The Finale - Steamboat Springs

We got an early start, and were on the road just before 5:30. 

 Our ride started with a few kilometers along the highway, before we turned onto a dirt road and began to climb. It was cool, only around 12 degrees, though I was glad my fingers weren't freezing.

We climbed steadily for 7 km, ascending 330 metres (1,090 feet) before dropping down into a spectacular gorge overlooking the Colorado river and a railway line.

We met another Tour Divide rider, Scott Piquet from Arizona. He said we wouldn't have any trouble getting to Steamboat Springs today, which was reassuring -- though that was a racer's perspective and we were cursing him before the day was out.

We climbed a bit more, before dropping down to the tiny village of Radium on the banks of the Colorado river. We stopped to eat some food at the local campground, where one of the locals was riding around on an ancient bike with two dogs in the front basket, wishing everyone a happy 4th of July.

 As we were eating, a raven flew overhead. They are completely black, like a crow, only much bigger, about the size of a large seagull. It was an impressive bird.

By the time we started climbing out of Radium, the temperature had reached 27 degrees, and we had covered 32 km.

We crossed the railway lines, and saw several buzzards sitting on the railway tracks. They looked weird with their wings held out like fans on either side.

The climb was horrible. We climbed 800 metres (2,600 feet) in 16 kilometers, and at the top we had a series of steep roller hills to traverse before we finally reached the top. I had to use my granny gear, and I did drop my chain at one point, but I managed to clear the entire climb, which was jolly hard work.

By this time the temperature had climbed to the mid 30s. 

We stopped at the 48 km point, thinking we had finished climbing. As we sat eating, a green hummingbird hovered beside my knee for a second before darting away.

We rode on, and discovered that the top was actually 3 kilometers further on. We then descended for several kilometers, until we reached the highway. Gay's map said there should be a turnoff within a kilometer, but the turnoff wasn't there. Route-finding was tricky because Gay's Map was several years old, and the route numbers had changed.

We ended up riding along the highway for about 8 kilometers before reaching the next road we were supposed to take. This dirt road led us up to Lynx Pass

We saw a group of large animals, but I couldn't tell if they were deer or pronghorn antelopes. Gay suggested they might be pronghorns because they skirted the forest rather than entering it, but they were too far away to be sure.

It started to rain on us, and we sheltered in the entrance to a public toilet until it stopped. We then rode on to the Lynx Pass Work Center, where we got some water. 

We descended down into the valley on the other side of the pass, where we rode past various ranches. We saw deer, a gopher (which according to Gay is the same thing as a groundhog), squirrels, a red-tailed hawk, and some kind of heron sitting on a nest at the top of a tree. As we cycled past, the heron took off from its nest, revealing long ungainly legs and huge wings.

We eventually reached a lake, and stopped at an intersection. The main road was sealed and headed off left around the lake, while a side road went right but had a "no outlet" sign on it. The map directions made no sense until I realised that "no outlet" was for cars. We went right, past several houses, and eventually on some wide singletrack to the far end of the lake, where we could see a dam and another road beyond that continued around the lake. So we walked across the dam and turned left, following the road around the lake.

We eventually reached another intersection, where we stopped for some food and a rest. We had just reached the 100 km (62.5 mile) point.

As we were eating, Gay said that we should have turned onto the tarseal and saved all the bother of riding the singletrack and walking along the dam. I looked at the map, and uttered a few choice words: we had gone the wrong way! Once across the dam, we should have turned right and dropped down to the river below the dam, rather than following the road along the lake. So we had to backtrack about 5 km, adding unwanted distance to an already too-long day. We were not happy, but both of us were too exhausted to complain.

We followed the rough and rutted dirt road down, past the dam and alongside the river.

We eventually reached the tarseal again, and rode past farms and houses. By this time, dark clouds were brooding overhead. It began to spit, and we put on our raincoats.

A few minutes later, it began to rain in earnest, with lightening bolts in the clouds, and the headwind that had gently slowed us the whole day became a howling gale. Within seconds, the rain turned to hail, and we couldn't see a thing as we struggled to stay on the road.

The hailstones were huge, easily 5-10 mm across, and they pummeled my fingers, ears and legs so badly that I howled with pain. There was nowhere to hide from the hail, so all we could do was continue.

A few painful minutes later, I spotted a dark shape ahead. This turned out to be an open shed, and we dashed for it. Gay lost control of his bike and slid out, but we both made it safely to the shelter of the shed, where we stood shivering as the hail eventually turned to rain, the wind abated, and the thunder storm wore itself out. 

When the rain stopped, we continued our ride on the tarseal all the way in to Steamboat Springs.

We stopped at the first hotel we saw. It was fully booked, but the receptionist said a motel in town had just had a cancellation. A quick phone call later and we had a booking. As this was the Fourth of July the entire city was booked out, but we managed to get a motel room. The cycling gods must have been looking out for us after all.

 We arrived at the motel just before 7:30 PM, having been on the road for 14 hours. We had covered 130 km (82 miles), and climbed just on 2,000 metres (6,500 feet). I were so tired, I could barely walk in a straight line, and kept getting dizzy.

We got cleaned up and wandered slowly off in search of food. A block away, we found a Mexican restaurant, and laughed at the irony of spending 25 days riding all the way from Mexico, only to have Mexican food when we finished.

On the way back, I stopped to watch the 4th of July fireworks display. The whole town was packed, with families and children enjoying the display, people waving flags out of cars, folks laughing, riding skateboards and bikes. Everyone seemed to be in a festive mood, much like Christmas.

It was a fitting way to finish our journey, with a celebration. After all the rutted, rocky climbs, the crazy distances and the huge basins we had to cross, the headwinds and hail, the lack of water and awful convenience-store food we had to live on, sitting and eating and sleeping in the dirt, we were finally there. I could hardly believe it: our tour of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route is over. It was insanely difficult, taking the hard roads closest to the continental divide, rather than the easy and much flatter routes that most people would take.

We did it. We rode 1,855 kilometers (1,160 miles) from the Mexican border to Steamboat Springs. We climbed more than 21,000 metres (70,000 feet) -- that's two and a half times the height of Mount Everest. We are there.

This really was the adventure of a lifetime. I very much doubt I'll ever do anything like it again, but I'm so so glad that I've done it. 

Now it's time for a different sort of adventure: being a dad and husband, a housekeeper and a worker.  Living life at home, rather than spending half my life on the bike training. I can't wait...