I have just finished the Divide and am back at Jeffrey Sharp's Bike Ranch in Hachita, where I stayed last night as well. It's hot, but overcast today so less difficult than yesterday. My laundry is drying outside - I washed everything so that I can be less gross for Andrea when I see her tomorrow - but for now I rest and enjoy the the desert Bike Ranch, sighting the occasional Wild Hare and Road Runner out the window.
At the end of the Divide last year I wrote down some stories from the road that I heard. I heard fewer stories this year, as the Divide is much less crowded down south and also less busy this year, but I still heard some, and I'd like to related those now.
Well That Was Lucky
This first story was related to me by Dan, my old buddy and host in Denver, on the way to dropping me off in Silverthorne. I will likely get the details a bit off, but the details don't really matter in a story like this.
Dillon, CO used to be where the Dillon Reservoir is, the giant lake thing that provides water to Denver through the Continental Divide via giant tunnels.
Back in the 1850s Dillon still existed, as did a town near it with a name that I forgot. One night in winter Dillon through a huge party, and the entire population of the other town came to it - maybe each town had about 50 people at the time.
During this party an avalanche came and wiped out the entire other town, yet there were zero casualties, as everyone was at the party in Dillon a few miles away. Relatedly, the population of Dillon doubled that night. Ironically, Dillon was then wiped out several decades later by a dam and a similarly named reservoir.
There are lessons here:
1) Don't build your town in an avalanche zone.
2) Always go to parties.
3) Denver might eat you.
Speaking of Liquids
Storms and rain were the theme of this year. I related last year Casey's experience with bike breaking mud in an area that I came through when dry a few days later. Similar stories came from this year.
The Divide is a bastard sometimes, but I got lucky as usual. I was surrounded by storms every day but the last couple, but only caught in rain twice, and only had to deal with real bad murder mud twice and for short distances.
Indiana Pass is the highest pass on the Divide, and beautiful. It's the one that goes through the superfund mine sight outside of Del Norte. The ride for me was hard, but dry and overcast by the afternoon. The kiwis passed through it at few days before me, and were pounded by rain the entire time. After me by a few days, some motocross riders I met tried to ride it and had so much rain and mud that they couldn't even ride up it with motors.
Similar stories were passed around at many hubs like the Toaster House and in other places where people met up. Same areas, very different experiences depending on the weather. The Kiwis were able to ride Abique to Cuba where I was mudded out and on pavement, whereas I was able to ride Platoro to Abique (including Brazos Ridge) but they were mudded out and on pavement. For both of these they were just a day or two in front of me.
Speaking of Other Riders
Steve finished around August 10th. I found out what happened to him. He broke some spokes on the climb and leadup to Brazo's Ridge, which was some very rough roads and had to detour to Santa Fe. I saw evidence of him in a rider log at a trail angel water stop outside of Pie Town awhile later, and he checked in via e-mail when he finished.
The Kiwis are still on rest days in Silver City, having taken some side trips and extra time. After spending three days and two nights pacing together a discussion about the impressions we had of each other came up, and we both answered with jokes - The kiwis think that our cheese and bread has too much sugar in it, and I think they are willing to tolerate some rough coffee.
However, my real impressions of the Kiwis are the they are incredibly nice and generous, and will share their hard carried food and treats with you without a thought or reservations. They are friendly to strangers and welcoming, inquisitive and thoughtful, level headed yet adventurous, and my life and trip are much better for having met them.
I met many nice people on the trail, and also am also glad to have met and spent time with Steve, The Abique Sisters, Alyssa in Silver City, Jeffrey in Hachita, Nate the Trail Hunter in Salida, The Artistic Goat Farmers in Pie Town, Trip McGuffin the Fly Fisher and the dudes who gave me beer and rain shelter in Sargents, the owners of the Chaco Trading Post, and many others. There isn't a story to go with this part, I just like 'em.
Concerning Dogs
This the time to stop reading if you don't want to read about vicious dogs and death.
I have two stories concerning Dogs, the first related to me by Casey from when he finished last year. He and I both opted to carry our bear spray with us even out of Grizzly Country for protection from Dogs (and humans). Many folks think this is silly, but he almost needed his. He was camped south of Cuba last year when 5 dogs attacked him and chased him up onto a rock with his bear spray. I asked him if he had to spray them, and he replied that he "spoke to them quietly about it and they decided to seek easier prey." He was also grateful for a rock to stand on. I can understand.
Chaco Trading Post has a much more horrible story, but still one I'd like to relate as it's so... large.
Many dogs are abandoned at Chaco Trading Post. It's on the edge of the Navajo Reservation and part of the culture there, apparently, is to abandon female dogs at the trading post rather then get them neutered. As a result the trading post had a small pack of friendly dogs that they took care of, the leader of which was named Fluffy.
There was also a pack of wild dogs in the area, led by a Rottweiler.
Fluffy was apparently quite the deterer and protector, because when Fluffy was tragically hit by a car and killed, things changed. Less then a week later the wild pack of dogs broke through the fence at the trading post and vicously murdered and ate the trading post pack (on security camera).
Since I was l sleeping there, alone, that night, I asked if the pack was still around. They said that the pack then started taking out cows, so one of the ranchers took out the pack out with a shotgun.
Holy shit, y'all it gets real out here, and that's why I'll always tour with bear spray.
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