphill. Something about climbs seems romantic to me. They slowly seduce you into a state of surrender. The long, drawn-out, painful anticipation of the end. Uphills with open, sweeping vistas are especially entrancing.</div>
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On the narrow, dusty tracks on the steep sides of canyons and valleys you can only see open space and mountains in your peripheral vision. It gives a sensation of floating through the hills. A sensation that helps to take us to other places. Places that have been burned into our mind's photo album. Welcome places away from the sweat, heavy breathing and tightening muscles brought on by challenging climbs.</div>
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It helps me pass the time to flip through the idealized pages of those grey matter derived collection of snapshots. On a day like today this memory based photo stream came in quite handy. While this winter has been pretty mild in Washington there is still plenty of snow hanging around in the hills. Especially the north facing slopes. My 50 mile ride was actually only 42 as 8 of the miles along the top of the ridgeline turned into a festival of post-holing through a breakable frozen crust into thigh deep snow. Divide training at its finest.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjJJqLoGnvWXThpwqyrQmlgsXz968KwZ4J7FSU4PxYk3jTGbSzojJ12D1CfUGpxL1ZnqesJtNbl5YsR6v6q1bFt0Tt-lzXDOgjD9xx5CprgDJP59zSJ8ej24I0JSb0Ae6brORYG2MA9o0/s1600/Colchuck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjJJqLoGnvWXThpwqyrQmlgsXz968KwZ4J7FSU4PxYk3jTGbSzojJ12D1CfUGpxL1ZnqesJtNbl5YsR6v6q1bFt0Tt-lzXDOgjD9xx5CprgDJP59zSJ8ej24I0JSb0Ae6brORYG2MA9o0/s1600/Colchuck.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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I opened my skull based photo album. I watched my favorite re-runs of places skied, biked, fished </div>
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and hiked.</div>
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Speed, or lack thereof, dissolved into the crisp mountain air and took on no meaning. The cutting sensation of each step into the ice-crusted snow against my shins, knees and thighs disappeared. Frozen feet melted into the world around me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjESmX4mA39QJU157fJf893-AENXd3iOoIIcP5-Sc_FPFGcVOzDGQlfry0NptYuLzf5zrcxA1LH6ctT9055G-t0D7NNFboNjP3V4LuiUPkWpdliarYP0Nh4NSwtTj3prdu5eUMzKOPZqW2F/s1600/IMG_5934+-+Version+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjESmX4mA39QJU157fJf893-AENXd3iOoIIcP5-Sc_FPFGcVOzDGQlfry0NptYuLzf5zrcxA1LH6ctT9055G-t0D7NNFboNjP3V4LuiUPkWpdliarYP0Nh4NSwtTj3prdu5eUMzKOPZqW2F/s1600/IMG_5934+-+Version+2+-+Version+2.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Re-runs or good new episodes, either will do. Come June I'll be tuning in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDX-gxRZfXRYBOOSgPZDRdksePVLcO0ZeXvQh7llqN6LNc-aMUXPOhh9LfrRvSLtoRLITCaizmxjVU5FI6WUzaByMvicuNG5iyqEL8aiabCsmQZQNQrM27m1E7lSCWJRB8Sm4H-Rs8KaIq/s1600/sitting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDX-gxRZfXRYBOOSgPZDRdksePVLcO0ZeXvQh7llqN6LNc-aMUXPOhh9LfrRvSLtoRLITCaizmxjVU5FI6WUzaByMvicuNG5iyqEL8aiabCsmQZQNQrM27m1E7lSCWJRB8Sm4H-Rs8KaIq/s1600/sitting.jpg" height="400" width="640" /></a></div>
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-29012209263225986322015-02-11T22:27:00.000-08:002015-02-13T09:59:07.923-08:00Tour Divide TrainingTraining...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNm5Fx85ilyilmiIvRcyBz498G2qDag6Ks11-rLvr71GqzoQOTdSTVpLE0k_HHsvInhiQ9IAO1X3NPuqDfHrLjvlHoSUWqkPthed84-cTIAZjc_OXiYvj_itXzU9tE4Sj38BQOKvTAcya/s1600/Training-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNm5Fx85ilyilmiIvRcyBz498G2qDag6Ks11-rLvr71GqzoQOTdSTVpLE0k_HHsvInhiQ9IAO1X3NPuqDfHrLjvlHoSUWqkPthed84-cTIAZjc_OXiYvj_itXzU9tE4Sj38BQOKvTAcya/s1600/Training-16.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"High Performance" Training on a Touring Bike</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
How do you train for the Tour Divide?<br />
I have no clue! My solution this year was to buy a Fatbike. Hmm...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7XFOoPBXxWLdw-bTAfy6LKHxAqPWOW2x4lNxxDuZymiNj-TcWaq6aUxZBhNWomkkAIBrKuBmhWENJMqRwD7fdrTum56KJiT2kHqmdDHpEQtMHSjCqkiK1n4Zs8Dve7lZQmZ8Bp2jT3qc/s1600/Training.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7XFOoPBXxWLdw-bTAfy6LKHxAqPWOW2x4lNxxDuZymiNj-TcWaq6aUxZBhNWomkkAIBrKuBmhWENJMqRwD7fdrTum56KJiT2kHqmdDHpEQtMHSjCqkiK1n4Zs8Dve7lZQmZ8Bp2jT3qc/s1600/Training.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fat, Heavy and Fun. Perfect</td></tr>
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Sure, there are all sorts of tech options out there. Heart rate monitors, power meters, functional threshold testing, nutrition plans, cross-training discussions, coaches, 12 step programs. There is a market for anything and everything that can make you an unstoppable cycling Jedi. These programs always seem like a lot of work to me. Work as in drudgery. If I had to calculate differential equations every pedal stroke while biking I'd probably hang it up and go fishing a lot more. Some people are able to make things like power meters, heart rates and Cytomax fun. Sick people. Biking has always been fun. Even when I raced years and years ago I kept it fun. Probably why I got out of racing and probably why I wasn't a podium fixture. But the Divide, what's not fun about racing the clock from Canada to Mexico?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHjS8_Iel07K7a48LmuB8NnJXgtVHFnSneaf7enaHfeJ8aSK0kXsvLfWKL4tOi64th5ItbYkhM68TbW8WK0gjBb-Lqvrk_Jvc1OEkjhaVWbk8Z3gftHlLfcQE2ejwbNGNKsJ0u28aJGUk/s1600/Training-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHjS8_Iel07K7a48LmuB8NnJXgtVHFnSneaf7enaHfeJ8aSK0kXsvLfWKL4tOi64th5ItbYkhM68TbW8WK0gjBb-Lqvrk_Jvc1OEkjhaVWbk8Z3gftHlLfcQE2ejwbNGNKsJ0u28aJGUk/s1600/Training-9.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding Fat Uphill Is Good Training</td></tr>
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When I set a goal to race last year in 2014 I decided I just needed to go full tilt boogie and ride. Ride lots, ride hard, ride fast. Do what I enjoyed and try to overdose on it. I had a goal that seemed insanely challenging to me. That's what made it so mesmerizing. What makes this year different for me? It's even more mesmerizing this time. I know the happiness and enjoyment I experienced while racing last year despite some discomfort. The simple beauty of racing mostly alone through a vast and amazing landscape. I recall the disappointment I experienced when withdrawing from it and of course I remember the food. I'm greedy and I want it all again! Well, not the quitting part.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDNK2xgXxDDImUlLVgGxH-cvwQXFjEY3PdNuWhdL-UZFrPwVIkFJVUajaggRuDjvyiLPgkZzBWr-NMmih_OWpJYFm3e_rVd6YfjckXX5l_Rb8NeKaow0dNbu-3z0mI7HgXsFfmHvWWc13/s1600/Training-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDNK2xgXxDDImUlLVgGxH-cvwQXFjEY3PdNuWhdL-UZFrPwVIkFJVUajaggRuDjvyiLPgkZzBWr-NMmih_OWpJYFm3e_rVd6YfjckXX5l_Rb8NeKaow0dNbu-3z0mI7HgXsFfmHvWWc13/s1600/Training-13.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Divide Training Food</td></tr>
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I think one thing that Valerie and I have done in our training is to always keep it fun. We always have a blast on the bikes. Of course it helps when your spouse is also a built in training partner. What Val lacks in pure speed she makes up for in endurance, intelligence, sheer will power and climbing prowess. I'm quickish on the bike, a fast descender, have all sorts of mechanical abilities and an iron stomach. We learned from one another and pushed each other to acquire the other's strengths. Perhaps I was at a major disadvantage. I'm a sprinter and a downhiller... Probably not the best ingredients to cook an ultra with.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvoj_rvDGyMzIR81Dq5WFVhG5SVXrja0PiQJhjKiInCnLEYNQNto4Et3cRXA_5quWJWDo0qU_JSqK34U4gnAzrQh1l5FaWkJcPIYAYn-nkU_YMAsekHPitklAxwbEwz-0LRcpfzhbsmuCP/s1600/Training-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvoj_rvDGyMzIR81Dq5WFVhG5SVXrja0PiQJhjKiInCnLEYNQNto4Et3cRXA_5quWJWDo0qU_JSqK34U4gnAzrQh1l5FaWkJcPIYAYn-nkU_YMAsekHPitklAxwbEwz-0LRcpfzhbsmuCP/s1600/Training-12.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full Body Workout. Full Soul Relaxation</td></tr>
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Well, this year I have a firm, structured training plan in place.</div>
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1. Ride the fatbike. Laugh and smile at how fun and ridiculous these things are.</div>
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2. Run. Realize why I prefer biking to running.</div>
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3. Cross-Country ski. Realize there isn't much snow this year so it's probably better to hit the bike.</div>
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4. Core-strengthening. Chop wood, stack said wood.</div>
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5. Do it all a lot. Do it all fast.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_O-xIAGN7Vd9ruYRhQmnKz1t0_F4Dtmp8EA-MX_ADUCHqojqbIWrXJVjD89EK8jtv2TFdqXBoaEIF_BJ5jUwxq51Or6z51oD047ZV5ohJ_gk33DoP5MLxzSQ-Gd1Qz5-QO9y4NzQZUmB/s1600/Training-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_O-xIAGN7Vd9ruYRhQmnKz1t0_F4Dtmp8EA-MX_ADUCHqojqbIWrXJVjD89EK8jtv2TFdqXBoaEIF_BJ5jUwxq51Or6z51oD047ZV5ohJ_gk33DoP5MLxzSQ-Gd1Qz5-QO9y4NzQZUmB/s1600/Training-5.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Perfect Fatbike Downhill "Training" Run</td></tr>
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I've set a finish goal time for myself this year which might be insanity. I have no way of knowing until I get out there and ride as fast as I can from Banff to Antelope Wells. I'll be racing. I'll push as hard as I can. I'll try to eat better this year. I'll try to keep the rubber side down.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTskNW1fhAPblqt889rNNWDqU_ttyj4BPS9qe4Nst4yKgSjbKp-agb1wXlyHRi55p7kVA8TgPGoo7MHEFx0Lgmezo3rVsUxOmT6blqbf4d_7LbXpNoabTJ2v486Y9kVrUcG371d7tBqaX/s1600/Training-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitTskNW1fhAPblqt889rNNWDqU_ttyj4BPS9qe4Nst4yKgSjbKp-agb1wXlyHRi55p7kVA8TgPGoo7MHEFx0Lgmezo3rVsUxOmT6blqbf4d_7LbXpNoabTJ2v486Y9kVrUcG371d7tBqaX/s1600/Training-3.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Mostly I'll try to remember at the end of a 200 mile day and have no food or water why exactly it is that I'm out there.</div>
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It just seems fun.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpra4Ce1ncsbacCp9ZiQyj8OSvW80ksaVOd6D7opEMUCAyDZghhg-DILkzmb3QI5Vk3cl5RzN3kZvmeD031yQlcg_jHIiRLPRdfgVbZWxa1WMC1UMSwXvYgYba1B-RTUyMgkxUsqvvCHT7/s1600/Training-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpra4Ce1ncsbacCp9ZiQyj8OSvW80ksaVOd6D7opEMUCAyDZghhg-DILkzmb3QI5Vk3cl5RzN3kZvmeD031yQlcg_jHIiRLPRdfgVbZWxa1WMC1UMSwXvYgYba1B-RTUyMgkxUsqvvCHT7/s1600/Training-2.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-29484696355116827272015-01-24T21:13:00.000-08:002015-01-24T21:23:59.160-08:00Val's Tour Divide Bike and Kit - What Worked, What Didn't<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6u2WNj77mq4vtgMhyfWkww87sTRylRWvLLHL-irPGdrc3TGHUWZTQJxy9halFpWTSqLUmAc2E86-qisCDycDn4c8Xm8tQdVJuJSCNGAzO6ydbxRF11zraauUm13YKm4NP-wFPNXqqh8/s1600/_XE14488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6u2WNj77mq4vtgMhyfWkww87sTRylRWvLLHL-irPGdrc3TGHUWZTQJxy9halFpWTSqLUmAc2E86-qisCDycDn4c8Xm8tQdVJuJSCNGAzO6ydbxRF11zraauUm13YKm4NP-wFPNXqqh8/s1600/_XE14488.jpg" height="356" width="640" /></a></div>
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After finishing the 2014 Tour Divide, I thought it might help others to go through and review my gear list and post what worked, what didn't and what I thought essential and what I did not use. The list is from an earlier post and I have put my post-TD updates after each section.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPPD1F4CR3BP_HN6oYB3jnantAopfRlgFGECxX0CmchvGJCCTutMvg9h9RHV3r8pAozsiX82YGaBNTgigAIYPbRsMS87Zjo6kgmetN1i1sjJH4ZC8gZabqrDvkYlGzTZuUt6FFbo7LTU/s1600/IMG_0314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIPPD1F4CR3BP_HN6oYB3jnantAopfRlgFGECxX0CmchvGJCCTutMvg9h9RHV3r8pAozsiX82YGaBNTgigAIYPbRsMS87Zjo6kgmetN1i1sjJH4ZC8gZabqrDvkYlGzTZuUt6FFbo7LTU/s1600/IMG_0314.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><u>BIKE</u></b><br />
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<ul>
<li> Name: LaFawnduh, cause all good bikes need a name and when something bad happens you can curse at it.</li>
<li> Frame: 2013 Salsa Fargo Titanium</li>
<li> Fork: Salsa Fargo V2 steel fork (cause steel is real) Actually I am clumsy and would break carbon.</li>
<li>Drivetrain: Shimano XTR M980 triple crankarms, 24 tooth Blackspire inner ring, XT 32 T middle, XTR 42 T outer ring, XTR M980 front derailleur, XT 9 speed rear derailleur, XTR 12-34 9 speed cassette, Sram PC 991 cross-step chain. 9 is more durable than 10.</li>
<li>Pedals: Speedplay Frog Ti</li>
<li>Shifter: Sram Attack Betty Gripshift</li>
<li>Brakes: Pauls Love Levers (Valentine's Day present from Josh), Avid BB7 Calipers, Avid HS-1 rotors</li>
<li>Cables: Custom cut and precisely routed Jagwire Pro</li>
<li>Headset: Chris King (it's good to be king)</li>
<li>Stem: Salsa Pro Moto Ti</li>
<li>Handlebar: Jones Loop H-Bar - wrapped in Salsa Bar tape with Ergon grips</li>
<li>Aero Bar: Syntace C3 with extra risers</li>
<li>Seatpost: Eriksen Sweetpost (another Valentines day gift from Josh)</li>
<li>Seat: Terry Liberator X Gel</li>
<li>Seat Collar: Salsa Lip-lock</li>
<li>Wheels: (Custom built by Josh) DT 350 Hubs, Sapim CX-Ray spokes, DT alloy nipples, WTB Frequency i19 Rims 32h</li>
<li>Tires: Kenda Small Block 8 DTC John Tomac Signature</li>
<li>Tubes: (yes some people still use tubes) Schwalbe SV 19A</li>
<li>Flat Prophylactics: Mr. Tuffy Ultralight liners, Flat Attack Sealant (about 50ml per tube and yes we've weighed it all out and it is lighter than a tubeless setup with sealant and proper rim strip and burpy tires.)</li>
<li>CycleStuff Stay Wrap</li>
<li>Vintage Tektro 102A Chainsuck Device. Maybe the name depressed sales... but it works!</li>
<li>Water bottle cages: Portland Design Works: The Birdcage x3 1 on downtube 2 on fork with Zefal Magnum 33 oz bottles.</li>
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<b><u>Update: </u></b> Pretty much loved my bike! I did weirdly have my fork drop out come loose and so had to replace my front fork in Steamboat. Nothing is indestructible. I got the White Brothers Rock Solid fork which was fabulous. Highly recommended for taking the edge off of the bumps. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I would not take the aero bars again with the Jones bar. They made loading my stuff on the bike harder and I really didn't use them enough to make the weight and the hassle worth it. The Jones Loop Bar is so nice on its own I don't think I need anything extra on it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My wheels, built by Josh, held up superbly, but the bearings in the the DT hubs were done by the end. I heard of several other bearings being shot before week 2 as well. The continual rain/mud/sandy roads of week one did them in I'm sure. None the less, they rolled all the way to Mexico. A touch of lateral slop in the rear bearings and some squeaky noises from the front.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I used a Specialized Renegade Control 2.3 tire on the front and a Specialized Fast Track Control 2.0 on the back. Both were great. I got a new tire in Salida for the back, maybe could have made it without, but it was wearing a bit thin. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I do recommend the Kent Eriksen Sweetpost and the Terry saddle. So nice and smooth! Only a couple small saddle sores in 2700 miles! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also my 9 speed drivetrain is still going strong. I replaced the chain three times and developed a crazy obsession about cleaning my chain and lubing it every day, but they held up and the cogs still have plenty of life in them. </div>
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<b><u>REAR BAG- Revelate Viscacha</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Ziplock with TP, baby wipes, mesh bug hat with snazzy spring ring, hydrocortisone, (for the skeeter bites on you know where), A&D ointment + clotrimazole (to make butt paste, fellow RNs will know) also never forget the hand sanitizer</li>
<li>Western Mountaineering Hi Lite 35 degree bag inside ultralightweight OR drybag.</li>
<li>Patagonia 900 fill Down Sweater inside Sea to Summit waterproof stuffsack</li>
<li>Patagonia Torrentshell Raincoat, Patagonia Rainshadow Rainpants, Proline flyfishing neoprene pantleg band X2, Gorewear gortex socks.</li>
<li>Spare straps</li>
</ul>
<div>
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Update:</u> I took way too much A&D, a small 3 oz tube would be enough, but my triple butt paste was great and prevented saddle sores. I also ended up taking a small tube of benzoyl peroxide zit cream to apply to the beginnings of saddle sores and that worked. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I never used the bug hat. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I loved the puffy coat, an essential this year. My Rainshadow pants were great and still held up even though I wore them pretty much all the way to the great basin. My Torrentshell jacket was great too, although it was a bit bulky and heavy. The Velcro over the zipper opened up a slightly embarrassing hole in the front of my bike shorts that necessitated taping my shorts with electrical tape to prevent frontal nudity. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYM7US0E5NygiGzFChILzwO_t-HSQBce-M85g1zQHr5YG3Bu-pxP7dVmOoEk4hg7PaeHpEvBjWB4i_5pA5xxcCgdpdbXspAAn6qVP6WVf3itX3OwzO-FSVxslf6YrksEe2fMnYed-F4sY/s1600/_DSC4010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYM7US0E5NygiGzFChILzwO_t-HSQBce-M85g1zQHr5YG3Bu-pxP7dVmOoEk4hg7PaeHpEvBjWB4i_5pA5xxcCgdpdbXspAAn6qVP6WVf3itX3OwzO-FSVxslf6YrksEe2fMnYed-F4sY/s1600/_DSC4010.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Testing Out the Rain Kit During a Tour in Yellowstone</td></tr>
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Tool Kit: (inside Viscacha)</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Xtra tube with slime </li>
<li>Dental floss</li>
<li>Darning needles </li>
<li>Xtra cleats (Frog)</li>
<li>Brake pads X2 (Avid aluminum/organic)</li>
<li>Tire Boot (Park) +Dollar bill for backup</li>
<li>Patch kit X 3 (Park Glueless)</li>
<li>Rear hub replacement DT Ratchets</li>
<li>Zipties</li>
<li>elastic hairbands</li>
<li>Red Zeplin inflater</li>
<li>CO2 Cartridges X 2</li>
<li>Electrical tape (enough to replace rim strips + more)</li>
<li>Leatherman Squirt PS4 </li>
<li>Multi tool: Crank brothers M 17</li>
<li>Torx wrench (Oh why don't they still make everything with allen fittings)</li>
<li>Xtra Sram masterlink</li>
<li>Safety pins</li>
<li>Spare Chainring bolts</li>
<li>Spare Derailleur hanger</li>
<li>Spare Jockey wheel</li>
<li>Lots of Duct tape around my seatpost</li>
<li>Xtra batteries AAA X 8 and AA X 8 lithium, CR2032 X 2</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>Update:</u></b> I didn't use all of this stuff, but I would take it all again. I heard of people needing all of these items. I just had some better luck, but I think this is a good list. I ended up taking 2 spare derailleur hangers and it was a good thing cause I used both of them and could have used a third. I have a bad habit of falling to the right onto the drivetrain and bending the stupid things. </div>
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<b><u>REVELATE SPROCKET</u></b>: On outside of Viscacha</div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Spot</li>
<li>Titanium Spork (folding, it is my most awesome camping item, I could not leave it; I use it to spoon Nutella directly into my mouth)</li>
</ul>
<div>
Worked well, although the zipper on the Sprocket became clogged with mud and I broke the zipper pull, it kept all my stuff together all the way to Mexico. Spork is essential for eating gooey gas station leftovers.</div>
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<b><u> REVELATE FRAMEBAG:</u></b> R side large pocket</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Xtra Tube with slime</li>
<li>MSR Dromlite 4L with tubing and camel back bitevalve + flipcap in bag for filtering H20</li>
<li>Minipump Topeak Peakini Master Blaster (Version I from the '90's, baby!)</li>
<li>Tent pole</li>
<li>Passport + Xtra credit card</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>Update: </u></b> This all was essential. Would absolutely not do the race without a hand pump and tubes, even if going tubeless. Many people who went tubeless ended up with tubes by the end of the race. Stans leaked, dried out, etc. If you can finish in around 2 weeks time, like Jefe, that might not be a problem.</div>
<div>
Also, I started out with ultra-light Schwalbe SV19A inner tubes which are super nice but I'm not sure they are up to a 2700 mile time trial. I got 2 flats. Each time it was a rub mark from the rimstrip edge on the inside (rim side) of the tube. I'd probaly start with slightly heavier/thicker tubes to start with and find a smoother rim strip.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><u>REVELATE FRAME BAG: </u></b> L side small pocket</div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Cable lock: kabeltek flexweave</li>
<li>Xtra spokes X 5 + nipples in a different color so I know what I had to fix</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>Update: </u></b> Worked great. I locked my bike at many a stop, I think these are essential items. The lock was flimsy but would keep anyone from rolling away with my ride. Never broke a spoke or nipple.</div>
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<b><u>REVELATE SWEETROLL Medium + JONES BAR ADAPTER</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Henry Shires Contrail tarp tent in a garbage bag</li>
<li>Space blankets X 2 for ground cloths in ziplocks</li>
<li>Thermarest Neoair Xlight women's</li>
<li>Paracord 25 feet for hanging smellables in bear country + various repairs</li>
<li>Med kit in ziplock; Xtra contacts X 6, magnesium vitamin tabs, fluconazole 150 mg X 3, Claritin 25 tabs, Benadryl 10 tabs, Flonase nasal spray Bactrim 14 tabs, ( meds for allergies, as well as yeast, and urinary tract infections), tampax X 5</li>
<li>Sleeping kit in a light weight OR dry sack: Casio Illuminator PQ 13 Travel clock, patagonia T-shirt, xtra sports bra, smartwool ski socks, Patagonia expedition weight fleece pants, 1 pair regular undies, lightweight running shorts, Rite in the rain mini note pad +pencil (for recording my misery)</li>
<li>Maps + cue cards printed on Rite in the Rain paper</li>
<li>Lightweight dry sack with clean bike shorts and xtra riding socks</li>
</ul>
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<div>
<b><u>Update: </u></b> </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tarp tent: up for debate. So nice to have a real tent in the rain! I did have some condensation problems and ended up sleeping most nights with my rain jacket wrapped around the foot of my sleeping bag, but it was really nice to have a place to change and air out my stuff. Josh took a bivy and was longing for a tent. If you have a lot of cash I think the Z-packs hexamid solo would be better, just for being a bit lighter, but this one is nice and comfy and probably more durable than the Z-packs. Also, being in a tent zipped-up, gives a little piece of mind in New Mexico. Creepy-crawlies down there!</div>
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<div>
I used the magnesium for muscle cramps and it helped A LOT! I did not take the flonase. I did use the fluconazole as a preventative and it worked well. Never needed the bactrim but I am glad I had it. </div>
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<div>
I would not bother again with an extra T shirt, and I did not take an extra sports bra. By about day three everthing is stinky and wet and there seemed to be no point in taking off one stinky wet shirt and putting on a different one. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I did not take the regular undies. Just wore the running shorts that had a liner and that was fine most of the time. I used the fleece pants in Canada. I would recommend the shorts as part of my saddle sore prevention. Keep things aired out and dry! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Never used the paracord. Heavy and useless. I was too tired to worry about bears. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The space blankets got wet and dirty and I threw them away by day three. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I highly recommend extra shorts so you can wash one pair and wear the others. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I did use all three pairs of socks. So nice to have dry socks to put on at bed time. Also got sand in my riding socks which rubbed holes in my toes and would not rinse out in various creeks. So the spare socks were very important. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I loved the neoair mattress, soooo comfy.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I used the travel clock. My watch alarm was too quiet to wake me up. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Maps and cue cards are essential! my GPS failed me outside of Rawlins and I had to navigate by bike computer until it magically started working again about 75 miles later.</div>
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<b><u>REVELATE FRONT POCKET Large</u></b></div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Sawyer mini filter + 60 cc syringe flush+ Platypus 1 Liter bag with cap (I ditched the tiny useless non gusseted bag that came with the Sawyer)</li>
<li>Food: emergency peanut butter or Nutella and flour tortillas, instant coffee powder</li>
<li>Sunscreen</li>
<li>Katadyn purification tabs</li>
</ul>
<div>
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Update:</u> Sawyer filter was great! Probably could have used tabs but it was nice to have instant clean water when I was thirsty. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Sunscreen goes without saying is a necessity. I did by some Sugoi Sunsleeves in Steamboat! They are my new favorite thing. I burn easily and they saved me hauling a lot of extra sunscreen around. </div>
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<div>
Did not take the peanut butter or any of the food listed. I just bought stuff along the way. </div>
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<div>
<b><u>REVELATE GASTANK</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Granola bars</li>
<li>Blue Diamond Smokey Almonds</li>
<li>Swedish Fish</li>
<li>Whatever other delights I can find along the way</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>Update:</u></b> I ended up subsisting on beef jerky, gummy bears and protein bars most of the way along with hamburgers. I normally never eat beef, but beggars can't be choosers and I needed the protein. </div>
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<div>
<b><u>REVELATE JERRY CAN</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Cannon PowerShot A1400 Camera (runs on AA batteries)</li>
<li>HotHands handwarmers. </li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>Update:</u></b> Essential items! I almost got hypothermia in the swan valley and put the handwarmers in my bra. Warmed up my core and kept me going. It got a few of the guys riding near me thinking of buying a bra so they could warm up too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b><u>WINGNUT BACKPACK:</u></b></div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Xtra Platypus bag 100 oz + hose (empty)</li>
<li>Pearl Izumi Arm warmers</li>
<li>Primal Wear leg warmers</li>
<li>Giro 100 proof lobster gloves + liners in a ziplock</li>
<li>Buff</li>
<li>Smartwool beanie</li>
<li>Marmot Trailwind Hoody light jacket</li>
<li>Garbage bags/ ziplocks</li>
<li>Smith Slider sunglasses case with xtra lenses + regular glasses</li>
<li>Bear Spray</li>
<li>Phone charger</li>
<li>iphone</li>
<li>ipod mini waterproof + charger</li>
<li>Duracell instant USB charger</li>
<li>Ziplock with money and credit card</li>
<li>Albuterol inhaler for asthma</li>
<li>Blackburn Mars 4.0 rear blinky</li>
<li>Princeton Tec Eos light</li>
<li>Park tools chain cleaner</li>
<li>fleece rag</li>
<li>chain lube bottle</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>Update:</u></b> I used most of this stuff. The arm and leg warmers were essential, as was the beanie, buff, light jacket. I did not use the USB charger, but it was good to have and light weight. My lights worked well. I would use the same ones. Having a light on my head and one on the handlebars was really nice. Never needed the bearspray, but I think its a good idea to have. I was in the middle/back of the pack so the front runners scared away all the grizzlies. I saw 2 black bears. The New Mexico dogs are softies at heart. You just have to stop and talk to them. They like the chase but I don't think they are in for the kill. </div>
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<div>
<b><u>REVELATE MOUNTAIN FEEDBAG</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>toothpaste/tooth brush</li>
<li>more food</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<b><u>HANDLEBAR/HELMET/BODY:</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Helmet Giro Athlon</li>
<li>Knog Frog rear blinky on helmet (held on to helmet with a ziptie)</li>
<li>Princeton Tec Eos light bracket (on my helmet)</li>
<li>3rd Eye Pro Hemet Mirror</li>
<li>Garmin ETrex 30 + Garmin mount and lanyard stolen from another item.</li>
<li>VDO MC 1.0 Plus cyclo computer (was so cool they had to stop making it)</li>
<li>Fenix LD 22 light + Two Fish Mount</li>
<li>Gore wear bike shorts, apparently they don't make my style anymore.</li>
<li>Gore wear jersey again out of style must be my style. </li>
<li>Smartwool Saturn casual socks</li>
<li>Pearl Izumi X Alp Enduro shoes</li>
<li>Timex Women's Ironman Pulse Calculator watch</li>
<li>BIG SMILE!! I am going to get to ride my bike for almost a month!!</li>
</ul>
<div>
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Update:</u> All good to have. My best piece of gear advice is to buy your shoes too big! My feet swelled and were fine. Other people ended up with tight shoes and numb feet. My helmet mirror was dorky but very functional. My E-trex stopped working at one point and I had a panic attack. I did navigate with my cycle computer for a while, but I would actually consider getting a spare GPS if you can or making sure you are keeping track of where you are with the cycle computer. Its a long ride with lots of turns and you don't want to get lost. </div>
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<div>
A smile is essential as well. I had my share of meltdowns, and rough days but in the end it is a privilege to get to go out and try to finish this ride!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All Done!</td></tr>
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The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-78509381175196449192015-01-16T14:45:00.002-08:002015-01-18T12:19:46.152-08:00My Tour Divide 2014 Story - The Ingredients of a Tour Divide Scratch - A Recipe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This blog has been pretty single-sided. Val has done all the posting to this point. I figured I had to chime in here. I'm not a very verbose individual so I'm not sure how I got so long-winded here.</div>
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The Tour Divide 2015... Yup, I'm in. After a fabulously wonderful fail in 2014 I've got it in my atrophying brain to give this race another go. Val, my wife, finished in 2014. I was able to be in Antelope Wells as she rolled across the finish. An amazing accomplishment! So happy for her and filled with just a touch of envy. I was afraid she would hold it over my head for years: "Hey remember when I finished the Tour Divide and you didn't?" A sentence I seem to hear in my head when my disappointment overwhelms me. I hear it often. She never has and never would say those words but they sure ring loud and clear in my ears.<br />
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How did I get here and why do I want another go at it? I'm not much of a bike racer. 25 years ago I had mild success in a small handful of races before pursuing other passions, school and a job. My bikes laid around mostly as conversation pieces for a few decades. Luckily, my wife got me riding again about 5 years ago. I was quickly approaching 40 and gaining the beer gut of a consummate fly fisherman. She pushed me to purchase a new bike for my 35th birthday so we could tour together. She had a lovely Salsa Vaya so I set about finding a comparable bike to get out there with her. I got a Salsa Fargo. It rekindled my love with the ride. Go anywhere and go far. I began riding more and more. My obsession of riding any and every back road quickly led me to finding out about the Tour Divide. I read on Salsa Cycle's website of Joe Meiser racing the Divide in 2009. I followed that race online as best I could and began to cobble together the requisite information to determine that this might be my ultimate challenge. A race against a course, point A to point B as fast as you can. No prizes, no real glory. Do it self-supported. Just a small group of like minded folks out challenging something grand. The mountain bike and road bike racing scene stopped appealing to me in my early 20s probably because things had gotten so commercial, expensive and cheating was everywhere but this "race" garnered my attention like no other. Heck, you just get on your bike and ride your heart out. If someone cheats, then so be it. If you finish legit then you know it and that is something you will always have.<br />
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For 4 years I rode with one goal in mind. To finish the Tour Divide as fast as I could. A speed which I really wasn't sure would compete with the front runners. In fact, I had many thoughts of not racing as I wasn't sure I could finish within the recommended competitive finish time of 1.5 times the record or around 25 days. By the time Ride the Divide the movie was out and popularized amongst bikepackers I really wondered if it was something I wanted to do. The start field was growing every year and it was looking like the Divide was headed for some drastic changes in the spirit of the event. There looms the question as to what are the intentions of many "racers". Have we gotten away from the solo aspect of the event? Are the racers creating their own rules en route? Should most of the beginners be touring it instead? And what is the purpose of trying to cheat in a challenge such as this?<br />
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Indeed, in 2014 we saw many a beginner of the TD take alternating courses from the approved route and not disqualify themselves. Many people purposely rode together, shared supplies and so on. The rules of the Divide actually seem quite simple. Beautifully simple! It's a shame that the last few years have seen page after page of forum filled up with discussions related to this dilemma. It was refreshing to find out that our Tour Divide Grand Poo bah, Matthew, still has a guiding light that shines brightly on the true spirit of the challenge. In many ways this race is truly what you make it. I just wonder if many of those that line up for the Grand Depart would be better off, and have more fun, challenging the course as a tour with some good buddies. After all, this is a race of sorts. The rules are out there and again, they are quite simple.<br />
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Nonetheless, I was able to get into a fitness level that I thought would allow me to finish within a competitive time as outlined in the TD rules. I forwent most of my other obsessions for the single goal of finishing the TD in less than 21 days. Somehow, along with the generosity of some co-workers, I finagled time off from work in 2014 to give it a go. 2014 would be my year. I would actually be able to line up in Banff on Friday the 13th of June to compete in The Tour Divide.<br />
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I had a marvelous race. Well, for two and a half days at least. After riding much stronger than I thought I would for those first 48 hours, in heinous weather, I decided that day 3 would be when I started "racing". Besides, Canada is just supposed to be a prologue right? That prologue was SOME ride. Cold, wet, cold, wet, wet, COLD! Despite the torture chamber of wetness and cold I had a blast. I was truly having fun and was happy as a fellow can be. Maybe I was being fueled by exceeding my expectations in the ride to this point. I was cruising at my lightweight touring pace through Canada and felt awesome. Somehow this pace was good enough to get amongst the front runners. More of a chase group I suppose as Jefe was already off-the-front. I remember rolling into Bolton Creek Trading Post and seeing Joe Polk from MTB Cast. We chatted for a moment and he told me I was in 4th place at that point. I was shocked and almost got a beer at the store so I could slow down a bit. But I felt good. Really good and I wanted to finish this thing as fast as I could. I wanted there to be no doubt in my mind that I was going to go from point A to point B as fast as I was capable of. Of course it was only day 2.<br />
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It was at the Bolton Creek Trading Post that I first met Calvin Decker who was in 3rd place at that moment early in the Divide. Calvin would later go on to finish 2nd overall. Way to go Calvin! He and I would share a hotel room twice during my abbreviated TD effort. Calvin is an awesome fellow and one I was happy to share my short TD effort with. There is an easy sort of kinship between most Divide riders. I suppose these brief interactions amongst kindred spirits may be one of the finest aspects of participating in the Grand Depart. Calvin, in particular, seemed to understand the spirit of the Divide in a way that aligned deeply with my thoughts. I considered him a good friend during my brief time out there.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">The evening of day 2 found me in Eureka. Having rolled into Eureka in the top ten or so I was able to procure a private room which provided me time to soak in a bathtub and thaw while eating 12 pieces of fried chicken and drinking about a gallon of orange juice followed by a couple of donuts. Ahh, Divide food. I also needed the soak to rinse off my backside. I made the momentous error of applying chamois cream midday in the Flathead valley. Seemed like a good idea except for the coating of decomposed granite sand that was on every part of my exterior clothing. There really is no way to apply cream to your privates without also applying sand. Ouch! Early the next morning I left Eureka in somewhere around 10th place, at least from what I could determine. My online activity during the race was very limited. Some racers manage to seemingly be connected all the time and ride really fast to boot. That is a rare form of talent.</span><br />
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Climbing up the Whitefish Divide out of Eureka was an awesome morning for me. Early in that day I was able to pass many riders that started earlier in the morning than me. There was the Tandem of Sam and Katie (An awesome couple), Evan Deutsch (whom I would later cross over Richmond Peak with), Ryan Lee, and several others including a Swiss and German whose names escape me now. All riders I viewed as being very strong. I was cruising. The Flathead valley near Polebridge flew by. My ride and hike through the snow up to Red Meadow Lake was smooth. I felt unstoppable.<br />
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Red Meadow Pass was maybe 5 miles of snow hike-a-bike. I was jogging slowly with my bike through most of it. I just wanted to go FAST! I wanted to make my goal of doing this thing as fast as I could. The descent to Whitefish from Red Meadow was broken snow and mud near the top. I'd ride the mud, dismount and run through the snow. Ride mud, dismount, hoof it over snow and repeat. Fun times! Near the last bit of visible snow over the road I decided that it was thin enough to ride. I was barreling through the mud and hit the snow,no problem other than a bit of shimmy. I exited the snow back into the mud and my front wheel sank. Hard and deep. My bike was endoing. I was clipped in and going vertical. Naturally, I attempted to make some form of maneuver while in the air to correct myself. I was trying to stick the landing like Danny Macaskill, however I think I resembled a portly Thanksgiving turkey going through a Crazy Straw. The end result of my front wheelie dancing was me crashing to the ground, left leg first, followed by a pile drive of a loaded bike. If I had only augured into the mud, I likely would have been fine. Instead, the landing pad for my leg was a lovely bowling ball of granite and tree branch washed down to the road via an avalanche.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back of my leg after it was "healed" 3 weeks post TD</td></tr>
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I quickly gathered myself, clicked in and rode on. As I turned the pedals I realized something was wrong. What that something was I wouldn't really find out for another 700ish miles. Shortly after the wreck I passed by a photographer standing in the debris of a large avalanche. Turns out it was Tandem racer Sam's brother, Peter Newbury. I still remember trying to walk through the debris pile nonchalantly as his off-camera flashes flickered away. I wanted to look good, strong and unstoppable. I almost broke down and asked him for a ride out of there. I resisted this urge and painfully clicked back in again. The pain of clicking in and out was the worst. Lifting my left leg back onto the pedal after stopping just didn't feel right. Pedaling was agony but doable for the most part but the upstroke felt horrible. I stopped on the outskirts of Whitefish at a gas station for some fried goodness. Limping around and covered in mud the store attendants eyed me suspiciously. I looked like a down and out gold miner or maybe a meth addict in need of a fix. Wet, shaking, limping and dirty.<br />
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Getting that left leg onto the bike was almost too much. My own assessment at that moment was that I had severely contused my left knee and lower leg. I figured it should get better with time. Just gotta keep it moving but boy was that challenging to do. Moving the left leg was painful but getting it up onto the pedal continued to be agonizingly difficult. I realized if I used my spare packing strap to sort of lasso my foot I could then lift my leg up onto the pedal. I tied a loop in one end of the strap and lowered it to my foot, shuffled my foot through the loop and lifted the tag end of the strap with my hand. A sort of dog leash and collar for my foot. So from there on out, when no one was looking I'd cowboy my left leg back aboard my titanium pony. Not sure why I didn't want anyone to know my leg was feeling terrible. Probably cause it would have made it real. If I didn't complain out loud it was just some discomfort that could remain internalized. If I said it it would be real. Ignore it, hide it and it would go away. Besides, I thought "there is plenty of time on the Divide to recover from aches and pains and everyone else must be hurting too."<br />
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Stopping wasn't good. It meant getting that leg going again and trying to keep it going. I tried to reassure myself with a Newtonian lesson, "an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force." Guess I must have been wildly unbalanced cause try as I might I couldn't keep that left leg going. I altered my pedal stroke and body position on the bike to relieve as much strain and effort from my left leg as possible. I could barely stand on the pedals. The most comfortable stroke I could find was to mash a big gear at a low cadence predominantly with my right leg. I rode on past Whitefish, Columbia Falls and did not go into Bigfork. My spirits were raised rather quickly on that stretch of pavement when two girls in an SUV pulled alongside me. The passenger looked at me then to her smartphone and back at me again. They sped ahead, pulled into a driveway, jumped out and started cheering my name. Spot stalkers! As I passed by them trying to look cool and strong they cheered my name and lifted their shirts, giving me a bit of a show. As close to being a rock-star as I'll ever get. I heroically pushed on.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cold, wet night in the woods</td></tr>
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I rode up into the woods and hills that help form the Swan Valley. It was pouring rain and getting colder. Not that much different from any other part of the race thus far except I felt horrible. As I limped up the road in a deluge of rain eating my dinner, three fried somethings from the gas station many miles ago, I looked desperately for a place to bivy. Too far from any habitation I settled on the less wet ground at the trunk of a large cedar tree up off the road. Bivy and sleeping bag out I crawled in for a damp, cold night. I layed under that dripping tree thinking that the leg should feel better by morning. I downed a few ibuprofen and chased it with a couple pieces of fried chicken.<br />
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Waking the next morning to the distinct hooping, hollering and whistling of one of the TD racers down on the road going through bear country alone my eyes focused on the world around. Yup, bike still here, yup, still raining, yup, still hungry and still wet. Aha! Half a piece of that fried chicken still on my chest after passing out the night before. Yum! Uhh... Bear!!! Looking unafraid and macho while trying to quickly jump out of a wet bivy sack is pretty much impossible. The bear peered at me as if I was a cachechtic squirrel and moseyed on down the road. I think he sneered at me as he lumbered away. Eating in bed in bear country, probably not he best idea. Standing there, bear spray in hand, bivy around my ankles and chicken at my feet I watching him stroll off into the wet forest and wondered if he had taken a bite out of my leg while I was asleep. Man oh man! My left leg sent signals to my brain that jolted and shocked me in ways I thought only a live wire could.<br />
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I got myself together, ate the dirty chicken, and stumbled back down to the road from my cedar abode. Lassoed the leg and pedaled off into the drizzle. What a beautiful morning that was. Gorgeous red and pink breaks of sunrise light breaking through the clouds over the Swan valley. Complete quiet except my tires flicking small rocks onto my down tube from the muddy road. Rather musical. I quickly met and passed a few riders who had an earlier start than me all the while trying to look "normal" on the pedals. Gotta psych these guys into thinking I'm still strong, I thought. Perhaps it was more for my own psyche. Soon thereafter I caught up to Evan Deutsch again who had left Bigfork early that morning. We rode on together for a while. Chatting and cruising on some slightly downhill sections. I really enjoyed his company. A great guy. Yet all the while I hoped that he would ride on ahead or stop or something. I was in agony and didn't want anyone to see or hear it. Whining on the Divide seems wrong. Everyone is in some form of misery and they sure as heck don't want any part of yours. Keep it to yourself and they'll keep theirs too.<br />
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We stopped briefly as we ran into Tandem Sam's brother, Peter, again. Turns out he's a pro photographer and had come out to sneak in some TD shots. We chatted with him for a bit while Evan adjusted clothing layers and I lubed my chain a touch. It was time to get going again. I had knelt down beside the bike at the chain. Barely able to stand upright I almost caved again and begged the photographer to give me a ride out of there in his rented car. The draw of the TD made me resist again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evan entering the snow on Richmond</td></tr>
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I rode on ahead of Evan for a while so I could moan and groan in solitude. On the ascent to Richmond Peak I was passed by Sam and Katie aboard their tandem. How nice that stoker seat appeared to me at that moment. By the time I got to the upper trail portion of Richmond Peak Evan had caught back up to me. It was starting to snow and blow. A spring blizzard was in the works. Evan had raced the year before and I've ridden over that part of the trail twice in previous years on pre-TD race scouting trips. We couldn't find the proper trail. We post-holed through snow. Every step agonizing. Fingers and feet quickly growing numb. Normally in an environment such as this I'd be in my backcountry ski gear. Down, wool, layers of fuzzy fleece, Gore-Tex, substantial mittens, a Thermos of hot tea and heavy boots plus a full backup in my pack. Here, we had on our lycra with lightweight jackets and nearly frozen water bottles.<br />
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Evan's knee took a beating at one point as he stepped through thin snow and into a buried log. I thought for a moment we might both just curl up and stay there. We finally navigated off that mountain and back to the mini-forest lined road of the route. We walked several hundred more yards through snow till open road lay ahead. By this time the reality of my leg being a hindrance started to really sink in. Evan easily hopped back over his bike and began to pedal away. I had a heck of a time trying to coax my left leg to do anything useful. Evan rode on ahead. I mashed the right pedal with my good leg for all it was worth. Take the strain off the left one and see if it heals I continued to think. Every upstroke of that left leg crushed my spirit. The downstroke wasn't feeling so hot either.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">By the time I reached my favorite little bike town of Ovando, Evan and the tandem of Sam and Katie were there with refreshments in hand. Evan wanted to push on to Lincoln. Sam and Katie were moving on too. It was fairly early in the evening. I should go on as well but the little voice of reason in my head started to shout. Miles and miles of altered bike position while trying to mash a big gear with one leg were taking a toll on me. The Achilles tendon of my right leg was swelling and saddle sores that had been started by the Flathead sand in my chamois were exacerbated. I shook Evan's hand and watched as he and the tandem duo of Sam and Katie pedaled off into the rain. I checked into a room at the Blackfoot Trading Post. A dinner at Trixies and a good nights sleep might help I thought. I tried my best at Trixies to comfort myself with comfort food. Two double bacon cheeseburgers, a platter of fried shrimp, onion rings, french fries, tater tots, some chicken strips a soda and a piece of cherry pie. It didn't work.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A light lunch somewhere along the way</td></tr>
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When I got back to the hotel and began to strip away the layers of clothing I had been wearing for the past 36 hours or so I noted that the leg warmer on my left leg was sticking to the back of my knee area. As I peeled it away fresh blood followed the stretchy warmer as it descended my leg. I got a look at the back of my leg in the high mirror as best I could. Didn't look good. I soaked in the bathtub while trying to figure out what to do. Keep riding till I can't anymore was the only thought that came to mind. Obviously I wasn't thinking very clearly.<br />
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I left early in the morning from Ovando. My definition of being cold on a bike was made that day as I rode over Huckleberry Pass. The morning started out not too bad, pouring rain and 33 degrees. By the time I got up the pass it was a full on Montana blizzard and 23 degrees. I had every stitch of my gear on. Including my down jacket which I never use while on the bike. I was still cold. Unable to muster much body heat uphill due to lack of leg strength and being soaked inside and out the temperature felt even colder. Wet, cold and alone... Just another day on the TD. Wet or cold are no problem. Combine the two in extreme forms and it's like chipping away the ice on a pond in the dead of winter to take a swim for 50 miles. Pulling into Lincoln, near hypothermia, I aimed for the Three Bears Motel. I don't think it was even noon yet. Ovando to Lincoln... Not far at all. Barely a warm up on the TD. I sat in the hotel warming myself and drying gear. The sun broke for a bit and I saw a racer or two pass by on the route from my room. I closed the curtains and fell asleep for a while. It was still daylight when I woke up. Limping down to the Wheel Inn tavern I bellied up to the bar and ordered the biggest globs of greasy spoon I could muster. Plus, a beer. I didn't leave Lincoln till early the next morning. I didn't check my positioning on the Trackleaders website. I was in a race with only myself at this point. I figured this was as fast as I could now go.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not feeling so good on a warmer day</td></tr>
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The ride out of Lincoln was wet, cold and windy. Same as all the days before but again with my newly added ingredient of feeling horrible. On the descent from one of the Divide crossings that day I had coaxed my left leg into following along with my right and mashed a pretty heavy gear and got moving pretty well for a bit. Gravity also helped. I deduced that a cadence of 90 meant twice the pain of a cadence of 45 so I pedaled at a cadence of around 30. <br />
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I was munching on some cheese sticks when I rounded a corner and there in front of me was a rather large hairy fellow. I came to a skidding halt, nearly loosing control of the loaded bike. He stood up tall and proud and looked me in the eyes. My numb fingers fumbled for my bear spray. The bear lowered to all four and started walking towards me. Grizzly!!!<br />
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I've seen grizzly in the outdoors before. Usually when I'm near or in my truck/camper and have two cans of bear spray, a clear head and a clean pair of shorts. Standing in front of a grizzly, exhausted, half asleep with not much more than a thin Gore-Tex shell between giant bear and body is a sobering experience. Are there any small grizzlies?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Small black bear track out on the Divide</td></tr>
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I raised the can of spray and pointed it directly at the bear realizing that the strong wind blowing from bear to me was likely to be a problem. Spicy seasoned cyclist with cheese on the menu for Mr. Griz. Then I remembered Crazy Larry in Banff. He had given us some crazy bear advice the day before the grand depart. "Talk dirty to the bear", he suggested. I tried to heed his advice, but all I managed to do was croak, "You smell awful!" and drop the cheese stick out of my mouth onto the ground. The bear stopped for a moment, the world was in slow motion, then he just meandered off the road and into the forest. I rapidly stowed the unspent bear spray, picked up the cheese off the ground, ate it and got on the pedals. But I still could not go. This time it wasn't my leg causing me to stop it was a flat rear tire. I had skidded so hard to stop before hitting the bear a rock had torn through my tire. Flat tire, lame leg, big grizzly nearby. Not an ideal situation, but I managed to fix the flat with the speed of a Tour de France mechanic and get out of there.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During a Divide Scouting Trip on a Warmer/Drier Year</td></tr>
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I hadn't seen another rider all day except for north bound Lindsay Shepard. She was powering into a heinous uphill headwind on Highway 12 while I was cruising downhill with a tailwind. She let out a far more enthusiastic holler than I thought any rider in her place would allow themselves. I rolled into Helena and pulled into the on-route Hardees. Another TD bike rested outside the building. As I lumbered into the fine dining establishment Beyonce's "All The Single Ladies" blared over the radio. Torture! My wife had maliciously placed this song in the TD playlist of my iPod before departing Banff. It was on a playlist entitled, "Songs to Give You Pep." For some reason, every time I'd turn on my iPod that song would shuffle to the top and pound into my ears. A cruel joke.<br />
I set upon quickly eating 3 double something or others with cheese and fries and a large liquid sugar bomb. Another rider was also fueling up there, Max Morris. He was the only southbound rider I saw that day. I left the fast-food establishment and went to the Holiday gas station where I honed in on the fried goods cabinet to stock up on trail snacks.<br />
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The slog out of Helena is sort of a blur to me. I remember Max passing me at some point as I changed layers of clothing and I remember working my way up, over and down a very muddy, wet and cold Lava Mountain. Lava is supposed to be hot right? Mostly I remember the argument in my head. Go on and see what happens? Stop and recover? Push on at all costs? I pushed as hard as I could that day and well into the night. I thought that pushing into my physical and pain limits would somehow work out my wounded leg. Besides, that's one of the reasons I was out here right? To see what I was made of. <br />
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2014 was the first year we would see the Tour Divide route not going down the Interstate 15 from Basin to Butte. Instead some sadistic fellow found a much prettier way into Butte via gravel. I'm sure it would be nice ridden in daylight on a dry day. My bar mounted light and helmet light illuminating a remote road in the pouring night rain. I could make out Max's 2 inch deep tire rut in the muddy road ahead of me. The mud sapped every ounce of energy on every pedal stroke. No coasting at any point was possible. It was well after 10pm, dark, wet, cold and I was in complete isolation. Just another day on the TD. At one point I was enjoying the last of my gummy bear supplies and lost control of the bike in the mud. A slow speed tip-over. Not painful at all. Relaxing actually. I layed there in the mud, in the middle of that road, my helmet light pointing straight up, illuminating the pouring rain, turning it into gorgeous streaks of silver that fell on my face. It seemed to create a warm, watery cocoon around me. I was completely at peace. Not a sound except the rain. I closed my eyes for a moment and seriously considered falling asleep there. I turned my head away from the sky so I wouldn't drown in the pouring rain. I opened my eyes, the helmet light shone upon a tiny, muddied, translucent green object with a face. My last gummy bear layed in the road next to me starring back. I ate it and then slithered out of the mud and rode on into the silver-streaked darkness.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching Butte Sometime After Midnight</td></tr>
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I rolled into Butte sometime after midnight, I think. Made my way to the Days Inn hotel, microwaved fried bits of something that had taken up residence in the bottom of my pack, drew a bath in my room, made a call-in to MTB Cast and passed out in the tub.<br />
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After awakening in a tepid bath I realized I had not even set an alarm. It was late! 9am. The Outdoorsman bike shop attached to the Days Inn didn't open till 10. Being almost unable to extract myself from the bathtub I decided I'd chill out again, take my time, visit the shop for some new brake pads and chain then get a move on again. While getting the requisite parts for my bike the single speeder Dan Hensley pulled in to have some work done as well. The mechanic at the shop got the drivetrain sorta clean and then noticed the rubber duck attached to my bikes seatstay bridge. Not sure why I put that little fellow on my bike before leaving Banff. Some levity in times of need I suppose. He cleaned that duck as if it was a prize show dog. 5 minutes on the drivetrain, 10 on the duck. I loaded up as Dan was trying to extract the bottom bracket from his bike in the work area of the shop.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mechanic Polishing The Duck</td></tr>
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The gas station across the street provided me with a king's breakfast of 3 pizza pockets, 2 cheese and bean burritos, orange juice, Red Bull, a delicious shepherd's pie and something that the counter attendant identified as fried gizzards. It's amazing how fried food that's been under a warming light for some time takes on its own unique life. Undergoing a complex molecular change with each passing moment. Vintage fried goods. It's not unlike the transformation that occurs to a cyclist on the Divide. A crust forms, bits of the immediate environment are added with each passing second, internal secretions build, come forth and compliment the forming exoskeleton. A type of cryptobiotic crust forms. Soon you have a creation that is almost unrecognizable from that which it arose.<br />
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A few minutes later I was sitting on the ground alongside the bike path that exits to the south out of Butte, rear wheel in hand. Another flat to the rear tire. After scanning the tube I realized that the spare I had put into the wheel the day before had a small hole. Likely some dried out fried chicken shoved into my frame bag alongside the spare tube had rubbed a thin spot over the days of bouncy riding. Dan, aboard his singlespeed, cruised by, offering his condolences. As I pumped up the tire I realized something was weird. It was sunny! I looked around. There were some clouds in the sky but it was downright sunny. First time since the day before the Divide started. I went about pumping up the tire again, in the sunshine. "Josh!" I looked up. There was Calvin Decker standing over me.<br />
<br />
I hadn't seen Calvin since the evening of day 2 back in Eureka at the gas station there. It was when he was checking into a room at the attached motel while I was getting some culinary delights. I had left earlier than him that next morning from Eureka, the morning of my crash, thinking all the while he would catch up to me that day. Calvin and I rode through day 1 and 2 as together as any Divide cyclists do. That means seeing each other when one person is going slow and being passed by the other when they are feeling good. Maybe 5-8 times a day you leapfrog one another. Earlier, in those Canada miles I realized Calvin's pace, at that time, was very close to mine. We just rode as we would and throughout the day there was the other on occasion. A fairly even overall tempo. We never worked together and we never were out to kill the other. We were just out there doing what we had each set out to do. We had also split a room in Sparwood, B.C on night one. I enjoyed his brief company. Like myself, he was also a skier. A skier and a biker. An upstanding guy.<br />
<br />
Dude! Dude! Went the regular greeting of a couple guys. We rode on for a bit after I got my wheel re-mounted. I could tell I was in no shape to match the pace of anyone around me. Especially Calvin's pace. Calvin kept pulling ahead on the slight uphills and would keep gaining ground. I could also see Dan in the distance. Both guys looked like I wanted to feel. Pedaling with both legs, looking good. I felt like a fraud. Barely able to muster any real speed on fairly flat, paved roads. I yelled to Calvin and waved at him as he turned a corner to head up onto the gravel road that would carry us over Divide crossing #5 of the race. I waved because I didn't think I'd see him again and I wanted to wish him speedy and safe travels. I watched as he and Dan cruised up and away out of sight. I was left to my awkward, unbalanced, painful pedalstroke.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max Headed Down Fleecer</td></tr>
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Nearing Fleecer Ridge I caught up with Max Morris again. He told me about how that night ride from Basin to Butte on the new course, in the rain and mud, had worked him pretty severely. Apparently he found shelter in Butte that night under a tarp outside a Harley Davidson dealership. He was awoken by some Harley dudes. In a twist of trail-magic fate they had seen him asleep out there and cooked him a breakfast before waking him up. Montana hospitality.<br />
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I was barely able to stand upright while shuffling my feet down Fleecer Ridge. I've been down that slope in the past on a TD scouting trip and it is steep but rideable to good riders with good brakes and a stunted sense of self-preservation. My brakes weren't feeling too robust and I had my fill of falling so decided to walk this bit of the course. Walking downhill wasn't quite as bad as trying to lift my leg onto the pedal and nowhere near as bad as the upstroke. However, I was still barely moving. Behind me I heard brake squeal and tires rolling. I turned, there was Max and his crazy helmet with glued-on blue mohawk and pig eyes ( or were they ears) cruising down Fleecer.<br />
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At the bottom of Fleecer I heaved my leg back onto the bike. I passed by Max again and cruised into Wise River. Three bikes were outside the cafe. I didn't really want to stop as I knew that would mean trying to get my leg moving again after it had come to rest. However, I recognized two of the bikes as Calvins and Dans. Besides, who was I kidding. I'd be lucky to get up over the pass on the way to Polaris in my state. Some idle chatter with fellow riders and a hot meal would do me good.<br />
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Milkshake, a huge taco salad (some greens finally) with half a cow worth of ground meat in it and some french fries. We sat there discussing how far to here and there, where in position everyone was and when the next reliable food source would be obtained. No one talked of their ills. I'm sure we were all feeling it but somewhere in the back of my head I kept thinking that these guys are all feeling great and wondering what the heck was wrong with me. If I could just get this leg thing worked out I'd be in it again I kept repeating to myself. As we all rolled out of Wise River on the smooth tarmack I rode alongside Calvin for a bit. He said that if I got to Elkhorn Hot Springs he'd share a room with me to split the cost.<br />
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The road from Wise River up over Crystal Park and down to Polaris really is a pretty place to me. Perhaps it's the river that lazily flows alongside the road and the knowledge that willing trout lay in its waters ready to take a properly presented dry fly or maybe its just the scenery of a mountain canyon. I really enjoyed the ride through there that Valerie and I had done the year before. This day was not so pleasurable.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Calvin had zipped up the road ahead and out of sight in our natural style of stronger rider ahead but I knew that this time there wouldn't be any leapfrogging. My left leg was getting steadily worse. Every upstroke of the pedal, no matter how passive I tried to make it was as if someone was shoving a hot dull soup spoon into the back of my knee and trying to carve out a bite, I wished it was a knife, that would have hurt less. The downstroke seemed to hurt too. My shin kind of felt like someone was banging into it with a pointy metal rod every revolution. I was contemplating the merits of nerve blocks when a steady stream of red liquid began to drip onto my handlebar.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valerie Riding Along the Wise River in a Warmer, Previous Year</td></tr>
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My nose had erupted into a stream of blood that seemed to match the flow of the river alongside the road. I stopped, slowly dismounted and began to limp up the road, pushing the bike while trying to stem the flow from my nose. A big dually truck came down the road towards me. As it approached it slowed and then stopped completely as it came alongside me. The cowboy hat laden fellow jumped out of his truck and frantically asked if I was alright. I must have looked a mess. Blood covering my face and mixed with the mud crusted on my jersey. My hands were a bloody mess too. There aren't any tissue boxes on the Divide. He asked if I had wrecked and needed a ride to a hospital. I paused for a moment, looked into the comfy, cushy seats in the quad cab of his truck then shuffled on bleeding. I responded, "I'll be fine, I wrecked a few hundred miles ago, but I'm still going. Thank you, sir."<br />
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I was going slow up the road to Crystal Park. Crystal Park is a lovely place between Wise River and Polaris. A high mountain grotto that any normal person can drive to. Jutting, snow covered peaks, beautiful, lazy creeks and subalpine meadows are the theme. There was a cold, pleasant solitude. A lone antelope stared at me across a field. He just stared. I know better but I began to think this herbivore might view me as prey. A defenseless, wounded animal. I cruised downhill in the disappearing light. I barely saw the sign marking the turn to Elkhorn Hot Springs in the twilight and almost jackknifed my top-heavy bike making the corner. As I agonizingly pedaled uphill to the rustic old lodge I figured Calvin would be all cozied up in bed with a full belly by now.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calvin Decker Ready To Depart From Elkhorn Hotsprings</td></tr>
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Walking into the wonderful old lodge I saw Calvin sitting at the bar, burger and fries in hand, crackling fire going in the old stone fireplace behind him. As soon as I walked into the beautifully adorned old lodge the young couple managing the place brought out a plate with a double meat, double bacon, blue cheese burger and a heap of homemade fries. I think Calvin had warned them that a hungry cyclist was on their way. The warmth of the fire behind me radiated to my core. I felt like I was at my granddad's cabin after a great day of fall fishing. We sat, ate and drank. The staff went off to bed and told us to help ourselves to things we might need. Calvin ducked behind the bar and re-appeared with a huge glass jug of orange juice, about 15 gallons in size. It was liquid bliss. We drank our fill.<br />
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Calvin and I made our way up to a room, I noticed he had a considerably easier time than I negotiating the stairs to the sleeping quarters above the main lodge. "Memory foam mattresses...", Calvin exuberantly exclaimed. We eased into our respective beds and began to chat like old school friends before all important sleep overtook us. Was a good night.<br />
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The 7th morning of the Divide. My alarm beeped away. We both lay in our beds. Neither wanting to forgo the wonderfully comfortable memory foam nests to go out and brave the cold Montana morning. Eventually we rose out of our beds, Calvin a fair bit quicker than I despite a knee that I could tell was hurting him. My left leg was almost immobile. I hobbled down the stairs to our bikes inside the main lodge. We began to don the appropriate protective gear to endure the cold yet amazingly dry weather outside. Calvin was ready to go. We snapped shots of each other. I told him, "Get going Calvin and go get the guys ahead of us. I probably won't be seeing you anymore from here on out. Keep going strong." I felt empty inside, as if I was sending off a friend to do battle with an opponent whom I knew I couldn't help him with. A battle I was already loosing.<br />
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The stretch from Polaris to Lima, over the Bannack Road and Sheep Creek Divide is rather isolated. A contemplative, introspective place. You can see for miles but there isn't much to see in those miles. Just a range of mountains to your side and a never shrinking landscape with a brown track of road through it. I find it beautiful. I've read that the Sheep Creek Divide area is one of the least traveled places that has a road in the lower 48 states. I turned on my iPod. I don't often listen to music on the bike. Preferring instead to just hear the gravel plinging away under my tires. Simple mind, simple pleasures. But I figured the music might help distract me from the constant pain. As the landscape ahead of me unfolded over the handlebar Yo-Yo Ma's version of Bach's Suite for Solo Cello No.1 in G Major: Prelude, resonated through my ears. The landscape appeared brighter, the sky seemed bluer, the mountains taller, more authoritative and the grasses played more happily in the comforting breeze. I stopped the bike and took as much of the world into my soul as would fit. The world felt a bit sweeter at that moment.<br />
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I pedaled for all I was worth. Break myself or make myself I thought. Not sure exactly what I meant by that but it kept the pedals turning. I didn't see a soul from Polaris to Lima except for a solitary rider in the distance changing layers of clothes. Not sure if it was Calvin or someone else. It was a ghost rider I chased through those solitary but completely enjoyable miles. Oh and of course the Jesus Bus! The crazy, wheeled abode that was parked off the dirt road as one begins the descent alongside Big Sheep Creek on the way back into "civilization" near Lima. I didn't actually see the habitats of that bus which prominently featured a giant painting of Jesus on its side with the words, "It's His Blood That Cleanses Me" carefully scribed alongside. It was kind of ominous and apocalyptic.<br />
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Rolling into Jan's Cafe in Lima I noticed Calvin's bike outside. I walked inside to find him finishing up a meal. Obviously his knee wasn't feeling that great but he was bound and determined to make up some time and get on to Island Park. About 200 miles from our origin of the day. Like me, Calvin had put in a short day on the Divide somewhere near Ovando. He was out to regain his positioning in the race. From the get-go I took Calvin as a guy who was super strong mentally and physically. He was going to make it I thought to myself. We shook hands again and he was gone.<br />
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Bellying up to the old diner counter I looked back to the grill. A large, tall fellow eyed me. Maybe I should have my bear spray out I thought. He walked towards me, put his hands on the counter and leaned down towards me. "You one of them Divide riders?", he bellowed. "Uh, yeah", I squeaked. "Well Hell's Bells! You little fellers can eat more than anyone I've ever seen! I'm a going back there and firing up all the grills!" He went behind the half wall into the grill area and fired em' up. I guess that Calvin hadn't looked that hungry or perhaps the cook hadn't noticed him.<br />
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The cook made me up his special platter of Indian fry bread taco salad (there was some green on that plate somewhere), a creamy milkshake, a double order of chicken strips with fries and apple pie a la mode. I took two double bacon cheese burgers with fries to go. I was out of there and barely back on the bike. It was a slow start out of Lima. Perhaps it was the full belly and not so much the leg.<br />
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The ride across the Red Rock area takes you into a large, broad valley. It's quite expansive, similar to the Bannack and Sheep Creek area. The lakes that dot the broad valley add visual appeal and provide a bit of distraction for a mesmerized Divide rider. It was to be a day of solitude on the bike. After leaving Lima I would see 1 person walking their dog in the small village of Lakeview. It was a day when battling the wind was a welcome change to enduring the cold rain. It was still dry out. Clouds raced through the broken blue sky pushed over the horizons by the strong winds. I struggled with every pedal stroke to keep momentum over the rocky, rutty, washboarded surface. Several old, dilapidated cemeteries are placed ominously along the road through that area. I considered for some time sleeping in one on the empty cemetery plots that was surrounded by a fence line. I figured the grizzlies would think any being in that fence must be long dead and not worth the trouble. I then considered this was possibly someones reserved postmortem room. I pedaled on.<br />
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By the time I passed by the designated campground to the east of Lakeview the light was beginning to fade quickly. I don't care so much for campgrounds. They seem crowded in an otherwise open world. I prefer solitary camps where a fellow can be alone but not lonely. I pedaled by. I had been struggling severely for the past few hours to keep my left leg in motion. Bouncing over that rough, rocky road with one leg doing the majority of the work and unable to stand much at all to relieve pressure from my gritty backside was taking a toll on me. I stopped the bike, turned off my SPOT tracker (something I'd do at least 30 minutes before finding a campsite) and hobbled down the road pushing my bike as I sipped water and ate some chocolate. A large reddish boulder off the road about 40 yards looked like an inviting place to spend the night. I pulled out my sleeping kit, put on my down jacket and hat and cozied in for the night.<br />
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Shimmying into my sleeping bag and bivy was agony. My leg was rebelling. Out of my pack came one of the two burgers and some of the fries I took away from Jan's Cafe in Lima. An absolutely delicious burger! There is something odd about the sheer simplicity of a great burger. It's almost embarrassing to say but they can be soothing. There I was, eating in bed again. Under a beautiful late evening June sky. Reds and purples illuminated the drifting clouds which were also being reflected on the surface of the distant Upper Red Lake, clouds above and below. Taylor Mountain behind me glowed with authority in the setting suns last efforts. Stars began pushing through the huge expanse of darkening indigo above. I was at peace again.<br />
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It must have been around 4 am when I awoke. Not so much to actually awaken but because a rather pointy rock had somehow found its way under the low of my back and was now bold enough to let me know. As I tried to readjust my position pains from my leg arose strong enough that falling back asleep was a lost cause. It was cold. A layer of frost cracked away from my bivy as I moved. The stars were just beginning to give way to the colors of sunrise. I reached in my pack for burger-to-go number two from Lima. Day old burger, delicious!<br />
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Around 7am I made it to the top of Red Rock Pass at the border of Montana and Idaho which defines not only the end of Montana but close to the 1000 mile mark. It's quite a short little climb up to that point from the big valley below. Barely a notable climb other than it is the exit from Montana, Divide crossing #6 and a mileage milestone. It was the hardest climb of my ride so far. My right leg cranking the pedal fully and my left leg along for the ride was seriously wearing on me. Every powerstroke down with my right leg was causing me to cringe with pain as the left leg traveled on its upstroke. I couldn't muster a downstroke with the left leg either. The leg was swollen, contused and not at all helpful in my efforts. As I stood at the sign which defines the Idaho/Montana border I looked at my right achilles. It was becoming oddly swollen from its solo performance. My butt was raw from the contorted positioning. My near inability to stand on the pedals didn't help. I was crushed. At least it was sunny and getting sort of warm. I took off my leg warmers for the first time while riding since leaving Banff<br />
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I coasted most of the way into the Island Park area. When I had to pedal I had to swear. I could no longer contain the pangs and profanities from within. I was moving between a speed of slow and slower. I pulled into the Robin's Roost gas station/market at the crossing of highway 20. I wobbled through the store and into the back corner where I could see a glass heating cabinet full of fried delights. Sweating tube steaks spun on their metal rollers. Burritos, crispitos, poppers, pockets and strips of the fried variety glistened under the intense heat lamps. I eyed a particular delight on the lower shelf. The tag below it read, "Tornado". "What the heck is a tornado", I mumbled, not meaning to audibly vocalize. Several patrons sitting at their melamine tables eyed me. I scored the last two tornadoes in the case as well as a few grab bags of assorted grease pills, some orange juice, an ice cream bar, two apples and three bananas. As I walked away from the register area a grey haired lady with a name tag, Dalia, got my attention and said, "Son, you are bleeding and your leg looks awful!" She looked me in the eye and paused, "You look awful too." Several more of the patrons eyed me. I limped away. I looked at my reflection in the windows on the way out. I did look a bit flushed I suppose.<br />
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I realized that when I removed my leg warmer up on the pass before town I must have opened up a wound again on the back of my leg. Guess it had to thaw near the heat lamps of a deli cabinet before it could bleed properly. Outside the store I sat on the curb eating, bleeding and feeling generally ill. The Tornado in its warm plastic bag looked especially satisfying. A good vintage indeed. I poked at it and smelled it. Full bouquet, lovely body. A bite. Balanced, chewy but complex and maintaining a definite superficial crispness. A bit heavy but retaining an earthy elegance. Smooth, toasty, soft and a hint of smokiness. It was as if all deep fried goodness was blasted into a single roll. A tornado! I wouldn't realize till later that evening during nature's call why they are called tornadoes.<br />
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The rails-to-trails. Much has been said about this horrid little stretch of the Divide. A character builder for sure. I thought my leg was feeling poorly before. Well, that stretch of ATV trodden washboard, bumpy Hell from Island Park to the Warm River was like taking a jackhammer to it. At least a few legendary trout streams tried to take my mind off the task at hand.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEMDZaO_Is1Kms3kkikHb-Gjt8wcsH2VTsCGXqSvvpT9QAURgOLKdFdY5MVpCNlijU439BHDqdvkk_56tA8b_NHcwmAvqM1cYhOtyCmCXARKZ4gGD_LryGxduipE-CdinaO163lARGK06/s1600/BigSprings+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEMDZaO_Is1Kms3kkikHb-Gjt8wcsH2VTsCGXqSvvpT9QAURgOLKdFdY5MVpCNlijU439BHDqdvkk_56tA8b_NHcwmAvqM1cYhOtyCmCXARKZ4gGD_LryGxduipE-CdinaO163lARGK06/s1600/BigSprings+(1).jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going by the Big Springs Area on a pre-TD scouting trip. Big Fish Reside Here</td></tr>
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As I passed the Warm River Campground and made my way up out of the river corridor on the pavement a group of 3 Divide tourers appeared from the shade of a driveway. They rode with me a bit. I had wised they wouldn't have. They were very chatty while I was lost in my own internal dialogue. Again, I masochistically tried to appear happy and fine. When I began to realize that these pleasant fellows wanted to ride with me I paused, told them I needed to sit and eat lunch and that I'd see them later down the road. I sat and ate an apple while looking upon the western flanks of the Tetons wishing to trade my bike for my fly rod, flask of whiskey, a handful of ibuprofen and a good truck.<br />
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I got on the move again when I realized that the mosquitoes were out in force on this day. They must have all hatched out in the first sunny day that June had seen. The dirt road up and over the Grassy Lake Road towards Flagg Ranch was to be the nadir of my Divide. It's not a particularly challenging climb either but it is rutted and rocky in spots with some steep pitches. My new found level of leg pain obtained during the jackhammering on the rails-to-trails section proved to be too much. On steeper pitches I was unable to pedal effectively. The ground was becoming fairly dry and I'd spin slightly, unable to produce any power with my left leg, the weight of a loaded Divide bike proved too much for my useless left and weakening right leg. Nearly every pitch that a regular rider would be able to just stomp the pedals a little harder and go forward saw me on the ground. I'd fall, become a meal-on-wheels for mosquitoes, pick myself up, lasso the left leg, try to go and then just fall again. This was repeated dozens of times over the 10 mile climb of Wood/Grassy Lake road till I reached the descent on the Rockefeller Parkway. By this point the sensation of pain was fully outweighed by the feeling of total defeat. I also felt sick. Fever-like sick. I glanced at my leg during one of my intimate meetings with the ground. I cursed at it. I also noticed that it was rather reddened in the general vicinity of the knee. A reddish, inflamed tide was washing to the front of my leg.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Daydream</td></tr>
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I bounced into the Flagg-Ranch Resort demoralized and rather dirty. I walked into the Headwaters main lodge area and found my way to the Guest Check-Inn desk. I told the fellow there, "I need a room." He looked up at me. I could see horror, disgust and a bit of pity in his eyes. The pity must have won out. He said, "I have one deluxe cabin left." My credit card was already on the counter.</div>
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I bellied up to the bar in Sheffields Restaurant which is inside the lodge. My lame leg hanging off the high stool as if it wasn't attached anymore. I ordered a Caesar Salad, the Bison & Elk Meatloaf and a gin and tonic. My drink had just come when I heard a voice behind me. It was Singlespeeder Dan Hensley again. He had just rolled in. He sat next to me. We talked quite a bit as the wait for the food was rather long. During our pleasant conversation the talk of dropping out came up. He said, "It'd be horrible to have to drop out of this thing now. I've thought about it myself but gee, I'm doing pretty well for a single speeder and I gotta just keep going. Besides, think of everything we've endured." Dan continued, "Anyone that made it to the US boarder as a racer has my full respect already!"<br />
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We inhaled our meals as I contemplated his words far too deeply. He didn't mention the drink in my hand but I'm pretty sure he noticed when I asked for a second. We exited the lodge. He kept talking about pushing on and asking if I wanted to ride with him. We got our gear together. He straddled his bike. I told him to head on and made some lame excuse like I wasn't feeling so good so would be slow and that he should keep on the move. We shook hands, he rode away onto the course. I turned around with my bike and limped across the parking lot towards my cabin.<br />
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It was the evening of the 9th day on the Tour Divide. I was holed up in a rather luxurious cabin in a National Park. I felt horrid. The bathroom had a full length mirror. I shed my clothes and turned my back to the mirror. Looking over my right shoulder I could see that my left leg didn't look quite right. A large wound had formed behind my swollen knee and there was pretty significant bruising. An angry redness surrounded it all. I suspect that this wound was formed during my crash from something shearing along the back of my leg. The rock, the log or maybe my bike. My leg warmer was not torn, just scoured with mud during that wreck 700ish miles ago back in Montana. I soaked in a hot bath and munched on some gummy bears.<br />
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The next morning I rode the 20 miles of pavement on the Rockefeller Parkway to Jackson Lake Lodge where I knew a clinic was located. The ride was odd. It was by far the busiest section of road I had been on the whole race. Portly motorhomes swayed down the road one after another. Traffic and people everywhere taking in the spectacle that is a National Park. I was used to being mostly alone on the road. Becoming overwhelmed by all the humanity I pulled off the road near a river and hobbled into solitude for a bit. The river drowned out the noisy road. The Tetons loomed large in the distance while I ate a left-over burrito from the previous day.<br />
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The clinics in the National Parks are pretty small but usually pretty well equipped for their size with X-ray and lab capabilities. I've used their services in the past and have found that they are usually staffed by some rather experienced personnel that have decided to kick-it in a beautiful place pre-retirement. I tottered into the tiny clinic lobby and checked in. The nurse at the desk was curious as to what had happened to me. She had never heard of the Divide but listened with great interest as I explained how had I had come to be in this place in this condition. I inquired about the orthopedic proficiency of the provider in the back. I was in luck. Apparently the physician assistant working on this day used to work with a sports medicine/orthopedics clinic. I took a seat and waited alongside a 10 year old kid suffering from allergies. He and his mother scooted a few seats farther away when they got scent of me.<br />
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Sitting on a vinyl examination table in a clinic near Jackson Hole Wyoming I realized why pedaling and shear existence had become so miserable. My ills were as follows. First, an infection to the wound on the back of my leg bad enough to result in a fever. The infection was probably caused by lack of hygiene, exhaustion, poor diet (No way!) and a splinter that stowed away in my leg for 700 miles (A small stick/splinter about 3 inches long was extricated from the wound). Second, a grade 2 hamstring tear. A partial, luckily not complete, tear of the hamstring muscle probably sustained during my aerial acrobatics and dynamic fall with loaded bike. Third, an excessively robust case of saddle sore/irritation initiated by sand in my chamois back in Canada and worsened by an altered pedaling technique/body positioning post crash. Fourth, a great case of achilles tendonitis on the right side. It looked like a goose egg had taken up residence behind my ankle. Last, and likely least, a fractured fibula to the left leg. The physician assistant pondered aloud how it was that he had never seen any other Divide riders in his clinic.<br />
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The tear of the hamstring was likely the cause of most of my discomfort since day three. It explains why lifting my leg up onto the pedal and the upstroke were so challenging. The fracture of the fibula was why it hurt to push down but that torn hamstring could probably account for most of my agony and inability to apply power. I think that any of the wear and tear and injuries on my body could have been dealt with on their own and I would have continued were it not for that hamstring. Torn muscles and endurance cycling don't mix well. At least not if you want to ride again anytime soon. I got a room at Jackson Lake Lodge. The next day I saw a physician from Jackson Hole who corroborated my menu of injuries. He was also highly amused that he had never heard of nor seen any Divide riders during his time in the area. "There are over a hundred of you morons out there doing this every year and none of them have ever needed my services?" He stated with astonishment.<br />
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It was June 22, day ten of the 2014 Tour Divide and I was down and out. I knew my race was over but couldn't bring myself to make the final call-in to prove it. My SPOT didn't move at all on the Trackleaders website for a few days. I was still taking up residence at the gorgeous Jackson Lake Lodge on June 25 when one of my best friends, Stein Erickson, from Utah drove up to see me. He surprised me by having with him a full compliment of fly fishing gear, drink and a good truck. I finally made that last call-in to MTBCast while standing with a good friend alongside a trout stream near Moran Junction with a cold beer in one hand, a fly rod in the other and a smile on my face. I even caught an exquisite Snake River fine-spotted cutthroat trout on a dry fly that day. By no fisherman's tape measure was it anywhere near one of the largest fish I've ever caught but it is indeed one of the most memorable. My Divide fish.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-YKQEsrT_CYeuciVCz0Q-W6n4F9VVyPFx8TI4RkO8hfIph1w60fYXQEes5A5-82j01o1Bh4nqGxrpdwJiijPC5v5vdfqrlNntNISGkO-asXk0_Ia6THeCLR_mJc0yovwsg7715Q2hp6v/s1600/IMG_1788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-YKQEsrT_CYeuciVCz0Q-W6n4F9VVyPFx8TI4RkO8hfIph1w60fYXQEes5A5-82j01o1Bh4nqGxrpdwJiijPC5v5vdfqrlNntNISGkO-asXk0_Ia6THeCLR_mJc0yovwsg7715Q2hp6v/s1600/IMG_1788.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Divide Fish</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a Bad Place to Call-In and Scratch From</td></tr>
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That evening we ate in the Mural Room at Jackson Lake Lodge which has a grand view overlooking the Teton mountain range and Jackson Lake. We had chilled smoked scallops, lobster and brie bisque, heirloom tomato and mozzarella salad, whole roasted black angus beef tenderloin, southwest molasses spiced elk loin, a selection of wine, followed by a flourless dark chocolate cake and some 1996 port. It was a very fine meal and not a bad end to my 2014 Tour Divide. That night I had a dream of heated glass cabinets in gas stations filled with vintage fried goods.<br />
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It's now January 14, 2015. I've just found out that I have my vacation time granted for June of this year. Another Tour Divide start is in the cards for me. I'm nervous all over again! A sense of eagerness mixed with a distinct sense of trepidation. Afterall, recounting how cold and wet it was day after day can't help but trigger some sort of psychosomatic response. I'll be 40 this year. A bit of a birthday present perhaps or maybe an odd mid-life emergency. I still don't know. I'm not really sure why I truly wanted to race last year. I guess I just wanted to go fast. This year I still want to go fast but I feel more like I'm actually looking for something. I'm not sure I'll find what I'm looking for on the Divide. I'm not sure many people do. Maybe it those things we uncover in ourselves that we didn't even know existed. Perhaps finding something unknown is what we look for out there. Perhaps not.<br />
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I think too much of a racer's time is spent contemplating where to sleep, which way to go and where to obtain the next supply of high caloric artery clogging goodness. There isn't time to contemplate trivial things like life and its meaning or to solve major problems of the world or resolve how to make yourself a better person. Maybe what the Divide is really all about is the simple existence. The surprising peace of laying on your back in the mud while gazing into a rainy night sky, meeting people who seem like lifelong friends, a giant jar of orange juice, a warm fire, comfort food, camping under the stars or the subtle, gradual dynamics of a score of music enhancing a landscape that stretches on and on. It's utterly simple. Just ride your bike from point A to point B, as fast as possible in a solo, self-supported fashion. It really is that simple.<br />
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I yearn for the simple life again.<br />
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<br />Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-56860119422621442222014-07-19T14:39:00.000-07:002014-07-30T11:46:10.709-07:00Tour Divide Memories<div>
I think it is only natural to want to share the experience of riding the divide. So many blogs, websites and facebook pages are already out there, but still I am going to put mine up. I think that each person's trip was probably a bit different, depending on the day and the hour the weather can make a section of the ride the most fun ever or a miserable slog through the mud. I was trying to race the divide, but I did manage to take some photos as did Josh. I will try to put together a summary of some of the moments of this crazy trip so you can see our perspective on things. </div>
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I made it back to Cashmere a few days ago and have been basically sitting around and eating a lot of food. Here at home there are several large wildfires burning in the area. The air is heavy and hot, the smoke burns my eyes and throat when I try to go out and ride. Just two days ago about 100 homes burned just a few miles away near the town of Pateros. As hard as riding the divide was I do not think it was anything in comparison to what those families are going through or to the grueling work the firefighters are doing on our behalf. Our thanks to them for the work they are doing. </div>
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So as I am stuck inside due to the smoke and fire danger on many of our favorite roads and trails, I will go ahead and post up some photos of the Divide and daydream of blue skies and even rain.<br />
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I have divided them into some sections but there are a lot of photos here... Enjoy!</div>
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Riding photos... Canada to Montana: </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPVY0NjGE2BiUhqCyKj3G8VVwkzUptfM1O8UeWR6OgbIqTccZg-zxe3g1IuaOBqmI25fyQAeLVUoVNOXMYrCdWc9tYPkPy-12kLfrZcK_nmlkXWw7Lw365SVuwLuvP7Gjz3WlyLfaKHEl/s1600/_DSC5245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPVY0NjGE2BiUhqCyKj3G8VVwkzUptfM1O8UeWR6OgbIqTccZg-zxe3g1IuaOBqmI25fyQAeLVUoVNOXMYrCdWc9tYPkPy-12kLfrZcK_nmlkXWw7Lw365SVuwLuvP7Gjz3WlyLfaKHEl/s1600/_DSC5245.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Banff, Chalene, my long suffering sister, in the foreground. Crazy Larry in the background</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Banff YMCA, the morning of the race.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarp Tent City in Wigwam Campground</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flathead Pass: Map says: "There may be rivulets running down the road" in the distance is the amazing Alice Drobna.. womens winner and new single speed record. </td></tr>
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On to Montana!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh's campsite.. Under a Cedar tree in the Swan Valley</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Richmond Peak</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Backside of Richmond</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainbow above Columbia Falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sign for High Country Lodge</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed out toward Bannack road.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Military planes over the Medicine Lodge</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesus bus</td></tr>
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Here are a few of Josh's last days on the Road... Easy to see why he tried to keep going, even with a torn hamstring, infected wound and broken leg.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBbmq6jRlO5mHUW2Kb3DtTResib9Yad6554-3mz3seuqL1UqwXq0rBapuVhUQkvQhgNQB2m95DfuzhDqMgZukwc4P53OctVsHCdUBXVczQSHYKgQmh8f8BgCoe52EpopFGBcgziMS6l3C/s1600/_DSC5300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBbmq6jRlO5mHUW2Kb3DtTResib9Yad6554-3mz3seuqL1UqwXq0rBapuVhUQkvQhgNQB2m95DfuzhDqMgZukwc4P53OctVsHCdUBXVczQSHYKgQmh8f8BgCoe52EpopFGBcgziMS6l3C/s1600/_DSC5300.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bannack</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0a2BZeNTUUPHFGxM6tsNJVA10QwQmYgT4yvzwfxglsTY0rWZyvA2PVNe4umNJdPCp0N3RrLWxZ5jqPiN9WCKDePi1u80oVKaU2Teh2hAZgBnAVk4yeC4iAad8g1Ef9wFjwYhlEisLdmf/s1600/_DSC5306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0a2BZeNTUUPHFGxM6tsNJVA10QwQmYgT4yvzwfxglsTY0rWZyvA2PVNe4umNJdPCp0N3RrLWxZ5jqPiN9WCKDePi1u80oVKaU2Teh2hAZgBnAVk4yeC4iAad8g1Ef9wFjwYhlEisLdmf/s1600/_DSC5306.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medicine Lodge</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Montana... </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTR-xtUIUymiG_52i4dzWXwLIYOFVHWTyYfp5VdbmCmh3CFX0AAwKj33sftGMgz5O80g4QiyTIWfOrLmRRqtWFrmmnlt9vN56EynMX4XPSkoAbqCxJOmnNsThdroaCH5nDdiJvfPeIsjVc/s1600/_DSC5321_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTR-xtUIUymiG_52i4dzWXwLIYOFVHWTyYfp5VdbmCmh3CFX0AAwKj33sftGMgz5O80g4QiyTIWfOrLmRRqtWFrmmnlt9vN56EynMX4XPSkoAbqCxJOmnNsThdroaCH5nDdiJvfPeIsjVc/s1600/_DSC5321_HDR.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikCNDPIy9USD81JIoxCjCFMegy-6oqwW-KPUsefws-Phxb3uNF3-LWtr6XjnFPJicvBV4c5wJxHkxezXgFoCViNbxjXnFMkuE8pbpnDSI34HS02hkg2C6QQjvfTmSepycgY_HsQlg7144/s1600/_DSC5334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgikCNDPIy9USD81JIoxCjCFMegy-6oqwW-KPUsefws-Phxb3uNF3-LWtr6XjnFPJicvBV4c5wJxHkxezXgFoCViNbxjXnFMkuE8pbpnDSI34HS02hkg2C6QQjvfTmSepycgY_HsQlg7144/s1600/_DSC5334.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIUpCwE2mykZ7IeuGCWevU92ONQKYyX8qm_uC7Yp9keuBRpQO4oDAZTvzkE9BLd79QBslVT_qljxOx7IhnNvXJoXE93lXdtZZ-UL8eHowkMfzCCn5na-9dl2OWk0qiK-xyYUOCcj84FiV/s1600/IMG_1782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIUpCwE2mykZ7IeuGCWevU92ONQKYyX8qm_uC7Yp9keuBRpQO4oDAZTvzkE9BLd79QBslVT_qljxOx7IhnNvXJoXE93lXdtZZ-UL8eHowkMfzCCn5na-9dl2OWk0qiK-xyYUOCcj84FiV/s1600/IMG_1782.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hardcore to ride with this on the back of your leg.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVGXAQKv-H394AxVWOfM0l6cgA5e-po9JkkkeQwMA0ApcVsEY2PG7ODOcXO46z8Z9c59R2uHPw2uhyphenhyphen3Ha_7YBLzMjlaIZw2XaKQalzSVMDgPrwVNjr2i3WAk_mbHFSiOY-Y3Ct8tOcrjU/s1600/FromTheLodge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVGXAQKv-H394AxVWOfM0l6cgA5e-po9JkkkeQwMA0ApcVsEY2PG7ODOcXO46z8Z9c59R2uHPw2uhyphenhyphen3Ha_7YBLzMjlaIZw2XaKQalzSVMDgPrwVNjr2i3WAk_mbHFSiOY-Y3Ct8tOcrjU/s1600/FromTheLodge.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of Josh's trip... Not so bad. View from Jackson Lake Lodge.</td></tr>
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I Continued on the ride... I had a hard time focusing for a while as Josh was stopped, but gradually the Divide has a way of making you forget about problems and just focus on the task at hand... riding, eating, finding water, trying to not fall asleep on the bike.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtNrtJJz9GPIYWzL-9daBDBEbYmvEg2IeDVmyLiR9QrFFJMTqkBRw_5Wc7Cst7-54yCvJCrnGSWYYZZqnRKddaImRpZH6Iyr4hRHz4OaX7yrGeNKfQ4qW79Crcx_7HJCKLPD9IXaycN7_/s1600/IMG_0173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtNrtJJz9GPIYWzL-9daBDBEbYmvEg2IeDVmyLiR9QrFFJMTqkBRw_5Wc7Cst7-54yCvJCrnGSWYYZZqnRKddaImRpZH6Iyr4hRHz4OaX7yrGeNKfQ4qW79Crcx_7HJCKLPD9IXaycN7_/s1600/IMG_0173.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to Smile as I went into Idaho. I believe this is the 1000 mile mark</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvg651SAz3QRGVaP_dDV2Tu9Yiw4nKZdIbZliAEgweIcQq8E_BY77BqqaKOTk4vBRr6Vt-OAcYOg4fDRr229Jo4olCE5_v1_5TvI5_KUZuUtRQZ9Q31HyGaHmD3v0iJhk04PEzPwsLcYJ/s1600/IMG_0190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvg651SAz3QRGVaP_dDV2Tu9Yiw4nKZdIbZliAEgweIcQq8E_BY77BqqaKOTk4vBRr6Vt-OAcYOg4fDRr229Jo4olCE5_v1_5TvI5_KUZuUtRQZ9Q31HyGaHmD3v0iJhk04PEzPwsLcYJ/s1600/IMG_0190.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close to Pinedale</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LYpwdUu6PdMIKHdNlYByIFRhCAtf4aeUEL1qC1-HZBL7C4uq3cj92hkmS5VjKwqIg0FQRWmwYcHX6sBeG-cTp8KaF3Edi6JJMABg8UzQ6S12plkvriOW4NWvEvPF8AgMTsWw12ULcuS2/s1600/IMG_0191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7LYpwdUu6PdMIKHdNlYByIFRhCAtf4aeUEL1qC1-HZBL7C4uq3cj92hkmS5VjKwqIg0FQRWmwYcHX6sBeG-cTp8KaF3Edi6JJMABg8UzQ6S12plkvriOW4NWvEvPF8AgMTsWw12ULcuS2/s1600/IMG_0191.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Shadow was sometimes the only other rider I saw all day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0CRiS7t1cfbNfpoQ3W1ElfLUTfCc1dXJbdTfTUo3czXubbKPr5DbqCIQ7q7Qrw-VF-T7xcMeN5rWJi8rSWakbfrbK7Pz6FCWXYsMyLNmGDnBejDs41USlWxQCr_56G-t6Sm377eJ4dSTZ/s1600/IMG_0212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0CRiS7t1cfbNfpoQ3W1ElfLUTfCc1dXJbdTfTUo3czXubbKPr5DbqCIQ7q7Qrw-VF-T7xcMeN5rWJi8rSWakbfrbK7Pz6FCWXYsMyLNmGDnBejDs41USlWxQCr_56G-t6Sm377eJ4dSTZ/s1600/IMG_0212.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So glad to leave the Wyoming wind behind.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFWGNKTjkJmhgAoWxLFSSPmKC3M6giRMscVO_Q0NSpwpdXJviJw_qmg7OhIHBaYRgCK02IyLEXkn5XvHcxogfDiM_i9U-b3ymz9_B-imhoaZFLYRHticwDhG2kSXu4NZgGwvWD1zQvOi2/s1600/IMG_0236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFWGNKTjkJmhgAoWxLFSSPmKC3M6giRMscVO_Q0NSpwpdXJviJw_qmg7OhIHBaYRgCK02IyLEXkn5XvHcxogfDiM_i9U-b3ymz9_B-imhoaZFLYRHticwDhG2kSXu4NZgGwvWD1zQvOi2/s1600/IMG_0236.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boreas Pass water tank. I strugged up this with leg cramps.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRyygIeQd6W92y5ccakiClTylKvKm9UG003hbT20QFfa4fRN42hRcdO8ftLQorLYQ_s3vv_4t1NgT22EJm0p6JGSlkD9dnnKeRIFkvv-j8eG5A3Xer9XqAZxKRMarvHAR-n-SqjH7OsGhi/s1600/IMG_0239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRyygIeQd6W92y5ccakiClTylKvKm9UG003hbT20QFfa4fRN42hRcdO8ftLQorLYQ_s3vv_4t1NgT22EJm0p6JGSlkD9dnnKeRIFkvv-j8eG5A3Xer9XqAZxKRMarvHAR-n-SqjH7OsGhi/s1600/IMG_0239.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLhXf0MFnBbz8AGnwS0IJMAcAbYZIL91hpM9TpdE5jOegb97wbQcEUekkWUXg1oThac_Iq3GLyWSGSFCpCG-3-gzeUtiWGEjpXU0F2rHqRQpZaJN_WF6-8xC_kHg52pVxyhrKeTMyahEM/s1600/IMG_0256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLhXf0MFnBbz8AGnwS0IJMAcAbYZIL91hpM9TpdE5jOegb97wbQcEUekkWUXg1oThac_Iq3GLyWSGSFCpCG-3-gzeUtiWGEjpXU0F2rHqRQpZaJN_WF6-8xC_kHg52pVxyhrKeTMyahEM/s1600/IMG_0256.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous pass</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pSYGBCDjHpYv6XwSakHrgZZYIdGFZXrnhV2JO0YAu7kFRAKY7E3cWL4oMwls7hLKkO8zkSoxRSkQxL2xw2rkdTMp2g1_N5Zy-7m9o6nrw-ZyP8NHwznEQ7mbejgyy59crEVqwNst7aPQ/s1600/IMG_0297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pSYGBCDjHpYv6XwSakHrgZZYIdGFZXrnhV2JO0YAu7kFRAKY7E3cWL4oMwls7hLKkO8zkSoxRSkQxL2xw2rkdTMp2g1_N5Zy-7m9o6nrw-ZyP8NHwznEQ7mbejgyy59crEVqwNst7aPQ/s1600/IMG_0297.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed up out of Abiquiu to the Polvedera Mesa</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYmQPEnl5e4SwFMI6RAvgz1suM3K8iAIYRB-13ak7z5O__ZuEHutkiiDHy8aRjTCu7mDgn2yOh0TVzJeXmk69Kv4hjRHv7ZftkRPpezTQrNk8GCiRs9Waw0tFwssb8Ae533epHY7BfnVHS/s1600/IMG_0311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYmQPEnl5e4SwFMI6RAvgz1suM3K8iAIYRB-13ak7z5O__ZuEHutkiiDHy8aRjTCu7mDgn2yOh0TVzJeXmk69Kv4hjRHv7ZftkRPpezTQrNk8GCiRs9Waw0tFwssb8Ae533epHY7BfnVHS/s1600/IMG_0311.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Divide road</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroZKmqWsa4CLVdxr-IVW4BFuvt6KLRzBnKg2zTBK300yQh13iwFIH5RActFej8I0f9z7EDj840bRkQ2nGNS-oFsnNY9-0y9BhaqMORX-dwUOLb2kqwjAIpWXRdIKFPpaMEXKdVDySzJ0-/s1600/IMG_0326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroZKmqWsa4CLVdxr-IVW4BFuvt6KLRzBnKg2zTBK300yQh13iwFIH5RActFej8I0f9z7EDj840bRkQ2nGNS-oFsnNY9-0y9BhaqMORX-dwUOLb2kqwjAIpWXRdIKFPpaMEXKdVDySzJ0-/s1600/IMG_0326.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling into Pie Town</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQp3_dOytCzEISfvS6vXYDfeq-tK32ZHllUUUnPdddsYujiuZMN_GGDxPXogNbczdYBbhokeFa4Cka3CLU5zG18LxAehipM5SZHPtEsa0UBvhkcYERigqgfB008edFZG-y-YnIpEpjcZw/s1600/IMG_0349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQp3_dOytCzEISfvS6vXYDfeq-tK32ZHllUUUnPdddsYujiuZMN_GGDxPXogNbczdYBbhokeFa4Cka3CLU5zG18LxAehipM5SZHPtEsa0UBvhkcYERigqgfB008edFZG-y-YnIpEpjcZw/s1600/IMG_0349.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning Leaving Pie Town</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja57GZawzqfUchyOlJ0Mc8PQL9ZXJri3XC3zq2-erGwoLXeM_cJbM0fvmhAD1UdPgYyWlVW_bCR-2w1IJ1dzkJS8eQ7SlU87m0xAMZTthALNyj4gEPs6uBQmQQqJyYUaaBQ2oOAYPRWQlm/s1600/IMG_0351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja57GZawzqfUchyOlJ0Mc8PQL9ZXJri3XC3zq2-erGwoLXeM_cJbM0fvmhAD1UdPgYyWlVW_bCR-2w1IJ1dzkJS8eQ7SlU87m0xAMZTthALNyj4gEPs6uBQmQQqJyYUaaBQ2oOAYPRWQlm/s1600/IMG_0351.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Infamous CDT alternate</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4aByWrjbYUz3YprsEXqoGlh0supmmdJQDWlFpeMCcH_qszjmaenv6Aso_gPJnq0D8dfeH5oid09nPHkKBnZpW5x_kLEoXS18ib7Cv_68HTduXxaLvr8Fulv7BksPycy0BYEOD-t3rOvwx/s1600/IMG_0355_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4aByWrjbYUz3YprsEXqoGlh0supmmdJQDWlFpeMCcH_qszjmaenv6Aso_gPJnq0D8dfeH5oid09nPHkKBnZpW5x_kLEoXS18ib7Cv_68HTduXxaLvr8Fulv7BksPycy0BYEOD-t3rOvwx/s1600/IMG_0355_HDR.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hmm, the trail goes right through those logs.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHduTJhTrtRx6SZoJONTmsjHhFQ7B6c-ZymGqzyCdDTQ6UFEydu5VQTdiL4tvE9cnRXaqEokHce8rugwswG8CJi9jdIN3wPm2zU2bAwefEbs6nnsX1x3cp7mG8YFoJNOZeJf7hyphenhyphenQ6Zb_7-/s1600/IMG_0374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHduTJhTrtRx6SZoJONTmsjHhFQ7B6c-ZymGqzyCdDTQ6UFEydu5VQTdiL4tvE9cnRXaqEokHce8rugwswG8CJi9jdIN3wPm2zU2bAwefEbs6nnsX1x3cp7mG8YFoJNOZeJf7hyphenhyphenQ6Zb_7-/s1600/IMG_0374.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes you accidentally camp in an arroyo</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5r29vX0p0nKQ19_Bwrq6B0JCyAmHzjEa-25HLjCWJYCQiHEGeq5aQNFkrBNJyNzit5a7FG_32G9bcZKxvB0ODo4hz1XnWtblt5xC8Ypp7UXDJs1c9WPwR2COAtkZya5KVglQESBx2b71r/s1600/IMG_0371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5r29vX0p0nKQ19_Bwrq6B0JCyAmHzjEa-25HLjCWJYCQiHEGeq5aQNFkrBNJyNzit5a7FG_32G9bcZKxvB0ODo4hz1XnWtblt5xC8Ypp7UXDJs1c9WPwR2COAtkZya5KVglQESBx2b71r/s1600/IMG_0371.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Mexico Sunset</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3wOd8nLO2wVo2AkozhTm7HyDLlbCS5ekochuxJbcD6OG6KFYse1tNxXM9rgliCClvCZtYdE_PD3piyv3JpJKUHWumealsd0iCvPfKU0yDNwnQs7nlYL9ngEOQ5zKHwoVzeI5AykD5XO2x/s1600/_XE14101+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3wOd8nLO2wVo2AkozhTm7HyDLlbCS5ekochuxJbcD6OG6KFYse1tNxXM9rgliCClvCZtYdE_PD3piyv3JpJKUHWumealsd0iCvPfKU0yDNwnQs7nlYL9ngEOQ5zKHwoVzeI5AykD5XO2x/s1600/_XE14101+%25281%2529.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South of Pie Town</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NFtWwhlQKL7aff2mKTzOqkRPVV_wzoT1a8f5tS93d1Re_OoBcaeaFqBTku8wp9-Zsz2KWmbQYSuQv4vukvsE3MFEk_AAjb-iCKPeRQz6UV1hvi4Aa_VlLvDqGfn4iY9eTnqzkDt7ggUX/s1600/_XE14155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NFtWwhlQKL7aff2mKTzOqkRPVV_wzoT1a8f5tS93d1Re_OoBcaeaFqBTku8wp9-Zsz2KWmbQYSuQv4vukvsE3MFEk_AAjb-iCKPeRQz6UV1hvi4Aa_VlLvDqGfn4iY9eTnqzkDt7ggUX/s1600/_XE14155.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Mexico Rain near Pinos Altos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4eSR95vueDpSZfFt7TgnJkasR5_883JjJRVB8CJpjoR-LbQNWbrrhgCZDwqnUccZMS3cSY8axEF9BKKDerIxzUYKlXrwE73qXS_UYOVqLKUYm4-u4o1awrKSLLqVqhxAMYmwWbiC79dZq/s1600/_XE14204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4eSR95vueDpSZfFt7TgnJkasR5_883JjJRVB8CJpjoR-LbQNWbrrhgCZDwqnUccZMS3cSY8axEF9BKKDerIxzUYKlXrwE73qXS_UYOVqLKUYm4-u4o1awrKSLLqVqhxAMYmwWbiC79dZq/s1600/_XE14204.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Separ Road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwK9XK-G7lbRSPOqc8BXnjWdSMFAszJF099Tu-cruXe2GfkoHqmmvvUGUnUMrhIucqSuBzbvs3e04xfJEFDzENmTYBM56dfhXr7Pr50ZCkkfkFkyafKVwI25eCsVfB8kL7DQXvOz6TCaNZ/s1600/_XE14488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwK9XK-G7lbRSPOqc8BXnjWdSMFAszJF099Tu-cruXe2GfkoHqmmvvUGUnUMrhIucqSuBzbvs3e04xfJEFDzENmTYBM56dfhXr7Pr50ZCkkfkFkyafKVwI25eCsVfB8kL7DQXvOz6TCaNZ/s1600/_XE14488.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lonely Highway... Last divide crossing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyvG8wvM2CCeJXEKzRVybF2E0D_RvfV2x-Jq5ByiLdLKMvXaoM7sLDz0plqmLc5XU6THZnvpN_x4yqpHj99e14dOiLNqntL7m5PYzbuOwBm3TbAUSWLoUG2O4d3_N7PJoRmn75guBuY_m/s1600/_XE14497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyvG8wvM2CCeJXEKzRVybF2E0D_RvfV2x-Jq5ByiLdLKMvXaoM7sLDz0plqmLc5XU6THZnvpN_x4yqpHj99e14dOiLNqntL7m5PYzbuOwBm3TbAUSWLoUG2O4d3_N7PJoRmn75guBuY_m/s1600/_XE14497.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hachita</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UvmI3rF-VWRbry80FVi3T57qi6duxwqXCGEdvNgTunJw3pWm22xGzaq9Bc4pXBb9uvlbgbFBWw_GW02hHHrX6q6JfaJ5E98vSbkV38TJ3xt4ETCyDpRcutvEFadqVwqyBplf1VK8B76H/s1600/_XE14639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0UvmI3rF-VWRbry80FVi3T57qi6duxwqXCGEdvNgTunJw3pWm22xGzaq9Bc4pXBb9uvlbgbFBWw_GW02hHHrX6q6JfaJ5E98vSbkV38TJ3xt4ETCyDpRcutvEFadqVwqyBplf1VK8B76H/s1600/_XE14639.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling into the finish</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvnUd9_93s01DeOx9t9_9jvtaxDlj1wpY97FM8_y5MGF44ZekynLbbspzFd06bQXkzpF9C-hZ1KqnXrhegI7nZUFxVxWLY31w-NrPfdxtg7uIgLIOSZskPG4pVDS2AUBW1m1gP1ONgc5V/s1600/_XE14485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvnUd9_93s01DeOx9t9_9jvtaxDlj1wpY97FM8_y5MGF44ZekynLbbspzFd06bQXkzpF9C-hZ1KqnXrhegI7nZUFxVxWLY31w-NrPfdxtg7uIgLIOSZskPG4pVDS2AUBW1m1gP1ONgc5V/s1600/_XE14485.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final Miles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv33NXmnXhYVGkBGNiKPuMnAfRd8l6sq9bRdYgvQPpq2aREReJnO9ZDR6TfVJeW-lm15XJUxvUx9TzoDjwbCG0XYVu5hbu3L7X3PF8ick2QR0lNyuDgoGsYUvcOvI4CbjiU3Y0WWnxqjg_/s1600/IMG_0382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv33NXmnXhYVGkBGNiKPuMnAfRd8l6sq9bRdYgvQPpq2aREReJnO9ZDR6TfVJeW-lm15XJUxvUx9TzoDjwbCG0XYVu5hbu3L7X3PF8ick2QR0lNyuDgoGsYUvcOvI4CbjiU3Y0WWnxqjg_/s1600/IMG_0382.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My frog friend came along for the whole ride.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
There were some things that kept me going. One was food...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_DNta2MFHXBuCSOdexOvvlNtut5nP7_aRfVaYwOsIB3i0ww65LEujab_drDOtv5XHdMO13A-wTpAx5GU9zLKaV_B6zQ_pcH6EUb16Slste2CUbMabLT8JNtgnbngncf76kKkSa8l6ytX/s1600/IMG_0151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_DNta2MFHXBuCSOdexOvvlNtut5nP7_aRfVaYwOsIB3i0ww65LEujab_drDOtv5XHdMO13A-wTpAx5GU9zLKaV_B6zQ_pcH6EUb16Slste2CUbMabLT8JNtgnbngncf76kKkSa8l6ytX/s1600/IMG_0151.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner at High Country Lodge</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4kBKLhcUE32ipyUplRRUTXTZSt3eTecwtgBdLbR5dVO2KLl0LuT95_RhW6q5ERsfcCEdIEOYMlFCv28TrUsbGkDhxmXcfojU8wbC4VrimpAPcQMIdVXzeSSZ2YUdqHoUoIsBZ2CoJIBi/s1600/IMG_0267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4kBKLhcUE32ipyUplRRUTXTZSt3eTecwtgBdLbR5dVO2KLl0LuT95_RhW6q5ERsfcCEdIEOYMlFCv28TrUsbGkDhxmXcfojU8wbC4VrimpAPcQMIdVXzeSSZ2YUdqHoUoIsBZ2CoJIBi/s1600/IMG_0267.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jones Bar has built in Sandwich Holder</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMaUX4JwccLX7lcoz0Px7yh0BAumq_d-LZYRKQxiZUODyIhEP7c3BEE16qaVeEGdqkluTd4GTE6Dm89N5rYNlCb2IwqDF0lGLmslVx7hFBmlHbhxCMgg8AAsvYBzeg5yP2Jhid3aLxwzc/s1600/IMG_1759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMaUX4JwccLX7lcoz0Px7yh0BAumq_d-LZYRKQxiZUODyIhEP7c3BEE16qaVeEGdqkluTd4GTE6Dm89N5rYNlCb2IwqDF0lGLmslVx7hFBmlHbhxCMgg8AAsvYBzeg5yP2Jhid3aLxwzc/s1600/IMG_1759.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh got to Trixie's in Ovando... He ordered 3 of those burgers, a milkshake and pie... And ate it all!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpFrtNz6SBb1r3_xxclhjsYmowX2zRWq1lkQCyhbbQwkjf7mxIhRTpZhi7uAYFVwG8R5rdZXeNpme52qlNCt_788Si0pAnKls1l9aiGPWXsZNALbb4Z2L6Fm00yFf8EFDBILZh9LaizAA/s1600/IMG_1986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpFrtNz6SBb1r3_xxclhjsYmowX2zRWq1lkQCyhbbQwkjf7mxIhRTpZhi7uAYFVwG8R5rdZXeNpme52qlNCt_788Si0pAnKls1l9aiGPWXsZNALbb4Z2L6Fm00yFf8EFDBILZh9LaizAA/s1600/IMG_1986.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Divide Riders know where to get food.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWVV_-sPOheqfeUIOwDBnK_mLH7iQL2YZ0F-hvhua5jOIdOW89TE1ytIgFb_9bABChMnlKMYUkPwaszOW6yIIA2go7lbWrhkP2IwzcKyYKBSibU_GN9Fa5Kc317MQTlznaFPJoWM2cwzv/s1600/IMG_1993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWVV_-sPOheqfeUIOwDBnK_mLH7iQL2YZ0F-hvhua5jOIdOW89TE1ytIgFb_9bABChMnlKMYUkPwaszOW6yIIA2go7lbWrhkP2IwzcKyYKBSibU_GN9Fa5Kc317MQTlznaFPJoWM2cwzv/s1600/IMG_1993.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical snack food for the day on the bike. Carbs, protein, salt and caffiene.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
Although this is a "solo effort",<br />
I met some great people along the way. Other riders as well as trail angels.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjpZVdUiBu4BrXsrfnBw9jUPz1AgIG1otk5Bj_WCKLIiK4h_WG6YehsM1cKC-5bdmPtV_i1owxG3AADTctAjXPUuqx8dXAa4AvdVrmC0Fgo27vGw0HUI5msGb6Q0BEva4LjqfOCWqfbqA/s1600/IMG_0120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjpZVdUiBu4BrXsrfnBw9jUPz1AgIG1otk5Bj_WCKLIiK4h_WG6YehsM1cKC-5bdmPtV_i1owxG3AADTctAjXPUuqx8dXAa4AvdVrmC0Fgo27vGw0HUI5msGb6Q0BEva4LjqfOCWqfbqA/s1600/IMG_0120.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jocyln of Swan River in her store. Warmed me up. I recommend the McSwan sandwich</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3g84i4d9JIMxqUYDHn5hWuPoTVqo2EQDPBA_bF49O7hTHGXzGHDEdn0FSNuhSHjIA6fAGBkmFI0mDwS9ks1oyQIyAZ78WUl5EGW5nfI3iIKRrPogEPQ3Nsm7dZ12d1HXPtL8DPETS-Ifc/s1600/IMG_0176_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3g84i4d9JIMxqUYDHn5hWuPoTVqo2EQDPBA_bF49O7hTHGXzGHDEdn0FSNuhSHjIA6fAGBkmFI0mDwS9ks1oyQIyAZ78WUl5EGW5nfI3iIKRrPogEPQ3Nsm7dZ12d1HXPtL8DPETS-Ifc/s1600/IMG_0176_HDR.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hanson Family of Rexburg, Id. Camped near me at the Warm River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv37oGmFl5HCZwoDSwk2gvjww_SX_3NddVZuybkpNEhRMErDAu7L6MDtryE9Du1mS6W2pfeODuSnRa1ZijIoU20KYO6zdlcKeQV5QYWkclW3Ia5NJ6wRu2iG5ZcT1BsYxeqA01iO2pGJcr/s1600/IMG_0179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv37oGmFl5HCZwoDSwk2gvjww_SX_3NddVZuybkpNEhRMErDAu7L6MDtryE9Du1mS6W2pfeODuSnRa1ZijIoU20KYO6zdlcKeQV5QYWkclW3Ia5NJ6wRu2iG5ZcT1BsYxeqA01iO2pGJcr/s1600/IMG_0179.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shane, riding over the John D. Rockafeller Memorial Parkway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3KcASwY7pjzfb8cAEdVow6QlVxGnlESaLAH9u4RxTe0cXA_ml5EYvy7uAxDEfgg_rA45SXtd6WvHCVmuZD8L_YgmovRGrKw8eJhyphenhyphenE43mnJieD_cTK2mDbDa4DSqvsxsPCk-jiZPw2DIy/s1600/IMG_0200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3KcASwY7pjzfb8cAEdVow6QlVxGnlESaLAH9u4RxTe0cXA_ml5EYvy7uAxDEfgg_rA45SXtd6WvHCVmuZD8L_YgmovRGrKw8eJhyphenhyphenE43mnJieD_cTK2mDbDa4DSqvsxsPCk-jiZPw2DIy/s1600/IMG_0200.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheila T. at Diagnus Well in the Basin. So much fun to ride with her! We had a great 2 days of pushing each other down the trail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrfExQ73J5H1P2EAVDF_YI3CqCrKm-HZ_L2D6OpX2N5xpRwp2wgGqK7Wt24ZDjB6cCOMgRLYsVqvQtt9lMiwn4J9jEs9KGozycNsNo6w4aEtXCw82irx4ajWTIkDKiZwAQZmjDJlsUIKA/s1600/IMG_0210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrfExQ73J5H1P2EAVDF_YI3CqCrKm-HZ_L2D6OpX2N5xpRwp2wgGqK7Wt24ZDjB6cCOMgRLYsVqvQtt9lMiwn4J9jEs9KGozycNsNo6w4aEtXCw82irx4ajWTIkDKiZwAQZmjDJlsUIKA/s1600/IMG_0210.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheila heads in to "Aspen Alley"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyHmLpa8w71-tTOuULe4oVB-JfGSlsNpUGmvsZB0wFTZSFmVRpBtQ_g3O5mNxDX7TPsXjYiqJgI8Y5CCtPAHFOLjZjqYCvfS0wVc09msxlsKFu24ylU7zbudMF38wD69psklQJ21xJOraW/s1600/IMG_0213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyHmLpa8w71-tTOuULe4oVB-JfGSlsNpUGmvsZB0wFTZSFmVRpBtQ_g3O5mNxDX7TPsXjYiqJgI8Y5CCtPAHFOLjZjqYCvfS0wVc09msxlsKFu24ylU7zbudMF38wD69psklQJ21xJOraW/s1600/IMG_0213.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheila at Brush Mountain Lodge. I don't have a good pic of Kristen, but this was another amazing stop off. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeUda0PA8fVe8V3EbcslCsagQnMyI6meCybL7xKUjMi1enHgiSrKelAd8vME1TqbgtO3PJX9AVySXhBjJu0Us0NNaSSy-YH3bhyphenhyphen91Qxf4C3JVTAn8Ttd4DmdRjJL8IZPUUnalbPg2A3Ze/s1600/IMG_0229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeUda0PA8fVe8V3EbcslCsagQnMyI6meCybL7xKUjMi1enHgiSrKelAd8vME1TqbgtO3PJX9AVySXhBjJu0Us0NNaSSy-YH3bhyphenhyphen91Qxf4C3JVTAn8Ttd4DmdRjJL8IZPUUnalbPg2A3Ze/s1600/IMG_0229.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazing woman fording a creek in Colorado</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAs-LhZ8Z-O79eAGsG9wn6UubdTXA9KyD3ghJDwv7ke7wZ3srT2Whyfx1D-9vg5xXA3ZBj7eFmZsXz3QSxAuZmHorvSDh6Qqz-C5oulIgY6EC5-DHiCU4fA-uzCNCXWZy0GcOm4URdO9ki/s1600/IMG_0224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAs-LhZ8Z-O79eAGsG9wn6UubdTXA9KyD3ghJDwv7ke7wZ3srT2Whyfx1D-9vg5xXA3ZBj7eFmZsXz3QSxAuZmHorvSDh6Qqz-C5oulIgY6EC5-DHiCU4fA-uzCNCXWZy0GcOm4URdO9ki/s1600/IMG_0224.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steamboat Ski and Bike Kare in Steamboat Springs, Co. Fixed my bike, found that my fork was broken and got me going again in < 6 hours. Great shop!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJ45_v98wh2eEfcilUzbOyQ45V69GsPwZBy0BVo_i49PScSKBqRj32h3bZ_83l7XKsrIVAZnD-TjfgaWKr2WQAsIvS7NYANiXSnuN2ChR0aIMdMkWbZYruxqeYEv5YZauRHXJnoVpFZWf/s1600/IMG_0238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJ45_v98wh2eEfcilUzbOyQ45V69GsPwZBy0BVo_i49PScSKBqRj32h3bZ_83l7XKsrIVAZnD-TjfgaWKr2WQAsIvS7NYANiXSnuN2ChR0aIMdMkWbZYruxqeYEv5YZauRHXJnoVpFZWf/s1600/IMG_0238.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael Z at the top of Boreas Pass</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpTRw9MYBAFUYFWXJWrF0CM8HJvarT0r22hpZ3QwyXdQcsX05JfDJ6pZSS_R9sqZxmOLrp2Io55gF2ByWmD3CYBdsW3zapb5Fi1y9gKQdWQujrz3DYDmS7RQ7EH4TQxFikA_AqX-tmZ7r/s1600/IMG_0243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpTRw9MYBAFUYFWXJWrF0CM8HJvarT0r22hpZ3QwyXdQcsX05JfDJ6pZSS_R9sqZxmOLrp2Io55gF2ByWmD3CYBdsW3zapb5Fi1y9gKQdWQujrz3DYDmS7RQ7EH4TQxFikA_AqX-tmZ7r/s1600/IMG_0243.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris at our rest stop in Hartsel</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQhwWcGbCIlkrjG5Fmn10FGXaFjuH0ztSsia83WhT6yrWK9EdL8lo8bteziVNl94jps6Fg3wV8JLQdGIhsDRjlHD3usmu9reKOzWwsVQjjxlKqFiivV65ThZ9RDwLC-9k8xIaOYjEWhq4/s1600/IMG_0327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMQhwWcGbCIlkrjG5Fmn10FGXaFjuH0ztSsia83WhT6yrWK9EdL8lo8bteziVNl94jps6Fg3wV8JLQdGIhsDRjlHD3usmu9reKOzWwsVQjjxlKqFiivV65ThZ9RDwLC-9k8xIaOYjEWhq4/s1600/IMG_0327.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Toaster House. I never saw Nita, but her generosity made such a great refuge for tired cyclists</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3VOoGi6kSoNW2ItaCrxPxLKYGgzRRO1vlUYUgKnZMpXk5Cty2AJFr75HQy5fsCzdsDA-xUCcooTTf7CZtECxVudFZyhc2h8j7_IBaS3-SFVpV2HOxcg1vDn3T91ugETMf3-cmQOVDlxc/s1600/IMG_0316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3VOoGi6kSoNW2ItaCrxPxLKYGgzRRO1vlUYUgKnZMpXk5Cty2AJFr75HQy5fsCzdsDA-xUCcooTTf7CZtECxVudFZyhc2h8j7_IBaS3-SFVpV2HOxcg1vDn3T91ugETMf3-cmQOVDlxc/s1600/IMG_0316.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark... Amazing rider and racer. He lost his GPS, his gloves, his pedal was broken, his shift cable was broken, his tire was torn, his knees were bad and he was still hard to keep up with!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_sXTMS_qO5BCHYzw38zukszQk_HlMJPExOAqhnYitiavcHhk_W6Gx_HRArKKd8K7JDZh30E-_dk4MBsbdTiur_mBj8qNvXBkAt28-mCvZXq-czaT_7_PsOhcDYDcJL-KsPSms6JxnqL_/s1600/IMG_0361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_sXTMS_qO5BCHYzw38zukszQk_HlMJPExOAqhnYitiavcHhk_W6Gx_HRArKKd8K7JDZh30E-_dk4MBsbdTiur_mBj8qNvXBkAt28-mCvZXq-czaT_7_PsOhcDYDcJL-KsPSms6JxnqL_/s1600/IMG_0361.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael Cleaver, on his Time Trial bike he built himself. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBQ83xC1vFYGlc4T4u6UQ6S7sUv-OImW9fEH58Vu-ZXY8fYLNLLfyWUZNgSKqC3oxkrn5PmvTJp2vMhIx6Z8i3LEKEprah7Rehro9slosQ3X4sU_6dDr6HIJxn54yQgpMgrSOM4HE-Ku8/s1600/_DSC6634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHBQ83xC1vFYGlc4T4u6UQ6S7sUv-OImW9fEH58Vu-ZXY8fYLNLLfyWUZNgSKqC3oxkrn5PmvTJp2vMhIx6Z8i3LEKEprah7Rehro9slosQ3X4sU_6dDr6HIJxn54yQgpMgrSOM4HE-Ku8/s1600/_DSC6634.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh Taylor, Cleaver and myself.. We all finished near each other on the same day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKXyJu3k-MUsl_8MIRaiyNSpAvy3Uwb6v08nEYVK4_PL8YMcVDm3VFlJhtiqrzbZfWlKIv8jg_J2dhyphenhyphenmjYsENucXxbyZHQO9gzqhVA_S3hE4hqWoAKKtXXFSXOUGIyVhzIn4-U2VBe-rn/s1600/_XE14663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKXyJu3k-MUsl_8MIRaiyNSpAvy3Uwb6v08nEYVK4_PL8YMcVDm3VFlJhtiqrzbZfWlKIv8jg_J2dhyphenhyphenmjYsENucXxbyZHQO9gzqhVA_S3hE4hqWoAKKtXXFSXOUGIyVhzIn4-U2VBe-rn/s1600/_XE14663.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mom who came down to pick me up!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsRZ6KGuLzwKQ8jpXoB7ea6pvRGtVFb905nHMhXHeNvzy0PuMZU9Ua3wKlmMYuPwEcbnletu9B6Vq1CGwGYWBUWMj6fZzTFvLPPWhjuuSxD2lQet2XXgXCyDvQoRFaGx4mwHYd7cvvhYr/s1600/_DSC6633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsRZ6KGuLzwKQ8jpXoB7ea6pvRGtVFb905nHMhXHeNvzy0PuMZU9Ua3wKlmMYuPwEcbnletu9B6Vq1CGwGYWBUWMj6fZzTFvLPPWhjuuSxD2lQet2XXgXCyDvQoRFaGx4mwHYd7cvvhYr/s1600/_DSC6633.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Dad came down to pick me up as well!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAyz_DhgZf3vFpbFDDcFZdK3d2G2Urb6BQVDDTcixPRNMX2FP-lb0oHagx9J-hm7GS_Nam3ctFwuuroPWy1D8Yo_DVXMB20eduBa9eECI_x65bR2IRdcLxnZw_iWuFnI6N1UkThfZ0sel/s1600/IMG_0394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAyz_DhgZf3vFpbFDDcFZdK3d2G2Urb6BQVDDTcixPRNMX2FP-lb0oHagx9J-hm7GS_Nam3ctFwuuroPWy1D8Yo_DVXMB20eduBa9eECI_x65bR2IRdcLxnZw_iWuFnI6N1UkThfZ0sel/s1600/IMG_0394.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Officer Tim Balderston at Antelope Wells. </td></tr>
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The Divide is an amazing, hard, beautiful, scary ride. Everyone should try it.</div>
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-50699366256358133462014-06-08T02:31:00.000-07:002014-06-10T10:19:49.280-07:00Final Days Pre DivideSo many things to do before the race. Josh has been working like crazy to rebuild both of our bikes with new drive trains, components, wheels, cables... everything. I have been trying to learn last minute bike mechanic tips. So far the only thing that comes naturally is changing a spoke, but I have been making myself cue cards for the rest of the on the trail repairs that may come up. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcSHXci7i3XPXxL0hEpkwUkUL9W6dVwbksBjF29d2FNwnGhasqyui1bJH6LjaZbr27rpRfJep-R2_Te4Ne2eBpApIs4-uIoJkdb-q7fYQFtjFu8yBtUKl-vEZC6dnsKh36caNwILGlX7t/s1600/_DSC3149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcSHXci7i3XPXxL0hEpkwUkUL9W6dVwbksBjF29d2FNwnGhasqyui1bJH6LjaZbr27rpRfJep-R2_Te4Ne2eBpApIs4-uIoJkdb-q7fYQFtjFu8yBtUKl-vEZC6dnsKh36caNwILGlX7t/s1600/_DSC3149.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bike building in the Living Room</td></tr>
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We are taking advantage of the warm weather and early snow melt (around here at least) per report the divide route still has a lot of snow. We got up into the hills to do some gear shakedown rides.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAYH8GLcCNU5QqHsCIcNYA53xyYpE1iv-3JzxMWTYtgCdtlY1U_MipBQN94VjiTLgQ0RTErGkwqWZfnN5tDIqk9N2k4nSj1uQWYcXxqi0Nm425wbn_NN_pbNbwkYDrkD8hcIwWKwj-7EW/s1600/snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXAYH8GLcCNU5QqHsCIcNYA53xyYpE1iv-3JzxMWTYtgCdtlY1U_MipBQN94VjiTLgQ0RTErGkwqWZfnN5tDIqk9N2k4nSj1uQWYcXxqi0Nm425wbn_NN_pbNbwkYDrkD8hcIwWKwj-7EW/s1600/snow.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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We have been looking at all the amazing gravel and dirt roads here and thinking about mapping out a tour (or maybe race) route here in Eastern Washington. I have had so much fun exploring, I am sure others would love to ride around here. The trick is knowing which of the maze of roads to take; lots of logging leads to lots of roads. Another challenge is finding water as we are on the dry side of the Cascades. <br />
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The other question is WHY? I read the Cordillera volume 4 (the definitive literary record of the TD). Katherine Wallace says the most important thing is to know WHY:<br />
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My reason is selfishly simple... I need to do something. In order to take this trip I changed jobs, and convinced my supervisors to let me ride this crazy race... In the end I am looking for adventure. I have done everything right through my life. All throughout my youth I read books.... classics, adventure books, whatever was in the library. I imagined going myself. But I have never gone. I went to high school, graduated on time. Never drank, smoked until legal age, never used drugs, came home at curfew. Went to college, graduated summa cum laude, got a job. Worked, went to grad school while working full time. Twenty years of continuous employment in healthcare will either beat you down or make you realize that time is precious and CPR is NOT like TV. We only get one shot at this crazy ride of life. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never Too Near the Edge</td></tr>
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So I think the answer is a mid life crisis. Time to do something before I can't any longer. Get out and try something. If I make great, if I don't I will come back with a story and make sure I gave it all I had. I was discussing all this at work the other night. As my co-worker said, "If that is your mid-life crisis... that's pretty cool."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Out There</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJAYGFpx1BxyG1o1KSdl2yNgw_lpRen0u4K46FCoJEfO3lRWgbIO3WTGRTxRlbNNNwXm9smywK1Q8-yYSMs44MlX07jkGLBpDj143boYiagUnfOkUaQO1F-XgdDbVyXA2Hi9F8l88uMNC/s1600/CRW_5931+-+Version+2+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJAYGFpx1BxyG1o1KSdl2yNgw_lpRen0u4K46FCoJEfO3lRWgbIO3WTGRTxRlbNNNwXm9smywK1Q8-yYSMs44MlX07jkGLBpDj143boYiagUnfOkUaQO1F-XgdDbVyXA2Hi9F8l88uMNC/s1600/CRW_5931+-+Version+2+-+Version+2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mountains Are Calling</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And I Must Go</td></tr>
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On the other hand... Why is Josh doing it? He is the opposite.<br />
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His boss has no idea about blue dots. He may have inhaled a certain herb in Canada at one time in a 2 man tent with a bunch of sorority girls. He travelled through India by bicycle and train solo at age 18. He travelled the Himalayan Char Dham Yatra pilgrimage. Skiied from the Mount Rainier summit solo as well as various other lesser known but better peaks, several times... just for fun.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">North Central Cascades</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Playground<br />
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Fly fished the "holy" waters of Montana, Idaho, Washington. Hiking and sleeping in the Yellowstone backcountry alone is a yearly requirement for him.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Great Wide Open</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kicking it in Yellowstone</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JoyRide</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">He has been on a perpetual joy ride for the last 30 years (He's actually an upstanding member of society working as a nurse, with no addictions other than the outdoors. He doesn't inhale anything these days other than high mountain air). </span>Maybe he just seeks another tent filled with fun. Whatever his reasons are there is bound to be more ridiculousness involved in his mid-life emergency.<br />
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To be continued when we figure it out....</div>
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<br />The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-48657718541487243352014-05-24T03:03:00.000-07:002014-06-07T15:37:49.917-07:00Pre Divide Update... CrazinessWell, I have been riding and planning and not posting much. Have spent many an hour agonizing over gear choices and trying to get the stupid Garmin to work. I have also been attending the Josh Kato school of bicycle mechanics. I am working on making sure I am self sufficient for the upcoming ride. I am fairly certain that Josh will be DAYS ahead of me, despite my mother trying to encourage me by referencing the tortoise and the hare. Anyway even if I caught him he is not allowed to help me. I really think that is a great idea. We have toured together a lot, but I like to be able to do it all myself. One thing I have learned from working in healthcare for 20 years is that you never know what may happen so you are better off being able to be alone. <br />
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I like riding and being alone. I am so excited for this ride. Just get up, see gorgeous scenery, eat tons of junk food, do something crazy hard all by your self. Then go to bed and do it all again in the morning. <br />
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I will just post here some photos of my recent rides and gear etc. I really like looking at pics better than reading anyway (at least when it comes to blogs). <br />
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I will also post my gear list I tried to make this very detailed. <br />
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So here is the GEAR LIST (subject to change as I try to get rid of excess stuff):<br />
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<b><u>BIKE</u></b><br />
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<li> Name: LaFawnduh, cause all good bikes need a name and when something bad happens you can curse at it.</li>
<li> Frame: 2013 Salsa Fargo Titanium</li>
<li> Fork: Salsa Fargo V2 steel fork (cause steel is real) Actually I am clumsy and would break carbon.</li>
<li>Drivetrain: Shimano XTR M980 triple crankarms, 24 tooth Blackspire inner ring, XT 32 T middle, XTR 42 T outer ring, XTR M980 front derailleur, XT 9 speed rear derailleur, XTR 12-34 9 speed cassette, Sram PC 991 cross-step chain. 9 is more durable than 10.</li>
<li>Pedals: Speedplay Frog Ti</li>
<li>Shifter: Sram Attack Betty Gripshift</li>
<li>Brakes: Pauls Love Levers (Valentine's Day present from Josh), Avid BB7 Calipers, Avid HS-1 rotors</li>
<li>Cables: Custom cut and precisely routed Jagwire Pro</li>
<li>Headset: Chris King (it's good to be king)</li>
<li>Stem: Salsa Pro Moto Ti</li>
<li>Handlebar: Jones Loop H-Bar - wrapped in Salsa Bar tape with Ergon grips</li>
<li>Aero Bar: Syntace C3 with extra risers</li>
<li>Seatpost: Eriksen Sweetpost (another Valentines day gift from Josh)</li>
<li>Seat: Terry Liberator X Gel</li>
<li>Seat Collar: Salsa Lip-lock</li>
<li>Wheels: (Custom built by Josh) DT 350 Hubs, Sapim CX-Ray spokes, DT alloy nipples, WTB Frequency i19 Rims 32h</li>
<li>Tires: Kenda Small Block 8 DTC John Tomac Signature</li>
<li>Tubes: (yes some people still use tubes) Schwalbe SV 19A</li>
<li>Flat Prophylactics: Mr. Tuffy Ultralight liners, Flat Attack Sealant (about 50ml per tube and yes we've weighed it all out and it is lighter than a tubeless setup with sealant and proper rim strip and burpy tires.)</li>
<li>CycleStuff Stay Wrap</li>
<li>Vintage Tektro 102A Chainsuck Device. Maybe the name depressed sales... but it works!</li>
<li>Water bottle cages: Portland Design Works: The Birdcage x3 1 on downtube 2 on fork with Zefal Magnum 33 oz bottles.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REAR BAG- Revelate Viscacha</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Ziplock with TP, baby wipes, mesh bug hat with snazzy spring ring, hydrocortisone, (for the skeeter bites on you know where), A&D ointment + clotrimazole (to make butt paste, fellow RNs will know) also never forget the hand sanitizer</li>
<li>Western Mountaineering Hi Lite 35 degree bag inside ultralightweight OR drybag.</li>
<li>Patagonia 900 fill Down Sweater inside Sea to Summit waterproof stuffsack</li>
<li>Patagonia Torrentshell Raincoat, Patagonia Rainshadow Rainpants, Proline flyfishing neoprene pantleg band X2, Gorewear gortex socks.</li>
<li>Spare straps</li>
</ul>
Tool Kit: (inside Viscacha)</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Xtra tube with slime </li>
<li>Dental floss</li>
<li>Darning needles </li>
<li>Xtra cleats (Frog)</li>
<li>Brake pads X2 (Avid aluminum/organic)</li>
<li>Tire Boot (Park) +Dollar bill for backup</li>
<li>Patch kit X 3 (Park Glueless)</li>
<li>Rear hub replacement DT Ratchets</li>
<li>Zipties</li>
<li>elastic hairbands</li>
<li>Red Zeplin inflater</li>
<li>CO2 Cartridges X 2</li>
<li>Electrical tape (enough to replace rim strips + more)</li>
<li>Leatherman Squirt PS4 </li>
<li>Multi tool: Crank brothers M 17</li>
<li>Torx wrench (Oh why don't they still make everything with allen fittings)</li>
<li>Xtra Sram masterlink</li>
<li>Safety pins</li>
<li>Spare Chainring bolts</li>
<li>Spare Derailleur hanger</li>
<li>Spare Jockey wheel</li>
<li>Lots of Duct tape around my seatpost</li>
<li>Xtra batteries AAA X 8 and AA X 8 lithium, CR2032 X 2</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REVELATE SPROCKET</u></b>: On outside of Viscacha</div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Spot</li>
<li>Titanium Spork (folding, it is my most awesome camping item, I could not leave it; I use it to spoon Nutella directly into my mouth)</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<b><u> REVELATE FRAMEBAG:</u></b> R side large pocket</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Xtra Tube with slime</li>
<li>MSR Dromlite 4L with tubing and camel back bitevalve + flipcap in bag for filtering H20</li>
<li>Minipump Topeak Peakini Master Blaster (Version I from the '90's, baby!)</li>
<li>Tent pole</li>
<li>Passport + Xtra credit card</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REVELATE FRAME BAG: </u></b> L side small pocket</div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Cable lock: kabeltek flexweave</li>
<li>Xtra spokes X 5 + nipples in a different color so I know what I had to fix</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REVELATE SWEETROLL Medium + JONES BAR ADAPTER</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Henry Shires Contrail tarp tent in a garbage bag</li>
<li>Space blankets X 2 for ground cloths in ziplocks</li>
<li>Thermarest Neoair Xlight women's</li>
<li>Paracord 25 feet for hanging smellables in bear country + various repairs</li>
<li>Med kit in ziplock; Xtra contacts X 6, magnesium vitamin tabs (gas station food is constipating) fluconazole 150 mg X 3, Claritin 25 tabs, Benadryl 10 tabs, Flonase nasal spray Bactrim 14 tabs, ( meds for allergies, as well as yeast, and urinary tract infections), tampax X 5</li>
<li>Sleeping kit in a light weight OR dry sack: Casio Illuminator PQ 13 Travel clock, patagonia T-shirt, xtra sports bra, smartwool ski socks, Patagonia expedition weight fleece pants, 1 pair regular undies, lightweight running shorts, Rite in the rain mini note pad +pencil (for recording my misery)</li>
<li>Maps + cue cards printed on Rite in the Rain paper</li>
<li>Lightweight dry sack with clean bike shorts and xtra riding socks</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REVELATE FRONT POCKET Large</u></b></div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Sawyer mini filter + 60 cc syringe flush+ Platypus 1 Liter bag with cap (I ditched the tiny useless non gusseted bag that came with the Sawyer)</li>
<li>Food: emergency peanut butter or Nutella and flour tortillas, instant coffee powder</li>
<li>Sunscreen</li>
<li>Katadyn purification tabs</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REVELATE GASTANK</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Granola bars</li>
<li>Blue Diamond Smokey Almonds</li>
<li>Swedish Fish</li>
<li>Whatever other delights I can find along the way</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REVELATE JERRY CAN</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Cannon PowerShot A1400 Camera (runs on AA batteries)</li>
<li>HotHands handwarmers. </li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>WINGNUT BACKPACK:</u></b></div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Xtra Platypus bag 100 oz + hose (empty)</li>
<li>Pearl Izumi Arm warmers</li>
<li>Primal Wear leg warmers</li>
<li>Giro 100 proof lobster gloves + liners in a ziplock</li>
<li>Buff</li>
<li>Smartwool beanie</li>
<li>Marmot Trailwind Hoody light jacket</li>
<li>Garbage bags/ ziplocks</li>
<li>Smith Slider sunglasses case with xtra lenses + regular glasses</li>
<li>Bear Spray</li>
<li>Phone charger</li>
<li>iphone</li>
<li>ipod mini waterproof + charger</li>
<li>Duracell instant USB charger</li>
<li>Ziplock with money and credit card</li>
<li>Albuterol inhaler for asthma</li>
<li>Blackburn Mars 4.0 rear blinky</li>
<li>Princeton Tec Eos light</li>
<li>Park tools chain cleaner</li>
<li>fleece rag</li>
<li>chain lube bottle</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b><u>REVELATE MOUNTAIN FEEDBAG</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>toothpaste/tooth brush</li>
<li>more food</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<b><u>HANDLEBAR/HELMET/BODY:</u></b></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Helmet Giro Athlon</li>
<li>Knog Frog rear blinky on helmet (held on to helmet with a ziptie)</li>
<li>Princeton Tec Eos light bracket (on my helmet)</li>
<li>3rd Eye Pro Hemet Mirror</li>
<li>Garmin ETrex 30 + Garmin mount and lanyard stolen from another item.</li>
<li>VDO MC 1.0 Plus cyclo computer (was so cool they had to stop making it)</li>
<li>Fenix LD 22 light + Two Fish Mount</li>
<li>Gore wear bike shorts, apparently they don't make my style anymore.</li>
<li>Gore wear jersey again out of style must be my style. </li>
<li>Smartwool Saturn casual socks</li>
<li>Pearl Izumi X Alp Enduro shoes</li>
<li>Timex Women's Ironman Pulse Calculator watch</li>
<li>BIG SMILE!! I am going to get to ride my bike for almost a month!!</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
Now as promised a bunch of photos... Mostly these are for myself when I have a hard day on the ride, to remind my self of good times.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcLLMvxM3OJ_mB-54_KLakGdFNpAds3d5bKLSTfoVwiLXmX-nDZE9fFpePBR-BQve_71IZFc5q8LQs-qTwrTERmQN1iTZU0XKP1ZHSWlfP3rSzvfz4QrQPJK-pvP9v71HZx3vXGmaqXU/s1600/IMG_3729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcLLMvxM3OJ_mB-54_KLakGdFNpAds3d5bKLSTfoVwiLXmX-nDZE9fFpePBR-BQve_71IZFc5q8LQs-qTwrTERmQN1iTZU0XKP1ZHSWlfP3rSzvfz4QrQPJK-pvP9v71HZx3vXGmaqXU/s1600/IMG_3729.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chumstick Mountain Summit. Cashmere Riding is the best</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwSr40OBlE5CYjgzHYEF8tTytXkmGveD8pnB8LPVCeP6uLyhXdRhMnz8M0s3gCxzgeVsRvBI-Vy9AvIq_zz6Lz-9DWSOOa_nhP5dmdhUOFLI4O2p-Sq-_dytteTYqqvCjMtTECBrUy9o/s1600/IMG_4084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwSr40OBlE5CYjgzHYEF8tTytXkmGveD8pnB8LPVCeP6uLyhXdRhMnz8M0s3gCxzgeVsRvBI-Vy9AvIq_zz6Lz-9DWSOOa_nhP5dmdhUOFLI4O2p-Sq-_dytteTYqqvCjMtTECBrUy9o/s1600/IMG_4084.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Idaho River Fly Fishing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMecNZVCKa-MbMesTJDeSeNlxi_x3IUQqGobzy9o64TQwwo_5yj_LKekNGnriwd1OL54G447uDruHJL-NdKDstTKLuKCjapJkS1JAjArjx4j1GA2gwPvV8LK0Cf_22GPx3PF-JSeG0MIM/s1600/IMG_2055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMecNZVCKa-MbMesTJDeSeNlxi_x3IUQqGobzy9o64TQwwo_5yj_LKekNGnriwd1OL54G447uDruHJL-NdKDstTKLuKCjapJkS1JAjArjx4j1GA2gwPvV8LK0Cf_22GPx3PF-JSeG0MIM/s1600/IMG_2055.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washington Cascades Summer Glacier Skiing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEjBwjn1ni4XfV785qXZBYeU7WaZhJQYcxo2lk4d8vMbfXUC0AoCyJ3inpY_bKSlYIYvsDlcF5oxksrc2KDC_VtDE0xvgY_lfBEJ7DWf_nP4fmDIZuE5j8Xrhxu17mgFoggdJ9J9ttvc/s1600/IMG_3105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEjBwjn1ni4XfV785qXZBYeU7WaZhJQYcxo2lk4d8vMbfXUC0AoCyJ3inpY_bKSlYIYvsDlcF5oxksrc2KDC_VtDE0xvgY_lfBEJ7DWf_nP4fmDIZuE5j8Xrhxu17mgFoggdJ9J9ttvc/s1600/IMG_3105.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter Skiing Washington Cascades</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe9NxOZWxcKdJtA8n_aY4WmKnh3wFW1TPhdGLI4FKU3-4dgjyMKN19fIbmwK8BfW7NQh2FAf2PDFgYMdlNjfXQuETZHhE8snlRCyKi_lmlpAcxOJYj_xBq8eUFiNlFDH8eXg2htu4tbY/s1600/IMG_3551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe9NxOZWxcKdJtA8n_aY4WmKnh3wFW1TPhdGLI4FKU3-4dgjyMKN19fIbmwK8BfW7NQh2FAf2PDFgYMdlNjfXQuETZHhE8snlRCyKi_lmlpAcxOJYj_xBq8eUFiNlFDH8eXg2htu4tbY/s1600/IMG_3551.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Summer Skiing 3 hrs from my house... how cool is that?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIepa7cbHDNn0uuY8Si0tmh0OrQe9BAkvltHWf6r1049Yjy6cSIgEyiOTVYMk3pBmIfejYCY1mS7s1AxoJg1OpMc9v4JPWvJrWBK2qnMLNYvlwC0z_1iEMzNPnd1E6y90us0l5BuZt1Q/s1600/IMG_3718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIepa7cbHDNn0uuY8Si0tmh0OrQe9BAkvltHWf6r1049Yjy6cSIgEyiOTVYMk3pBmIfejYCY1mS7s1AxoJg1OpMc9v4JPWvJrWBK2qnMLNYvlwC0z_1iEMzNPnd1E6y90us0l5BuZt1Q/s1600/IMG_3718.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Logging... mucking up our roads. not so cool but good training</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPscKDrsMnbsdi3yXnCPWIPPJdydN4EfT-oUYjnS-7Y5bAMKJ9sw5RUTF5WEwTJlH0UmiyzZW5qdFn6LOE7rdg6-coDOF1OCvdFs9VN7GHytG-lJvYBs11Qepb2Hoo0L6-1lUJZgPNFz0/s1600/bike+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPscKDrsMnbsdi3yXnCPWIPPJdydN4EfT-oUYjnS-7Y5bAMKJ9sw5RUTF5WEwTJlH0UmiyzZW5qdFn6LOE7rdg6-coDOF1OCvdFs9VN7GHytG-lJvYBs11Qepb2Hoo0L6-1lUJZgPNFz0/s1600/bike+%25287%2529.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canyons and more Canyons. Amazing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTQiiqiVv_ogFgdhmKsNlo1qjgWspGJzqT6BhDUx353YsCBF5ZiD7bo4Rhh05vIMcNaW5dpx5xO1B4ol6mkS3WNsjCcvga1TqweHG9Zqkf68G98s0uSabdPbnmCjPHQ56tS61F0lScLI/s1600/bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTQiiqiVv_ogFgdhmKsNlo1qjgWspGJzqT6BhDUx353YsCBF5ZiD7bo4Rhh05vIMcNaW5dpx5xO1B4ol6mkS3WNsjCcvga1TqweHG9Zqkf68G98s0uSabdPbnmCjPHQ56tS61F0lScLI/s1600/bike.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring Training on Indian Camp Road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7opf1P0vxb8DQEq6kXrXr3HgC-eTJp4qR-s_naRUz-O70gPmn7GwkCvlHUdlXvRmmsmcFjTwzCtRcXlxnG2iEpMftzsY3sTmaAxsAZ-EeSDeANNRlXj5LujQHJMbiHHwQSEEoe6qNNY/s1600/IMG_0619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7opf1P0vxb8DQEq6kXrXr3HgC-eTJp4qR-s_naRUz-O70gPmn7GwkCvlHUdlXvRmmsmcFjTwzCtRcXlxnG2iEpMftzsY3sTmaAxsAZ-EeSDeANNRlXj5LujQHJMbiHHwQSEEoe6qNNY/s1600/IMG_0619.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top of the World, Wenatchee Mountain Ski</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGcTZEPidlr7ZkBVZsjaiG9_89qKax28XLjYuMK0gmJj-RbldX8w0T9d5rX8XCbH5zHGdEDi_5wQufx0_ghFrnOyG69uMyVWUkfKYInLkqP9tPEm1hfjhiEXIgO20QmEhHdt_kj1kDn4/s1600/bike+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGcTZEPidlr7ZkBVZsjaiG9_89qKax28XLjYuMK0gmJj-RbldX8w0T9d5rX8XCbH5zHGdEDi_5wQufx0_ghFrnOyG69uMyVWUkfKYInLkqP9tPEm1hfjhiEXIgO20QmEhHdt_kj1kDn4/s1600/bike+%25284%2529.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E. Wash at its best, Study in Blue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3whEuw0j2t0BHJasJgERKjF2gULxdk0vNyheJyUCcEi6XUm1nBtY3NsLGXzsYPb0DYUkOkjzLHGFMPcl6DjOkSkLfV-I7LTIWC0_1-4ao2T9MTb2DaCJKhB5arSWvYlDXe8jyCD7u_Q/s1600/bike+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3whEuw0j2t0BHJasJgERKjF2gULxdk0vNyheJyUCcEi6XUm1nBtY3NsLGXzsYPb0DYUkOkjzLHGFMPcl6DjOkSkLfV-I7LTIWC0_1-4ao2T9MTb2DaCJKhB5arSWvYlDXe8jyCD7u_Q/s1600/bike+%25285%2529.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just Follow the GPS!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKTRasEHEVacWjho5sZTRKMfRpAZCA74jmGeqgNjdNJBLDaR3NM_QMXwdlJX0A3v27YNXOO3Gdsi0xiA9VACBoFa_KmOfphrV5Alv_6vMVTuyGXC61m-KljbySsGVnHQXlcAoZoEE-9tQ/s1600/bike+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKTRasEHEVacWjho5sZTRKMfRpAZCA74jmGeqgNjdNJBLDaR3NM_QMXwdlJX0A3v27YNXOO3Gdsi0xiA9VACBoFa_KmOfphrV5Alv_6vMVTuyGXC61m-KljbySsGVnHQXlcAoZoEE-9tQ/s1600/bike+%25286%2529.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring Near Home</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4fOJnGvSpt7UCXDgst8cJeb4raQdQggGgZ0QGWM2an4mXrqrTHWqeAu7u0tB3CLAo52NlzHXNc-d0qwC9lRPG44-5avVPht7ZD3p7xkLUVCKJiZN_TpHIhOKJzU_TJT9OVSIH0KX1KK4/s1600/bike+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4fOJnGvSpt7UCXDgst8cJeb4raQdQggGgZ0QGWM2an4mXrqrTHWqeAu7u0tB3CLAo52NlzHXNc-d0qwC9lRPG44-5avVPht7ZD3p7xkLUVCKJiZN_TpHIhOKJzU_TJT9OVSIH0KX1KK4/s1600/bike+8.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is This A Road?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9sUGklXj6L0OIi7ljzIY6O6jCVl_fV-TbxYNOo_dAm8ygSq9ctt4L3w9cgD-Dqqb3U_ZxG0gvFXNX7O9ZoEER-RCxM2UMJnkhcq_TR-QniFGHmTxnMHHvVzv43a1FiFsv2qEw19uzCeQ/s1600/bike+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9sUGklXj6L0OIi7ljzIY6O6jCVl_fV-TbxYNOo_dAm8ygSq9ctt4L3w9cgD-Dqqb3U_ZxG0gvFXNX7O9ZoEER-RCxM2UMJnkhcq_TR-QniFGHmTxnMHHvVzv43a1FiFsv2qEw19uzCeQ/s1600/bike+9.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gummies keep you Going!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfuGW4y6BfktbAfsq9nEe6rBbiczo-mv8KhOBGGklLE2-M_1QU_1U7waxJ1yI7pNwammQt4ipvzw_4dFlHNayBQnYQdRjkUHaoD2lOVvaN5Se6HZlYNSS1HaZgoGPN7emXpxnrgthwe0/s1600/bike+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPfuGW4y6BfktbAfsq9nEe6rBbiczo-mv8KhOBGGklLE2-M_1QU_1U7waxJ1yI7pNwammQt4ipvzw_4dFlHNayBQnYQdRjkUHaoD2lOVvaN5Se6HZlYNSS1HaZgoGPN7emXpxnrgthwe0/s1600/bike+%25282%2529.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And Miles to Go Before I Sleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyQ-UBhHB_XFHW8OKoRdRz86gzZJy2wrKGra27BeS-_mFlFOjWBf2Cwy84SUkH6GDd1kUoLd98uw1sbtsBcyyFtwCqu78pEzi4DLnurYKOKROihfeDNbvvH3gsGOLaxfwuPwEFu48TGc/s1600/bike+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyQ-UBhHB_XFHW8OKoRdRz86gzZJy2wrKGra27BeS-_mFlFOjWBf2Cwy84SUkH6GDd1kUoLd98uw1sbtsBcyyFtwCqu78pEzi4DLnurYKOKROihfeDNbvvH3gsGOLaxfwuPwEFu48TGc/s1600/bike+%25283%2529.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On and On</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZcxQ36uHZoyQHIikN7MZOkNMjYE4vKDejLjfaCngT6cUL5l3sDlFAPdh8rv_by4kdA6VjG3RlmEiqebG7pSY96-XUlqT6y1j349K0DIqBgmx5qw0HjcUziwCMAcElwH3j3W1HRatmvk/s1600/_DSC4227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEZcxQ36uHZoyQHIikN7MZOkNMjYE4vKDejLjfaCngT6cUL5l3sDlFAPdh8rv_by4kdA6VjG3RlmEiqebG7pSY96-XUlqT6y1j349K0DIqBgmx5qw0HjcUziwCMAcElwH3j3W1HRatmvk/s1600/_DSC4227.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wimps Ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxoib0CC2Bwkp0yz1RxZAGvwl3XRbtUcNSigaAv5HQ_apsDXsDHx0AFEPPrOYaHkdeWinEAVyYGIRqM_0LcRheMDBGwI2GQ1epVe5nHfiwGqfSuZKrY8L2BvlMVV0nusbp90cJvLDTyE/s1600/_DSC4242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoxoib0CC2Bwkp0yz1RxZAGvwl3XRbtUcNSigaAv5HQ_apsDXsDHx0AFEPPrOYaHkdeWinEAVyYGIRqM_0LcRheMDBGwI2GQ1epVe5nHfiwGqfSuZKrY8L2BvlMVV0nusbp90cJvLDTyE/s1600/_DSC4242.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSygRWxsIueHL9BCSM8Z5YCpNhbOKBmjbdxo_FHwSRSumZ4zBu7E9zo8I8-mSjFB2DCI9n2_Ayv55gc7W1XiD7E73RWRJIyFlftAVYSm780D4gTKbQDRx5Mn84O27BYPkaoHtHJLZkwCI/s1600/bike+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSygRWxsIueHL9BCSM8Z5YCpNhbOKBmjbdxo_FHwSRSumZ4zBu7E9zo8I8-mSjFB2DCI9n2_Ayv55gc7W1XiD7E73RWRJIyFlftAVYSm780D4gTKbQDRx5Mn84O27BYPkaoHtHJLZkwCI/s1600/bike+1.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghost Rider In the Sky</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgocnZARvcfGwQcyRY3PZgp1UZW0SbTeLfjONskLBgcfxNwvEeAsIp7z5o-uSbvw1H9A8MmgWNkwTEJI9VwjTkIJm1fPjxWzUkgPyu3cgCa4oY3zoFVKvPWf4GOLZlnPwyL9dC5ulvrouA/s1600/bike+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgocnZARvcfGwQcyRY3PZgp1UZW0SbTeLfjONskLBgcfxNwvEeAsIp7z5o-uSbvw1H9A8MmgWNkwTEJI9VwjTkIJm1fPjxWzUkgPyu3cgCa4oY3zoFVKvPWf4GOLZlnPwyL9dC5ulvrouA/s1600/bike+2.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in the Saddle Again</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nsycWHhffw-jMEfzdgmWjYSTvxrDk703L6e7XItGpVdez84ELfVnOK3BS3a4nLT9V8ledLV_h4NIkEBRj2WZ6yBsvs2Q9Sn0APqY6PbsFzdIqTuZ8-8C2O6XHeF2YZVBVsLkIZ5wDQY/s1600/bike+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nsycWHhffw-jMEfzdgmWjYSTvxrDk703L6e7XItGpVdez84ELfVnOK3BS3a4nLT9V8ledLV_h4NIkEBRj2WZ6yBsvs2Q9Sn0APqY6PbsFzdIqTuZ8-8C2O6XHeF2YZVBVsLkIZ5wDQY/s1600/bike+3.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp on the High Prarie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOhpvwd4cYeGp4JQsdnyqn0vnBZA4m4MFC1VSsejHpM_eAiVbuukVQmJQHiDwdGunOHhV1G0zpJ1mI4bUwF-A9AObCSFRe8nn9br1OGF60MruHYn1d1sQ2X9HDppSO2n4UPXNx_Cwy7c/s1600/bike+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizOhpvwd4cYeGp4JQsdnyqn0vnBZA4m4MFC1VSsejHpM_eAiVbuukVQmJQHiDwdGunOHhV1G0zpJ1mI4bUwF-A9AObCSFRe8nn9br1OGF60MruHYn1d1sQ2X9HDppSO2n4UPXNx_Cwy7c/s1600/bike+5.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dang! That is GOOD! Breakfast of champions</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8trhBOtaTn4q21gQPm_7xuDxrSxpLtXE1MTNp0j6XyLSLRTXd_Kzp2l4OLI2Vde5cSroOe1cSlVtgpAyIeP6MaLxVEO7EQiYP-RdIAUTCvJytAT4brENIAhmHljDsILaF9RzmX2SNfI/s1600/bike+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8trhBOtaTn4q21gQPm_7xuDxrSxpLtXE1MTNp0j6XyLSLRTXd_Kzp2l4OLI2Vde5cSroOe1cSlVtgpAyIeP6MaLxVEO7EQiYP-RdIAUTCvJytAT4brENIAhmHljDsILaF9RzmX2SNfI/s1600/bike+7.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring Creek, Surprisingly warm, until you start to go again with WET feet.</td></tr>
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The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-36327273432491325272014-01-01T16:04:00.000-08:002014-01-01T21:40:58.283-08:00Great Divide Vacation memories. <br />
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So it is now winter. My last post was on August 1st. Since I have not been posting anything, but rather riding; I now have a lot to write about, and so will cover it on a few posts. Hopefully the memory of summer riding will keep me motivated through the blah days of winter and trainer rides. <br />
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First up Josh and I took another vacation and did several days on the Great Divide Route in Late September. Very fun, pretty hard and beautiful scenery.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOTFuHinplNG1UZ39wZGN9UkwyOken8l7LaMLDqmmvW2gSIEYGqyj_FL_UjBJ4R4Skb39tedrbxtf5ZFgYxd-i2k4pn1SyYqywxQBpNWhZm7J9bj6_9xzU4hyX8W9yS9N064yWH9BAqk/s1600/_DSC3686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOTFuHinplNG1UZ39wZGN9UkwyOken8l7LaMLDqmmvW2gSIEYGqyj_FL_UjBJ4R4Skb39tedrbxtf5ZFgYxd-i2k4pn1SyYqywxQBpNWhZm7J9bj6_9xzU4hyX8W9yS9N064yWH9BAqk/s1600/_DSC3686.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Into the Great Wide Open</td></tr>
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My parents were along to drop us off and pick us up and wanted to see the Holland Lake area. We started with a luxury vacation at Holland Lake Lodge with the folks. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPIKovBaKSx2W2EAsmtec0-Qppbb81MMmkMp8g49URkYtxz5bCjHN-Ep32lkHCYoy0kcIxgRG67ckjNZTaeoxXIQLglayagIinPocIdOL8V4sUE1W_ATBi1iOzHYewWw8HvhgeDmEE9Ks/s1600/_DSF2921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPIKovBaKSx2W2EAsmtec0-Qppbb81MMmkMp8g49URkYtxz5bCjHN-Ep32lkHCYoy0kcIxgRG67ckjNZTaeoxXIQLglayagIinPocIdOL8V4sUE1W_ATBi1iOzHYewWw8HvhgeDmEE9Ks/s1600/_DSF2921.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom and I looking down on Holland Lake</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">After Holland lake we got going on our bike trip. </span><br />
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The first day from Holland Lake to Ovando was pretty easy. We had been over the route before and so knew what was coming up. We had good weather and a guaranteed stopping point. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8rMkQICKhMYQXNuR-Y3K8IMLLnX10c0XPpFO3fEx56JDF7tO0jBHkv57ERtSZlvTKh3hw13f54KRTbNmgS8SuyssanfJOlq8Dg6d2Y228szEN83LDYeCxA-URXnXXQk5Hmy31LtAmkg/s1600/_DSC3509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8rMkQICKhMYQXNuR-Y3K8IMLLnX10c0XPpFO3fEx56JDF7tO0jBHkv57ERtSZlvTKh3hw13f54KRTbNmgS8SuyssanfJOlq8Dg6d2Y228szEN83LDYeCxA-URXnXXQk5Hmy31LtAmkg/s1600/_DSC3509.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josh's Bike at the top of Richmond Peak Trail</td></tr>
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We rode in the car to Butte from Ovando. <span style="text-align: center;">We had done the Ovando to Helena section in June and so decided for various reasons to go to Butte and head out from there. </span> We were dropped off at the Butte KOA. It was great!!! We had a KOA cabin so did not have to use the tent. There is an onsite laundry, showers and fried chicken restaurant.. They also sell beer! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfmKVpXHIgDSW6By79LcQAg0b5Kaj09kgA2s_-8-CnH6ETILTW1ossJ3rYhljgzfmWYNrxgLPXWC12vzyQIeHpbDvUI6Xa1UPOQKOcWUDcUed-dwtA_OoumJlOSx_OSH5D6Vsx2_zLlU/s1600/_DSC3533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEfmKVpXHIgDSW6By79LcQAg0b5Kaj09kgA2s_-8-CnH6ETILTW1ossJ3rYhljgzfmWYNrxgLPXWC12vzyQIeHpbDvUI6Xa1UPOQKOcWUDcUed-dwtA_OoumJlOSx_OSH5D6Vsx2_zLlU/s1600/_DSC3533.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside KOA cabin in Butte, Mt</td></tr>
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We considered staying all week, but we were there to ride and so headed out early in the am and rode to Polaris. This day was challenging with lots of climbing. We went over from Butte on dirt roads with many a cow and popped out onto the freeway. The route then heads back into the hills and the famous Fleecer Ridge. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQiiQQTF9uWY4YSTksix7H9d3YmAMotJtofOYjfoRXxs_q0qLwQPZ_aeqeRpfAsI8ARBlajFZSLCEKQV4Roe2829TQt_YGDekiee4FFR9Io68TyWMSzz5JBrEHMk98BvK7DyEo41oBAIg/s1600/_DSC3575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQiiQQTF9uWY4YSTksix7H9d3YmAMotJtofOYjfoRXxs_q0qLwQPZ_aeqeRpfAsI8ARBlajFZSLCEKQV4Roe2829TQt_YGDekiee4FFR9Io68TyWMSzz5JBrEHMk98BvK7DyEo41oBAIg/s1600/_DSC3575.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed up Fleecer cows in background</td></tr>
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I am all for using the Adventure Cycling Association maps and cue sheets but Fleecer was one place we would have taken a big wrong turn if not for the GPS. Well, the GPS and the fact that I was working pretty hard up the hill. Josh was in front, head up, spinning jauntily along. I on the other hand was head down, nose inches from the handlebar, grinding away with all my might. Since my nose was so close to the GPS I noticed that we needed to take a right hand turn across a meadow. Josh kept on up the hill and would have continued for miles had I not yelled at him. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Im2ULVWV3Qa042OPjkXUO7B7CSqFWTSsaEGzAzPOz7MN-DXO2ftOutBBPhDRTMifXbKRMHt3Jpzl2VC7VUmohpUvAmRdTCbSIUkTXG4vE52tS3odqnqIs1fKeQR-kfsHN0dTs0ey7lo/s1600/_DSC3577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Im2ULVWV3Qa042OPjkXUO7B7CSqFWTSsaEGzAzPOz7MN-DXO2ftOutBBPhDRTMifXbKRMHt3Jpzl2VC7VUmohpUvAmRdTCbSIUkTXG4vE52tS3odqnqIs1fKeQR-kfsHN0dTs0ey7lo/s1600/_DSC3577.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Take a right..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The turn is an easy wrong turn to make. We met another group of riders who were coming down after going about 2 miles extra UPHILL, they were lost and we had to give them directions. <br />
Down Fleecer is pretty darn steep. I ended up walking my bike toward the bottom.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0mSjbeoicUHJY6CUTGdZgdT5zng7jmj3VLOrfHR79nQ1VMQoYMIUhWCPvCt-GGa53hBxf4omqjzis9xf4v1suPcQ-NLXmYVPCPXlD3Rc163zyvmb4p_TH6lF3nwhFq4P6gKWFqHmVZw/s1600/_DSC3588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0mSjbeoicUHJY6CUTGdZgdT5zng7jmj3VLOrfHR79nQ1VMQoYMIUhWCPvCt-GGa53hBxf4omqjzis9xf4v1suPcQ-NLXmYVPCPXlD3Rc163zyvmb4p_TH6lF3nwhFq4P6gKWFqHmVZw/s1600/_DSC3588.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bottom of Fleecer Ridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
From there it was an easy cruise to Wise River. <br />
<br />
From Wise River we had a smooth paved ride up and over to Polaris. They were working on the road and had it closed to cars, but we were able to coast without worries of traffic. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KDHDoT5yldQ_5Vwzg73H_1i2NnAlq9wThkh9bfVQPz1Klpv-6TAfGAEE_11ge3ZzUoKQjuZqvIuBfov7CsnOp0QnMt4FKFYCp-GRSAwuagUebR53CkG-ZIBBJ0whbG0HD9rgC9adfO8/s1600/_DSC3600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KDHDoT5yldQ_5Vwzg73H_1i2NnAlq9wThkh9bfVQPz1Klpv-6TAfGAEE_11ge3ZzUoKQjuZqvIuBfov7CsnOp0QnMt4FKFYCp-GRSAwuagUebR53CkG-ZIBBJ0whbG0HD9rgC9adfO8/s1600/_DSC3600.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cruising along the Wise River.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The Grasshopper Inn was a relief. Delicious food and a warm room. Apparently not all Divide tourers are considerate as they have a new policy of no bikes in the rooms. Too much mud and grease. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5_KSO8jtdSQCABZik2I3FRgsZuHWCL0szF9f4mlYtG3OitkPR9uZxJk6-QPAieGeTFjV43FBFEmHVJ51GJjzHW4NxxR5wGNSZHcN6D_GY-ZkdT5PQEl7sSuvqtg8BvxPE8OP5et7Cwk/s1600/_DSC3620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5_KSO8jtdSQCABZik2I3FRgsZuHWCL0szF9f4mlYtG3OitkPR9uZxJk6-QPAieGeTFjV43FBFEmHVJ51GJjzHW4NxxR5wGNSZHcN6D_GY-ZkdT5PQEl7sSuvqtg8BvxPE8OP5et7Cwk/s1600/_DSC3620.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">23 degrees in the am.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
From there it was on to Lima (bean). We started out easily enough, the infamous Bannack road was dry and smooth. We climbed up the Sheep Creek Divide, and down again without seeing any cars, but we had to do some cow herding. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEM4cQCFGOmSekfK4n_G7Z2Avnisk8y-9-oaGLPOuDuDy0IORrbQHWDwYQVUHAMpGFAcSXVabLSRIs6KqN1evobSZWB0VWqYz7VeZCIFJ3kHUJd1aB7yOgLqtE6Qi8jBNWdjHMjb9iws/s1600/_DSC3641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPEM4cQCFGOmSekfK4n_G7Z2Avnisk8y-9-oaGLPOuDuDy0IORrbQHWDwYQVUHAMpGFAcSXVabLSRIs6KqN1evobSZWB0VWqYz7VeZCIFJ3kHUJd1aB7yOgLqtE6Qi8jBNWdjHMjb9iws/s1600/_DSC3641.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No mud in September</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1CH25SxH3Wb0rE3wYycYgLaNUkKKG5cR1UZ-eiX4f3u9gERktA6KiB3z5DyvBuoubfjyVnLMzsgJ8grnAxWHlH4SE7_HVGGnzURTY_iIsmz3xt_1cg-BMb2LSXTzsVbbl6E-5hmufeg/s1600/_DSC3666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1CH25SxH3Wb0rE3wYycYgLaNUkKKG5cR1UZ-eiX4f3u9gERktA6KiB3z5DyvBuoubfjyVnLMzsgJ8grnAxWHlH4SE7_HVGGnzURTY_iIsmz3xt_1cg-BMb2LSXTzsVbbl6E-5hmufeg/s1600/_DSC3666.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top of Sheep Creek Divide</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3C3SDKGn4Y97snjH4t3HdombJhal2VfiEmDwTD_6z5N3_Y8aK2o6L0VWk7Q4s_HUfXeKqU5qtQy9ObOK5CW7e0phGAi8t1lKgSs8IilmsYm2BzUD2VakM7bH_6oJodVJ3AsqK1_qU7v8/s1600/_DSC3678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3C3SDKGn4Y97snjH4t3HdombJhal2VfiEmDwTD_6z5N3_Y8aK2o6L0VWk7Q4s_HUfXeKqU5qtQy9ObOK5CW7e0phGAi8t1lKgSs8IilmsYm2BzUD2VakM7bH_6oJodVJ3AsqK1_qU7v8/s1600/_DSC3678.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling with the Cows.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Once down to the freeway we thought we had an easy seven miles in to Lima. Not so. WIND. Crazy headwind made those 7 miles take about an hour. In Lima we stopped and stayed at Jan's Cabins. Warm, cozy and clean. We ate dinner at the Peat Bar, of divide movie fame. We saw the same two guys from the movie in the bar! The rancher now claims that it is his beef that is served in the bar. You have to cook your own, but it is good beef!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeulblIxh2XzbFNLvDFd-emFbCnO1OCzkhqAzexumXgTdviowHBWlaV-hOmVW1X6imAzlR5N8aumwWhgHFcgddTMWMxIwOkTE4g3WxaOI1qF7Uhirq4mX8vIL9sa7UAWC2pvscr_DVYs/s1600/_DSC3705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeulblIxh2XzbFNLvDFd-emFbCnO1OCzkhqAzexumXgTdviowHBWlaV-hOmVW1X6imAzlR5N8aumwWhgHFcgddTMWMxIwOkTE4g3WxaOI1qF7Uhirq4mX8vIL9sa7UAWC2pvscr_DVYs/s1600/_DSC3705.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">World Famous Peat Bar.. Home of "cook your own steak"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Next day we headed out across to Mack's Inn. More WIND! I am sure I got most of my peck of dirt (and blowing cow poo) in on this day's ride. But the scenery is gorgeous and we finally made it to Idaho, my home state. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hipqlnUoLk2VkUd8AscneEIeK3lTvb0PbtA0Skf_Ce3RsTcZcX4jFL16zg6BBcqRlrELCQXEpUhWSiaNW9Jg9VrM5hxlYpHVB37gJAKzbhnfhmHKVs46IVcJyGEL-hahlgFtYzs4f9c/s1600/_DSC3726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0hipqlnUoLk2VkUd8AscneEIeK3lTvb0PbtA0Skf_Ce3RsTcZcX4jFL16zg6BBcqRlrELCQXEpUhWSiaNW9Jg9VrM5hxlYpHVB37gJAKzbhnfhmHKVs46IVcJyGEL-hahlgFtYzs4f9c/s1600/_DSC3726.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lima Reservoir</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCD9TVDaMlKJ1rSNr32oPatLYPUVQ4IPnfKeNHL_f8H3lC6-ao2iADvJ5WuvHzaKjrOECyMuzVpLInPoXdxQZYv2DVFHq7QflOTuEx1wldBzofS8BEk3fyWyuC4qDOaxQ0YYDHpVmnZI/s1600/_DSC3745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCD9TVDaMlKJ1rSNr32oPatLYPUVQ4IPnfKeNHL_f8H3lC6-ao2iADvJ5WuvHzaKjrOECyMuzVpLInPoXdxQZYv2DVFHq7QflOTuEx1wldBzofS8BEk3fyWyuC4qDOaxQ0YYDHpVmnZI/s1600/_DSC3745.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Battling the Headwind</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMiDb4G9NissnDPUk-DuuvBTQtOeP7zlkv9e4_ZSvbF6nPW_Ofs7F-nTH4BlaF2l65E5xOlEeV_daFvx9rQnKMfcJ5Bfbz7TGTOYGPuHmn3ERH0P_Gtda-6P7-xQkbZZTsXzPwJ_zmVk/s1600/_DSC3747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMiDb4G9NissnDPUk-DuuvBTQtOeP7zlkv9e4_ZSvbF6nPW_Ofs7F-nTH4BlaF2l65E5xOlEeV_daFvx9rQnKMfcJ5Bfbz7TGTOYGPuHmn3ERH0P_Gtda-6P7-xQkbZZTsXzPwJ_zmVk/s1600/_DSC3747.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plenty of Straight... with amazing scenery.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTReYnlPSKYG8CdDOyVB3sRIBrSVsWfws8_jGsft031GMGQiT8zN3FRTkzmy_-N4kcJJFOO2K33ycG7VU3nomW4_2v1EG-9o1ocPEyTcIWD-H5VEDMPDRWcvpRcOzPTQwY9DxB5cnnXA8/s1600/_DSC3778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTReYnlPSKYG8CdDOyVB3sRIBrSVsWfws8_jGsft031GMGQiT8zN3FRTkzmy_-N4kcJJFOO2K33ycG7VU3nomW4_2v1EG-9o1ocPEyTcIWD-H5VEDMPDRWcvpRcOzPTQwY9DxB5cnnXA8/s1600/_DSC3778.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turned the corner and the wind was at our backs, for about a mile</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We stopped at Mack's inn, and I must confess, we stayed over a day. I had started getting a big nasty saddle sore.. I will not add photos, but it was gross! Also this was vacation, so we decided to rest. Of note, there is NO BEER at Mack's Inn or the gas station down by the river. So after riding all the way from Lima, Josh had to make a 5 mile beer run up to the highway junction. After resting my rear end for a day and eating lots of pizza and huge breakfasts we headed out again.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRIzjmZPwKCFx2u_niOIM0gILu3FJ8iLqYHpMBSChE593D7ALdZeFwIFCCgFOof6OK0hfMD9QTd-h7xJ_uiSaPyMDVhWRe-FKzs83rHSCTXVLFqxqI7GMfip-2ijR4P6-F3Etu86vQIVk/s1600/iceCream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRIzjmZPwKCFx2u_niOIM0gILu3FJ8iLqYHpMBSChE593D7ALdZeFwIFCCgFOof6OK0hfMD9QTd-h7xJ_uiSaPyMDVhWRe-FKzs83rHSCTXVLFqxqI7GMfip-2ijR4P6-F3Etu86vQIVk/s1600/iceCream.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resting my bum and eating ice cream at Mack's Inn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The next morning we bumped down the ATV ruts on the rails to trails had a short day to Ashton. We lucked out on the trail, it was raining lightly and the trail was firm and well packed. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhI9wcJJ9vVmdK4-c6SATW_JVOTOVwwDqhXJBaEwvoNqomiL1w9QR_C11MOlCcPu3G1uukjqXVBhwT5wOfb0B-AaJH7bXlluI3ZQYtD_NgUhExok36NKiLGMnpMpHi-ad08S_AoESkAe0/s1600/_DSC3878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhI9wcJJ9vVmdK4-c6SATW_JVOTOVwwDqhXJBaEwvoNqomiL1w9QR_C11MOlCcPu3G1uukjqXVBhwT5wOfb0B-AaJH7bXlluI3ZQYtD_NgUhExok36NKiLGMnpMpHi-ad08S_AoESkAe0/s1600/_DSC3878.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sandy Rails to Trails</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4baZE2pFCzqSjUwLym6LR9PZ-N2WA0H7c40CxJwkAlMFX4dJl0RBN_q3jrszR8S5Z3beH2aZixg71qEs3TKcFKbZg2_cbs1CkK2zTpyPPbEisGs6bePKsm_p1mB7OwXE0RS8tZBGDDE/s1600/_DSC3900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4baZE2pFCzqSjUwLym6LR9PZ-N2WA0H7c40CxJwkAlMFX4dJl0RBN_q3jrszR8S5Z3beH2aZixg71qEs3TKcFKbZg2_cbs1CkK2zTpyPPbEisGs6bePKsm_p1mB7OwXE0RS8tZBGDDE/s1600/_DSC3900.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail becomes better toward the end.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOo_y1kyFR9xz8Zxe0d4BVdIyPBvucffUKTo7ht_3rHpk1Rd0fHyEfD0_m_K0VOc1Vlb9HeSzk6Zc1aHcme-LYZyMuRmrPltyUOL4O05Sb5IzNsv8iVuecM4xaaH4eh17XdKmJ-PzrTg/s1600/WarmRiver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOo_y1kyFR9xz8Zxe0d4BVdIyPBvucffUKTo7ht_3rHpk1Rd0fHyEfD0_m_K0VOc1Vlb9HeSzk6Zc1aHcme-LYZyMuRmrPltyUOL4O05Sb5IzNsv8iVuecM4xaaH4eh17XdKmJ-PzrTg/s1600/WarmRiver.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finish of Rail to Trail, along Warm River near Ashton, Id</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
After Ashton we stopped riding and went into vacation mode. On to Yellowstone. I had not planned to fish, but could not resist the temptation to flyfish on the Firehole river. So I tested the water proof finish of my biking gear. With the addition of some trash bags over my socks my Chacos were acceptable wading shoes. And I caught trout! <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4OnrVxS0K39V5U-9elRYjbWF0wFeL_fcVcPVNYe7l-h1YXdlfb4fYDEvoembGzkbgCCnQ-QkYTAi-8wJJs3thGkNkosV_HxkM97aGEYGUhYt0XjYyWss79Jv_2_F4S2_5lz9suhygM60/s1600/_DSC3987.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4OnrVxS0K39V5U-9elRYjbWF0wFeL_fcVcPVNYe7l-h1YXdlfb4fYDEvoembGzkbgCCnQ-QkYTAi-8wJJs3thGkNkosV_HxkM97aGEYGUhYt0XjYyWss79Jv_2_F4S2_5lz9suhygM60/s1600/_DSC3987.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling rain gear makes a great flyfishing getup</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyPJyUrTFUGb2lGH4xTtN6CrrlxD5I3j1C7lmqz7H9rO4i_AdFiIX6yfZSR1nY4OXN5YlvEA1Ob8_Y7oz1cxcxUZaaRoU6f_UbdQg1QHQ-p_nHq1C9hqjhxqllNCCT3s4EHGwn2F6Oy58/s1600/_DSC4050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyPJyUrTFUGb2lGH4xTtN6CrrlxD5I3j1C7lmqz7H9rO4i_AdFiIX6yfZSR1nY4OXN5YlvEA1Ob8_Y7oz1cxcxUZaaRoU6f_UbdQg1QHQ-p_nHq1C9hqjhxqllNCCT3s4EHGwn2F6Oy58/s1600/_DSC4050.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Firehole River Fishing</td></tr>
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We stayed in luxury again at the Old Faithful Inn for a night while in Yellowstone. Was nice to be inside out of the snow and away from bears.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzW8fKJL9OYeAWz7GATsvfO7Xr0s1w13FUKT7LIirAy3d1XaomL0Uw77tIOfCkp1gHNqlKGJGiN4m7YaIIxEEFWHxD1qErdpwgZ-sOOVgT419gcqfPbfsrPNoEGBebICsHyze06OGfeqc/s1600/LodgeInterior+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzW8fKJL9OYeAWz7GATsvfO7Xr0s1w13FUKT7LIirAy3d1XaomL0Uw77tIOfCkp1gHNqlKGJGiN4m7YaIIxEEFWHxD1qErdpwgZ-sOOVgT419gcqfPbfsrPNoEGBebICsHyze06OGfeqc/s1600/LodgeInterior+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early winter snowstorm at Old Faithful</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj47kdQmrT1ZXGZVUHNu4NF6wxpvU5dCdZmKD_Q-6scgHhFRZ8C1L7otGNOO2tzb7q-Z9Q8QFGZ2ASQw3Fy8hdhi0KCY1tH4S0Mke12RJv6tzmC1NCaXIB_F34iNGpD5BEWKyuQd5S_jaQ/s1600/_DSC4067.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj47kdQmrT1ZXGZVUHNu4NF6wxpvU5dCdZmKD_Q-6scgHhFRZ8C1L7otGNOO2tzb7q-Z9Q8QFGZ2ASQw3Fy8hdhi0KCY1tH4S0Mke12RJv6tzmC1NCaXIB_F34iNGpD5BEWKyuQd5S_jaQ/s1600/_DSC4067.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Vintage bear warning sign... Where are the cow warning signs?</td></tr>
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All in all it was a great training ride. Gorgeous country.. I got to test myself with a fully packed bike. I did wimp out and did not camp (it is vacation after all). Most nights were below freezing and as it was late September it got dark pretty early. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDV7Wv84ixnvMPaZ3L2hpUS3_UnQM1QeXvSK0cHz3E0jmF-aVL0mlUeN5fsHhA5DpP9m-PAStNP1mIzAf4lztxCBnhUNOCR2HbZdQ_2CAJtQAuGJWV5GWrs718RnTgqkb1cRkFvWhLbVc/s1600/_DSF3007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDV7Wv84ixnvMPaZ3L2hpUS3_UnQM1QeXvSK0cHz3E0jmF-aVL0mlUeN5fsHhA5DpP9m-PAStNP1mIzAf4lztxCBnhUNOCR2HbZdQ_2CAJtQAuGJWV5GWrs718RnTgqkb1cRkFvWhLbVc/s1600/_DSF3007.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellowstone Lake</td></tr>
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The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-4664386280964463342013-08-01T09:11:00.000-07:002013-08-01T16:37:55.765-07:00Ovando Montana... Friendliest Bike Town in the West.For our 12th anniversary I had planned a romantic getaway of riding our bikes through the carnivore infested back woods of the Flathead River Valley in Canada. However with our usual impeccable timing we arrived in Sparwood the day the huge rainstorm of 2013 began and the next day the flooding started. Josh and I were merely inconvenienced and had to change our plans but this was devastating for the residents of the area. Our best wishes are with the people up there. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_KFxf46s8T4tHI6i0e2CXh86zK18f4mh5eGESyq2-lP-3F3seA45IacAy5bLwJCTxaEbPf2dvoeAsRmn-5eI5MNceLh3LM5GQL9Wphx4YVBxiuqqQE8KypET4Zm7kGq-7pnNylbXVdk/s1600/SparwoodFlood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_KFxf46s8T4tHI6i0e2CXh86zK18f4mh5eGESyq2-lP-3F3seA45IacAy5bLwJCTxaEbPf2dvoeAsRmn-5eI5MNceLh3LM5GQL9Wphx4YVBxiuqqQE8KypET4Zm7kGq-7pnNylbXVdk/s1600/SparwoodFlood.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michel Creek outside of Sparwood, BC on the Great Divide Route</td></tr>
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Anyway we had to head south for drier riding. We ended up in Ovando, Montana, and we were glad we did. The Great Divide Mountain Bike Route goes right through town as does the Lewis and Clark Bicycle Trail. So this was the perfect jumping off point to start our tour.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1uVkWgkk5uQsP4Cc0cL_0ysL3osuLFNRskEQR3AZtUP-IR2KUqQPRm1Q-Sx8sPfXlJeIk9yOgUhElsByoi7yvjUl2vR1EaKnJlsNAxAmGpkHptMkbDnwM_yfX1sCbn3MY-WheGCY7Zx8/s1600/OvandoPhotos+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1uVkWgkk5uQsP4Cc0cL_0ysL3osuLFNRskEQR3AZtUP-IR2KUqQPRm1Q-Sx8sPfXlJeIk9yOgUhElsByoi7yvjUl2vR1EaKnJlsNAxAmGpkHptMkbDnwM_yfX1sCbn3MY-WheGCY7Zx8/s1600/OvandoPhotos+13.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ovando Welcomes Cyclists</td></tr>
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We rolled into town and fortunately the friendly owners of the Blackfoot Inn rented us a very nice comfortable room and let us park the truck out back while we were away on the tour. We chose to stay at the Inn in order to dry out, but if you are a cyclist on a budget or just want to camp out you can stay in the historic Hoosegow or the Sheepherder trailer for $5 donation or just camp on the museum lawn for free. Outdoor portapotty and solar shower are available.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaU_Jol2ybuxq-4wZVfMXTO-3WSkaaVB2LqKLIevJQxB0PsCQ5TYD99sP4rXC_-3Uz5dbv-Fum5Taw66rGYrnKtvZJSy3pNcU83VkSC_GoucL6KlGhIsBlsgXmzXzcx4-CN50ntSYXMQ8/s1600/OvandoPhotos+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaU_Jol2ybuxq-4wZVfMXTO-3WSkaaVB2LqKLIevJQxB0PsCQ5TYD99sP4rXC_-3Uz5dbv-Fum5Taw66rGYrnKtvZJSy3pNcU83VkSC_GoucL6KlGhIsBlsgXmzXzcx4-CN50ntSYXMQ8/s1600/OvandoPhotos+2.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blackfoot Inn and Store.. Stock up on goodies and stay here</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQ82VdCL9P5Y_ObIlD0GYx0UNjscNSmHE5bOEHRlDbX8gK4-MXod4th2DMfIhyphenhyphenrRz0gIRwCbLAB8ZppSNZT9ERIoVEqEKKkoFc8u_BDkjfXXF9EXOqFvvKz8Pts5IHS6agt26SaWNCxk/s1600/OvandoPhotos+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQ82VdCL9P5Y_ObIlD0GYx0UNjscNSmHE5bOEHRlDbX8gK4-MXod4th2DMfIhyphenhyphenrRz0gIRwCbLAB8ZppSNZT9ERIoVEqEKKkoFc8u_BDkjfXXF9EXOqFvvKz8Pts5IHS6agt26SaWNCxk/s1600/OvandoPhotos+1.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Historic town jail, converted to cyclist lodging.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDmwBB7sJ8Y1EedbaK9DvbgWaWSJ5_vTaQbcG6yUBdB45EDfhLxY15RmhbGHs_q5p7xzwq_mW6pPUkpxyDf_RjZtE5GmODoP3JMixQEJ1TVCki5F0XwFN4L4ENMbVYtBm3OWrQOTZOI4/s1600/Sheepherdertrailer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDmwBB7sJ8Y1EedbaK9DvbgWaWSJ5_vTaQbcG6yUBdB45EDfhLxY15RmhbGHs_q5p7xzwq_mW6pPUkpxyDf_RjZtE5GmODoP3JMixQEJ1TVCki5F0XwFN4L4ENMbVYtBm3OWrQOTZOI4/s1600/Sheepherdertrailer.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheepherder Trailer, outdoor toilet and solar shower in background.</td></tr>
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The next day we headed out on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route to Helena, after a delicious breakfast at the Stray Bullet Cafe. Highly recommended, but somehow we did not photograph it. </div>
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The ride made for a long day over the great divide three separate times with lots of climbing and descending in just over 100 miles. We travelled through Lincoln and then no more towns until Helena. The scenery was interesting, sometimes marred by clear cuts and old mines, but overall quite beautiful. We did hit some thick mud at the top of one of the divide crossings and of course I crashed in it, but no serious damage other than a beautiful bloody wound so on we went. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSKeaeFuJ1krCLuvjmkK5r0-_7LUCvvlqBqW7BQtgx0NyJjR95hvSNo-lunZ89vpT-P__utDvqryaYwXsLRtO6AkcLKjVRuYfeGSQMBZhrqRJhyL4L8ueg-cj_S7pIeNcHsx4phyphenhyphenfM0A/s1600/OvandoPhotos+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSKeaeFuJ1krCLuvjmkK5r0-_7LUCvvlqBqW7BQtgx0NyJjR95hvSNo-lunZ89vpT-P__utDvqryaYwXsLRtO6AkcLKjVRuYfeGSQMBZhrqRJhyL4L8ueg-cj_S7pIeNcHsx4phyphenhyphenfM0A/s1600/OvandoPhotos+5.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed out toward the mountains</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAoPBs9WJbOA7zH2CG55jsKbcgJ28wNvr_9QOkRhAvFDPApcFhenoYG4sj18HekztgDT3XqJAOsZiRVp9CjTmFaWwNLYsQXZOB0wFKoWNQkWFJszptJhl07aCKDnDuLMXI1LIVW-dtSE/s1600/Batch2Helena+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvAoPBs9WJbOA7zH2CG55jsKbcgJ28wNvr_9QOkRhAvFDPApcFhenoYG4sj18HekztgDT3XqJAOsZiRVp9CjTmFaWwNLYsQXZOB0wFKoWNQkWFJszptJhl07aCKDnDuLMXI1LIVW-dtSE/s1600/Batch2Helena+2.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bottom of S.Fork Poorman Creek</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqRJVhlyHaCrQLTjoc22GEIZJwYKvBOOA8IuBtqErtCzr8PZ7NZg7TNVVxpmnCCp0aJ7pqwPkBlXFo-KxjUZRhe-ZDCNfwqQ-aCDUJ9LgN55dtMhGUDeXieBt1x_QsVhWj8kmdB5n5-Q/s1600/OvandoPhotos+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvqRJVhlyHaCrQLTjoc22GEIZJwYKvBOOA8IuBtqErtCzr8PZ7NZg7TNVVxpmnCCp0aJ7pqwPkBlXFo-KxjUZRhe-ZDCNfwqQ-aCDUJ9LgN55dtMhGUDeXieBt1x_QsVhWj8kmdB5n5-Q/s1600/OvandoPhotos+6.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful riding, but clouds mean rain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCB4W0-FgH-vpfhDm1hSys4wV7yPSl1zHHRmiy-1hA8nkbVuWfMtlIR1pbi_5_emwhHtMPUHDRStUUKvvM9uF7Y9s-ki2Ei6lx-lHxHQKVKNSwfMs-aEda0bQcZwHXvWj0g1t6prmXEYk/s1600/OvandoPhotos+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCB4W0-FgH-vpfhDm1hSys4wV7yPSl1zHHRmiy-1hA8nkbVuWfMtlIR1pbi_5_emwhHtMPUHDRStUUKvvM9uF7Y9s-ki2Ei6lx-lHxHQKVKNSwfMs-aEda0bQcZwHXvWj0g1t6prmXEYk/s1600/OvandoPhotos+8.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wide open country closer to Helena</td></tr>
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We ended up in Helena and were longing to get back to Ovando. We stayed on the outskirts of town and so did not explore much. Bright and early we headed back making a loop partially on pavement and partially on the GDMBR to Ovando. Still 100 miles but less climbing so we had more time for photos and picnicking. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRq_xTkDTa1LyV0kA4Nm1R-AdDPC1PbYa4k-B6Rq9OHLj4KGQexeOWpwbvo0hipgRkiSWT_zk5A_qjm_sQp0G4FOo8MI02gz5_9IoYQsJg82Pdmn0HyWGAiuakdNJDlTHwgCWn3PVGY8A/s1600/Batch2Helena+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRq_xTkDTa1LyV0kA4Nm1R-AdDPC1PbYa4k-B6Rq9OHLj4KGQexeOWpwbvo0hipgRkiSWT_zk5A_qjm_sQp0G4FOo8MI02gz5_9IoYQsJg82Pdmn0HyWGAiuakdNJDlTHwgCWn3PVGY8A/s1600/Batch2Helena+3.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We took it easy on the way back, Picnic time at the top of Poorman Creek</td></tr>
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Once there the Inn was closed and two other groups were in town so we pitched our tent on the lawn.</div>
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We were hungry once we arrived and so headed to Trixie's. Just the place to refuel and relax after a day's riding. The restaurant and bar is at the west end of town on a hill near the highway. A short walk or ride from camp. Again no photos, I guess it is hard to remember to snap a photo when you are hungry.</div>
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Our third day was a loop up to Seeley Lake and back on the GDMBR. More beautiful riding. </div>
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We also saw many tracks of the racers who had come through a few days earlier. </div>
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We had a great time in Ovando and found it had all we needed to start and end a tour. The local fly shop also carries a few basic cycling supplies. Overall highly recommended as a cycling destination or a stop off on a tour. </div>
The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-76761766216440990442013-07-21T14:30:00.000-07:002013-07-21T14:56:56.813-07:00Red Devil Challenge RunWell, I have not been blogging much as it is summer and I have been out riding, running and gardening, not to mention work and all the other business of life. I did want to do a post on the Red Devil Trail Run, even though it was back in June. <br />
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Anyone who is also a runner out there might really enjoy the Red Devil, just outside of Cashmere. This year they added the option of a 10K or a 1.5K kids run to the 25K.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVAqEuNRp-HhNp_47OeNIdt6c-JTlNvS7nvamVBBd-3_epfbDRLHSAijhXOiUytuLwdGEddEWix5bf0KsEAXa8LVqj0K-PwtXAp2PYp9lhlSL3zI6ebI4yWHA_34959prfu5yzcqQb6K4/s1600/RedDevilMap2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVAqEuNRp-HhNp_47OeNIdt6c-JTlNvS7nvamVBBd-3_epfbDRLHSAijhXOiUytuLwdGEddEWix5bf0KsEAXa8LVqj0K-PwtXAp2PYp9lhlSL3zI6ebI4yWHA_34959prfu5yzcqQb6K4/s1600/RedDevilMap2013.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Map of the race... A great trail run just for fun too!</td></tr>
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My sister and I did the 25K again, but we were most proud of the fact that we talked my mom into starting running. I can't ever remember her going out for a run and prior to this year she had never entered a race. We did a lot of fast talking and got her signed up and trained up. She completed the 10K run in 1:36:10. In addition to meeting her goals of finishing in less than 2 hours and <u>not</u> coming in last place she managed to lose 15 lbs and counting by running it off. Over all she feels better and has more energy, and all of this at the age of 65! She just proved that it is never too late to start!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqEdJOFnYcDishMsuTdp8pYXt_eqG5Ql38t7zTXZcrLZ1SOipbfzCFZiCioUOMfKYsrQ3n7aH1HwPqltPnPThN0CdpLFe1RRRS39w60I4gSGYPgrbz_NbQDZGuFWSFYVJ_Jcxy9hQD5E/s1600/P1040422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqEdJOFnYcDishMsuTdp8pYXt_eqG5Ql38t7zTXZcrLZ1SOipbfzCFZiCioUOMfKYsrQ3n7aH1HwPqltPnPThN0CdpLFe1RRRS39w60I4gSGYPgrbz_NbQDZGuFWSFYVJ_Jcxy9hQD5E/s1600/P1040422.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlene and Mom discussing last minute strategy before the race.</td></tr>
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I competed in the 25K again this year. I was a bit disappointed at being slower than last year, but I learned a bit about race strategy and will be better prepared next time. My first excuse or failure was in training. I have been focused on biking this year and have not been running enough. I did go out and run the course and did some long runs but I hate speed work and so did not do much (well any speed work really). In addition I made some mistakes on race day. I think I did not eat enough prior to the race, breakfast was a good 2 hours before and I skipped the free snacks at the start. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlene at MilePost 111 the meet up place for the race. Note the goodies that I did not eat. </td></tr>
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I then started out way too fast chasing some people uphill. I was trying to keep up and just burned out all of my energy too early. I missed the first aid station and so was running out of water and calories by the time I made it to the 2nd. Too late!! I felt nauseated and bonkish on the last section of the race. I did learn how to push through and was quite proud of my 8th place (for women) finish, and hope to move up next time. All in all it was a great race and we had fun and a well deserved post race beer at Milepost 111 in our Red Devil pint glasses.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishers! </td></tr>
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I confess that the photos are not up to the usual standard but that is because Josh was not there. He is the family photographer, and I was gasping for air and so did not take any photos of the trail.<br />
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The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-19425776829115516542013-06-13T21:27:00.001-07:002013-06-19T08:31:41.994-07:00Knitting in the WoodsSo as I watch everyone line up for the Tour Divide race I am starting to feel a bit nervous. I am still in the planning stages and who knows what will happen in a year, but right now I am planning to race the divide myself. I have no delusions that I will win or beat Eszter Horanyi's amazing time, but I still want to do it. I am fighting for the Lanterne Rouge. I think I have a pretty good shot at it. <br />
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I am overwhelmed by all the planning and prepping. I am attempting to become a bike mechanic, fast bike rider, to improve my endurance, learn to use a Garmin (arrgh, another topic all together) and so on and so forth. Still I have been neglecting one bit of the planning, what to knit on the divide?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gEPpRhPdWT6Eq3EhRWw98SZX1S3_1TGunJBm_UELNAgwmxFTrxQ9CSFIskzMrlBMEo6WMMLnsKhTqSWa8ej_C051d8UL0e9tKT58_hEQKiDdlyHQu7BWYc2VyhM7s88Hz_LvYMm0Ik8/s1600/IMG_2613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gEPpRhPdWT6Eq3EhRWw98SZX1S3_1TGunJBm_UELNAgwmxFTrxQ9CSFIskzMrlBMEo6WMMLnsKhTqSWa8ej_C051d8UL0e9tKT58_hEQKiDdlyHQu7BWYc2VyhM7s88Hz_LvYMm0Ik8/s320/IMG_2613.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polebridge Knitting</td></tr>
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So for all you fast racer types, you may wonder what knitting has to do with anything, but it is important. I mean for one's mental health. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvNy08J8KIpiGNFtLwz_uRry08VKu82_Wy6C_oOvgQwp-hQoglqFYgYnPf626s3BKyQwPsfM7TLEk2h5F9Bk0onDGmnfktOs2fk90t_4eUf_b7TZEwSzxuaYbGIyUGCdPDnkWXyeWn4g/s1600/IMG_2735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvNy08J8KIpiGNFtLwz_uRry08VKu82_Wy6C_oOvgQwp-hQoglqFYgYnPf626s3BKyQwPsfM7TLEk2h5F9Bk0onDGmnfktOs2fk90t_4eUf_b7TZEwSzxuaYbGIyUGCdPDnkWXyeWn4g/s320/IMG_2735.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I have been on many a backpacking, skiing and more lately bikepacking trips. The same thing always happens. You get to camp, get it set up and then what... Too tired to explore around, need to go to sleep and yet.... There are things that go bump in the night, or worse they snuffle through your camp and then decide to chomp on you! In the dark of the backcountry a little mouse becomes a bear sneaking up on you.... his jaw opening... sharp pointy teeth!! <br />
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Enter knitting. Light weight, portable, and keeps your mind occupied. Who can worry about bears and cougars when you have to get to the end of the round and keep the pattern straight on the lace socks you are knitting? And if you need to fall asleep just knit a few rows in straight stockinette stitch and you will soon be in dreamland<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0mRW8VrXQux0Z7QUp5ZhqZad0xnsHlv8tUs1fDvGyE9s_Fm3-Twr3FS9IHJFypB8Yu9hKZL5VW7E8IIp_ndSnHmPE-HQaGWksW5K9wIkLXk_OMRDdmjloBMzaQt3I4T1BClaaeMf75I/s1600/IMG_3455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0mRW8VrXQux0Z7QUp5ZhqZad0xnsHlv8tUs1fDvGyE9s_Fm3-Twr3FS9IHJFypB8Yu9hKZL5VW7E8IIp_ndSnHmPE-HQaGWksW5K9wIkLXk_OMRDdmjloBMzaQt3I4T1BClaaeMf75I/s320/IMG_3455.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Knitting can also be useful in the day light hours. When boredom of riding that I have read so much about sets in you can dream up a new pattern. Or solve that tricky problem of turning the heel, or how to make the cable on the hat look better and so on and so forth. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80hVw4CsElfdhZCcdbMDHhB7SgCkuaJ7gOqEb93ynNQFiZydjoYu5-8z_sE3Ij0hyN62TWO7DTolcJAialGSRzcklnKOwwQjHReo-pl8__XwaykSp14qVTPAl5M9MHepjKJmlUnoHmpo/s1600/IMG_2755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80hVw4CsElfdhZCcdbMDHhB7SgCkuaJ7gOqEb93ynNQFiZydjoYu5-8z_sE3Ij0hyN62TWO7DTolcJAialGSRzcklnKOwwQjHReo-pl8__XwaykSp14qVTPAl5M9MHepjKJmlUnoHmpo/s320/IMG_2755.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have knitted in some beautiful spots, and when I get home I have a great souvenir of where I have been. Wearing the item, or in some cases just looking at it and wondering why I made such a strange garment will bring back trip memories. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBP_AZbBlLsdk4tnw-Eu8RPytGn12TZrub2VaBikE-_T873QA9Zct06ytpWOb2YL3U0K5X2IE0kq8uSAbjy-AWgxF6ULIMf-RUSGk0yfJVuCbavuMuPZP9BHkXFujow06BvjXO2-FBSR4/s1600/IMG_7498+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBP_AZbBlLsdk4tnw-Eu8RPytGn12TZrub2VaBikE-_T873QA9Zct06ytpWOb2YL3U0K5X2IE0kq8uSAbjy-AWgxF6ULIMf-RUSGk0yfJVuCbavuMuPZP9BHkXFujow06BvjXO2-FBSR4/s320/IMG_7498+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I plan to squeeze in some knitting on the divide. I imagine that I will not have much time and will be too exhausted to worry about the bears etc. However a few stitches here and there will be a much needed respite I am sure. I am working out a pattern for some Divide Socks or maybe a Divide Hat, and when I get home a Lanterne Rouge sweater.. we will see. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcE-fBaJY2AmyN_W0KJbFYYwezLHNap6LCsnHCv4Lkcdgtuhwiaj49yDGHyNQwz7r66OJcHL2yaJSc2qVDtwWdeHnohyphenhyphen1bqlY3qPyz1Uh_mZoi7Uslm5CsynvsAi0GBdab8-tc7mskVw/s1600/_MG_0336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcE-fBaJY2AmyN_W0KJbFYYwezLHNap6LCsnHCv4Lkcdgtuhwiaj49yDGHyNQwz7r66OJcHL2yaJSc2qVDtwWdeHnohyphenhyphen1bqlY3qPyz1Uh_mZoi7Uslm5CsynvsAi0GBdab8-tc7mskVw/s320/_MG_0336.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hat inspired by Cascade Mountains</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUS9mY6j6dnwCnlmqvxLpnpd77lU92GBdYStfJhbLeYty8XB6TzEaw287Jlh8H3mC3Y9t5xrsV-Clm7ViEn9m4FukZfsuXJSVhewdoce-d7ljZLyNQGN7LocDJgfQQtfL8GZyMiyH5JM/s1600/_MG_2529+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUS9mY6j6dnwCnlmqvxLpnpd77lU92GBdYStfJhbLeYty8XB6TzEaw287Jlh8H3mC3Y9t5xrsV-Clm7ViEn9m4FukZfsuXJSVhewdoce-d7ljZLyNQGN7LocDJgfQQtfL8GZyMiyH5JM/s320/_MG_2529+-+Version+2.jpg" width="212" /></a><br />
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I highly recommend knitting to all outdoorspersons with overactive imaginations. Soothing, complicated enough to make you forget about predators and tedious enough to help you fall asleep. Best of all when you get home you have a lovely new garment to wear on your next adventure. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeBJieEKIm5nKp1apIaVZ7yr7LRKn5lEQjQK-mQ2p8fWBTik4HaLWy84okcKGJujD3mfMVWzTh1pN45qbM7oCy1Ny78G4Yd8RVA57YJzq4lpukfhj_hKkSfP7gmUC0ra4Rw_BpXRvN08/s1600/_MG_0706+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeBJieEKIm5nKp1apIaVZ7yr7LRKn5lEQjQK-mQ2p8fWBTik4HaLWy84okcKGJujD3mfMVWzTh1pN45qbM7oCy1Ny78G4Yd8RVA57YJzq4lpukfhj_hKkSfP7gmUC0ra4Rw_BpXRvN08/s320/_MG_0706+-+Version+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hand Knit Hats are Handy</td></tr>
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"Knit on with confidence and hope through all crisis" Elizabeth Zimmerman.<br />
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The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-81137813847312776352013-05-27T16:14:00.000-07:002014-07-30T11:42:01.530-07:00Jones H Bar Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been riding the <a href="http://www.jonesbikes.com/h-bar.html" target="_blank">Jones H bar </a>for about 3 months now and I think I will give an initial review. I have to say that I think it is fantabulous. I have logged several hundred miles with the handlebar. No tours as of yet, so I will have to update once I have taken it out fully loaded. I have ridden it for a long ride of over 7 hours, and in a variety of conditions including paved road, gravel and dirt roads and single track.<br />
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I have a personal mechanic (Josh), who put it on my Salsa Fargo small frame. The bike is actually designed for a drop bar and has shorter top tube than a standard MTB. I had to go with a 90 mm stem. I am pretty short at only 5'4". The backsweep of the bar makes it important to take your time fitting a proper stem length depending on your frame design. On a standard mountain bike with a longer top tube I do not think this would be an issue at all. To complete the set up I added Grip Shift Attack 9 speed shifters and Paul Love Lever 2.5 brake levers. I also put on Ergon GP1 short grips. I wrapped the bar in some beautiful green Salsa cork tape.<br />
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Once set up it was time to ride. Being a smaller rider I was a bit concerned about riding a 29er. The H bar is nice and wide, 660 mm wide at the widest. I find the wide bar gives me lots of control and leverage to crank up hills and descend in tight corners on technical single track. The bar has lots of hand positions but I noticed that on more technical types of terrain I spend most of the time with my hands in the widest position on the Ergon grips at the ends of the bar. This position gives the most control. On smoother or flatter sections I like to take advantage of all the other positions. I can stretch out my hands and fingers in the loop or ride in an almost aero position on the front of the loop. The front position is also great for stretching out your back. <br />
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The super snazzy loop shape also is great for attaching all your bike gizmos to the bar. So far I have only my computer on the bike but even with my front bedroll attached I still have plenty of space for aero bars, gps, lights and what have you. <br />
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The drawbacks of the bars are that they are a little bit on the portly side at 502 gm according to the <a href="http://www.jonesbikes.com/h-bar.html" target="_blank">Jones website</a>. I think the weight reflects the durability of the bar. It seems to be extremely well made with nice smooth welds and feels like it will never break. I don't notice the extra weight while riding. The other potential drawback is the sweep of the bar leaves your brake levers a bit exposed during a crash. I purposely left the levers a bit loose so they move rather than bend in a fall. So far have only fallen on soft mud (knock wood), but the arrangement worked well and the lever moved but no damage done.<br />
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All in all I would highly recommend this bar to anyone looking for a mountain bike bar with lots of hand positions and space to hang all your doodads and gear. In fact it is the only bar so far that has actually tempted Josh to consider changing out his beloved Salsa Woodchipper drop bar. I am excited to take it on a tour in a couple of weeks and see how it fares in the long haul. Will keep you posted. <br />
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Update:<br />
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I have now gone on a tour with this bar and I love it! We rode from Ovando, Mt to Helena and back, then up to Seeley Lake on the Great Divide route and other roads. I did put on aerobars, but really I think they are overkill unless you are doing a whole bunch of riding on flat roads. I hardly used them. <br />
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I attached my front roll with the Revelate Sling. I won't be using the sling again as I found that it works just as well to use the Revelate pocket and straps around the Jones Bar. The bike handled well with the load on the bar and it did not get in my way.<br />
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I didn't have any numb hands, cramps or back pain. I stretched my fingers, my electronics were all attached and stayed that way. I crashed in the mud and rocks on the top of the Great Divide and my brake levers stayed intact. Overall I am super happy with the bar and plan to keep using it.<br />
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Update 7/30/2014:<br />
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Valerie Completed the 2014 Tour Divide race with her <a href="http://www.jonesbikes.com/h-bar/" target="_blank">Jones Loop H-</a>bar in a finishing time of 27 days and several hours. The 3rd place female finisher of the Grand Depart. Bravo Valerie! The Jones bar continues to be a perfect match for her <a href="http://salsacycles.com/bikes/archive/2013_fargo_ti_frameset" target="_blank">Salsa Fargo</a>.<br />
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<br />Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-76834964742746966742013-05-07T22:36:00.003-07:002013-05-07T22:37:52.832-07:00The Bear Song<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So I have developed a bear song to repel bears while I ride my bicycle through the woods. I am not sure that the song in itself is repellant but my voice certainly is. The song is also good for passing time on the bike as I can't usually remember all the words and have to make up new ones as I go.<br />
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Here is the basic song. You should adjust it to fit your own bike and situation. I yell the lines in capitals. Make up your own tune. I usually sing out of tune<br />
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You are a very big bear ...BIG BEAR!<br />
I think its not very fair ...NOT FAIR! (Continue repeating the last two words of each line by yelling them through the rest of the song)<br />
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I am real small and real tough<br />
I think you'll find me quite rough<br />
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My bike is made out of steel..<br />
I know you'll not like the feel<br />
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Of biting down on the frame<br />
You'll only have you to blame<br />
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When you break all of your teeth<br />
It will cause you so much grief.<br />
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I have some pepper bear spray<br />
You'd better just stay far away<br />
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So thanks for letting me through<br />
And I won't be bothering you.<br />
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I have seen about four bears while riding my bike; all been black bears. No grizzlies yet, I think it will work, however as I have seen grizzly tracks, but no bears while singing. During our Tour Divide Tour I sang this song very loudly while going up and down Richmond Peak. <br />
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I know there were bears in the area as we saw the tracks and also the trigger safety from someone's bear spray. Josh swears he smelled pepper and he was sneezing a lot.<br />
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I am also afraid of cows on my bike. We had a mean heifer when I was a kid. She liked to kick and butt people. I am working on a cow song. Will consider posting it when finished. <br />
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<br />Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-39748219964238426892013-04-21T21:25:00.000-07:002013-05-08T13:23:53.371-07:00Training Ride: Swakane Canyon to Nahahum CanyonSo I thought I would post some photos of a fun training ride that we do on occasion. We ride from our home town of Cashmere down to Monitor, then over to Wenatchee. From there it is a short jaunt on the highway to Rocky Reach Dam. Just after that you hang a left and head uphill on a lovely gravel/dirt road.<br />
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I did not take any photos of the boring paved sections, but they are quite pretty zipping up and down some gently rolling hills through the orchards. I do recommend stopping at the <a href="http://www.thestutzmanranch.com/">Stutzman Ranch</a> in the summer for a fresh nectarine when they are in season. I would not recommend getting any fresh eggs as they will probably be scrambled before you make it up the Swakane.<br />
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The Swakane canyon is approximately 8.5 miles of uphill with 2200 feet of climbing. Late spring and early summer are ideal times to ride this canyon. Later it is likely to be pretty hot and the road will be more loose and dusty. You might encounter a rattlesnake or two. Right now they are mostly dormant. <br />
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The road opens up at the top late March through early April. You might want to be prepared for a bit of snow in March. <br />
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If you are adventurous you can hang a right approximately 3.3 miles from the highway and ride up the closed to car traffic NFD 5215 road and make a nice alternate ride to the top. <a href="http://www.justgetout.net/Wenatchee/17418">Here</a> is a link to a website with a description of that ride. <br />
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I stayed on the main road and headed up. The canyon starts out with a plowed field on the left and on the right flowers and sage brush on the high hills climbing to the ridges. This weekend the arrow leaf balsam root were in full bloom and the lupines are coming out. Eventually you get to the public lands and a wildlife area, with no farming on either side of the road.<br />
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If you are lucky and do the ride midweek you may encounter deer, and possibly bighorn sheep that live in the area. Of course there are cougars etc. as well, I have never seen them but I am sure they have seen me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arrow Leaf Balsam Root</td></tr>
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The wildlife viewing opportunities are a bit limited on the weekends due to various and assorted 2nd amendment enthusiasts and the like who enjoy shooting their high-powered rifles at targets. Most are very friendly and responsible shooting at targets well off the roadway. I did run across a family of morons this afternoon who were shooting their paintball rifle across the road. They stopped when they saw me. I thought of some choice words but refrained as I saw they had consumed a quantity of fermented beverages and did not think it wise to upset them. I rather like the color of my bike and don't want a new paint job. Not mention paintballs sting when they hit. <br />
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The farther up the canyon you travel the fewer people you will see. Toward the top are a series of beaver ponds and marshy areas that are quite pretty and I saw several mating pairs of ducks. <br />
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The top of the canyon is more treed. You can continue on the road, or as I did head up on a short single track section through a meadow. At the top of the single track you can zip along another forest service road and come out at the top of Nahahum Canyon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBosOhnr3Dqa2zenFYn0PLWMXx1TC2vK9yLcXVs3Yv-diLBb-FUPShTOQdg-NR5hq475OOqM3FPQQ8N8drSNSTg6hOVzM-_XVb5QtAxiF5YPcPTRzrpdHfOcBvYmR_SUQGFj-Md-dATps/s1600/Springbiking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBosOhnr3Dqa2zenFYn0PLWMXx1TC2vK9yLcXVs3Yv-diLBb-FUPShTOQdg-NR5hq475OOqM3FPQQ8N8drSNSTg6hOVzM-_XVb5QtAxiF5YPcPTRzrpdHfOcBvYmR_SUQGFj-Md-dATps/s320/Springbiking.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Nahahum </td></tr>
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Nahahum is a beautiful ride in itself. The top affords views of Cashmere and beyond. From here many opportunities for extending the ride exist by heading northwestward. You can ride the ridges and drop down in to Leavenworth or Entiat. Keep going and eventually you will end up at the SugarLoaf lookout. A great all day ride for later in the summer. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SugarLoaf Lookout</td></tr>
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I coasted down Nahahum back to Cashmere, The top mile or two of the canyon are dirt and can be muddy or washed out in early spring, and loose later on. The bottom of the canyon is an easy coast down a smooth paved road with lots of fun curves through some ranches and rural homes. Even on fat tires I averaged about 30 mph. <br />
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Once you get to the bottom of the canyon take a right and ride to the 2nd exit to Cashmere at Aplets way. Just across the bridge are two great choices for post ride recovery food and drink. <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g58388-d3676407-Reviews-Milepost_111_Brewing_Company-Cashmere_Washington.html">Milepost 111 Brewery</a> and <a href="http://www.countryboysbbq.com/">Country Boys BBQ</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJWZrdbMA59rNn6jJoI0h4Ed5cCLjhAnnzFC5bRX3REboMZeqCkNmmZe-1SrWqFh_GORH4InjF7e88mb51ojFBZWzQcqpKfywPu6gg9vrq6heHwvzyGMWLQgCwYPkQCgWHeqUGmNMlqU/s1600/Sugarloaf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJJWZrdbMA59rNn6jJoI0h4Ed5cCLjhAnnzFC5bRX3REboMZeqCkNmmZe-1SrWqFh_GORH4InjF7e88mb51ojFBZWzQcqpKfywPu6gg9vrq6heHwvzyGMWLQgCwYPkQCgWHeqUGmNMlqU/s320/Sugarloaf.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entiat Ridge Views</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.countryboysbbq.com/"><br /></a>
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Here is a link to <a href="http://goo.gl/maps/d5saM">a map</a> of the ride. Have fun!The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-48446821212253583082013-04-20T10:07:00.003-07:002013-05-09T18:32:13.381-07:00Orchard Bar ReviewHere in the great metropolis of Cashmere, Wa, the geographic center of Washington state,we are surrounded by fantastic biking country. From the Devil's Gulch single track trail<br />
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to the lovely climb up Chumstick Mountain. <br />
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Endless miles of gravel grinding and single track can make you hungry! Fortunately we have a solution. Liberty Orchards is located here in Cashmere. They make many tasty delights such as the famous Aplets and Cotlets, but their newest (and best, in my opinion) product is their Orchard Bar. <br />
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Orchard Bars are (according to the label) Vegan, Dairy Free, Non GMO, Contain Natural Ingredients, Low Sodium, Rich in Antioxidants (Vit C&E) and have Heart Healthy Nuts and are A Good Source of Protein. <br />
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Some of these claims are a bit thin. Especially the protein. Only 5 gm per bar. I find that to be an advantage when riding or running as high protein bars seem to sit like a lump in my stomach. The vitamins C&E are added as preservatives, but they are there 20% of the RDA per bar. <br />
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I do not think the bars are designed to be for super serious athletes in the way that a lot of the gels etc are, they don't really have much in the way of electrolytes or make any claims about improving your recovery etc. <br />
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In terms of actual composition the bars are a pectin candy base, a bit like Clif Shot Blocks, with some add ins including the following: nuts (varies by flavor), seeds (flax and sunflower), and soy protein nuggets (I think these are the same as those in Luna Bars). The gel is a bit softer than shot blocks and so easier to chew and less sticking to the teeth. <br />
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Orchard Bars come in a variety of flavors. I think my favorite flavor is Pineapple Macadamia Nut, but as you can see from the photo there are quite a few so you will probably be able to find one that suits your taste. Although I would recommend steering clear of the Peanut Butter and Grape Jelly. Yuk. Tastes like a nasty gooey sandwich from your lunch box in elementary school. If you had some slightly warm milk in a thermos you could re-live that wonderful afternoon nausea of 2nd grade. As you can tell I am not nostalgic for PB&J. If you are, go for it. <br />
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Around here the bars cost $1.79 apiece, on Amazon they are a bit more at $2.30 per bar. That is a bit steep I think. Pricing is in line with bars like Clif or Luna, but my main biking food is the Nature Valley Sweet and Salty Nut bars. I am hoping that by eating these I will get faster... Mathew Lee ate the cashew flavor in the TD movie. I am still eating only the peanut ones, but someday hope to be cashew worthy. But that is a whole other story. The Nature Valley Bars are much less expensive, about 45 cents per bar on Amazon. However, one does need variety and sometimes I like to splurge on an Orchard Bar. You can pick Orchard Bars up on Amazon.com <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&field-keywords=orchard%20bar&linkCode=ur2&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Aorchard%20bar&tag=faroutwan-20&url=search-alias%3Daps" target="_blank">here</a><br />
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The bottom line is that Orchard Bars are really delicious. They seem to be easy to digest and eat on the bike or run. I don't think that they contain all the balanced electrolytes etc, that products designed for athletes contain, and are a bit pricy, but they will keep you from bonking, and you will be supporting a small business here in Cashmere. They fueled us up to make it to this beautiful vista outside of town.<br />
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<br />Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-13420538287259243882013-04-15T11:18:00.000-07:002013-05-09T18:39:34.872-07:00Trailside Derailleur Hanger ReplacementWe had a rough weekend of riding. Compared to the beautiful sunny weather we had a few weeks ago, things have turned downright nasty. It is snowing hard on the Cascade crest, and here just to the east things are stormy and cold.<br />
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We did manage to get out on some rides and I made it up a hill that was very challenging. Lots of ruts, and I really am liking the big 29er tires even going up the steep stuff<br />
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While out on a ride this weekend Josh hit a stick:<br />
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that became entangled somehow and it ripped off his derailleur hanger. <br />
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Neither one of us had ever had this problem before, but in reading various blogs, we had heard that this does happen occasionally to divide racers, most commonly from mud. One in particular had to buy a new frame. Unfortunately the bike was one without a replaceable hanger. <br />
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In looking at bikes I had taken this into consideration. The <a href="http://www.jamisbikes.com/usa/thebikes/hardtails/dragon/12_dragon29race.html" target="_blank">Jamis Dragon</a> is a beautiful Reynolds 853 steel bike that I was very tempted to get. The derailleur hanger on the Jamis is not replaceable. Theoretically you could bend back the non-replaceable hanger, but if it is too bent it might just break. Or it could be torn completely off. Not to mention I don't want to be in the middle of nowhere trying to bend a piece of steel with a multitool. <br />
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Luckily Josh has the Salsa Fargo steel frame bike that has a replaceable hanger, and I had a replacement hanger in my kit. If you do not have a replaceable hanger and it is torn off, or you do not carry a replacement hanger you can buy a temporary emergency one called <a href="http://www.adventurecycling.org/cyclosource-store/equipment/tools-accessories/sp/the-gimp-emergency-derailleur-hanger/">The Gimp</a>. Available on <a href="http://www.adventurecycling.org/cyclosource-store/" target="_blank">Adventure Cycling's Cyclosource store.</a> I have never tried this gadget, but one review on Cyclosource says it works. If you used The Gimp you would have to re-set your limit screws and fully adjust your shifting as it mounts outboard of the dropout and is held in place by your wheel skewer. I think the best scenario is to have a replaceable hanger and carry a spare with you.<br />
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I took some photos of the repair operation, and tried to learn how to do it myself.<br />
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First step is to assess the damage. Be sure the scene is safe, no bears nearby... Yell for help, check your cell phone.. you can curse a bit if you have no service and then get down to work. Fortunately Josh's spokes and actual vintage derailleur were intact.<br />
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Next step is to gently untangle the mess and remove the wheel without causing further damage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DGnvQVVmbMLEYI3p_7ZwlvnLktBPQ_kObm5AlVkV8b5qpCwWQ8ZDkBqKWLU1IzPn8Sw9hJ07lopVC5smkOaBxq-1tnarqiigTj4HwHdUwHg9bh14t3O0ctqthiX4tzrXC9CIHvl1helS/s1600/Derailleur+repair+18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DGnvQVVmbMLEYI3p_7ZwlvnLktBPQ_kObm5AlVkV8b5qpCwWQ8ZDkBqKWLU1IzPn8Sw9hJ07lopVC5smkOaBxq-1tnarqiigTj4HwHdUwHg9bh14t3O0ctqthiX4tzrXC9CIHvl1helS/s320/Derailleur+repair+18.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Get out your multitool. We have a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000S6HZCC/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000S6HZCC&linkCode=as2&tag=faroutwan-20%22%3ECrank%20Brothers%20Multi%20Bicycle%20Tool%20(17-Function,%20Silver)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=faroutwan-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B000S6HZCC%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;%22" target="_blank">Crank Brothers Multi 17</a> that seems to have just about all we need for trailside repair when coupled with a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0032Y2OT6/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0032Y2OT6&linkCode=as2&tag=faroutwan-20%22%3ELeatherman%20831195%20Squirt%20PS4%20Black%20Keychain%20Tool%20with%20Plier%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=faroutwan-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B0032Y2OT6%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;%22" target="_blank">Leatherman Squirt PS 4.</a><br />
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On Josh's bike the screws holding in the hanger accept a tiny #2 allen fitting. You need to fully clean out the screw heads or they will be easily rounded out and then you will be screwed. We ended up using the knife tip on the Leatherman for this job. Wet pine needles were not effective.<br />
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Once the old broken hanger is removed,<br />
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put the new one in.<br />
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Reattach your derailleur, keeping your fingers crossed that it is not bent and mangled as well.<br />
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Put your wheel on and adjust shifting. One important piece is to shift the bike into the large cog in the rear. Be sure that your derailleur is not bent and in risk of hitting the spokes and that your chain does not derail into the spokes. Adjust the limit screw if need be. It may be necessary to lock out your large cog if the derailleur cage is severely bent. <br />
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Again we were lucky and no severe bending had occurred and so away we went... <br />
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Things worked out well, with a bit of preparation, and luck and having the right tools (including a bike mechanic). It was like Christmas in April. We even found the tree!<br />
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<br />The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-86017678289621322282013-04-07T21:10:00.000-07:002013-04-30T11:39:56.312-07:00Review of the Day: Hoo Ha Ride Glide by Reflect Sports<a href="http://www.reflectsports.com/anti-chafing-skin-cream" target="_blank">Hoo Ha Ride</a> Glide by Reflect Sports.<br />
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USD $21.95 for an 8 oz tube on the reflectsports web site.<br />
<a href="http://www.reflectsports.com/">http://www.reflectsports.com</a><br />
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Also available on Amazon<br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/Xn3bkY">http://amzn.to/Xn3bkY</a><br />
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For $ 18.75 as of today.<br />
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Here is their product pitch, copied and pasted from their website:<br />
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<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><i> The original skin and chamois cream formulated by women for women. Protects your most girlied parts from infection, chafing, friction burns, irritation, inflammation and saddle sores. Provides healing and a lasting cool feeling so you enjoy the ride. Do apply to your nooks and crannies. Do apply to your chamois. Do apply to other skin areas where exercise chafing occurs. Enriched with barley extract, lavender, eucalyptus leaf, tea tree and peppermint oils. <span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span></i></span></span></blockquote>
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<em style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br /></em>
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<span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I have used this for about a year now. On various rides and also on two bike tours. I think it works very well overall and would recommend it to both women and men.</span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px;">The cream does have the above mentioned herbal extracts. It also contains various standard body care chemicals such as Cetearyl Alcohol, Stearic Acid, Disodium EDTA and others. I do not see a Not Tested On Animals symbol either. (EDIT: Thanks to an astute commenter this statement was found on Reflect Sports Website, <i>Safe and Healthy : no parabens, fragrance, or animal byproducts/testing</i>. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 17px;"><strike>So if you are looking for a purely natural, cruelty free product this is not it. </strike> No animal testing!)</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It is a fairly thin cream, I did find that there is a bit of gritty stuff in it, I feel it on my fingers but it smooths out when applying the cream. I never notice it when riding. I am not sure if it is the tube I have or if that is part of the product. Once on it is on it is smooth sailing so to speak for about 3 hours. I have not tried putting more on mid-ride yet, somehow it is too yucky to think of stopping by the side of the road to re-apply to my "nooks and crannies". </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">I did get one saddle sore on a ride, but I do think that was a function of having a heavy backpack, riding mostly uphill for about 6 hours in 90 degree weather. I was also recovering from a summer cold so I did not get out of the saddle as much as I should have. I don't think there is a lube in the world that would have prevented that sore. However the Ride Glide felt soothing and made the next day's ride tolerable even with the sore. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">The peppermint gives you a refreshing feeling especially when you stand up to cruise downhill. Nice on a hot day, but a bit weird and chilly when it is cold out. I did find that it also has a soothing and cooling effect on sunburns, and the fact that it comes in a tube rather than a tub allows me to use it without worries of spreading fecal coliforms over my burned arms and legs. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">It seems to wash out of chamois quite well and I do not notice any residue or smell on my bike shorts. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Josh has tried it out and even though it is formulated for women it seems to work for men too. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">All in all, I think this is a great product, and has prevented chafing and irritation on many a ride. </span></span></div>
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Nursekatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01328284261990164856noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3535004462323639164.post-89667535659987639782013-04-07T16:45:00.000-07:002013-04-08T08:37:30.056-07:00PrioritiesWhen we moved into our house in 2005 there were various things that needed fixing, changing etc. Two updates I was sure would be done within the first year. One is the blue and yellow tile print carpet in the dining area that makes me feel quite off kilter after just one glass of wine, not to mention two glasses.. <br />
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The other required change being the reddish brown baby poop color mini blinds in the living room. <br />
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Yet here we are eight years later and both are still here. And why? Well, I could say that the mini blinds are of very good quality, and the carpet keeps me from overindulging, but that is not the case. <br />
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The real reason these lovely items still grace our home is bicycling.<br />
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About the same time we moved into our home I happened to read an article in an old copy Outside magazine while waiting somewhere, probably at the doctors office. The article was by a woman who flies to New Zealand alone to tour the south island alone. After that I was hooked on bike touring. I imagined myself headed out alone, camping, biking, exploring.<br />
Every ride I went on was "training for New Zealand" I rode my old Specialized Stump Jumper as fast as I could. I took my Trek 830, circa 1994, on "road rides" Finally I decided I had to get a new bike. I looked and looked. Most bikes were too big, others too expensive. Finally I found the <a href="http://salsacycles.com/bikes/vaya" target="_blank">Salsa Vaya</a>. The wheels even came in a 26 inch option. I could stand over the thing. It had disc brakes, brazons, touring geometry it was a beautiful upside brown, not baby poop brown. Blinds could wait. I wanted to go bike touring. <br />
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When I got the bike we discovered the clearance was such it would accept 2.1 inch MTB tires with fenders. Yay! now I could go bike touring on gravel roads. <br />
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Josh was naturally jealous... but too tall for the Vaya with 26 inch wheels, if he got one he'd have to use skinnier tires. Sometimes being short pays off! He found the <a href="http://salsacycles.com/bikes/fargo" target="_blank">Fargo</a>, worked a bit of overtime and he had his bike. In geeky Lord of the Rings terms.. "One bike to rule them all." Josh said he would not need another bike his entire lifetime. <br />
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We discovered the Adventure Cycling Association.. We spent our 10th anniversary on a bike tour.<br />
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Then we heard about the Tour Divide. We went and rode a section. <br />
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We watched the movie, we read blogs. Josh said he wanted to race. I thought about sitting home and watching his spot move down the computer screen. I thought about touring it behind him. Then I decided I wanted to race too... Why not? No entry fee, no prizes, just touring fast.<br />
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But there was a problem. I was already at a big disadvantage. I am slow. My only athletic ability being that I can go slow for a really long time. I began to think of another bike, and the ugly carpet... We were saving up to replace it. Hmm. Priorities. Experience of a lifetime, vs new flooring... I could just ride the Vaya.. I was not going to be fast anyway and would a different bike make that much of a difference. But I was jealous of the frame bags, and the MTB geometry. I was afraid my panniers and rear rack would rattle apart before New Mexico, and they are heavy. <br />
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I am not a cyclocross racer I told myself I need the mountain bike to avoid having to push my bike all the way to New Mexico. I need to be able to carry more water. <br />
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I need the advantage of a light weight MTB so I can put more stuff on the bike. I am a knitter, I carry lots of stuff, I might want to knit along the way as I usually do for my mental health. I knit a hat on our last tour...<br />
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And lots of stuff on your back leads to sores on your nether regions, so I needed a mountain bike that I could fit out with spiffy bags instead of carrying a huge backpack. <br />
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So, I got a new bike. A <a href="http://salsacycles.com/bikes/fargo_ti" target="_blank">titanium Fargo</a>, I decided I can live with the carpet. Its not so bad.<br />
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I realized drips of chain lube and mud do not show on super ugly tile printed carpet.<br />
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The beauty of my new bike and the amazing experience of bike touring and racing makes up for the flooring. <br />
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<br />The Happy Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06109692297972652743noreply@blogger.com2