A new journey

For the summer after my first year of medical school, I knew I needed to do another bike trip. It won’t be as long or as remote as the Western Wildlands route, but it’s still a long bikepacking trip. I’m piecing together the Oregon Outback and the Cross Washington Mountain Bike Route. So far, so good.

I haven’t been able to update on the trip, really, but will back-fill journal entries. In the meantime, check out Instagram, @philspotpourri

Can’t stop, won’t stop

It’s been over a week now since I’ve “finished” the route. I made it to the Canadian border in the evening last Thursday, my arrival heralded by a red fox running across the field, across the US Border Patrol parking lot with its barbed wire, and up the embankment into the forest. I can’t say I felt much joy upon finishing. Moreso it was wistful nostalgia, recalling mental snippets from earlier in the trip. Earlier in the day I’d met a very clean looking rider heading south, some 30+ miles south of the border, who dutifully reported trail conditions I’d encounter ahead…the road wouldn’t be as good as what we were standing on. It would be wet and full of bugs. There would be a tree down that he assured me I could pass under. And a beaver pond that flooded the road, which he cautioned I should probably take off my shoes and walk across. I nodded politely, all the while thinking how silly it was to get this advice 30 miles from the end of a 2700 mile journey. What conditions could I encounter here that I had not already, and worse? In my head I wondered if there was anything noteworthy from the road I’d traveled. I’d made it there, so it must have been fine. I did remember to tell him to ignore the “Road Closed” sign that he would encounter, in reference to a rather tiny washout that had already been mostly rebuilt. I mention this encounter because he expressed doubt I would make it to the border that day. It may have been midday, but it was only 30-something miles and not crazy climbing. He referenced a pass I needed to get over, but it was minor and paled in comparison to some I’d done in the previous days. I have to say his doubt made me doubly determined to reach the border that day, though it hardly mattered when I got there. It was an odd combination of feelings, to want to finish and to not want to finish. In my mind I lamented the loss of the feeling of planning for tomorrow…resupplying food, considering what I’d need, setting loose goals for destinations and mileage. For telling people my destination and origin on each chance encounter. Later, when I was heading south to Whitefish, it became a more complicated story: “I was riding from Mexico to Canada…no, not the great divide, something similar but further west…but now I’m headed south to Whitefish for a few days, and then maybe north to Banff or west to the Pacific…”

Turns out Banff won over, based on the distance and the time it would take. It’s a tough balance, wanting to extend this adventure as long as possible (indeed, feeling a pang of longing when I encounter someone who says they plan to ride a year or two, or until they don’t want to anymore…sigh…) and feeling like I should have a good amount of time before school starts.

I hopped on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, which immediately presented me with a choice: the main route, north from Roosville and up through Fernie (which has been described as a lovely ski town) and the more remote, rugged Flathead alternative. It didn’t take much for me to opt for the latter. I’ve grown increasingly less fond of towns and more fond of the remote areas. It was only slightly nerve wracking to know that the area was referred to as Grizzly Alley, owing to the high ursine concentration. But here I sit, in a surprisingly busy Tim Horton’s in Sparwood, having successfully evaded the jaws and paws of the eponymous bears. Trip’s not over yet, but I must say I’m just a little disappointed to not have seen one (from a healthy distance).

The route wasted no time ramping up into a big climb…I only made it 12 miles or so from the border crossing. Sadly the Trapper Cabin I was looking forward to from the route guide was on the other side of a swollen stream that stoutly defied my attempt to cross it. I stood for a while, feet numb in the icy water, evaluating various scenarios for crossing, stubbornly unable to give up quite yet, before determining that it would be dangerously foolish to try. I resigned myself to the altogether quite satisfactory camp spot by the road, complete with stone fire ring but also a small army of mosquitos. I dried my feet and put on my socks and shoes, plus my puffy and rain coat as I set about setting up camp. Shivers waxed and then waned as my frozen feet thawed and that cold blood returned to my core. Despite the dampness of the area I was able to get a pretty good fire going to warm up by. Committed to meticulous bear protocols, I cooked my can of chili a few hundred feet from camp, also stowing my bike and food far from my tent. When I woke I thought, for a moment, that I’d been visited in the night by a grizzly, but the prints in the mud turned out to be from some large-hoofed animal.

It was a beautiful day for riding…sunny and warm, if a bit hot. It would be about 45 miles to Butts Patrol Cabin, which I simply could not pass up the opportunity to stay in. As usual, there’d be a climb, peaking about 30 miles from where I’d camped and descending down the rest of the way. My road quickly went from decent dirt road to double-track to double-track with grass growing in the middle, then to shrubs in the middle, then single-track, overgrown single-track, and finally a legit hiking trail. Fortunately I was going downhill on the hiking trail, but it was so steep that my bike wanted to cartwheel down the hill, it’s front being much more laden than the rear. Once I reached the bottom, I had a number of stream crossings…one muddy one that saw me slipping and getting poked below the knee with the pointy end of a branch. There were a bunch of times when the road was merely a stream. Eventually I got over the summit and descended down to the cabin. I was delighted to find it unoccupied. I thought for sure there would be someone there already, it being Friday and also July 1, Canada Day. The cabin had a wood stove, several beds with foam pads, a table and benches both inside and out. It also had a large axe hanging over the door, and I quickly set about chopping some wood that was stacked nearby. Before starting a fire, I went out on my bike in search of water…there was a small stream nearby but it was rather still and its water a bit murky for my liking, especially when there was bound to be a better option. Sure enough, there was a river where I filled my containers to filter at the cabin. On my way back I saw the only humans of that day…two people riding a small motorcycle or moped that turned around before we crossed paths. This would be, I think, my only day of the trip without a human interaction. I made a big fire and had ramen with canned chicken (a pleasant surprise, because I thought I’d lost the can of chicken when I noticed my frame bag was slightly unzipped, and I didn’t see the can when I peered in). I fell asleep watching a movie on my ipad that I had downloaded a few days prior (another first of the trip). Unfortunately a fair number of mosquitos were able to find me in the night, but it wasn’t too bad.

The next day was another sunny one, with blue skies and a few white puffy clouds. After getting packed up, a pickup rolled in, piloted expertly by the 11-year old girl sitting on her father’s lap. He said he’d probably stayed at the cabin 100 times, without exaggeration, having been coming there since he was a boy. He said he had a camp nearby and invited me to take the day off and hang out, with the promise of dinner and a few beers. It was hard to say no, but I felt I needed to continue on.

Over the course of the day I sampled all the ways of getting across, from gingerly stone-stepping across, removing shoes and socks and walking through, and finally just plunging my feet into the water…decidedly the most efficient. One can only get so wet, after all.

This day I also stopped for an uncharacteristic hot lunch, combining a chicken instant ramen and tofu miso soup packet, with delicious results. After reaching the summit, it was a long steady descent, some 30 miles or so. The last bit was paved, what felt like a reward for completing the Flathead alternate. I stopped at the massive dump truck used for mining to grab a picture, went to an A&W and had a spicy chicken sandwich and a root beer (in a frosty glass mug!!) then got Chinese takeout for second dinner, as I’d developed a craving over the last few days. My map guide advertised a bike-only camp spot but offered sparse details, involving “turn East into hayfield.” There was a big field off the road, vaguely in the location of the pin, but it was quite wet and buggy, so I set out exploring the dirt road. Google Maps indicated the presence of “Abbotts Turkey Track Campground” which seemed my best bet at that point. There were also very sparse details, but I thought at least I could find some flat ground that wasn’t totally overgrown. It ended up being not much more than a sign and an overgrown dirt road leading to a gate that politely requested that people not trespass, thank you…but it appeared the property was abandoned, or at least not presently occupied, and I was not very interested in biking back uphill and across town to the proper campground that charged $30CAD for a tent site with no services. So I cautiously poked around until I felt satisfied that my presence wouldn’t be noticed or minded, and set up in an area fairly free from tall grasses, under a great big pine tree, within earshot of flowing water.

As is usually the case, everything was fine, and I packed up and stole away towards town. It started to rain just as I began pedaling, and when I arrived at the Tim Horton’s there were three other loaded bikes, their riders seeking refuge inside. One was just doing a short loop, another couple were debating doing the Flathead alt headed south. This Tim Horton’s has been exceedingly busy since I arrived…I feel bad for the frazzled staff. I’ve also been sitting here, charging my battery packs and delaying the inevitable foray into the rain, for over an hour. And feeling a growing guilt at occupying a table, with such a crowd. I suppose it is time to settle in to a rainy day of riding… There are ample campground options north of here, so I’ll plan to just ride as long as I can. It’s about 130 miles to Banff, so likely just two days of riding. Seems the weather my clear up when I get there…fingers crossed.

Fast forward….

Wow, a lot has happened since my last update. I’ve been hot, cold, wet, dry, hungry, stuffed; treated to miles of that Good Dirt and pushed my bike through miles of snow (twice). And I’ve been the grateful recipient of kindnesses big and small – free cookies at Subway, a free local beer at a beautiful skate park in the tiny town of Alberton, MT, a free slice of pizza at the bar in Darby, MT, free drinks in Challis, ID, and several gifts of shelter and hospitality. THANK YOU to Steph, Curtis, and Andrea + family (sorry the presence of a strange bike packer in the morning scared your daughter…eep!). And there were the rescue-rides from the ranching couple in Pegram, ID (after I rolled my tired on a descent and then had a puncture in the tube I popped in, while trying to patch it a couple on a tractor and wagon out to feed the cows rolled by…John and I looked at each other and raised the possibility of asking for help…surely a rancher would have an air compressor…) and Dave the ranch broker who rescued me from Impassable Mud north of Montpelier reservoir (Idaho), ferried me to Afton, WY, and bought me dinner!

The two snow pushes deserve their own posts…the first, Mill Creek Summit, is likely the hardest, most taxing physical (and mental) endeavor I’ve ever undertaken. Hours of trudging and hefting the bike through snow-cone consistency snow up to hip deep, split by a night of camping on the only patch of dirt I could find, nestled between two great pine trees. The second day saw me unloading the bike of food, clothes and shelter and portaging, in a way, across the snow…walking forward with the gear, dropping it, backtracking for the bike, and pushing or carrying that. Truly miserable. The second snow slog was longer but more easily traversed…the snow was compact enough to support my bike (most of the time) and my feet, so that I generally didn’t sink below my ankles, or calves at the worst. But that one, up and over Horse Creek Pass, was probably twice as long lengthwise. As night fell, I vowed to make it to dirt on the other side if I could. This resolution was tested several times, not least of which was a wall of snow maybe 10-12 feet high. I stood, high of the bike on the slope, and kicked my feet in, then heaved it up and jammed it down so the wheels would dig in. Then I’d side-step upwards and dig my feet in again, repeating the process a dozen or two times until I was within reach of heaving the bike up onto the flat top of the drift. A mere 20 feet or so forward and I quickly descended back to dirt (well, more of a sandy mud). That was just about, but not entirely, the last of the snow. I decided to try to push it to the Horse Creek Hot Springs and campground, arriving there at 1:30am in a state of near-delirium…seeing the little shack that housed a crystal clear hole of perfect-temperate bath water, I hurriedly gathered from my bike dry clothes, a microfiber towel from Tractor Supply, and the last tortilla and bit of hummus I had and made my way down the rickety wooden gangway to the shack. I quickly disrobed, eyes wide with disbelief and anticipation, and eased my body down the ladder into the chest-deep water. Body soaked and warmed, and hummus eaten, I eventually got out, dried off and donned dry clothes, then scurried with my bike into the nearby vault toilet for another night of glamping luxury ;-)

There’s more to that story, but I should probably keep moving. I’ve just ducked into a bar in Alberton for a personal pizza and 1.5 midday beers, waiting out some passing downpours. But the rain is tapering and besides, I’ve been wet before. Gotta get some more miles in.

Time flies when you’re…going uphill all day(s)

It’s been a while, and a lot has happened! Currently in Salt Lake City at the end of a second much needed rest day. I joked with John the other morning over coffee that I still woke up today to everything being sore. Ultimately we decided on a third night in SLC and then taking the bus up to Park City for $5 rather than spend 1, maybe 2 days climbing 5,000’ to get back onto the route. So we spent a night at the very very nice Park City Hostel and visited the local dive bar, Oh Shucks, which was a pretty great time. Bar back Josh, you had a killer 90s alt-rock playlist haha. “Flagpole Sitter” was definitely the highlight.

We’ve had our share of adventures in the last ::insert correct number of days::…. John’s reroute around the snowed-socked Skyline Drive took us up, down and up again to Ferron, where we popped in for pizza and ended up with an invitation to camp in a couple’s yard that turned into crashing in their living room and being treated to a full breakfast of French toast, eggs, bacon, and fresh rhubarb courtesy of the delightful Robert. I think my favorite story about him is how he likes to ride his bike in jeans and cowboy boots, which, it turns out, catch the pedals just right. And how a friend of his kept trying to convince him to adopt other cycling apparel, even offering to buy him sneakers and shorts, but he remains unswayed that there could be a better way. Robert and LuAnn, thank you!

After that we headed back up into the Manti-La Sal National Forest where we eventually did hit a couple miles of snow and mud, and one icy but thankfully short knee-deep stream crossing. We camped at a NF campground at around 9500’ and had a frigid descent the next morning into town, complete with falling snow. We thawed out in a diner in Fairview before continuing north along 89. Though we were descending, we fought headwinds all day. Eventually we had to get on highway 6 which was terrible, so we bailed onto nearby railroad tracks for a few miles before hopping on a dirt road that passed through a wind farm, after which we had to hoist our bikes over a fence before rolling into Spanish Fork. After a food truck dinner, we made it to a KOA campground with showers in Provo. The next day was almost entirely bike paths along the Jordan River into Salt Lake where we were spoiled by Warmshowers hosts Austin and Elyse. We spent the next day giving our bikes some much-needed cleaning, and I spent way too many hours taking apart and cleaning my right shifter which had nearly stopped working entirely. Now it is almost as good as new! The next morning we had two rounds of handmade tacos at this cafe, went shopping at Trader Joe’s, stopped by a bike shop (Cranky’s) for some essential items and generally lazed about before spending a night at an Airbnb, which was of course located at the very top of a great big hill on the north side of town. The next morning we got up early, rolled down to the bus station, missed the first bus but lucked out with the second one and the extremely helpful driver Jorge who managed to get both of our very loaded bikes stowed safely on the bus and up the mountain to Kimball Junction.

Today we are going to try to make it to Evanston, WY, which is about 80 miles but should be doable.

And then there were two

Quick update from Salina, UT: I finally met up with this guy John who is also doing the Western Wildlands Route. He had started out a few weeks after me, from Las Vegas, and got into Bryce just two days ago. We’d been communicating about the trip and various aspects of it for a while…most recently pondering the snowpack situation up on the Wasatch Range / Skyline Drive. Well, yesterday he decided to take a “shortcut” of highway riding to catch up to me. 118 miles on the highway in one day. As these things go, he beat me into Salina despite covering almost 3 times the distance I did. I got a late start from the Doctor Creek Campground at Fish Lake and had a nice (mostly) downhill ride on fairly smooth dirt. It was what seemed the greatest variety of landscape in a single day yet on the trip…pretty cool. When I rolled into town John was sitting on the curb outside the gas station in town, chatting it up with some locals who told us about a nearby lake where we could hang out and swim. So we grabbed a six-pack of PBR, strapped it onto John’s bike with care, and headed down to the lake. We were treated with good company, country music, leftover grilled food, and a rollicking ride in a side-by-side. We even got a ride back to our motel in town, about 5 miles away.

Given that today was going to be a scorcher (88 degrees) and John had just had a big day, we figured we’d take today as a rest day and head out just a few miles to some public land to camp, then attack the next section in earnest. John spent hours poring over maps and conjuring up a route for us that avoids Skyline Drive and hopefully the worst of the snow and melt. Time will tell….

Bikepacking is the pits

Actually, it’s great, but I love a good pun. Two nights ago, with gale force winds predicted (and after an experience a while back when a wind storm kicked up and I had to take the tent down WHILE I WAS IN IT) I decided to cross an item off the bikepacking bingo card and sleep in a pit (or vault) toilet. It sounds gross, but compared to battling winds, it felt like glamping. No need to worry about hanging food away from critters, a desert rat eating my helmet straps, and best of all, the bathroom is right there!! It didn’t even smell, I swear. Well, except every now and then when the wind blew just right over the vent pipes….but even then, it was pretty tolerable.

The next day I knew I wanted to spend some time in Bryce, so it was a short 10 miles or so into town. I sprang for Ruby’s RV Park and grabbed a slightly pricy tent site, but man…the showers and bathroom were worth it. And they were so warm! I’m sitting outside of Ruby’s Inn General Store longing for that warmth. It is bright and sunny but chilly and windy. I just uploaded a podcast episode, so check that out. I won’t get far today, but hey…I don’t have anywhere to be. Just on my bike. I’m going to revisit Thunder Mountain Trail, which was pretty amazing if I recall. There’s a dispersed camping area where I’ll stash most of my gear and then come back for it rather than carry it the whole way…should be fine, right? Then it is north, and up up up, to the Aquarius Plateau en route to Loa. Should get there by Friday.

Pics are: gear explosion in the pit toilet, bikepacking gourmet meal (dehydrated hummus was a win for sure), scenes from the road, my tent nestled in the windbreak of a low tree/large shrub, and a delicious mango from the couple who pulled into the spot next to me as I was leaving Kanab. So good.

Inertia

Getting into a sizable town or city seems to mean I’ll be there for a lil while. I planned on two nights in Kanab but ended up tacking on a third. Though I relocated from the AirBnb to a campground to save some money. I was waiting on a couple of packages, including new chain, cassette, and emergency cassette lock ring tool. That took a little while to figure out exactly how to use, but I succeeded in getting the old cassette off and putting a new one on. Now that the cassette and chain are both new, should reliable use of all of my gears ::fingers crossed::

I probably won’t make it too far today, seeing as it is already 3p. But I’ll get moving and out of town and camp on some BLM land, then attack the big climb I have coming up (4700’+) tomorrow, up to Crawford Pass.

As I was packing up my bike, a van pulled into the tent site area…they were having the same difficulty figuring out the numbering as I was. Turns out there is a yurt-in-progress in one of the tent sites, so while the map shows 7, there really are only 6. In any case, we chatted for quite a while. They’re a couple from Spain who have been traveling in their van for about 8 months if I recall…they’re heading to Zion, and then up in the direction I’m headed, so perhaps our paths will cross again! I’m excited to eat the mango they gave me in exchange for two bananas that I didn’t want to carry…and to try this recipe for a backcountry Spanish omelet.

I also heard from someone who is a couple weeks ahead of me, in northern Utah, that he had to reroute around some pretty substantial snow up in the mountains. So we will see what the next few weeks have in store…I

Utah!

Made it to Kanab last night. First cell service since a little bit of LTE on Hwy 89 on Navajo Nation, about five days ago. Got an “Airbnb” (turned out to just be a motel advertising on Airbnb) and a Big Box Dinner from Pizza Hut. Update coming soon, gotta do some errands during business hours!

First world problems

Well, I was just writing an update, sitting here in a Burger King in Cameron, AZ…I tried to move the charging cable going into my iPad and somehow that refreshed the page and I lost the update! Waaah! I don’t have time to sit here and re-write it, so I’ll just say that everything has been amazing, many stories to tell but they’ll have to wait. For now, I’ll just say that I am headed to what is supposed to be a beautiful, though dry, campsite southwest of Bitter Springs. And I figured out how to post updates from my Garmin InReach to Twitter and Facebook, so check twitter.com/philspotpourri or facebook.com/phils-potpourri for off-grid updates.

An overdue update

Hello friends! I’m currently in Flagstaff, which lies roughly at mile 540 of the route. On day 1, I biked from Sierra Vista, AZ down to the border wall (i.e. a scar on the earth) then up along the San Pedro river, up to Hereford. Day 2 was a hot one, with a lot of road miles on the climb up to Tombstone. I made it to an RV park in Benson well after dark…the last leg of that journey involved miles of dirt roads, hoisting the bike over a locked gate, and dragging it under a barbed wire fence next to another locked gate. I still felt able to answer “Yes” when the gas station cashier in Benson asked if I was stayin’ safe out there ;-)

Day 3 was a short one…I took my time getting going from the campground and spend a bunch of time in Benson resupplying at the grocery store and hardware store. Plus about an hour at Wendy’s. I camped in a lovely spot off a dirt road in (don’t worry, not IN in) one of the washes south of Cascabel.

Day 4 biked up to Cascabel and spent some time at the community center there. A guy there who had overalls and a MacGyver-like mullet tipped me off to the presence of bagels in the fridge, to which I added my dehydrated refried beans (henceforth DRBs, derbs or derbies), cheese, cucumber and hot sauce. We chatted a bit, and I asked how he liked Cascabel. He replied straightaway with, “It’s a good place to die!” With more probing he shared that it was a good place to live, too. The community center was an hour’s walk from his place up in Pool Wash, so he could use the computer/internet to get his conspiracy theories and vitriol from Tucker Carlson and Fox News. Add some solar panels and water from a neighbor’s well and life was good. After he left I was able to rock out to The Scene and Shazam’d the song “Mother Grease the Cat” by Ancient Grease, which would help propel me up Redington pass a while later.

It was about 9:30p by the time I got up over the pass (4,296’). I saw an owl and thought I lost my rain pants but didn’t! That’s an entertaining story that maybe I’ll recount later. Eventually I found an unoccupied dispersed camping site along the road. I’d been planning to eat hummus, cucumber and tortilla but it turned out I hadn’t actually packed the dehydrated hummus I’d ordered back in Boston. DRB’s it was! Made a little fire and looked out at the twinkling lights of Tucson before turning in.

On Day 5 I took my time getting going. I took a walk back up the hill to see the view, jogged down (!) and then as I was packing up met Nathan and Shelby who were biking loaded mtb’s up to the pass. Shelby was spending the night in a scenic canyon on the other side, and Nathan was along for the ride, though he’d head back to Tucson rather than camp. Nathan and I exchanged info, and I’d end up spending several nights at his apartment, and then five days biking together up to Flagstaff! That’s where I am now, taking some needed rest days before making the next push up north towards the Grand Canyon. I’m staying with a former coworker from BHCHP (the second one I’ve met up with on this trip!), watching the Tunnel Fire, and enjoying being clean, having ample food and water, and not moving for a bit.