We were woken very early by the sound of several heavy lorries going past, but slept in for a little while extra until the alarm went off. We were eating breakfast when the lorries returned, each one brim full of gravel, brought from a storage site further in to the desert.

This was a day I had been nervous about for a long while. The desert roads are supposedly tricky to navigate through and are often too sandy to ride along. If it rains, then the tracks become impassable, but if it is too dry, then I knew that we were unlikely to come across a good source of water until we reached Grants, some 110 miles away.

I set off along the sandy road a little ahead of Marco, knowing that he would soon catch me anyway. I negotiated the first turn and started to feel a little more confident about the map reading; the roads looked OK too. That feeling soon disappeared as we approached a very sandy section. Marco powered through the first bit, but I was more cautious (probably my main problem) and the sand quickly gripped my front wheel and I battled to stay upright. Starting to ride whilst the bike is sand-logged is particularly hard work and so I had to get off and push. I began to think that we weren’t going to make it very far if the tracks were like this all the way to Grants.

It wasn’t long before I saw Marco riding back towards me – this was not good news. He’d reached a locked gate across the trail; something that wasn’t mentioned in the trail notes. We unhitched his trailer and lifted it over the gate and he went on ahead to investigate. As far as we could tell, we’d followed the route correctly this morning, but it had somehow led us to a dead end, and the gravel store that the lorries had been using this morning.

We pored over the map and tried to work out where we might have gone wrong, but just ended up riding back the way we’d come, trying to find the correct way. In the end, we found what we were looking for and got back on the right track. It looked like the road the lorries had been using had been recently built and as it was bigger and wider than the original tracks, we had been misled into following it. We’d done an extra six miles and spent a long time over them. I was now even more nervous about the road ahead.

Thankfully, the trail was pretty good and we started to make decent progress again. The views were stunning; we were truly in the desert now and it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Huge volcanic plugs dotted the horizon, joined by vast swathes of desert sand. It was truly breathtaking.

After a short downhill section along a paved road, we turned off and headed towards one of the giant volcanic plugs. By now, the sun was getting high in the sky and the temperature was rising. We stopped for a bite to eat in the shade of a rare bush before setting off again. I was beginning to feel very hot and tired and was worried about drinking too much water as I knew that we would have to make our supplies last. Progress was very slow and as the temperature hit 43 degrees Celsius, we stopped for another break. I was feeling the effects of the sun and lay down to try and get some sleep. It didn’t work; even though I was so tired, I couldn’t get the sleep I needed. We checked the route description and saw that there may be a good source of water six miles ahead. That might not sound very far, but I knew that I would find it very hard work getting there.

The terrain was basically flat but every so often we would descend steeply into an arroyo and then have to climb just as steeply out the other side. Often the bottom of the arroyo would be pretty sandy, making the six mile ride more like an obstacle course.

Finally, up ahead I saw that Marco had stopped and climbed over a barbed wire fence next to a huge solar panel. As I came closer, he raised his arms in the air and I knew that we had found the water source. The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) maintain this area as some kind of wildlife enclosure and the solar panel powers a water pump from a deep well, giving a constant supply of water. I don’t know how many litres of water we pumped, filtered and drank there, but it was like an oasis and spirits were lifted. I think we were carrying enough water to get us through, but this was like an extra bonus and gave us both more confidence that we were going to make it.

On we rode, until we reached the boundary of private lands, upon which we weren’t allowed to camp. As this land stretches for some twenty miles or so, we had to make camp before crossing into this area; we weren’t going to be able to ride another twenty miles that day as the sun was already beginning to set.

We found a great spot to camp, with a huge rock overhang under which we planned to sleep without our tents. We got some pasta on the go and everything seemed well with the world again. It was awesome to watch the sunset in the desert; the rocks that surrounded us constantly changed colour as the sunlight reduced.

A storm was brewing in the distance and we watched as lightning bolts shot down and hit the horizon. It looked as though it was going to miss us, but as we were almost ready for bed, the rain started to fall. There followed a mass panic to get the tents up; I nearly lost mine thanks to a huge gust of wind, but we managed to get properly set up before the wind and rain got too bad.

July 21
Day Thirty Three – Desert Camp to Just Past Grants – 72 miles – 2,470 miles total

Waking up in the desert was an absolute delight. As the sun came up, we were treated to a light show similar to the sunset the night before.

After breakfast, we headed off once again under thankfully cloudy skies. The rain last night hadn’t amounted to much and so the tracks were still in good condition and even though we were climbing gently, the riding seemed a lot easier than the previous day.

We did however manage to make another wrong turn and ended up riding straight into a yard outside a farmstead. The farmer didn’t seem too impressed with us, but pointed us back in the right direction and we soon found the correct track without making too much of a detour.

We reached a paved section, Marco went on ahead and I plodded up the hill behind him. We had learned from Alan that this particular four mile section was supposed to have become private land and that we weren’t supposed to be riding along it. For that reason, the advice from the Adventure Cycling Association was to take the paved alternative route between Cuba and Grants. Well, as tough as it had been, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss my chance to ride that section through the desert. There were no signs along the road to suggest that we shouldn’t be there, and there seemed like a reasonable flow of traffic along there too.

Turning off the road, there was more climbing ahead as we crossed the foothills of the San Mateo mountain range. Part way up the hill, I realised that I was now carrying way too much water than I needed and so emptied a couple of my bottles by the side of the trail. The cloud cover meant that the temperature was much less of a problem than the previous day and with my reduced load, I made steady progress up the hill.

I stopped for a bite to eat near the top of the climb and began looking forward to the descent into Grants. I would have to wait a while though, as the downhill never seemed to get started. The course descriptions were slightly misleading and the track was particularly gravelly making for slow progress. When the downhill finally started though, it was well worth the wait.

I stopped to take a photo next to the Grants prison – a sign by the side of the road reminded drivers not to pick up hitch hikers there – brilliant! I was very happy to make it into the town of Grants; we had survived the desert, another major milestone reached on our journey to Mexico.

We spent the afternoon in Grants, getting our laundry done (very badly), eating some spicy Mexican food and getting online. For once we were in a town with a library during opening hours and so we looked forward to getting some blogging and email done. Unfortunately, the library’s computers were out of action that day as they were being upgraded! Any other day and we would have been fine! We found a place to get online close by and got back in touch with the world.

After a dinner in Pizza Hut, we set off again, this time along a short section of Route 66 – it was great to be riding a section of this famous road. Before long, we were off the road again and starting to climb up through a big canyon where there seemed to be more traffic than there had been on the highway! We stopped before the sunset and set up our camp for the night, leaving our still slightly damp clothes hanging on the bikes to dry.

July 22
Day Thirty Four – Just Past Grants to Las Lunas – 90 miles – 2,560 miles total

Neither of us could have guessed how today was to turn out when we set off before the sun was up. It was to be a day of fast riding, crushing disappointment, huge amounts of luck and international communication.

Our destination that day was Pie Town; a small settlement some 75 miles away. We’d heard from Ollie that although we could get food there, the shop closed early in the day, around 3pm. We would need to get some supplies for the following couple of days and so we decided to split up for the day’s ride. Marco went on ahead so that at least he would make it before the shop closed. I thought I could make it in time, but wasn’t sure how the terrain would affect my speed.

As he disappeared up the hill into the distance, I had a slightly funny feeling that something was going to happen that day. I couldn’t have guessed what though….

I was riding well and felt very comfortable as the track took us up and over the Continental Divide for the 19^th and then 20^th times on the trip. Around every corner I expected the trail to deteriorate, but it was in really great shape and I was making great time. I started to think ahead and realised that as long as I continued like this, I would easily make it to Pie Town before 3pm. And maybe it was that thinking ahead that got me in to trouble.

I had just crested a small rise when I suddenly felt something was wrong with the front wheel. It felt as though the tyre was stuck in the sand again, but when I looked down I saw that it was just a flat. Never mind, it was to be expected here in New Mexico as the thorns here are well known for stopping bikers in their tracks.

I stopped and got the flat changed quickly and sat down for a quick bite to eat. I set off again but within ten minutes I was stopped by the side of the trail with the front wheel off again. Two more holes had appeared in the new tyre and so it had to be changed again. Luckily, I had two spares and so I didn’t need to fix the punctures each time, although I knew that if it happened again I would have to find and fix the holes.

It didn’t take long for the tyre to go again and this time I had to get the repair kit out and fix the holes. Again, I had two holes in this tyre, making five flats in as many miles. Things were not looking too good.

I had just reached the highway when my back tyre also gave out. This time it was really serious. My back wheel had not been completely straight for a few days and it badly needed a visit to a bike shop to get fixed or replaced. As soon as I took the wheel off, there was a loud “TWANG!” sound as the wheel buckled even more, pinging off three spokes in the process. I knew then that I was in big trouble.

I fixed the flat and tried to get the back wheel back on, but it was so bent out of shape that it wouldn’t go round properly without rubbing on the frame. I tried to ride on, but it was utterly hopeless. I must have looked like a clown on that bent wheel, but I wasn’t laughing. I sat at the side of the road thinking that this was a horrible way for the trip to end. I knew there wasn’t a bike shop for many, many miles and I had no hope of riding there anyway.

So, this was it for me. I’d come so far but it looked like this was it. In a way I was a bit relieved, but that relief didn’t last very long. There was no way I was going to quit now. I had to hope that someone would come and rescue me. And amazingly, they did.

Duran and Cindi are two waste management executives from Tuscon Arizona, who just happened to be on their way to Albuquerque, where I knew there would be at least a couple of bike shops. The problem was that Albuquerque was a long way away, and not in the direction I needed to travel.

As we drove on, it turned out that they often drove up to Albuquerque, but this was the first time they’d tried this way; they usually opted for the quicker interstate highways. I was very lucky indeed. They were very interested in my story and when they got mobile phone reception, I became the subject of their telephone calls too – hilarious!

They dropped me right outside the bike shop and I handed my battered bike (now with another flat tyre!) over to the guys in the shop. My next job was to try and get hold of Marco and let him know what was going on. I had mobile signal, but Marco was in the middle of nowhere and had no signal. I left a message anyway and then looked at my map to try and get a number for the shop in Pie Town, where I hoped to leave a message for him. No such luck; my map gave no useful numbers – what could I do? I did the only thing I could think of, and called my mum and dad!

It was almost midnight at home, but Dad accepted the challenge of finding some contact details for anyone in Pie Town. I’m not sure quite how he did it, but Marco ended up getting three separate messages telling him what had happened! He was the most famous person in Pie Town for a short while I think!!

I bought myself a map of New Mexico as I was way, way, way off of the route maps, and tried to figure out a way to ride myself back towards the route. I thought that I would have two days to make it to Silver City, some 230 miles away, but from the map it was clear that I was going to have to do a huge proportion of this on the interstate highway, which wasn’t too appealing.

Nevertheless, once the bike was fixed, complete with thorn-proof inner tubes, I hit the road and started heading south. The traffic was horrendous and it was a good while before it thinned out and I started to feel a little safer. There was no shoulder and the rush hour was in full swing, but I knew that I needed to get some more miles done before it got dark.

As darkness began to fall, I rode into Las Lunas, where I found myself a motel room for the night. It was here that I looked at myself in the mirror and was a little bit shocked at the state I was in. Not only had I lost quite a bit of weight, but I was filthy from head to toe and I looked exhausted.

I took a long shower and sat eating my food supplies whilst watching some Tour de France highlights. I also gave my bike a good clean; it too was in a pretty filthy state. I got another text message from Dad just before I fell asleep; Marco was planning to make it to Silver City the next day – that meant that I had the best part of 200 miles to ride if I was going to catch him. Even on the road, I knew this wasn’t going to be possible, so I readied myself for the prospect of some hitching.   

July 23
Day Thirty Five – Las Lunas to Silver City – 110 miles – 2,670 miles total

I was exhausted but despite the comfy bed, I didn’t sleep very well at all. I was up way before it was light, packed all my stuff back up and filled up on cereal, bananas and pastries from the motel buffet breakfast.

It was just about light when I set out from the motel. I tried to check if there was a bus that could take me part of the way, but I had no luck and so I hit the highway, looking to ride as far as I could before it got too hot.

The shoulder along the highway was wide, but it was covered in rubbish from the road – bits of shredded tyres and broken glass littered the way ahead. I’d gone about fifty miles before I got really hot and tired and decided to try my hand at hitching a lift.

It didn’t go too well to start off with. The traffic seemed to have thinned out after the last intersection and nobody seemed interested in stopping to pick me up. I was just about to give up, when a pickup stopped just ahead of me. I ran up to it and the guys told me they could take me about fifty miles on to the town of Truth or Consequences. I was over the moon – fifty miles in a van would save me loads of time and so I packed myself and the bike into the back and off we went. The only down side of this ride was that the driver told me that the route from Truth or Consequences to Silver City would take me uphill for around 17 miles up over a mountain range, before dropping down into Silver City. I decided to not think about this – there would still be a long way to ride before I got there. I was still hoping that a magic bus would appear too; I would find out more in T or C.

The sun was beating down when the guys dropped me off a little way outside the town. I thanked them for their help and rode into town where I ate a couple of burgers (the only food available it seemed) and tried to find out about buses.

There is a bus, but it first goes to Deming and then there is a 10 hour wait for the connection to Silver City. This wasn’t really going to help me too much and so reluctantly I got back on the bike and carried on my way South.

I rode another fifty miles or so before the heat became unbearable. I was beginning to get dehydrated and I felt fairly wobbly on the bike. My speed had disappeared and each push of the pedals was becoming an effort. I stopped off in a little shop and drank a load of Gatorade and ate ice creams and chocolate bars before getting on again.

The next section was really tough and I knew that I needed to get a ride if I was going to make it to Silver City that day. I really wanted to finish the ride with Marco and knew that he would be trying his hardest to get there that day; I didn’t want to miss him. I also knew that the climbing section was approaching, and that was sure to sap all my remaining strength.

There wasn’t much traffic on the road (I was on a smaller road now) but every time I heard something coming behind me, I jumped off the bike and stuck my thumb out, hoping for a lift. There were very few suitable vehicles coming past and I began to feel sure that I wasn’t going to make it.

I was just approaching the tiny village of Hillsboro when another pickup went past my outstretched thumb. I silently cursed them for not stopping, climbed back on and started to pedal, only to see that they had stopped a short way ahead of me and their reverse lights were on. Was I rescued again?! Luckily for me, the answer was yes!

Kenny and Dominic were two cousins who had been working in Truth or Consequences and they drove me all the way to Silver City, and kept me entertained all the way. Nicer blokes I couldn’t have hoped to have met. That last fifty miles or so into Silver City would have killed me, I’m sure. The scenery was breathtaking though as we would our way up through the deep gorge up towards the top of the mountains. Even the twisty downhill section would have been hard work for tired legs too.

The boys dropped me just outside town and I rode down the hill to try and find the campsite. I was almost there, when I felt the all too familiar sinking feeling; a staple had found its way into my front tyre. I couldn’t believe it; this was New Mexico fighting back, just when I thought that maybe the worst was over.

I found the campground, but they hadn’t seen Marco that day. I got the tent up and showered the dust from the road out of my skin before wandering further into town to get some food. I found an internet café first though and so logged on to check the SPOT to see where Marco was. It looked as though he was about 30 miles away and it looked like we would be meeting up the next day – excellent news.

I ate some pasta and had a couple of beers before heading back to my tent, knowing that there were just 123 miles between me and the border. Surely we would be able to make that without too much trouble. After the events of the past couple of days, I wasn’t entirely sure!

July 24
Day Thirty Six – Silver City to Desert – 41 miles – 2,711 miles total

I slept really well, but still found myself waking up at 530am, even though the alarm wasn’t set. I phoned home to let everyone know that I was in Silver City and would meet up with Marco later that day.

I found a great little place for breakfast and then went to check out the bike shop; I’d got a few little problems with the bike and they fixed them for me in no time. That done, I headed back to the internet café and checked on Marco’s progress. He was riding well and when I saw that he was close, I rode out to meet him.

It was great to be reunited and we caught up on the last couple of day’s events over a big lunch. We got onto the internet in the library and bought enough supplies to last us to the border before arranging transport back from the border for the following afternoon. It was hard to imagine that in less than 24 hours this would all be over….

We set out from Silver City in the heat of the day along the highway. We had some long, steep hills to get over and I was feeling very tired indeed, despite having not ridden that morning. After 18 miles we turned off the highway and onto our last section of gravel road. Actually, this was a sand road and it was supposed to be steadily downhill. I think that I’d started to relax or something, because I couldn’t ride very quickly that afternoon. My legs felt very heavy and even the smallest of hills had me struggling. Once again though, the scenery was spectacular – we were surrounded by huge amounts of nothing, just amazing desert.

We rode over our penultimate Continental Divide crossing as the sun was going down. It was a perfect evening for riding; I just wished that I was feeling a little bit stronger. We pulled to a halt by the side of the trail and set up our camp in the last moments of light of the day. I was hot and had my shirt off, trying to cool down a little bit as we tucked in to pasta and tomato sauce in the middle of nowhere. We could see the glow of lights from one of the larger towns miles and miles away, but apart from that, there was no other sign of life.

That night we slept under the stars, without bothering with tents and the night sky was fantastic, full of stars, reminding me of my night under the stars in New Zealand – there was no chance of a frosty sleeping bag this time though!

July 25
Day Thirty Seven – Desert to Antelope Wells – 83 miles – 2,794 miles total

And then, all of a sudden, it was the final day and there were just over 80 miles to go to the border. But still I wouldn’t let myself think that it was going to be easy. The punctures of the days before were still fresh in my mind and I knew that we needed to ride pretty quickly to be in time for our shuttle to pick us up at the border. The heat was going to be a factor too.

We were up and packed before it was light, and we hit the trail just as the sun was rising. It was a truly magical way to start the final day of the ride. After about ten miles, we crossed over the railroad tracks and arrived at Separ. I decided to stop at the local store and get some drinks. Marco was worried about his front tyre as it was full of thorns and he wanted to just get to the border as soon as he could. The lady in the store had obviously seen it all before and told me that it was easy from here on in. She also sold me some “5 Hour Energy” drink, saying that it was just what I needed. It certainly didn’t do me any harm and I felt great as I set out alongside the highway to the start of the long paved section, marking 65 miles to the border.

This was it. Five weeks of riding had come down to just this. I filmed a little video of myself at the start of the so-called Lonely Highway. I wasn’t worried about the distance; 65 miles on the road should be fairly easy. No, this was more of a mental challenge.

I crossed over the Continental Divide for the final time, but it was a little bit disappointing being little more than a bump in the road. I rode quickly to the small town of Hachita where I stopped for a little break with a couple of locals, who were sat inside a small shop, selling used bits and pieces of junk and giving away free coffee (for a small donation of course!)

Refreshed, I turned past the little church and began the last 45 miles. If I had been feeling tired, this road would have been a killer. All the way, mile markers were counting down to the border and so I always knew how far I had left to go. I stopped a few times to drink more Gatorade and water but apart from that it was all about just getting to the end.

I remember stopping at mile marker 4 and having a little tear in my eye. I knew now that I was going to make it, but part of me wanted it to carry on. The last mile was a real blast. I decided to ride it as quickly as I could, amusing to try and sprint after the best part of three thousand miles, but I had to give it a go.

Marco was there waiting as I rode into the border area, punching the air in delight. I’d been thinking about this moment for the best part of a year but once I was there, I couldn’t quite believe it.

The border guards were awesome and they gave us free drinks from the vending machine and came outside to take our picture at the border. A wonderful way to end the trip.

Alan and I woke to a very cold and damp morning, but it was dry at least. The good news was that my calf was feeling OK. A bag of ice from the camp host certainly helped the healing the evening before.

We ate breakfast, packed and got back onto the trail, wondering if we were going to a) make it to El Rito and b) ever see Marco again.

The trail took us further down the valley, alongside the Conejos (Rabbits) River towards Horca. It was really cold and I couldn’t find my warm gloves, meaning that my fingers were absolutely frozen by the time we arrived at the local store, where the sun had finally reached. We’d heard that we shouldn’t rely on the store in Horca; it is run by an old woman who apparently has quite a flexible approach to opening hours. As we were looking for a nice hot cup of coffee, the store was closed!

The sun was now out and my hands began to warm up as we started the climb up to La Manga pass. Getting to the top entailed climbing for about six miles along the paved road. The first section was pretty steep and I wasn’t sure that I would make it all the way, but it soon eased off a bit and became easy enough to climb.

I was first to the top and had a chance to take a rest with a view over a wide basin in the morning sunlight – a really good start to the day; our last in Colorado.

When Alan caught me up, we set off down a nice steady hill before taking a turn off the pavement and onto a gravel road, crossing the narrow gauge tracks of the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic railway. We passed over into New Mexico and after the obligatory photos at the border sign, we started back up hill again.

Almost immediately, the track condition deteriorated and our progress slowed dramatically. The next ten miles or so seemed to take us for ever and after a short steep section of unrideable stony ground (even Marco had to push up it, we found out later) we took a lunch break looking out over the Cruces Basin Wilderness.

The trail improved for a while, but soon became rough again and we both began to feel very tired. We had made it back up to around 11,000 feet too, which certainly made things feel tougher. We knew by now that there was no chance of making it to El Rito that day and that maybe meant that we wouldn’t be seeing Marco again. By now, we were heading slightly downhill, but it really didn’t feel like it and every small section of uphill was testing us. The other problem was that we were now heading into the hottest part of the day and typically, we had very little shade to protect us from the heat of the sun.

We took a short break under the shade of a tree just as soon as we could and as we were setting off again, a car pulled up alongside us and a couple got out. The guy immediately opened up the boot and got out a huge container of water and filled our bottles for us. We chatted away for a while and it turned out that he had just ridden the Colorado Trail and thought that we’d appreciate some extra drinks. He wasn’t wrong! We had enough water for the day, but having some extra was a great help. They had also seen Marco earlier in the day and confirmed that we wouldn’t be catching him up today!

Another short (but slow) climb was followed by a nice downhill section which took us to another highway. Alan was just about ready to quit for the day, and even though I was feeling tired, I thought it would be better for us to get up the next hill to the campground.

It seemed like a role-reversal of sorts; normally it was me that wanted to stop early and Marco would convince me to carry on for a while. Alan agrreed that it made sense to keep going and so we started to make our way up the hill.

It was a real slog; we were both really tired after all the climbing the day before and those five miles seemed to take forever. To make things worse, there were quite a few cars and RVs racing past us up the hill and I started to worry that the campsite would be full for the weekend – that wouldn’t have gone down well, I’m sure!

Finally, we made it to the top of the hill and into the campsite where we could relax in the last bit of sun of the day. It had been a gruelling day, and we were both pretty dead on our feet.

I ate loads that evening, wolfing down two dried meals as well as some left over sandwiches from lunch time. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep that night either – it had been a tough few days.

July 18
Day Thirty – Hopewell Lake to Polvadera Mesa – 81 miles – 2,265 miles total

Day Thirty started with some more climbing; but within less than a mile, we were riding downhill again for a mile or two before starting up to the top of Burned Mountain. Just a mile or so later and we were over the top and heading downhill again. Some undulating track followed before a steep downhill section took us back onto the tarmac just outside the settlement of Canon Plaza.

The road continued on down to Vallecitos, where we met and chatted with some locals before heading off the road again, chased by what seemed like hundreds of local dogs. Like many other small settlements, it seemed that the dogs outnumbered the people by about five to one!

As the day got warmer, we climbed up through some more forest before beginning the downhill section into El Rito. We’d hoped to make it here the day before and somehow, El Rito had been given some kind of mystical quality in our minds. In reality, it was a tiny place with a little local store and one restaurant. Unfortunately, the restaurant was closed, as the owners were out of town at a family wedding – just our luck!

We filled up on drinks and had some snacks before hitting the road towards the next town on our route, Abiquiu. It was downhill all the way but of course it wasn’t as simple as it could have been as the wind had started to blow. Naturally, we had to ride directly into it.

It was amazing though – we had really arrived in New Mexico and the scenery was more incredible than I thought it would be. The road took us through a huge expanse of land. The sky was bigger than we’d seen since Montana and the horizon was peppered with giant rocky outcrops. The heat was tempered only by the warm wind that blew into our faces as we rode the 18 miles into Abiquiu.

We found refuge from the sun in the local store and cafe, where we both ate our way through a couple of freshly made sandwiches and lots of drinks. Whilst we were sat there, we chatted away with a couple of the other customers who had also completed the ride in the past. They shared tales from the trail and once again, I heard horror stories from New Mexico; countless punctures or inpenetrable mud tracks seem to be the clearest memories for everyone that has ridden the trail.

We got news from Marco in the store too. He had been there earlier in the day and left a message that he would see us in Cuba, another 80 miles away. We filled up on supplies for the coming couple of days before walking out of the cool store, out into the heat of the day.

We’d packed the bikes up and I was just getting on, when I noticed that my front tyre was completely flat. I couldn’t believe it! I’d obviously run over something on the road and the tyre had been deflating all the time we’d been inside.

We got that fixed and then set off into some of the hardest sections of the route, although we didn’t really realise how tough it was going to be.

The trail quickly became pretty rough and heavily washboarded. Climbing over the bumpy surface was doubly hard. Not only did we have to get up the hills, but each groove of the surface was like another hill to be climbed.

On and on we climbed before reaching a huge plain, with giant mountains ahead of us. Also ahead was a giant thunderstorm, complete with very black clouds and an occasional fork of lightning to boot. At least the plain was flat for a while!

We took a right turn and headed straight towards the mountains and the storm, apprehensive about both. The climb started out quite gently but that didn’t last long as the path became rougher and rougher. Huge slabs of lava rock were interspersed with fine volcanic sand sections, making progress very uncomfortable and very slow indeed.

Thankfully, the storm seemed to have passed us by and we didn’t even get wet. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky and it seemed to be moving towards the horizon quicker than we were getting towards our chosen camp spot for the night, somewhere in the Polvadera Mesa.

It continued to get darker and darker and by the time we reached the mile mark where our map told us there was a good campsite, the light was almost completely gone. It wasn’t obvious where this great camping spot was, so we found a decent clearing in the forest and hastily got the tents up before making and eating tortillas by torchlight.

By now, we’d realised that water was going to be a little bit of a problem. We hadn’t crossed any water since we’d left Abiquiu and due to the heat and the climbing, we’d drunk quite a bit that afternoon. We were so concerned that when we were woken by some rain in the night, we both got out of our tents to put our water bottles out to try and catch some of the rain water in them!

July 19
Day Thirty One – Polvadera Mesa to Just Past Cuba – 68 miles – 2,333 miles total

It was a very rough night indeed; the wind howled all night and the rain started and stopped over and over again, but didn’t amount to much. I felt more tired when I got up than I had done when I crawled into my sleeping bag the night before. It was dark; the alarm had been set half an hour earlier than usual and so it was only just about light by the time we set off along the forest track.

The surface was pretty good to start with, as we continued to climb, but that soon came to an end and we were back to rough trails, making progress predictably, and frustratingly, slow. Finally, we reached the high point, but only after a long section of steep and unrideable tracks had made us both get off and push.

Over the top, the surface improved a little and our pace returned to something like normal for a while before we started on a very steep, very rocky descent. Alan’s superior biking skills meant that he soon caught and overtook me on the technical section and arrived at the abandoned car first; somebody had driven in to this point and had either got stuck in the mud or just run out of gas, leaving their car sideways across the track.

We stopped at a couple of cattle tanks to see if there was any water in them, but had no luck. Oour supplies were running down and we were starting to get a bit concerned.

The trail took us on into a large, open park and as we rode through, I spotted a lake up ahead and so we stopped and filtered some water to fill up our bottles. By now the heat was starting to rise and my energy was starting to run out. Another long steady climb didn’t help much either and so as soon as we found a creek with running water, we stopped for a rest and some lunch. I made up the tortillas, whilst Alan went to the creek and filled up our bottles with good clean water (the lake water hadn’t been the best!).

After a good rest, we set off on a track that zig-zagged along the side of the mountain and took us through some hippy camps on towards the highway. A big storm threatened to soak us, but passed us by as it moved along the valley – another lucky escape!

We made it to the highway after a good fast downhill section and after a short climb, it was downhill all the way into the town of Cuba. We dropped over 2,000ft in about six or seven miles and the heat at the lower altitude was incredible.

We rode through the town, looking for a bite to eat when I spotted Marco’s bike and trailer outside the local grocery store – the team was re-united! We all ate some spicy Mexican food and drank gallons of fresh lemonade and caught up on tales from the trail over the past few days. It was great to see Marco again and pleasing to learn that he had found the past few days very hard too. In fact, I think that he’d had a tougher time than us – the severity of the conditions had been a big shock to him too.

We spent some time in the supermarket, stocking up on supplies before trying to get a pizza to go. The pizza place was closed though and so we had to make do with Subway. We parted company with Alan here; he was heading off to explore some more of New Mexico, but we hoped to meet up again in Grants in a couple of days time.

Our trailers were heavier than they’d ever been before as we set off towards the desert; loaded down with food and lots and lots of water. The past couple of days had taught us that having enough water was going to be a huge challenge.

With our heavy loads, we rode into the wind along the highway for about ten miles, before taking a turn onto the gravel road that would take us through the desert towards Grants. We stopped and made camp soon after the turn, enjoying a large subway sandwich in the warm orange light of the sunset.

We were up and about before sunrise and although it was pretty chilly, it looked as though it was going to be a good day. We heated oatmeal and drank tea before setting off towards the town of Steamboat. I had been very disappointed about not making it as far as we’d hoped the day before, but set off determined to ride better today; knowing that we were only going to ride about 60 miles certainly helped. I hoped it would feel like a rest day, which sounds a bit crazy, now I think about it!

The trail was a good one again and we were making pretty good time even though it was uphill for most of the morning. Marco went on ahead and I continued the climb on my own. The last mile and a half was very rocky indeed and I had to push most of it.

A steep and rocky downhill followed and I started to think about whether I would be able to finish the route. Marco was clearly much faster and more proficient than I was and I was pretty sure that I would be riding the rest of the route on my own. It wasn’t really fair to expect him to keep waiting for me all the time. I didn’t want to quit now, but I also didn’t really fancy riding the rest of the way on my own.

I was slightly miserable buy the time I pulled up outside the general store at Clark, where I met back up with Marco. We sat and chatted about the morning’s route as I munched my way through a delicious freshly made sandwich and made arrangements to meet up further down the road in Steamboat.

The road section into Steamboat passed very quickly indeed and as soon as I got into town, I made my way to the bike shop to get some urgent repairs on the bike. Whilst the bike was being fixed, I headed to the library and used the internet for the first time in a while and caught up on some of the news from home, even managing an online chat with Dad, who had been avidly following our progress thanks to the SPOT device and Google Earth.

I met back up with Marco at the bike shop and we also met up with Steve Williams, who has cycled just about everywhere in the world. He was very interested in our trip and sounded as though he had a thousand stories and tips to share with us. Have a look at his website to see where he has been – truly amazing.

In the evening we sat outside and had a beer and some lovely pasta (just what we needed), before riding out to the campground, just out of town. The campground was completely packed and at first it looked as though the owners were going to turn us away. Thankfully, they found a spot for us and we fought the mosquitoes off as we got the tents put up.

I spent a while adding some padding tape to my handlebars. I’d bought the tape way back in Jackson, but hadn’t made the time to get it onto the bars before then. My hands were in a pretty bad state from all the vibrations, every little bit of extra padding was going to be hugely helpful.

July 11
Day Twenty Three – Steamboat to Kremmling – 80 miles – 1,724 miles total

We rode into town for an early breakfast, then bought supplies from the supermarket before a quick visit to the local outdoor store. We had discussed Marco going on ahead on his own and needed to make sure that we both had the correct equipment if he did this.

The trail headed out of Steamboat alongside the river before it started to climb up towards Lynx Pass, some thirty miles or so ahead. At Stagecoach Reservoir, we joined up with the Elk Run Trail, a singletrack path following the water’s edge for a short while, before getting back onto the gravel roads for more climbing.

I met back up with Marco for some lunch in the shade of a tree and we made arrangements to meet up in Kremmling that evening. He set off again as I finished up my lunch and so I was surprised to catch him up after a few minutes of riding. He was chatting to a couple of motorcyclists who were riding the trail from South to North. They were full of superlatives about parts of the route, but also warned us about New Mexico, where they had had a bit of a tough time.

I crossed over Lynx Pass and began a good descent as the weather started to deteriorate. The next obstacle was a deep creek that had to be crossed. A couple of holidaying families were having a picnic on the banks and I chatted with them for a few minutes before pushing the bike and trailer through the shin-deep water.

I then started out on one of my least favourite sections of the whole ride. The track conditions deteriorated and I began to really slow down thanks to a few miles of steep climbs and descents. I had been making pretty good progress up until then, but this section seemed to take me forever. To make matters worse, our old friends the mosquitoes were out in force too, making it almost impossible to stop and rest.

I finally made it to the high point and had a stunning view over the valley below. I could also see the ‘town’ of Radium down there- my next port of call. The downhill was very steep indeed and the drop in altitude was remarkable. The temperature changed dramatically for one thing, and the vegetation at the bottom bore no resemblance to that at the top – it was quite incredible.

As I crossed the river and began to climb out of Radium, the weather started to take a turn for the worse and I did consider turning around and putting my tent up, but decided to push on and try to make it to Kremmling.

Part way up the first part of the steep section, I got a Tour de France style push from a fella who had obviously been watching the TV coverage of the race. He ran along shouting “Allez, Allez!” as he ran alongside me. It made me smile, but didn’t help me up the hill too much!

The climb just seemed to drag on and on but then suddenly I was at the top and screaming downhill on the other side It was a good job that I was riding into the wind, as I managed to get up to about 42 miles an hour, without even trying.

Sadly, the downhill was very short lived and I was climbing up towards Inspiration Point, from where I was able to get a superb view over the valley below. A freight train was on its way from Radium through the valley and that added to the effect.

I stopped to wolf down a few snacks that kept me going over the top of the hill and then it was downhill all the way into Kremmling. I had made it – the last 20 miles from Radium had been tough, but I had proved to myself that I could make it to the border on my own if I needed to.

I bought some drinks from a gas station and rode back through town, trying to locate the library, where I was supposed to catch up with Marco. I couldn’t find it, so headed to the campground thinking that he may just have gone straight there. I didn’t find him there though and with no mobile reception, decided to get myself sorted before searching further for him.

I got the tent up and had a wonderful shower and sort of cleaned some of my riding clothes – they would soon be dry given the strength of the wind. Once I was cleaned and organised, I rode back in to town to try and find Marco and to get some food.

On my second sweep through the main street, I found him in one of the pubs and joined him for yet another burger and a (well-deserved) cold beer.

July 12
Day Twenty Four – Kremmling to Silverthorne – 56 miles – 1,780 miles total

I slept very well and woke feeling very positive, looking forward to another shorter day. The positivity soon disappeared though as I noticed that my back tyre was flat – I must have picked up a puncture riding back from dinner the evening before.

It took us a while to get it fixed and so the cafe was already pretty busy by the time we arrived for breakfast. After ordering, I dashed across the road to phone home and wish Mum a happy birthday.

Full of pancakes and cinnamon rolls, we set off towards Silverthorne. After a couple of miles, Marco decided that he wanted to have a fast day and so we decided to split up again, agreeing to meet at a lunch spot around 30 miles into the route, at the bottom of the main climb of the day.

The ride was all uphill, but I was making good progress on the excellent surface and it wasn’t too long before I met back up with Marco at the side of the road for lunch.

Refreshed after lunch, Marco set off up towards the final steep section of the climb up to Ute Pass. As I reached the last few miles, I was slightly surprised to see Marco coming back the other way. Had we gone the wrong way? Was the road closed? The answer was much simpler; Marco wanted a race up to the top. I’m afraid I wasn’t much competition for him although I kept him within my sight for a bit longer than I usually would have done!

At the top of the climb, we were met with Jim, who was out for a ride on his road bike, whilst on vacation in the area. We chatted and rode together as the paved road started to take us downhill. He was (like pretty much everyone else we met along the way) fascinated by our adventure and even more amazed at the speed that we were able to go at down the hill. The weight of the trailer gives us an extra boost, compensating for the extra drag of the fatter tyres. Jim and Marco got into their aerodynamic ‘tuck’ positions and raced down the hill. I took advantage of the downhill and sat up and relaxed. The racers got up to about 47mph, I only managed about 42 – still pretty quick though!!

I have to say that little section of maybe three or four miles was one of my favourite parts of the route. Not just because it was downhill and fast, but because we got some amazing mountain views on the way down too. If we were to ride have been riding from South to North though, this would have probably been one of the hardest climbs!

After chatting away with Jim at the bottom of the hill, we then just had to deal with the thirteen miles of gradual uphill along the busy highway into Silverthorne. Once in Silverthorne, we stopped at the supermarket and filled up on energy drink, milk and chocolate.

That night, we were lucky enough to be staying with Heike, thanks to couchsurfing once again. In her back yard, we hung out the tents to dry, got the sleeping bags well aired and did some work on the bikes – giving them a general tune up and changing the chains.

That evening, we headed out of town to a local micro brewery for a couple of beers and a big plate of pasta as the sun went down. An excellent end to a great day.

July 13
Day Twenty Five – Silverthorne to Hartsel – 73 miles – 1,853 miles total

Heike cooked us a yummy breakfast and once we’d packed our stuff we were back on the road again. We had a few problems finding the correct trail out of town and then we had to get up a steep, but thankfully short climb up to the Dillon Reservoir. There we joined a cycle path that was very well used indeed. I was amazed to see so many people out riding, and all of them waved or said hello as we went past.

We followed the edge of the reservoir to the small town of Frisco where we found the bike shop and a lovely bakery for a cinnamon roll. Back on the bike path, we made our way up towards Breckenridge. It was along this path that I discovered that I wasn’t actually that slow, as I passed many a cyclist on the way, and none of them was towing a trailer!

In Breckenridge, we got some supplies from the supermarket and then visited the local library to get some internet access. While we were in there, the weather turned; the skies turned very grey and the rain began pouring down – not great news for us, although a couple of locals told me that it wouldn’t last. I hoped they were right.

We ate some lunch and then decided to head out into the rain. We hadn’t made it very far before Marco had a problem with his chain. We tried to get it fixed in the supermarket car park, but had no joy, so Marco took it into one of the bike shops in town to get it fixed. I carried on ahead, and got a head start on Boreas Pass.

On the map this looked like a horrible climb, being about 10 miles long and climbing about 2,000 feet in altitude. In reality it was a great climb. The track was in great condition and gave wonderful views back down the valley. The weather got better as I climbed up and by the time I got near the top it was pretty warm. I started to have a few problems with my breathing at this point and so eased back a bit. I looked back to see if I could spot Marco racing up behind me, but couldn’t see him and so really took it easy.

I could see the sign marking the top of the climb when I heard him racing past me, breathing hard. I couldn’t believe it! I had been beaten to the top once again, even with a big head start!

We stopped for a breather at the top, which was harder than you might think; we were at 11,482 feet (3,500 metres) and the oxygen was noticeably less than down at the bottom. I was as high as Namche Bazaar in Nepal, the first stop on the Everest Trek.

Going down the other side was awesome; a steady fast gravel road took us toward the small village of Como. As we approached, the heavens opened and the headwind started to get stronger. I rode straight through the place and had to turn back around to find the local restaurant where Marco was waiting.

The front door was pretty stiff and so I pushed hard and ended up basically falling into the place. And what a place it was. I was in heaven when they told me that one of the owners was an Englishman and that they served PG Tips tea – I ordered a pot straight away!

After a lovely bowl of soup, I munched my way through a great sandwich and then had desert as well. I was pretty keen to stay there (they had rooms too) but I knew we should probably get moving again.

Luckily, the rain had stopped by the time we left. The wind however, was stronger than ever, and of course we had to ride into it. I had real trouble even pushing the pedals round as my belly was so full! II found that I had to sit up straight and ride with my knees pointing out – I must have looked ridiculous!

The road through South Park is a very strange one. All the way along there are roads going off the main one, but they lead nowhere. There were obviously plans to develop the land and build ranches along there, but the plans had clearly not worked out. There was even a kids play park and baseball diamond all ready for the new inhabitants to use, but I doubt if they had ever been tried out, and given the current climate, it will be a while before anyone starts buying up the land.

After twenty something miles into the wind, we arrived in Hartsel but found that the pub was no longer serving food and there was no campsite there either. That was a little bit strange as the guidebook recommends this as a place to end the day.

We stocked up with food and drink at the gas station and set off into the wind again to find ourselves a place to sleep by the side of the road. We got a great spot in the middle of nowhere and got our camp set up for the night.

July 14
Day Twenty Six – Hartsel to Doyle ville – 97 miles – 1,950 miles total

The map seemed to suggest a fairly flat start to the day, but on the ground it didn’t seem that way. I found the going pretty slow and it wasn’t long before Marco was away in the distance.

By now I was very used to being alone in the big wide open spaces of South Park and wasn’t disheartened by being able to see the trial winding its way across the land for miles and miles ahead of me. This morning though, I needed a little bit of help and so plugged in the Ipod and that seemed to give me something else to think about as I made my way towards the first climb of the day.

The steep section to the top of the climb had me pushing again, something that I had been doing less and less over the past few days. Maybe I was getting fitter after all?!

More stunning views were waiting at the top and just got better and better as I began to descend towards Salida. In the space of about fifteen miles, the trail dropped almost 3,000ft (nearly 1,000 metres) and the temperature down in Salida was incredible – so much hotter than we’d experienced over the previous few days.

We had a huge lunch and then stocked up on food for the coming few days before I set off and Marco headed to the library again. This time he was photocopying maps as we had been unable to buy a second set in any of the towns we’d visited in the past week or so.

The headwind out of Salida was incredible as I zigzagged my way along small county roads towards Poncha Springs and then on towards Marshall Pass, some 25 miles and almost 4,000 feet of climbing away.

The first section was along the highway and the heat coming up off the road was incredible. We were riding in the hottest part of the day too, which clearly didn’t help. Off of the highway, the trail just kept on going up and up and up.

There was an alternative route marked on the map, but unlike all the others along the way, this one was shorter, steeper and rougher than the main one; naturally, Marco was interested. He caught me up just before the turning and we agreed to meet at the bottom of the hill on the other side in Sargents.

I passed him a few minutes later – his chain had broken again and he was struggling to get it fixed. He told me to carry on, and so I did just that, knowing that I couldn’t really offer much help anyway.

The trail used to be rail line up over the pass, and so the gradient was not too steep but it just kept on going. Marco passed me again with about seven miles to go to the top and I struggled on. The day just seemed to be getting hotter, but luckily there were some shady sections as I pedalled slowly along. My computer was ticking over very slowly, my legs ached and I felt exhausted as I finally got a sight of the top, but it was still some distance away. On I pushed and finally made it over the top.

A bumpy and rocky downhill followed, and within another hour I saw Sargents ahead of me, where I hoped to be able to get some food and rest. The wind though did its best to stop me getting there, blowing strongly into my face, making the final few miles pretty tough.

I arrived in Sargents to find the pub just about open and some food had already been ordered for me. We scoffed down a couple of burgers each and bought more supplies from the store next door before hitting the road again. I wanted to just stay the night in Sargents, but looked at the map and saw that the next section was about thirteen miles of downhill along the highway. The light was fading as the sun began to set, but I knew it wouldn’t take us too long to find a place to camp once we turned off onto the gravel road again.

We rode as the sunset lit up the valley and pitched our tents in the dark. I was extremely tired after the long climb, but knew that more of the same lay ahead of us.

July 15
Day Twenty Seven – Doyle ville to Del Norte – 96 miles – 2,046 miles total

Waking up in the middle of nowhere was rapidly becoming one of my favourite aspects of the trip and today, waking up was an absolute pleasure. The sunrise was great, but I knew that I couldn’t hang around today, as we had two passes to get over before reaching the next town of Del Norte, almost 100 miles away.

I set off a little while before Marco but he caught me up after after about fifteen miles as I had stopped to chat with a motorcyclist who was also riding the route. He told us that he had cycled some of the route many years ago, and again issued another warning about New Mexico. All these horror stories weren’t helping very much!

The trail up to Cochetopa Pass was pretty good and I was making good time and got to the top without having to push – a good sign. I met Marco at the top as he was just finishing his first lunch. He set off and I followed shortly afterwards, hoping not to fall too far behind him.

An easy downhill section followed and then we had a short section on the highway. The heat coming off the road was once again amazing ad I was happy to get off the pavement and onto the next section of gravel road.

I found a little creek and some shade and set about filtering some water and eating some lunch. The water filtering didn’t start too well as I stood at the edge of the water on what looked like solid ground. It wasn’t very solid and I got myself a wet and muddy foot for my troubles. By the time I’d got the water filtered, the mosquitoes had arrived and so I didn’t hang around.

I rode on through the heat of the day and finally made it up to Carnero Pass where I finally stopped for a big feed before starting a good long descent towards Del Norte. After about twenty miles, I rode off route for a mile or so and paid a visit to the store at La Garita.

Annoyingly, I had arrived too late for hot food, but the very kind shopkeeper said that she could make me a sandwich if I wanted one? I had the best roast beef and horseradish sandwich ever and was soon back on my way.

I was making great progress and had less than 20 miles to go to Del Norte, but I soon slowed down as the tracks became more and more primitive. I was riding through an amazing canyon-esque landscape though and so I wasn’t too worried about slowing down until the trail turned into tricky singletrack.

As I was tired, I found this section really tricky and I got slower and slower the further I went. Up ahead, I saw a biker riding towards me and for a moment I thought it was Marco. It turned out to be Alan from California who was also riding part of the trail. He was taking a rest day in Del Norte and was just riding back over a bit of the route to go and visit a natural arch, a few miles away. We chatted for a while and agreed to meet up later and possibly ride together for a while.

We went our separate ways and the trail continued to deteriorate before I finally made it up to the high point, from which I could see Del Norte ahead of me. This area was clearly used by the local youth as beer bottle and cans littered the route, as did all kinds of other rubbish. Most of it had been shot at as well – not such a nice place to ride through.

The trail turned to sand and once again I found myself pushing for a while before riding the last section into town and along to the house of Gary and Patti, a couple of local bikers who open their doors to Great Divide riders for the night. It’s a real haven on the route and they are so very welcoming to bikers.

I took a shower and then Marco, Alan and I headed to the local restaurant for a bite to eat, before crawling into bed. Tomorrow, we would face Indiana Pass, the highest point on the route. It was going to be a tough day.

July 16
Day Twenty Eight – Del Norte to Horca – 67 miles – 2,113 miles total

I didn’t have the best night’s sleep, thanks to being pretty apprehensive about the climb up and over Indiana Pass that lay ahead of us. The wind was blowing strongly throughout the night too, and it was still blowing when we woke up – not a good sign.

After coffee and chatting, we got the bikes packed, thanked Gary and Patti for their great hospitality, and headed out for breakfast.

We met Alan at the cafe and after filling up on bacon and eggs, we set off towrds the hill that had been occupying my thoughts for most of the night before, Indiana Pass.

The first ten miles were fairly gentle and we climbed just under 1,000 feet in that time. And then the paved road became a gravel road, and things changed. The trail immediately became steeper and I knew that this was the start of the biggest test so far.

I took a little rest at the bottom, composed myself and then set off, knowing that it was going to be uphill like this for the next thirteen miles. We would have to climb another 3,000 feet before reaching the top.

I was determined to keep riding and desperately wanted to make it without pushing. There were a few sections where I thought I would have to push, but I just stopped, took a rest and then set off again. At one point, I did get off the bike, and assumed the Superman position, (head down, arms stretched) and got ready to push but managed to stop myself.

Of course, Marco was long gone, but I kept pretty close to Alan and when I saw him go over the top, I knew I had nearly done it.

Crossing the pass was a huge relief but I was devastated to see that there wasn’t even a sign to mark the achievement. We were at the high point of the route, (11,910ft / 3,600m) and I couldn’t get a photo to prove it.

I carried on over the top, expecting to see the others waiting for me at the side of the trail, but I didn’t see them anywhere. I finally caught up with Alan at the aptly named Summitville, home to some very read mountains and polluted water (thanks to all the mining).

We stopped and had a bite to eat and then spotted Marco riding towards us. He had been sitting waiting for us a little way off the track at the pass. I hadn’t heard him calling me as I had my headphones in to help me over the top!

After lunch, the trail continued up and over the much shorter climb of Stunner Pass and then down the other side to Platoro, where we filled up on food once again. I was ready to stop for the night, even though it was still pretty early, but the others wanted to carry on, and as it was downhill it made sense.

We rode for about five or six miles and then as I was pushing hard to get up a bit of a hill, I overstretched my calf and wasn’t able to pedal properly. I was in a bit of pain, but carried on anyway, hopeful that we would make to the next settlement of Horca.

I didn’t quite make it, and Alan and I decided to call it a day at a campground about eight miles before Horca. Marco was feeling strong (no surprise there) and we agreed to try to meet him in El Rito the following night. That would make it a very long day of some 110 miles, but we thought we ‘d be able to do it. After all, we’d made it to the high point so it would all be downhill from now on, right?!

We didn’t have the best night’s sleep – it was pretty warm in the tent which didn’t help, I’m sure. We woke up and got packed away in time for a fantastic breakfast – just what we both needed. I was feeling much much better, even despite the poor night’s sleep.

We got out onto the gravel road nice and early and the weather was pretty good for us, a little cooler than the previous couple of days. I felt like I was racing along, but Marco was still up ahead of me as we crossed over the state border out of Idaho and into Wyoming.

The trail was in good condition until we started to climb up along the edge of Yellowstone National Park. I kept my eyes out for bears, but didn’t spot any, perhaps they were staying out of the way of the mosquitoes that were swarming all around us and feasting on our flesh.

We stopped for a short break alongside the Grassy Lake Reservoir, but couldn’t hang around too long for fear of being eaten alive! After a steep climb, the trail flattened out a bit and then we descended down to Flagg Ranch, where we got a drink and a bite to eat, having completed about 35 miles in double quick time.

At the ranch, we met group of cyclists who were riding the TransAmerica trail; a 4,000 plus mile ride from Oregon to Virginia. It was interesting to hear their tales from the road and they seemed pretty interested In our route too.

We had a big hill to climb coming out of the ranch, but it was along the paved road, which made it a little easier on the legs. Down the other side, we had great views over Jackson Lake, which we rode around the edge of.

We arrived at Colter Bay Village in the bright sunshine and sat outside the gas station eating sandwiches as we decided what to do next. We had hoped to meet back up with Ollie here, but received a text message that suggested he was going to carry on without us. We decided then that we would take a diversion off the route down to the town of Jackson. It would take us 40 miles off of the route, but we’d heard that the road down to the town was supposed to be amazing. We would also be able to buy supplies and parts for the bikes, and maybe even have a rest day. I was pretty keen on this, and the idea grew on Marco as we went down the road to Jackson.

The ride alongside Jackson Lake with the Teton Mountains behind it, was simply stunning. We stopped many times to take photos of the amazing scenery, especially near Jenny Lake.

In the small village of Moose, we stopped for a cool drink and Marco started to feel pretty unwell – it seemed as though he had the same thing that I had had a few days earlier – not pleasant.

The weather began to close in a bit and we saw some lightning in the distance and so decided to take the slightly shorter route into Jackson, straight along the main highway. We got almost all the way into town before the rain came pouring down, but were able to take shelter in the information centre.

We found ourselves a motel room in town (no mean feat as the place was full of people here for the 4th July weekend) and rode through the rain to get there. We had to wait for the owners to show up and Marco got worse the longer we waited. By the time we got the room key, Marco was in bad shape and felt very ill, so took a shower and went straight to bed.

July 4
Day Sixteen – Jackson Rest Day

Marco woke up feeling better, but still not 100% and so we decided to take the whole day off. We spent the day visiting bike shops, picking up spares, got our laundry done and cleaned and fixed up the bikes. I also bought a tent as we decided that it would be better for us to have a tent each, especially as it got warmer as we travelled further south.

July 5
Day Seventeen – Jackson to Union Pass – 91 miles – 1,192 miles total

After a rest the day before, it was good to be back on the bike again. That might be an odd thing to say, and it felt a bit weird at the time too! The feeling didn’t last very long though, as within 20 minutes I had to stop at the side of the road to fix a flat!

Once that was fixed, we set off along the road again. The bad thing about taking the diversion off the route was that we had to ride back much the same way to get back on track. The road was still pretty awesome though, even if it was steady uphill all the way.

We took an early lunch at a lovely little cafe with views of the mountains and then got back on our way. All morning, I’d had the feeling that I was fighting the bike a little bit and my newly-fitted brake pads were rubbing against the brake disc, meaning that I had to work harder. I’d thought that they would ease up the further we went, but it soon became apparent that they were still pretty tight.

We stopped and tried to fix the brakes and ended up putting the old pads back on which made things a little easier.

We turned back on to the road and began to climb up over Togwotee Pass. The road was being repaired and was not in such a great state, but we made it to the top and then began a steep technical downhill section, which I really struggled with. The reward was a stunning view of the mountains and a short section through a beautiful deep canyon.

A downhill section on the road took us to a campground and RV park where we stopped for a barbecue dinner, complete with live entertainment.

Then it was back onto the road for a long, steep climb up towards Union Pass, as the sun was going down. The views were simply amazing, but because it was getting darker and darker, we couldn’t hang around for too long.

We arrived at the top of the hill in the dark and rode a couple of miles to a primitive campground. Pitching my new tent in the dark wasn’t too easy (thank goodness I’d practiced in the motel room!) but we got set up and into bed quickly, happy with the day’s mileage.

July 6
Day Eighteen – Union Pass to Boulder – 90 miles – 1,282 miles total

We had a bit of a disturbed sleep, thanks to so inquisitive cows getting a bit too close to Marco’s tent for comfort. He woke in a panic, thinking that a bear was sniffing around and in turn, woke me by shouting at the cows!

We were up very early and ate breakfast sheltering from the early morning chill in the toilet!

We started with another steep climb up over Union Pass, which had us stripping off our warm clothing very quickly. We then had a long section of undulating track before we reached the paved road again. We had to ride through a bit of a storm first though. I was knocked off my bike by a strong gust of wind that came from nowhere. I managed to get my feet unclipped and escaped without any injury, but the wind got stronger and more consistent and by the time I reached a roadside cafe, I was pretty tired and looked forward to a big feed.

Whilst I was in the bathroom, a large storm started raging outside, with rain pouring down and soaking the horses that were tied up next to our bikes. If I’d been ten minutes later, I would have been completely drenched!

We had a long road section next, but fortunately the rain had stopped. The wind however was blowing strongly as we undulated our way to Pinedale, where an amazing coincidence awaited us.

Before leaving Banff, we had sent a number of requests for places to stay via the website couchsurfing. As we rode into Pinedale, I had the thought that we had made a request for somewhere to stay here, but we hadn’t seen a reply -the lack of internet access hadn’t helped either.

We stopped off in the outdoor shop in Pinedale and picked up some supplies before we got chatting to a local biker who recommended the local pub as a good place to eat – we were desperate for some pasta – so we went along. We were met at the door by Amy, who recognised us from our couchsurfing request and website. She was our host and had accepted our request for a place to stay, but we hadn’t seen the email confirmation. What an amazing coincidence!

It turned out that the pub had no pasta, so we went back up the road to a pasta and pizza place to carbo load. It turned out that Amy (and Joe) were staying in a cabin on a campground along the road to Boulder, which happened to be on our way.

We rode the 15 miles or so to Boulder in the dark along the highway – possibly the scariest and most dangerous part of the route – and got a shower and headed to bed after a long chat with Joe.

July 7
Day Nineteen – Boulder to Atlantic City – 101 miles – 1,383 miles total

Joe woke up early to see us off and we coasted the couple of miles into Boulder where we stopped and had some breakfast and stocked up on snacks and drinks for the day. We also had a look at the route for the day and prepared for an uphill day.

Despite being uphill most of the way, I think this was one of my favourite days of the trail. We rode up into a huge basin, with vast expanses of flat(ish) land all around us, framed by the Continental Divide inn the distance. It was a very special place to be riding through.

We made good progress and took an early first lunch before starting on a long section of rollercoaster-like trail. It was a little daunting to ride to the top of a rise and look up to see the trail stretching ahead as far as the eye could see, up and down all the way. But I just got myself into a positive frame of mind and decided that I was going to ride all of the ups and downs, riding hard down hill to try and coast up the other side as much as I could.

We climbed up and on to the Divide and then rode along the top of it for a couple of miles, giving superb views out across the basin. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and we saw almost no other people for the whole way.

We had a short section on the road before taking the trail up to South Pass City, which was little more than a small village. We took a bit of a rest in the shade and filled up with ice lollies and cold drinks before the short up and down ride to Atlantic City.

In Atlantic City (again, only a village) we ate a good dinner and ordered some pizza and pancakes to go. We also filled up all our bottles with water, as we were heading into the desert and wouldn’t have a reliable water source until we got to Rawlins, some 120 miles away.

We made a foolish map reading error coming out of Atlantic City and started to climb the wrong hill. We only went about half a mile out of our way though, and had to ride back through the village, hoping that nobody noticed that we’d gone the wrong way!

The correct hill was ridiculously steep and I had no other choice than to push up to the top, but from the top, we had a great long section of downhill ahead of us. We had entered the red desert which was looking exceptionally beautiful in the evening sunlight.

We were however, battling with a side wind which seemed to grab hold of the trailer and flag and making the bike feel very unstable. The track was also a tricky one to ride along, as it was very bumpy and washboarded indeed. My hands were very sore from the jarring of the handlebars and the loss of sensation in them was starting to give me real concerns.

We rode on until the sunset and set up our camp by the side of the trail, where we munched down a bit of the pizza we’d carried from Atlantic City. A fantastic way to end an fantastic day; a 100-miler too!

July 8
Day Twenty – Atlantic City to Rawlins – 112 miles – 1,495 miles total

Waking up in the desert was simply wonderful. We felt as though we were in the middle of nowhere, which I guess wasn’t too far from the truth. Our target for the day was to be the town of Rawlins, over 100 miles away. The last 30 miles or so would be on the road though, which in our minds made things a little easier.

The trail was bumpy but otherwise pretty good. Heavy trucks had clearly been using the roads though, as their tracks were visible throughout the day. We saw a few of them along the way, serving the mining that seemed to be taking over sections of the desert. We were lucky that the weather was dry, and had been for a few days – it would have been very hard going if the trail was wet and muddy.

Marco went on ahead, which was pretty normal, and I carried on behind. We’d split up like this several times before, with Marco leaving signs for me at any turnings off the main track. We only had one set of maps between us, which in hindsight was a mistake.

I started up a slight drag of a hill when things suddenly got very hard for me, the back wheel started to drag. I’d picked up a flat and would have to stop to try and fix it. This flat coincided with the wind picking up, blowing the sand everywhere.

Rather than just changing the tube, I decided that it would make sense for me to change the actual tyre as well. It was starting to get very worn indeed, and I’d picked up a spare in Jackson on our rest day.

I unhitched the trailer and got the back wheel off, found the puncture in the tube and got that changed before starting on the tyre. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get the new tyre onto the rim – the fit was so tight, and it looked like it would never go on. With the sand still blowing all over the place and my patience running out, I gave up and put the old tyre back on.

All this had taken me ages and I was conscious that Marco would be waiting up ahead somewhere, so I tried to push on and catch him up. I think that was why I missed Marco’s sign on the road. He left a load of arrows marked in the sand, but somehow I didn’t see them and carried on, oblivious to the fact I’d taken the wrong road.

The trail was fairly rollercoaster-like and the surface was pretty sandy and tough going. Worryingly, I couldn’t see Marco’s tracks ahead of me, but the surface was such that there were hardly any tracks on there at all. I even looked back behind to see if I was making a track, and when I saw that I wasn’t, I carried on, pretty sure I was going the right way.

The feeling didn’t last though, and the further I went, the more sure I was that I’d gone wrong somewhere and when I reached the next junction, I stopped and dug out the guide book that was safely in the bottom of my trailer bag.

Here I found the news that I really didn’t want to see. I was way off course and had missed a turning just after fixing my flat. Fortunately, rescue was close at hand! I got chatting to Ed, an old fella working on the road and he offered to give me a lift back on to the correct track. It turned out I’d ridden about 15 miles down the wrong road and whilst I could have carried on and joined back up with the correct route fairly easily, I knew that Marco would be waiting for me somewhere along the way.

We found Marco by the side of the trail, underneath his space blanket, sheltering from the sun which was beating down on us. I thanked Ed for rescuing me and we got back onto the correct trail, heading for Rawlins.

More undulations took us down to the main road, which took us down towards Rawlins. It wasn’t downhill all the way though, as there was a huge climb up over the Continental Divide before going down again into Rawlins.

My legs were dead by the time I rolled into town, and the food couldn’t come out quick enough. We rode to the campground in the dark and got to bed as quickly as we could. Another 100 mile day under our belts and although the desert had tried its hardest to beat us, we had survived another day.

July 9
Day Twenty One – Rawlins to Slater – 86 miles – 1,581 miles total

After a good sleep, we were up and away from the campsite early and found our way to a local cafe for a good breakfast. We needed to stock up on groceries though, and so while Marco headed to the supermarket, I set off on the road, knowing that I would be caught before too long.

In fact, I made pretty good time and reached the end of the paved road before Marco caught me up – the supplies had obviously slowed him down!

We started up a massive steep hill, pausing only to chat to a walker who had stopped by the side of the road. He was walking part of the Continental Divide Trail and was running low on water, so we helped him out.

Back on the hill, the trail just kept going up and up and up and by the time we crossed over Middlewood Hill, it was definitely time for a first lunch. The afternoon turned out to be very hard work. A quite gravelly road was made more tricky by the constant headwind and occasional side wind gusts. I remember very clearly shouting out in annoyance at having to pedal downhill, just to keep going!

The road did however take us out of the open and back into the slight shade of the forest, which came as a very welcome relief. We’d been out in the open for several days now meaning that both the heat and the wind had made things hard for us. At least now we got a little respite from the elements.

By the time I caught back up with Marco, he had eaten his second lunch and filtered a load of water. I quickly ate my lunch and drank down some water before starting back on my way. Little did I know that I was entering a section that would test me to my limits. Fifteen miles downhill on the paved road sounds easy enough and in my mind I was looking forward to not having to pedal too hard for a little while. The maps don’t tell you anything about the headwind though, and the downhill never really felt like downhill – I never got any real speed up and definitely didn’t coast down the hill.

At the bottom of the hill, I crossed the border from Wyoming into Colorada, but barely took any notice of the sign, I was so tired. I found Marco in the shade just off the side of the road and hoped that he would say that he’d found it tough down the hill too. He hadn’t. I was dead on my feet and wanted nothing more than to just stop right there for the night, but Marco wanted to push on further. I knew it was the right thing to do, but didn’t think my legs would take me much further.

We managed just about six or seven miles along the road before Marco found us a good place to camp for the night. Exhausted, we got the tents up and got the dinner cooked – pasta and tomato sauce – hardly a luxury meal, but it tasted great right then.

I went to bed frustrated that we hadn’t got as far as we wanted to that day, but was looking forward to a shorter and hopefully, easier day ahead.

After a disturbingly short sleep, the alarm sounded and was promptly silenced. I was exhausted and felt like I’d only just crawled into my sleeping bag. Fortunately, Ollie and Marco both seemed to be a bit on the slow side this morning, but wandered into town to get some breakfast, leaving me in the tent to get myself together.

I managed to drag myself up and out and walked into Seeley Lake to try and join the others for some breakfast. The place we’d agreed to meet only served coffee, but the lady there was very friendly and told me that she’d given Ollie and Marco a lift (a lift!!!) up the road to somewhere serving a good breakfast. With her good turn for the day already done, I received no offer of a ride and so had to slowly make my way up the road to the diner.

As if things weren’t bad enough, I arrived to discover that Michael Jackson had died. I look forward to telling the tale of remembering where I was when I learned of his death…..or maybe not.

Anyway, a good breakfast cheered us all up a bit and we got the tents packed away and set off on the way to Lincoln

I was feeling very tired and soon dropped back behind the others, but decided to try to keep on going, but at the same time wondering how I was going to cope with the rest of the ride. Here I was, just one week in and feeling like death

Thanks to our very late start that morning, the sun was already beating down, and I was really feeling the heat and I was doing possibly the worst thing I could do – watching the computer on my handlebars as it slowly crept along

After 26 miles, we arrived in the town of Ovando where we were treated to the best sandwiches on the whole route. If ever you find yourself near Ovando, then you simply must stop at The Stray Bullet and sample one (or two) of their fantastic sarnies.

Refreshed, I took quite a difficult decision. I would skip the rest of the trail to Lincoln and take the road instead. This would give me an easier afternoon, meaning that I would arrive a little earlier and be able to get a bit more sleep. It was a tough decision as I wanted to complete the whole route, but I also knew that the ride up Huckleberry Pass would most likely exhaust me, and I would be slowing the others down too.

After a brief moment where Ollie was considering both taking the road and going on further than Lincoln, I set off down the road and Ollie and Marco headed out on the trail, agreeing to meet up at the campground in Lincoln later that afternoon.

My ride along the road was unsurprisingly dull and had a few big long hills to get up and down along the way. I stopped a couple of times to get out of the sun for a while, and to make sure I was completely hydrated (I think this had added to my problems the day before).

I arrived in Lincoln in the middle of the afternoon, got the tent pitched and took a great shower before falling asleep for an hour or so. I had just woken up when Marco and Ollie arrived with tales of a quite easy climb and great views that I had missed. Still, I was happy that I’d managed to get an extra bit of sleeping done.

That evening, we got our laundry done, did some grocery shopping, ate pizza and drank beer. I was even starting to look forward to getting back on the road in the morning.

June 27
Day Nine – Lincoln to Helena – 65 miles – 587 miles total

Today was going to be a tough day and so we were up pretty early and after a large breakfast we were on the road. Although our destination Helena was at a lower altitude than Lincoln, today was going to be an uphill day, with three Continental Divide crossings and a profile that looked pretty challenging to say the least.

Somewhere on the first climb of the day, I remember looking down and thinking “I don’t recognise my own legs”. Quite an odd thought to have, but it did make me feel a bit better about feeling tired the previous couple of days – my body was changing shape, I was obviously working hard.

We stopped for an early first lunch at the bottom of the second climb and got the tents dried out in the sun, before setting off again. Marco went on ahead and we agreed to meet him over the top at Dog Creek.

The last part of the climb was very steep and had both Ollie and I pushing and wondering when it was going to end – “it must be just around this bend….”

A bumpy downhill took us down to Dog Creek and we met back up with Marco for a second lunch, before we set off again, heading towards the third Continental Divide crossing of the day, Priest Pass. On the map, the climb looked pretty steep, but in reality it was pretty easy. Two miles, along a really good gravel road in some wonderful surroundings – perfect for the third and final big climb of the day.

A steep downhill followed and then about ten miles along the highway took us into the town of Helena where we hoped to find a bike shop to get some supplies. The first shop we tried was closed and so we rode across town to another shop which was also closed. The owner was still inside however and saw us arrive and so came to help us out.

Ollie bought some new bike shoes as his had fallen apart and we picked up a few other bits and pieces before heading along to a hotel just down the road. A good cheap room, a good feed and a couple of beers rounded off the day very nicely indeed. Things were looking up.

June 28
Day Ten – Helena to Butte – 72 miles – 659 miles total

Breakfast in the hotel was followed by a long steady climb out of town before we stopped for photos next to the only Great Divide Mountain Bike Route signs on the whole trip.

We spent the rest of the morning riding uphill and then ate first lunch before starting on the roughest toughest section we’d faced so far – Lava Mountain. The guide book promised two miles of tough singletrack riding and that was an understatement.

The first section was basically a vertical wall which then became a rocky slope. Ollie and I pushed for what seemed like hours, but Marco was having a great time and managed to ride the whole thing, although he looked a bit tired when we eventually rejoined him at the top. I really didn’t enjoy that section at all, even the downhill sections were too steep for me to ride – I did try a couple of times, but without making any real progress.

Over the top, we began the descent to the settlement of Basin – not so much a town as a collection of houses. They did have a pub and cafe though, so we stopped for a drink and a bite to eat – much needed after the miles of pushing.

Out of Basin, we took a “Non-maintained Cattle Trail”, which was nowhere near as bad as it sounds and we followed this track alongside the highway before joining the highway for the final few very fast very downhill miles into Butte.

We got a room in the first motel we found, and after a shower headed out for some food, which disappointingly turned out to be burgers again…

June 29
Day Eleven – Butte to Elkhorn Hot Springs – 86 miles – 745 miles total

Ollie and I left Marco in bed and headed down for some breakfast before hitting the road out of Butte. Today was going to be our “Top Gear” style challenge day….

The challenge? Could Marco (aka Jeremy Clarkson) beat Ollie and I (James May and Richard Hammond), riding on his Ferrari-like carbon bike over the longer and harder section of the course, whilst we took our Volvos on the easier section. To even things up a little bit, Marco would have to wait until 10am when the Butte bike shop opened, whilst Ollie and I hit the road nice and early.

The road from Butte was not too bad, although it was paved for quite a while. When the climbing started, it was fairly gentle and the trail was in good condition. It was however, quite a long steady climb, but the view from the top was well worth the effort expended to get there – simply spectacular views over to the Pioneer mountain range in the distance – we would be heading towards them all day.

We stayed up quite high for a while before a steep descent took us down to the main highway. The road was in the middle of being repaired and large amounts of sand covered the road. About a third of the way down, my front wheel got stuck in some deep sand and got stuck. The rest of the bike and the trailer wanted to carry on though, resulting in me being catapulted off the bike. Fortunately, the landing was relatively soft and I wasn’t travelling too quickly, so I just picked up some scratches, bumps and bruises. I also managed to hurt my ribs again, but nowhere near as badly as I did in Calgary.

We ate lunch at the bottom and discussed which route to take. After the long section of pushing yesterday, neither of us was keen to have to do the same again, and so we opted to take the paved alternative route to Wise River.

After a drinks stop in Divide we rode along the road and into Wise River for a bite to eat and to await Marco’s arrival. Ollie managed to get wifi access on his phone and we had a quick check of the live tracking page on bikingthegreatdivide.com, to see where Marco was. He seemed to be making good progress but Ollie was keen to keep going so we waited until we could see he was out of the tough section, then left a note at the cafe and set off again.

The first section of the road was fairly dull, but soon became really special. We followed the path of the Wise River through some spectacular scenery. It would have been perfect if it hadn’t been for the mosquitoes that were everywhere. As soon as we stopped to take a photo or to check the map, we would be surrounded by a swarm of biting mosquitoes (I’m itching now, just thinking about it!).

When we started to climb, things just got worse; at speed, the mossies couldn’t really keep up, but going slowly, they had an absolute feast on us. At one point I just gave up, stopped and ripped open my BOB bag to get my DEET spray out. Although I got bitten quite badly whilst I was stopped, the bug spray seemed to do the trick and the mossies were a little less aggressive.

Of course, all the time this was going on, we were looking over our shoulders, expecting to hear the roar of the Ferrari engine coming after us. The longer we went without hearing or seeing Marco, the more confident we were that we could beat him.

Finally, Ollie and I arrived at the top of the hill and began a fast, steep descent to Elkhorn Hot Springs. We had originally planned to go on a bit further, but were just discussing how to let Marco know where we were when he came speeding round the corner. The BBC couldn’t have scripted it any better! The only bad news is that the bike shop had almost none of the stuff we needed, as it had been cleared out by the racers who had passed through a week or two earlier.

We had an excellent meal in the pub and then pitched our tents in the local campsite before setting our alarms for early the next morning – tomorrow was going to be a long hard day.

June 30
Day Twelve – Elkhorn Hot Springs to Lima – 107 miles – 852 miles total

We got up in the dark and set off as it was getting light. It was still pretty cold and we wore all the clothes we could for the downhill section. We hadn’t gone very far before we were stopped by a huge number of cows coming up the road towards us, herded along by cowboys and cowgirls. We stopped, hoping that the cows would just pass us by, but this seemed to be the wrong thing to do, so after a while we just saddled up and rode through them.

It was just as well we did, as there were thousands of cows and it was a good few miles before we got to the back of the pack, and more cowboys bringing up the rear.

We passed through the settlement of Polaris, notable only because it marked the end of our second map. The road continued slowly downhill, but the scenery had really changed from the previous few days of riding. We were out of the forests and into the wide plains of Montana.

We turned onto a gravel road and into Bannack State Park where we got a first taste of what the ‘flat’ sections on the map were going to be like. Lots of small roller-coaster-type ups and downs, without a hint of a flat section.

We had a good long downhill and took a small diversion off the road to the town of Grant, where we were looking for a big breakfast. Unfortunately, the hotel / restaurant there looks like it has been closed for a good long while and so we were out of luck. With 40 miles to the next town, there was no hope of a good cooked breakfast, so we had to make do with oatmeal cooked up on Marco’s stove. We were all so dejected, especially after riding over 30 miles that morning with the expectation of a good feed here.

Still feeling hungry, we set off again and it was back to the uphill for us. Just a steady climb, but one that lasted for over thirty miles. At the bottom of the steepest part, I was really struggling and we all stopped for a rest. Worryingly, a storm was passing very close to us and the sky was soon pretty black. We learned later on that had we been on top of the climb, we would have been in big big trouble as huge hail stones were raining down up there – the ranger said he was worried about his pickup being dented, they were so large.

Not wanting to get caught in the bad weather, we pushed on, stopping only long enough for me to eat a huge amount of trail mix. This wasn’t such a good idea as I threw up part the way up the steep section – not a good way to go. At the top, we got caught in another, thankfully less violent, storm before starting a long downhill ride to our planned destination for the night, Lima, still some 35 miles away.

We met a couple of motorcyclists who were following the route, weighed down with their heavy bikes and kit. We would meet many more bikers over the coming weeks, but few so friendly as these two.

The downhill section was great and took us through some amazing canyons, before the road turned a little bit sandy and sticky towards the end. We hit the highway and we all knew that it was just seven miles to Lima. We all thought it would be downhill, but the road was slightly uphill and into the wind – not what we needed.

I was exhausted and even the sight of Lima in the distance didn’t help – it just didn’t seem to be getting any closer, no matter how hard I tried to pedal. Finally, we turned under the interstate highway and into Lima.

We must have looked awful as we arrived into the restaurant. I was so tired that I couldn’t even get my gloves off and couldn’t be bothered to look at the menu – I just ordered the same as Marco!

After a bite to eat and drink though, our achievement began to sink in. We had covered 107 miles that day – our first century of the trip. We got the tents up and then went back to eat more food before crawling into our sleeping bags looking forward to a good sleep.

August 1
Day Thirteen – Lima, Montana to Sawtelle Resort, Idaho – 88 miles – 940 miles total

The infamous Day 13 had arrived. Little did we know how much this day would affect the whole trip. I don’t know why or how I realised that it was day 13 at the time, but sitting down for breakfast, it seemed somehow significant that both Ollie and I chose breakfast number 13 from the menu – maybe I knew something was going to happen…..

We set off and immediately I was feeling pretty strong on the undulating road. On the map, today was going to be a fairly flat day, with just one small steep climb, but with some longer sections of gradual incline, and that’s how it started out.

I think we were all feeling tired but encouraged by the fact that we’d completed our first 100 mile day the day before. Ollie stopped for a call of nature and then just didn’t catch us up. I stopped to wait and got news from a passing farmer that he had stopped to fix a flat tyre and would soon be on his way. I waited and waited and waited and finally decided that I should ride back and check all was OK.

I unhitched the trailer (can’t do that with panniers) and rode back, eventually finding that he was riding back to join us. The tyre was badly damaged and the makeshift solution of a strip of gaffa tape wasn’t going to last too long.

We stopped again and swapped the damaged tyre to the front wheel, where it would carry less weight, hopefully making it last longer. By the time we’d started again, we’d lost about an hour – our good start had been wiped out.

From then on, we stopped every half an hour or so to get Ollie’s tyre pumped up again as it was leaking air slowly. After lunch we stopped a passing pickup truck and got Ollie in the back with the plan that he would get to a bike shop to get his bike fixed and pick up spare parts for Marco and I. We would then meet up as soon as possible and carry on to Mexico.

Passing through the settlement of Lakeview – a wonderful setting, with the continental divide behind and views over the Red Rock Lakes – I began to feel unwell and the surface deteriorated into a sandy rocky mess of a road. Before too long, I had to stop at the side of the road and was violently ill, but worse than I had been the day before.

I got back on and made my way slowly along the track to join up with Marco, who was fighting with the mosquitoes as he waited for me. We could see the clouds coming in and we still had one pass to get over. We rode the bottom section together – I just wanted to get the day over and done with. Marco went ahead up the climb, but it was shorter than we both thought it would be, and before too long I passed over the top and into the state of Idaho.

I was ill again going down from the pass and by the time we got to Henrys Lake, I was exhausted. Luckily, we passed a farm where there seemed to be a barbecue going on. We cheekily went and asked if we could have a drink and we were told to take as much (water) as we wanted.

It turned out that we had come across the local night out – a big barbecue attracting up to 150 locals each week. We chatted to a couple of the early arrivals before getting back on our way.

A few more miles took us to our spot for the night; the Sawtelle Resort. We went to the pub and ordered food, but I couldn’t eat any of mine, so Marco got a second helping before we checked in to a nearby motel and crashed for the night.

Day 13 had turned out to be an unlucky day for us all.

August 2
Day Fourteen – Sawtelle Resort to Squirrel Creek – 67 miles – 1,007 miles total

I woke up late and felt immediately hungry, which I took to be a good sign. I felt like I could do with a rest day, but wanted to keep the team together and catch up with Ollie, who we learned was heading towards Jackson. Marco and I put a plan together and then got ready and headed out for some breakfast.

Mine wasn’t a complete success as I didn’t manage to eat too much. Once again, Marco got a second helping!

We got back onto the trail and almost immediately I fell off. The trail was on an old railway line and was very bumpy (where the sleepers had been) and covered in a deep, soft sand which seemed to grab hold of my front tyre repeatedly. I picked myself up time and time again, but after about an hour and a half I realised that I was never going to make it for another 20 miles of this surface. I lost count of how many times I fell off – it was around 8 times though…

Marco was going pretty well on the surface, although even he admitted it was pretty hard going. I decided to take the road and meet up with Marco in Ashton, about 30 miles away.

The road was pretty dull and I had a huge long climb to get up, but was rewarded at the top by seeing the sign that told me that the next five miles would be steep downhill!

I met up with Marco in Ashton and we had a bite to eat, which fortunately I managed to keep down this time and then we set off again, ending our day at the Squirrel Creek campground. What a perfect place this was.

We were given a warm welcome by the owners and after we got changed and put the tent up, we were treated to a wonderful chicken dinner. I was very glad I had my appetite back, I would have hated to miss out on such a home-made treat. We chatted away to the owners whilst stuffing our faces with rhubarb crumble and custard – what a delicious treat! After an exhausting day, it was a perfect way to crash and relax. I was so tired that I didn’t even notice that we passed the 1,000 mile mark…..

June 19
Day One – Banff to Chester Lake Trailhead – 43 miles

I didn’t sleep at all well and was tired when the alarm went off. Still, we all got ourselves down to the kitchen in the Banff YWCA (where we were staying) and ate a huge amount of cereal and yoghurt.

Ollie went into town to get his bike bag sent on to Phoenix and Marco and I finished off sorting the bikes out, and Marco grabbed a few minutes more sleep.

After some last minute repairs to Ollie’s trailer, we finally set off from the YWCA towards the start of the trail, just a couple of minutes away. We were met by Robin and his family at the trailhead and they took some photos of us looking nervous and excited as we set off on this epic journey. I know that I had expended a lot of nervous energy in getting to this point and as we pulled away from the car park, I let out a whoop of excitement – very unlike me!

Marco and I had ridden the first 12 miles in reverse a few days earlier and so we knew a little bit about the first part of the trail. We hadn’t been going long before first Ollie had a problem with his bike and then Marco had more trouble with his front tyre. The flat took us a long time to get fixed, as the tyres were particularly hard to get back on to the rims.

We eventually got going again and made our way toward the Spray Lakes Reservoir. We reached the car park as it started to rain. Even under the grey clouds, the scenery was amazing – the reservoir was pretty low, but there was nobody else around and very quickly, we got the sense of being alone in the wild; a feeling we would get used to over the coming weeks.

After a section of singletrack through the forest, things slowed down quite a lot. Both Ollie and I were tiring and the long, steady inclines on the gravel road often had us pushing. It soon became clear that we weren’t going to reach our target of Boulton Creek that day and so we made camp next to a public car park for the night. We got the tents up and got some tea and food on the go, before making it an early night. Overall, a bit of a frustrating day – we started late and made slow progress, I crawled into my sleeping bag hoping for a better day tomorrow.

June 20
Day Two – Chester Lake Trailhead to Elkford – 66 miles – 109 miles total

We woke up and got the wet tents packed away fairly quickly before munching down a couple of cereal bars and hitting the gravel road once again. It was very cold, but felt good to get on the road so early in the morning. Our progress was halted within about ten minutes though, as Ollie picked up a puncture.

Back on the road, we made good progress and apart from a few smallish climbs the trail seemed mostly downhill. A small section on the pavement followed and then we took a winding paved trail towards Boulton Creek. We had great views over the Kananaskis Lakes and the sun was shining – all was feeling good with the world.

We rode in to the Boulton Creek Trading Post just on 9am, as the store was opening. We ate a huge amount of muesli and bought supplies for the day ahead, as we wouldn’t pass any more stores until Elkford, where we planned on spending the night.

Next came the biggest challenge to date; Elk Pass. It was to be our first crossing of the Continental Divide, and the first real climb of the trip. The bonus was that from the top, it would be all downhill to Elkford, another 45 miles away.

The climb wasn’t too bad, apart from a few steep sections, one of which was completely unrideable (of course Marco aka the Mountain Goat made it up without pushing). The view from the top was spectacular, although was slightly spoiled by the power lines that ran through a clearing in the trees, right across the top of the pass.

Coming down from the pass proved to be a little tricky – it was pretty steep and muddy, and there was even a little bit of snow left at the side of the trail. We could see a load of tyre marks from the racers that had passed through a week before us still left in the mud.

The sun was still shining and the day was starting to get a bit on the warm side as we continued on our way. Somewhere along the way, Ollie got another flat and ended up falling off. Marco and I were up ahead and didn’t hear anything untoward and so carried on. A short while later, I looked to see where Ollie was and when he didn’t come into view, I unhitched the trailer and rode back to offer some help.

We got the flat fixed and got back on the trail. Fittingly, we stopped for a late lunch at Weary Creek, where Marco fixed Ollie’s gears, Ollie filtered water for us all and I made the sandwiches. We still had 30 miles to go to get to Elkford, but we knew that the daylight would easily last long enough for us to make it there.

The map suggested that the route was steadily downhill, but the road was a lot more undulating than that. With practice, it was possible to get a huge amount of speed on the downhills and then carry that on up and over the uphill sections. I was starting to get the hang of it, but Marco would often cruise past on the climbing sections.

The other main feature of the road to Elkford was the amount of potholes covering the road. It was often impossible to weave a path through them and so we ended up bumping our way through them, which made things pretty uncomfortable to say the least.

We rolled in to Elkford at around 5:30, and knowing that there was a big climb out of town, decided to camp for the night. We ate pizza that evening and went to bed in the rain once again, at least we’d all had a shower though, making us feel a bit better.

June 21
Day Three – Elkford to Baynes Lake – 78 miles – 187 miles total

We got up early, had breakfast and packed up pretty quickly before a short ride through the town took us to the foot of a big long climb. Thankfully, it was along the road which made things easier. I had to stop to remove a few layers of clothing part the way up, but apart from that rode steadily up to the top. The summit was bathed in sunlight and once we’d all regrouped, we said farewell to Marco, who was going to try a new section of the route that the racers had used. Ollie and I would continue on the current route and we arranged to meet the next day across the border in Eureka.

The road took us through a mining area and then we began a long steady descent down towards the town of Sparwood, home to the largest truck in the world. Here we met Marco again; he was eating and so we had a coffee and a sandwich before going our separate ways once more.

For Ollie and I that meant a section along the highway – a section that gave me my first flat of the trip to the BOB trailer. We stopped at the roadside and got it fixed before setting off again towards Fernie, some 18 miles away.

In Fernie, we stopped for a quick sandwich before heading back onto the gravel roads to follow the Elk River to the small town of Elko where we stopped for an ice cream before finishing the day 10 miles further south in Baynes Lake.

We set up camp in the local campground, ate dehydrated food and reflected on our longest day so far. It was strange to think that this would be our last night in Canada – tomorrow we would cross the border.

June 22
Day Four – Baynes Lake to Eureka – 36 miles – 223 miles total

I had a very average sleep and woke to the sound of rain on the tent – not a great way to wake up! I had been struggling to sleep as my ribs were still causing me quite a lot of pain every time I tried to turn over. Each time I moved, I would wake myself up and just turning myself over from inside the sleeping bag, in the confines of the small tent, was a major effort.

Anyway, Ollie and I got the tent packed away fairly quickly, ate some breakfast and packed our bags under the shelter of a nearby RV. Before we left, I decided to double check my trailer tyre to make sure it was still well inflated. It turned out that it needed a bit more air in, and so I used Ollie’s pump to pump it up.

I’d been pumping for a while when I realised that there was no air in the tube at all – weird. I checked the valve and tried again, with the same result. Annoyed (and wet), I tried another tube but that did the same. I guessed that it must be the pump that was at fault, but that didn’t seem to make sense either.

As luck would have it, another camper was just getting up and I asked if he happened to have a bicycle pump. He said he could go one better and produced an electric pump which had the tyre inflated in next to no time.

Back on the road, this meant that we had to get through the day without a pump between us, as Marco had taken the other one with him. It was still raining, and a cold wind was blowing as we rode the first section on the paved road.

We turned off the pavement and onto the softest road we’s encountered so far. The sandy surface seemed to grip the tyres and sucked them down, making progress pretty slow and miserable. On we carried though and eventually we came across the downhill paved section into Grasmere. A good chance for a rest you might think, but this road was a mystery to us. Despite being paved and downhill, it was impossible to coast down. The surface friction was too great for that, so we had to pedal downhill – very annoying.

I amused the Grasmere locals (a rough bunch) by throwing a packet of peanuts all over the shop floor and then it was time to ride along the highway for the final seven miles to the US border crossing at Roosville.

Apart from encountering a grumpy border guard, we crossed into the US without too much trouble and, cold and wet, rode the few miles along the undulating road to the town of Eureka, where we were to meet up with Marco.

Ollie had checked his progress the night before and seen that he was on schedule to make it on time into Eureka and so we settled into a local restaurant for some food and to await his arrival. We had to wait all day and into the evening before he arrived, having encountered bad weather and poor tracks along his route.

When he finally rode into town, we had dinner ready for him and we shared tales from the trail before falling asleep in the local motel.

June 23
Day Five – Eureka to Upper Whitefish Lake – 68 miles – 291 miles total

We had a good hearty breakfast in Eureka and then set out to climb another big pass – the Whitefish Divide. Once again, the road was good and the weather was fine as we set out and we all seemed to be in good shape. Marco was feeling a little tired after his adventures the day before, and I think we were all a little bit apprehensive of the climb ahead.

Just before the real climbing started, I had a problem with my BOB tyre again and stopped to get it fixed. I whistled and shouted to the others, but they didn’t hear me and so I fixed the flat myself, keeping a good look out for bears as I did so!

I got back on the bike as Marco came back around the corner and we started the climb together, as Ollie had carried on ahead. This was a tough old climb, and the last three miles or so were particularly steep, but we all made it up there and had some lunch at the top. Unfortunately, lunch was ‘plastic’ cheese sandwiches – utterly disgusting!

After lunch we had the prospect of 20 miles downhill to look forward to and whilst it wasn’t strictly all down hill, it was a great section of the route as we all sped along together, occasionally coming out of the trees to get a great view of the mountains around us.

Of course, after the long downhill came a long uphill and it was one that had me exhausted. I plugged in my ipod for a little extra assistance, but the positive impact didn’t last long and I was soon dropped off the back of the other two. The last section up to Red Meadow lake nearly finished me off, but as the sun began to go down, I arrived at the lake side and took a good long rest.

As it was starting to get cold, we rode a steep downhill section to Upper Whitefish Lake, where we camped for the night. The highlight of the evening was watching Marco and Ollie trying to get all of our food suspended in a nearby tree. It took a few attempts, but they got it up there in the end!

June 24
Day Six – Upper Whitefish Lake to Swan Lake – 90 miles – 381 miles total

It was a chilly start to the day, but we had our first breakfast, packed up and headed on out to the road to try and get warm. The first 25 miles were downhill (apart from a couple of uphill sections) and we made good time as we approached the beautiful Whitefish Lake. Early in the morning, as the sun was just climbing over the surrounding hills, was a perfect time to see it.

We continued our descent into Whitefish and with some difficulty found a place for a second breakfast before heading to the bike shop to get Ollie’s bike fixed up a bit. Whilst Ollie waited at the shop, Marco and I hit the library and got some emails sent and a blog update done before Ollie rejoined us and we hit the road again.

A short section of paved road took us to Columbia Falls where we did some grocery shopping before zig-zagging our way out of town and on towards Swan River and Ferndale.

The road to Ferndale had been mainly flat, but we knew that was about to change. We were now into the evening and the temperature was dropping a little from the intensity we’d experienced earlier in the afternoon. This was something I’d read about and had been looking forward to doing – biking in the evening. I wasn’t looking forward to the climbing though. About six miles of mosquito filled trail took us to the top and from there we knew we would have a good downhill on the other side.

At the bottom we stopped to have a think about where to camp for the night, but were attacked by swarms of mosquitoes and so decided to head off the trail a short way to camp in the small settlement of Swan River.

We rode the last section into town as the sun was setting over the lake and arrived at the campground when it was almost dark. We quickly pitched the tents and headed to the local bar for some burgers and beer, accompanied by a couple of locals – an amusing night was had by all, I think.

June 25
Day Seven – Swan Lake to Seeley Lake – 88 miles – 469 miles total

I’d been feeling great all the previous day and even riding into Swan Lake, I’d felt like I could carry on further, so it was quite a shock and a worry when I woke up feeling very tired indeed. Within ten minutes of being on the bike, I knew that I was going to struggle. Just riding back up the road seemed like hard work. My ribs were aching and my back was sore, and I was getting shooting pains in my lower back every time I pushed hard on the pedals. Today was going to be a battle.

We spent the morning in the forest on gravel roads – thankfully, the mosquitoes seemed to have moved elsewhere, so that was one less thing to be bothered by. We spent the whole day climbing too, which didn’t help me out too much.

By mid afternoon, we were approaching the biggest climb of the day, Richmond Peak. First we had to get up to Lake Clearwater which required a fairly steep climb and a good long section of singletrack through the forest. For a while, I forgot about the tiredness and pain and actually enjoyed the riding.

Richmond Peak itself wasn’t too bad – a long but steady climb over a good surface. It was testing but once again, the sun was going down and riding was getting a bit more comfortable. Once at the top however, we were faced with about four miles of really tough singletrack riding. Trees had fallen across the track and large rocks blocked our way, making progress painfully slow, especially with the trailers that needed to be hauled over or around the obstacles.

Finally, the trail opened out and we began what should have been an easy ten miles downhill into Seeley Lake. Unfortunately for us, the road was really sandy – I nearly came off a couple of times. Progress slowed again, and the light was beginning to fade. I had nothing left and could barely keep the pedals turning.

We arrived in Seeley Lake in complete darkness and found a campground, but got the terrible news that none of the restaurants were still open. It was time to eat the emergency rations! Luckily, Ollie and Marco were not as tired as I was and they organised the cooking of pasta and sauce before we all crawled into our tents for a well earned sleep. It had been a hard first week….

I liked this trail very much because it gave me a total different view of the USA and the people living there. We went through small towns most of the time, places where you wouldn’t go and visit if you were coming from Europe for sure. I could appreciate how friendly and helpful the people are. I know now why they have these big pick-up trucks: to pull their huge trailer anywhere in the mountain. The food isn’t great and it’s not going to change I think, we struggled to find pasta in restaurants all the time. It’s really a burger & food chains land, no doubt! But the USA are big, huge, it’s a big sky country with amazing landscapes, reason why I came back with more than 1300 photos…

It was my first experience of bike touring and it was better than I thought. The trailer was an easy way to carry the gears, food and drinks. I could ride anywhere with it and got used to it pretty quickly. The maps looked scary when we were looking at them before leaving, sooo many miles! But it’s like any bike trip, just keep on biking and you will get somewhere tonight. Mile after mile you’re going through the trail and you will make it to the border. And most important was to ride this trail not alone. Sure you can do it but it’s very boring! At least I think so. Simon told me one day to go on my own for the rest of the trip because he was too slow, but when I arrived in the next town for the night I was getting bored eating my diner on my own… So I decided to keep riding with him with meeting points during the day.

Questions everyone is wondering: what did you like most? The unknown of the trail with the ever changing scenery. Biking every day on a route you don’t know, passing through amazing landscapes and wandering in the evening to find a spot to crash… It was so nice!
What did you dislike then…? I didn’t appreciate at all the way Ollie left us. I won’t go in the details on this blog.

We started pretty slowly because Ollie wouldn’t last long the first days and they were both pushing or taking a loooong time to climb each hill. I could see Simon progress and by the end, he could climb most of the hills. We made it in a pretty good time considering the weight of the trailer and the couple of easy days we did. Depending on the day, I could think that this trail was hard (see post about New-Mexico) but most days were easy. But you need to consider that I’m more a bike racer than a bike tourist

For this trip I want to thank many persons, starting with the one making the adventure so nice: Shannon & Crystal in Calgary, Ingrid & Rob in Canmore, Matthew Lee, Robin & his wife, Amy & Joe in Boulder, Heike in Silverthorne, Gary & Patti in Del Norte, Kathy in Pie Town. And also my friends in Lausanne: Charles, Philippe, Julien, Nicolas, Tanguy, Jean-Marc, Davide; because without them I wouldn’t have enjoy as much my evenings and the scenery while biking. And of course all the people who wrote comments to encourage us, a pleasure to read them each time!

Some statistics about my ride:

• Total distance on the bike: 2965.8 mi – 4804.6 km
• Total time on the bike: 256 hours & 44 minutes
• Global average speed: 11.55mph – 18.71km/h
• Max speed: 55.7mph – 90.2km/h – downhill to Atlantic City
• Number of days for the trip: 37 (1 resting day in Jackson Hole and 2 half-days to get there and out of Jackson Hole), so 35 days for the Great Divide Trail itself
• Highest pass: 11910ft – 3630m (2h54 to climb it from Del Norte, 7884ft – 2403m)
• Longest day: Pie Town -> Rocky Canyon Campground, 137 mi – 220 km, 12h01 on the bike
• Temperature: from -1°C to +45°C = from snow to very hot! Yes it snowed in Canada, in Flathead valley
• Number of mosquitoes killed while waiting: 1000-2000 (up to 4 at the same time)
• Number of burgers: too many for me
• Trailer weight (including the trailer itself): from 23kg to 28kg depending on the amount of food & drinks
• Technical problems: 1.5 flats – explanation: I got one a few miles out of Banff and on the road to Antelope Wells my tubeless tire was leaking too much so I had to put a tube to avoid pumping too many times 40 miles before the border. Fixed 3 times my new chain after Silverthorne, CO,  which I shouldn’t have carried to avoid damaging it.
• Nights
  • Motel: 6
  • Hostel: 1
  • Campground: 9
  • Hosts / Couchsurfing: 4
  • Bivouac / Wild camping: 17
• US dollars spent: you don’t want to know…
• Hard or Easy: Medium – can be done by anyone but think twice about the starting date
• Want to do it again: yes!
• Wanna race it?: …

And of course, most important, the pictures! There are 182 pictures which for me make a good representation of each day, all have the day number since we started so you don’t need to look at all of them at once.