A Teacher trying to Divide - day 10

The bike in motel room shot.

Wednesday 17th July

I woke at 6:00am, quietly said goodbye to Doug and headed out into the early morning heat.  A few yards up the street there was a cool cafe where I treated myself to coffee, granola and some pancakes to takeaway for the road.  Yesterday the navigation had been pretty involved once we hit Helena.  I knew that once I was established on Park Avenue, then West Main Street it would be fine.  A careful combination of the pink line on my Garmin and the cues on my ACA map soon had me along Grizzly Gulch then cresting the rise at the junction of FR 4000 and FR 137.  This was my ninth day on the trail so I was finding it straightforward to spin the pedals, disengage my brain and look around at the forest, wildlife, mountains or rural settlements.  By now I also had a set up on my handlebars that worked: a packable backpack for resupply was stuffed in the hoop of my bars along with a windproof gilet and a spare 29er tube in a plastic bag so it didn’t get abraded.  My arm warmers never stayed on for long once I had warmed up and they were secured under an elastic which stretched from one brake lever mount to the other.  The elastic also held my ACA map, folded to show the morning’s route.  In my little yellow stem bag were quick to access LaraBars or other snacks.  Last but not least I had my bear spray on the right hand side of my bars  where I thought that I would reach it quickly…

I hadn’t really read up too much on the section from FR 4009 down to Basin but started to see comments like ‘steep and rough’, or the alternate avoids some of the most challenging terrain along the route.  Lava Mountain Trail #244.  TBH I thought that was in New Mexico!  So I climbed, then climbed and climbed some more up to above Park Lake Campground.  At the cattle guard I met a couple who stopped to speak with me and give me some water.  Everyday I met folk who lived here who were proud of the nature, the history and were keen to share it and their hospitality - thanks.  The advice they gave me was that the route the GDMBR was taking was going to be pretty damn tough - I was excited by this.  So after a snack I took at right and began a fast descent on dry, rocky and loose terrain which I absolutely loved.  After all this is what I had signed up for wasn’t it?  The half dozen or so books I had read about the Great Divide all told how tough and unforgiving the route was but they also mentioned the rewards of the downhills.  Soon I started to encounter signs and cues for snowmobile tracks.  These orange diamonds were familiar from my traverse of Richmond Peak so I knew times were going to get interesting soon.  

For the next two or three, maybe I felt like I was trying to ride up The Coir Lair in Torridon except it had been pumped up on steroids and then forested before becoming home to grizzly bears.  Ok, nothing like Scotland at all then.  Anyway I hate that sort of comparison, best to live in the moment, where you are but I am just trying to paint my picture that day to any of my friends from Scotland who can actually be arsed reading this..  The trail was gouged out of the mountain into a gully filled with rocks and tree branches.  I could see tire tracks and could only imagine racing up here in the dark on the TD.  There were some sections I could not ride up no matter how hard I tried and I can try pretty hard!  My senses were on a razor’s edge as this was clearly grizzly territory and there was not another rider around.  The route was undulating at the 7000 feet mark and no matter how closely I looked at the contours on my Garmin I couldn’t see how it could keep doing this for so long.  Further down the Divide when I spoke to other riders about The Lava Mountain Trail they told me they had either avoided it, or hated it.  For me this was one of the most exciting, enjoyable and challenging sections of trail that I have ridden on my bike so far.  Absolutely amazing!  All too soon the descent burst into a clearing where I caught sounds and movement of what was most likely a startled animal.  Should we be here doing that?  I tried in my preparation for the ride to understand the terrain I was going into and where I would be on the food/remoteness chain.  Some might argue we shouldn’t be tearing around the trails on mountain bikes, ATVs or even running.  However I believe that if we show the right respect, preparation and behaviour it is a rewarding experience which causes little harm.

The trail now approached FR 175 and started to look a bit more like what I was used to in the run down to a town.  The surface was smoother.  The bends were more open and there was more and more evidence of mining work with fabulous names such as Morning Glory Mine.

I made it into Basin for lunch at about 1:30pm.  There was nobody on the street and the whole place seemed deserted until I spotted two loaded bikes outside The Silver Saddle Bar & Cafe.  When I walked in the couple were eating at a booth and seemed comfortable so I did not disturb them but took a seat over to the side on my own.  The soup was excellent.  I was left in peace and quiet to get out my map and start looking at the afternoon’s ride.  When I got my check I went over to pay and had the chance to speak to the couple of riders.  They were also heading south but perhaps not as far as Butte.  LIttle did I know that further down the trail I was to share beers, stories, food and good company with Marty and Michelle but for now we just wished one another all the best.

The trail went under Interstate 15 and then ran parallel for a wee bit.  Early afternoon the traffic was quiet so I found a nice spot and phoned my parents back home in Inverness, Scotland.  Apart from the encounter with the grizzly cub on day 1 I told them about the magnificent scenery, how tough it was and the cool people that I met.  Their main concern seemed to be me riding all on my own - which was actually one of the attractions for me!  Some draggy pavement took me west for a while before I began the gradual climb up Kit Carson Road heading south to my next Continental Divide crossing.  The disused mine workings and the silence let my mind go free to imagine cowboys on horses roaming around here on Kit Carson Road over a hundred years ago.

The crossing was pretty chilled and to be honest I do not remember too much about the descent but I do remember meeting Marty & MIchelle near Lowland Campground having a discussion about whether to stop there, or push onto Butte.  I didn’t hang about for long as I was starting to get conscious of the time, must have been nearly 5pm or something.

I am glad that it has taken me nearly a year to write about my ride on the Great Divide because I have had time to reflect on many of the experiences.  Every now and then I am truly grateful for the seamless, effortless ease of a supermarket home delivery to our house compared to pulling into a campsite tired, wet and not feeling like cooking up some instant mashed potato on my stove.  Or to realise that arriving in a biggish town at dusk in Montana is no different to riding into an Easter Ross town in Scotland as the morlocks emerge!  I saw syringes by the road, people off their faces on the street or locals who could barely string two words together to tell me where the campsite was.  You can work out for yourselves what I saw where!

I never found the KOA campsite and stayed at Eddy’s Motel right across from Safeway.  That night I gorged on armfuls of carbohydrates, fat and sugar washed down with a well deserved beer.

Helena to Butte, 77 miles, 7661 foot of ascent, 13 hours (10 hours riding + 3 hours stopped)