The morning was peaceful. The few cyclist camping all woke up quietly and we packed our things and nodded to each other silently in recognition of the ritual that is packing everything you own neatly back into all the little places on your bike. It really is the worst and best part of the day. The drudgery is outweighed by the possibilities of the day. It feels odd every time I roll out of camp like I was never there and likely never to return. Not having a pack on also feels off. It feels like I left something. The ritual is not over until I pull over 100 feet from camp and do another check that everything is where it should be. When you carry everything you need and nothing more loosing anything would be a major issue.
The morning was more road downhill but not steep and the traffic was light so the first 15 miles zipped by. I made a turn to a gravel road and climbed slowly into a valley. You can see you are getting boxed in and I always seem to slow as I approach the end of a valley floor because I know what is ahead. At the end of this one was a very posh “Dude Ranch”. It looked nice and for a moment I daydreamed that I was at my destination. Then the inevitable, a steep never ending climb up a now deteriorated gravel one lane road. But it was mostly rideable and the temp was decent. The forest was robust all of a sudden and the birds made a racket that almost resembled music.
My body was feeling good from all of the food yesterday and soon enough, 2000 vertical later, I popped back out on the highway I started on. Here there was a lodge for snowmobile vacations. It looked as though they had several hundred just waiting for winter to return. What was more important was they had a store with cold drinks so I took down two gatorades and stashed a soda for the summit of the climb.
Back on the road it was easier to climb but the sun was in full force and my accent slowed but continued. At the top I was greeted with a sign that read “Continental Divide Elev 9858”. I have come a long way from day one dragging Alister through the sand to touch the ocean.
Down hill and screaming but just for a moment as the route veered off the road and onto another single lane gravel road to take me up and through a notch. As I neared the top I was beginning to complain about the route makers taking us on side tracks to nowhere when an impressive vista of soaring rock cliffs appeared rising from the valley below. Again a place I would have buzzed by at 75 miles and hour on the highway just a couple miles away not knowing it was ever there had it not been for the GDMBR.
Oddly there was a golf cart here too with Joe from Louisiana at the helm. We chatted about New Orleans but mostly about taking the time to get lost and find places like this. He was camping below and had found this place because all the regular campsites were full. We said our good byes and I peddled off first because there was no way he would keep up with me on this decent in a golf cart.
I have always wanted to enjoy mountain biking but I have not until this trip. It is hard work and feels like you are going to get hurt every minute. But the off road, ok gravel biking, on this trip has been different. The road was just rutted and rowdy enough to be thrilling. I picked my lines and felt like I knew what I was doing. It was an absolute blast. By the time I was back at the highway my face hurt from smiling so much.
Without pedaling I made the last three miles to the Lava Mountain Lodge where the Frenchmen were having a beer. I checked in and hoisted one with them and asked for a menu. The waitress said they were out of almost everything (it is off season, they too cater to snowmobile enthusiasts) and that I should have the special which was prime rib. It seemed odd that they were out of pizza but had prime rib but I ordered it. Out came half a cows worth of perfectly cooked prime rib with at least a pound of asparagus and likely two pounds of mashed potatoes. How could this day get any better? Another beer and two sodas, that’s how.
When the waitress returned with a box for left overs just to find the plate licked clean she called the cook over to bear witness. Then she asked if I was one of those fools riding the Great Divide. This was good because she had information about a wild fire that had part of tomorrow’s route closed. It was a simple detour that did not add miles if you knew about it in advance so the day did get better if not sad due to the fire.
I am unsure I have ever been as content in what could only be considered a dump of a motel room. Do not put this place on your winter vacation list. But I was so tired and full the fact there was no remote to turn on the tv didn’t even bother me.