It was really fitting that day 20 was the worst of the race. I mean really, I had been riding for 2500 miles. Why not make it extra tough now?
I woke up to the sound of a truck screeching to a halt in the middle of the road way. I sat up and looked at the guys in the truck. They looked pissed. Through my bleary sleep deprived eyes I peered around at my surroundings. I realized that I was on somebody's private property.
In the late night hours I had passed through a gate that I thought signaled park land (which started right before Beaver Head). It turns out the gate started the private ranch property that was on the road just BEFORE the park. Ooops.
I apologized to the nice gentlemen and explained that I thought the gate was the park gate. They didn't seem too upset after my apology. I guess it's not like I irreparably harmed their ditch or anything.
After I packed up, I rode out towards Beaver Head. I knew there was a vending machine there from reading several blogs and I had been carrying quarters just for the occasion. (Mental note: The lemonade and fanta buttons are backwards on the machine.) At the work center I ran into the fire crew that was just packing up breakfast. I couldn't help but think had I been there over night, they might have let me eat with them.
Oh well.
After refilling all of my water (7 liters) and getting an accidental can of fanta (yuck) I headed out towards Silver City. I was fairly confident that I could make it to the border in the next 24 hours.
Boy was I ever wrong.
I had put in a significant effort the day before and my body was really feeling fatigued. To top it off, it was hot as hell. (115 degrees to be exact.) I was so tired I was walking my bike up even the shallowest of climbs by 9am.
A video from early on in the day.
Then......
Well, I'm not really sure what happened but I must have passed out at some point. I woke up in the middle of the road to the feeling of white hot burning dust on my face. I didn't remember anything before passing out. I didn't remember riding up part of the climb that I was in the middle of, I didn't know where I was on the route, I didn't know what time it was.
I'm not sure when this video was taken exactly and frankly I don't even remember doing it. It looks like I have sand on my nose so I'm guessing it was after the first time I passed out.
I got pretty worried because I was far from civilization. I started to walk my bike after I was able to get myself up off the ground. Eventually I was able to cool down enough to start riding again. I upped my fluid consumption even though I knew I was about out of water. I guessed that dying now was worse than dying later should I totally run out of water.
A short time later, I again woke up in the white hot sand of the road. I must have been really out of it because the sensation that I remember waking me up was the burning hot sand on my face, not the impact of the fall (AGAIN). I gathered my heap of an exhausted body, got up, and started walking.
I reached down to grab my camel back hose so I could take a swig of water. Alas, no matter how hard I sucked on that damn nozzle no water came out. I realized that I was pretty hosed (Ha, get it?!?!). I was nearly 40 miles from Silvercity with no water and little food.
The next dozen or so miles to the Mimbres cutoff were the most painful of my life. I walked nearly all of it. Even then I was walking from shade spot to shade spot. I did everything I could to keep myself moving. I remember thinking to myself, "Ok, just take twenty steps and you can stop for a few seconds." I repeated this mantra over and over for hours. By time I made it to the paved section that led to Mimbres I was only taking five steps between rest stops.
It was awful.
Lucky for me the paved section to Mimbres was all down hill. Unlucky for me, all the stores were closed. I decided to stop and beg for some hose water at an outcropping of homes when I saw a lady watering her chickens. (I did not realize that one watered chickens but she was definitely doing such.)
As I explained why I needed water, "You see I'm riding my bike... Canada... Mexico.... Mountains.... I passed out...", I just totally lost my self control and started bawling. (Well, I was sobbing like I was crying but no tears were coming out. Yay severe dehydration!!) She wanted me to come in and get cold tap water. I tried to mumble through my 'tears' that the hose would be fine but she was having non of it.
In the entry way of her home was a mud room with a sink. She told me I was welcome to all I could drink. I downed five liters while I stood there. It was incredible. As I was topping off my bottle she came back to the entry way with her sister and their mother (who was about 85 years old). They had brought me some cookies and cheese.
I tried to explain the rules of the race and that I couldn't accept assistance, but again they were having non or it... ESPECIALLY Granny! I finally relented and said that I would pay for the food. They agreed and I was off. (I seriously think these young ladies saved my life. I send them flowers and salmon after I got back home to Alaska.)
I rode back up hill, filled with life and smiling. Then I hit up the campground/recreation area where the CTD trail section started. I had heard it was tough but I had no freaking idea how tough it was.
We are talking, I've-never-hiked-a-trail-with-a-bike-like-that-before-let-alone-with-camping-crap-strapped-to-it-seriously-it-was-the-hardest-hike-a-bike-on-the-tour-by-far-.
No wonder it took Kurt and company by surprise.
The worst part about the trail was how hard it was to find. I kept trying to follow bike tracks in the dirt only to keep following them as they back tracked. (I later found out from Aiden Harding that he had done the same thing.)
For those that aren't 'in the know', the CDT (Continental Divide Trail) is a hiking trail that traverses the country actually right along the continental divide itself. It is the trail that the Adventure Cycling Association mirrored the Great Divide Bike Route after. So when you are racing the Tour Divide you are mirroring but not actually ON the continental divide the entire time. The CDT is a hiking trail that is marked by either markers(mostly nailed to trees) or cairn(rock piles). Often times the trail isn't incredibly evident and one basically hikes from one marker to the next. Thus, this section of trail is not only steep but it's a pain in the bootie to navigate in the dark when one has lets say 'a pen light from a gas station' to navigate in the dark with.
A typical CDT trail marker.
Despite my trail light deficiencies, I hiked for hours in the dark. I really enjoyed the night air. It was so relieving to be out of the heat of the day. I also relished the fact that I wasn't much more that 130 miles from the finish. No matter what, I would be done in less than twenty four hours.
I started to get so tired I was falling asleep while I was hiking. (Pretty much standard fair for me by this point in the race...) I finally gave in to my need for sleep. (Stupid sleep, I swear I would have finished the tour like two days faster if I didn't need to sleep!)
The terrain around the trail was really rocky. The only relatively smooth spot was the trail itself. So, I just layed down right in the middle of the trail, shot one last diary entry for the day, and passed out.
Recanting the heroism of the Mimbres residents.
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