9/23/15

It was good to hang out with other riders for my last night on the GDMBR. Also found the Hachita Community Center to be very comfortable to sleep in, especially after what our host Jeff described what we might encounter had we slept outside.

Was up early this morning to watch one more beautiful sunrise. While all of us were packing away sleeping bags and other gear, Jeff arrived to make pancakes for breakfast and to see us off. Once my bike was all packed I had a few pancakes even though I already had some breakfast earlier.

Six of us would be riding out of Hachita this morning, but only Tim and I would be heading due south to follow the main route to Antelope Wells. Frank and Margot, along with another couple Ken and Fiona, who stayed at Jeff’s house last night, would be heading east to Columbus NM then on to other destinations. 

Had this feeling Tim would like to have somebody to ride with so when I was ready to start riding Tim was still packing and said to him; I’ve done this entire route by myself and need to finish it that way. Told him that I would see him in a few hours at the border. 

Shortly after departing the Community Center I turned south on NM highway 81, the very last stretch of road that I would see on this ride. I stopped and took one more picture to chronicle the last miles to Antelope Wells. Taking this pic brought on emotion I was not expecting. It hit me quite hard that this was it. After two years of research and preparation, 61 days and 2,700+ miles of riding through 5 states and 2 provinces; I’m within 45 miles of it all coming to an end. Now that my final day was actually here, I’m wishing it wasn’t. As I peddled down the highway the tears just kept coming over sense of loss I was feeling.

With the pancake flat road lying between me and the Mexican border I wiped away the final tears and decided, this route kicked my ass on daily basis and I was going to finish it that way. I wanted to roll into the Antelope Wells in the same physical/mental state that I experienced at least once a day… Heart redlining, huffing and puffing, legs burning, just ready to get off this goddamn bike. Going hard all the way to the finish was also a mental ploy to not allow myself any time to dwell on the deep sorrow I was feeling.

Riding for the very first time without a map or GPS I kept track of the remaining distance by the mile marker post that counted down my mileage to the border. When I wasn’t trying to find the next mile marker post on the horizon, under the blue New Mexico sky, I thought about all the things that I did NOT dare think about before this day as to not ‘jinx’ myself.

With less than 20 miles to go I could finally say things like:

• I did not crash once!
• I did not suffer any major ailments to sideline the trip or make it a strain to continue.
• Did not get a single flat tire (with the exception of a minor issue that was caused by changing tires before the trip).
• The bike worked absolutely flawlessly. Not a single mechanical issue.
• Had no major equipment issues. A broken front cage was the biggest issue but that was fixed in Butte MT.
• The weather was good. Not too hot, had a just a couple chilly mornings and rains were short-lived.

Just like the road traveled yesterday into to Hachita, todays road was also quite barren of traffic. Of the vehicles that did pass me most were Boarder Patrol. With very little traffic there were a lot of grasshoppers on the road, and they grow them big down here. I tried to avoid squashing them under my tires but that didn’t always workout.

With about 4 miles remaining, the Antelope Wells Border station started coming into view. The border station is only thing down here, no town, no stores, not even a roadside stand to sell T-shirts that say; My family illegally entered the U.S. and all I got was this lousy shirt. Or I ‘heart’ my drug lord.

As I rolled into the border station it was very anticlimactic. Nobody to greet me. Nobody to say congrats you made it. Just a series of official signs making me nervous that I will inadvertently ride into the wrong area, since I’m not there to actually cross into Mexico, bringing on a platoon of automatic weapon toting Border Patrol officers and a pack of bloodthirsty attack dogs.

Parked my bike under some shade near a door into the border office and pretty much proclaimed… Well that’s it! My strategy of riding hard had worked as I hoped because I did not get all emotional again. With no cell service to announce ‘I made it’ to friends and family, I had nothing to do but wait for my ride to Tucson to arrive.

About 20 minutes after I arrived at the border station Tim rode in with a little more fan fare than I did as we congratulated each other on our accomplishments. While we sat outside the office and dug through our bags to come up with enough change for the soda machine, a couple of border agents came out and talked to us. One was very familiar with the ‘crazy cyclist’ that ride all the way from Banff Canada. The other was very baffled as to why a couple of guys on bikes would ride all the way to the middle of nowhere New Mexico.

As Tim and I sat in the shade drinking our sodas, I said to him; we need pictures to document this occasion. I went into the office to see if it would be ok for us to ride the 100+ yards up to the border to get pics. That was fine but had two requirements. We couldn’t take pics of the facility while we were within the fence and DO NOT cross the border!

I was taking the last directive very serious because I had mailed my Passport back home shortly after crossing the border from Canada.

Once we rode up to the actual border we took turns taking pictures of each other. I wanted one of me with the plaque that shows the dividing line between the two countries. However I was playing it very safe by not stepping too far off the ‘good cement’, therefore producing an odd-looking pic. When it was Tim’s turn to get his picture taken with the plaque he walked right up and leaned up against it… On the Mexico side! In a serious whisper tone I said; “Dude you’re in Mexico!”

Once we had our pics we rode back to the facility to get out of the sun. Well Tim didn’t have to produce his Passport for taking one step into Mexico, making me wish now that I would have done the same pose.

About an hour later my ride out of Antelope Wells arrived. Friend Jim McDevitt was so kind to make the 3 hour drive from Tucson to pick me up. We also gave Tim a ride the 65 miles back to Interstate 10 to shorten his time back to Silver City, so he could begin the next leg of his trip of riding back home to San Francisco.

It was surreal to be riding in a car while the bike that carried me and everything that had become my life the last 60 days, rode in the back. I realized from this point on, the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route is now just a memory.

“I’m tired… Think I’ll go home now.” – Forrest Gump

Thanks for reading my account of solo riding the world’s longest mountain bike route. Hopefully, more adventures will follow soon, so be sure to subscribe to this blog for updates.

Scott