http://grizzlyadam.net/2016/07/demons-great-divide.html

To get ready for a 2017 Divide run, I set out for a week on the GDMBR to test gear, pacing, and my own commitment to the '17 TD. Hope you enjoy.

I recently toured WY/CO and I had all sorts of numbers in my head going into the ride. Those numbers were thrown out pretty quickly because on the ground, things change. Weather, resupply arrival times, motel access, physical/mental well-being, and all sorts of other things can alter your average speed and mileage goals (as well as your motivation). I had to learn to be flexible, and hope that a shorter day would be evened out by a future longer day.

Of course, in 2017 I hope to put in some nice long days. If I learned anything, I learned that when the going is good, go good. That is, if the weather is nice, you have food/water, and you are feeling good, keep riding until something changes.

Mike may be in for some post-holing up on the pass above Brush Mountain Lodge. I crossed the pass on June 8th, and there was about 3 miles of snowy hiking, and some deadfall to deal with. But it was melting fast. If there's not snow, there will be mud!

I'm on route, touring WY/CO.

The pass after Brush Mountain Lodge into Clark has about 3 miles of hiking in snow.

Lynx, Gore, and Ute are clear. Had reports from NoBo tourists that Boreas is clear. I'm heading up that way tomorrow.

Of note: Rock Creek, after Lynx, is super swollen. Thigh deep, very swift. We crossed after some deliberation, but it took both of us to carry each bike.

Could be an issue for racers. An easy detour exists on Hwy 134.

I tried using it with another bivy (no bag) and I froze. It was really uncomfortable. YMMV.

I've also used the Escape with a bag, and other than being too narrow, it's worked quite well.

A couple of us finished a modified version of this route yesterday. We skipped Gateway, and instead dropped into Paradox via Carpenter Ridge.

The store in La Sal was open for business. Bedrock was still closed. Water sources were few and far between from Naturita to La Sal.

Thanks for the route Rick, amazing country out there.

Here's what we did: https://ridewithgps.com/routes/13915418

Actual mileage was closer to 220 (and 20k vert) with the 5 mile round trip into La Sal.

http://www.wcc.nrcs.usda.gov/snow/snow_map.html

Nice route!

I've been flip flopping between the race kings and maxxis icons...

The Ikon is greatest MTB tire ever made.

I feel this allows for a clearer distinction that the strongest bike rider would win the event and not the person who jammed caffeine and just "kept moving".

If the leader of a race was required to rest for 6 hours every day, just like everyone else, he'd just be resting farther up the trail than everyone else. He'd still win because (surprise) he's the strongest rider of the group.

If you want to win bikepacking races, you have to be able to go a long time without much sleep. Not being good on little sleep isn't a reason to tell others they shouldn't be allowed to be better than you are.

By that logic, we should neutralize all the climbing, otherwise the winner would just be the lightweight guy who jammed caffeine and kept moving.

I have keratoconus as well. Mostly in my right eye. I could never wear the contacts, my condition was too bad for even those. The cornea was so pointed that the contact would fall out of my eye. I just rode through it with one bad eye. Got used to it. But eventually the keratoconus got bad enough that I'd often rip my cornea after a night of sleep - my eye lid would stick to the cornea, and when I woke up it would tear. Hurt like a mutha! The doc gave me a couple options at that point - do nothing, or get a transplant.

About 4 years ago I had a cornea transplant in my right eye. Life improved greatly. I am still not a candidate for lasik, but I can wear glasses that correct my vision.

I was off the mountain bike for a couple of months afterward, but was back on the payment pretty quickly. I ride with prescription glasses these days. Being able to see the trail is pretty neat!

I know surgery is not viable for everyone, but it might be an option worth talking about with your eye doctor.

Hello all. I am looking for a frame bag that will fit a medium Trek Superfly FS.

Thanks!

Looks great! Just might be the cure for my "Didn't-do-the-CTR-this-year" regret.

Big time congrats to Jesse, Matt and Jefe. Thanks for distracting me all week from work!

The hardest race in the world is whichever one I'm currently 85% done riding.

I guess "hardest" depends on which questions you ask (obviously).

For example, which race/route is the hardest to break an existing record? Which is hardest to simply finish? Which challenges the mind the most? And so forth.

Put them all together, and I suppose you'd get your answer.

Obvious candidates are the CTR, AZT, ITI, TD.

As far as single day races, I think the KTR, VT125, the old E100 in Park City, and now the Point2Point are all worthy races. If we keep drilling, you could count some tough XC races in the mix, simply based on how "hard" one has to ride to do well.

To say nothing of all the international events I know next to nothing about.

From the saloon (where he was at around 1:30p) to the finish took me 10+ hours in 2013. Jesse is riding a lot faster than I ever did, so I'd think if all keeps going well, he could finish as early as midnight tonight.

Did we lose Jesse's and Jefe's SPOTs? Or did they just decide to sleep at the same time?

EDIT - Looks like they are back online and moving again.

I love stalking the blue dots! I wish I was out there this year. Sending good vibes, clear skies, and low gears to all those racing!

Thanks Mr. Adams for putting your thoughts into words, well worth 3 bucks!

Thanks!

Joey, I did include that. Your pep talk was a turning point for me.

Here's the section:

The sun sunk low. The storm moved on. The wind disappeared. Soft evening light filtered through the trees. We stumbled upon Joey Ernst, CTR vet, and the owner of Velorution Cycles in Durango, where the Colorado Trail Race had started three long days ago.
   "Where are you from?" he asked.
   "Highland, Utah," I replied, "where I think I'll be returning sooner than I had planned."
   "What do you mean?"
   "I'm done. I'm going to drop out at Marshall Pass."
   Joey looked at me with a mixture of pity and bewilderment. I could see pain and fatigue in his own eyes. "Don't do that.” he cautioned. “The trail gets better. There's a lot of great riding ahead of us after Highway 50."
   I stared blankly into the treetops. I didn't want to be talked into continuing. "And anyway," he concluded, "never quit on the day you want to. Sleep on it, and see how you feel tomorrow."
   Ty and I hiked through a grove of aspen trees. I hadn't seen an aspen tree since Los Pinos Pass. Immediately I felt better. The softly swaying branches and twinkling leaves filled me with light. I paused, and soaked up the pocket of life and energy. I smiled through the pain and blackness. The sunset illuminated the crowded peaks, turning them blue and purple on the horizon. The world melted into technicolored brilliance. I knew then, in that small stand of quaking aspens, that there was nothing but me preventing me from pedaling to Denver.
   As we laid out our sleeping bags, Jeff and Cameron continued into the dark. "We want to reach Marshall Pass before we stop for the night.” Jeff explained. We wished them well. I did not expect to see them again.
   I nestled into my bag while darkness settled over the hills. I was exhausted, battered, but vaguely optimistic. Like I did above Silverton, I wanted this adventure to end. But the task was not finished. The trail was not ridden. And as I long as it continued, I would need to travel its rocky paths. I came here to ride the Colorado Trail, and that's what I would do.
   I knew that days after I had reached Denver, when I was sitting at my desk, tapping away at the mundanities of life, that I would miss being on the trail. I knew, even then, curled up in my sleeping bag, that I would miss the simplicity of ride, eat, sleep. The Colorado Trail sold nothing cheaply. The brilliant moments at altitude, the speedy, dirty velvet singletrack, and the weightless passings through life-affirming aspen groves all came at a steep, stony price. Nothing was easy here. But the reward far exceeded the effort. The euphoria and the joy eclipsed the hurt and the sorrow. Underneath the doubt and pain I was dreading leaving this vertical world behind. I had spent years preparing to be here. Eventually my time on the CT would blink away, and I'd be home again, wishing I was riding through the San Juan Mountains, across Indian Trail Ridge, or hiking through thick forests.
   During the night, a few more riders hiked by our camp. They went silently through the trees and up the hill. They, like me, like all of us, were hurting. But forward, upward, they walked and pedaled. I felt a new kinship with my fellow racers that night as we put the haunted, joyless expanse of Sargents Mesa and the Cochetopa Hills behind us. We had each suffered deeply, but we did not let the mountain, or the wily demons lurking in the trees, beat us.
   I fell in and out sleep, looking forward to the new day.

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