2013 Tour Divide race report: Canada

     There is nothing like waking up in the forest while camping. The cool air, the songs of the birds, the filtered sunlight on your face... Oh shit! There shouldn't be filtered sunlight on my face, it's supposed to be 5 am!
      In my typical fashion, I had overslept and had less than an hour to get up, pack my sleeping gear, adorn myself in cycling kit, locate and devour something for breakfast, and get to the start of this crazy race. Good thing it is only a 2,800 mile venue and not something more important that would require some proper preparation before the start. Half an hour later I found myself riding down Banff Avenue towards the start of the Spray Trail, the start of the Tour Divide, amidst a procession of Divide racers on modified mountain bikes, laden with gear, faces shaped with apprehension, and maybe just a touch of fear. The actual start of the race was about what I expected. There, of course, was a bit of ego puff up between cyclists, but mostly, it was a sober event that saw roughly 140 starters standing in a dirt parking lot, waiting to start a journey that surely would be filled with pain and turmoil, and possibly some enjoyment as well. The start time came, "Go!" was cried out, and a confusing jumble of cyclists began to jockey for position along the first few easy miles of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. Those first few miles seemed the loneliest to me, surrounded by people, but truly separated and isolated by the self supported nature of the race. As the miles ticked by, a groove was found and the same faces seemed to come and go as riders matched paces. I seemed to match pace quite evenly with a racer from Virginia, Markley Andersen. We had no idea at that time, but we would ride through many days together, accomplishing some rather herculean tasks along the way! Soon, after riding through diverse natural landscapes, the town of Elkford appeared and a stop at the gas station mini-mart was in order. Markley and I attacked the shelves, filling our bags and bodies with the shocking cuisine of a gas station venue. The riding from Elkford to Sparwood was relatively easy, albeit wet and a bit windy. It was quite nice to have a riding partner for the moment, as it certainly lightened the mood a bit to have someone to talk with.
     The town of Sparwood seemed, upon first glimpse a rather unimportant town, but as it turned out, it was quite important by Tour Divide standards. Stop here, as many want to and will, and you will probably find yourself out of contention for a top ten standing. Push on into the uncomfortable reaches of the Flathead Valley, perhaps beyond the desolate intersection at Corbin,  and you very well may find yourself a front runner in the race. The latter was what I chose, but not without a very close call with opting for the safety and security of a Sparwood motel. Luckily for me, Markley had a way with words of encouragement to proceed and caution of what a Sparwood stop would entail for me.
      The push into the Flathead was dark, wet, and well outside my comfort zone. After all, the Flathead Valley is home to quite a concentration of one of North Americas largest predators, the brown bear, a.k.a the grizzly bear! Just check out this map of grizzly concentration along the Divide route: Griz map Yep, the Flathead concentration is listed as "very high", which, by the the way, I didn't need a map to point out. If the raw, wild terrain didn't hint to it's inhabitants, the numerous sets of tracks and piles of bear shit certainly did. As it turns out, the ride was very uncomfortable, not only because of the grizzly element, but also because of the rain and what it did to the road conditions. Two hundred miles of riding that concludes with mud and roads that become rivers is true to Tour Divide fashion, and I would say we got an authentic experience. As we pushed on, our drive trains screamed, refusing to stay in gear, and our feet grew increasingly numb with every stream crossing. Our arrival at Butt's cabin in the wee hours of the morning was quite a moment of relief. Getting a warm foam-covered cot inside was a moment of ecstasy!
     Waking after four hours of sleep, following a 200 mile day of riding, and facing an even longer day that would start with a mountain pass, was a daunting task, but I managed to rally and get out of my sleeping bag. Peering out at my filthy, mud-encrusted bike was a stark reminder of the reality I was now living. I had no idea exactly what my race position was, but I knew it had to be pretty good, so I felt a certain urgency to get up and get on the move. Markley, was feeling the same pressure, so we packed quickly and got on the trail. The ride from the cabin to the U.S./ Canada border at Roosville was uneventful, much to my relief!