T Minus 6 days

It's now 6 days before I fly off to Banff and I'm still scrambling to get ready.  On top of that, it looks like the flooding in Alberta and southern British Columbia has devastated much of the trail and I will need to ride highways to the west of the Divide to get to the border at Roosville.   

I might have camped here!

I'm trying not to be too disappointed as I will be missing one of the most remote and challenging sections of the whole GDMBR along the Flathead Valley.  I am very grateful I wasn't in the thick of it when the storms hit and, of course, I feel for all the people who suffered losses.  Oh well!  Think of the mosquitoes!  

Here's the planned detour.  Route 93 is a designated scenic highway with several Provincial Parks available for camping.  It's 225 miles and probably 4 days.  So, all is certainly not lost.  Staying with my motto:  "Be Friendly!  Be Flexible!  Have Fun!"

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Dedication to Koa

Here's to my beautiful girl, Koa, who died in my arms on April 21st.  She was my love, my life, my reason and faithful companion for 13.5 years.  

There was a time in my life when I felt I had lost everything - even my sense of self.  When I was completely unsure about everything, the only thing I knew for sure was that when I looked at her she made me smile.   She was always there for me.  So steady, so sure, so patient, so kind and caring.

And now she's gone and I miss her terribly.  If it weren't for the consuming preparation of this trip, I would be completely adrift.  I don't like working in the yard, eating meals, coming home, going swimming, just being here without her.  Her memory so permeates everything I do.

I still remember the first time I saw her.  At 6 weeks, she stood so proud with her chest held high.  Her mother was a papered Border Collie and she had every bit of the intelligence of that fabled breed.  She was so smart, I quickly ran out of tricks to teach her.  She had a dozen toys each with different names and she knew them all.  She hung on my every word tilting her head from side to side capturing every nuance and making sure she understood fully.

She was an awesome frisbee catcher, incredible swimmer, always eager for a walk, and loved to play in the sprinklers.  She loved to play with anyone, children, particularly little girls.  

Once at The Pier, there was a man standing in the corner all sad and withdrawn, his arms tightly crossed on his chest.  There were dozens of kids Koa could have played with but instead she went right over to him and dropped her ball at his feet.  He  reluctantly picked it up and gave it a half-hearted throw.  She immediately retrieved it, dropped it at his feet again and just stood there staring at him gently wagging her tail, waiting.  In just a matter of minutes, he had his shirt off and was splashing in the waves with her.  She was always doing things like this.

She was such a sweet being.  So patient, so focused and well behaved better than most people's children.  She never chased a cat or showed any aggravation and would greet all strangers as if they were her long lost friend.  When I would work in the yard, particularly building rock walls, she would visit me every hour or so to see if I were bleeding.  If so, she would clean me up.  I called her my first aid kit.  She was so caring.

With the years, and as she became sick with one abdominal tumor after another, she bravely endured the surgeries always rebounding beyond any reasonable expectation.  She had such tenacity and never gave up.  She was amazing.  And when she died, she went without a whimper.  If only I could be half as brave.  

I will be carrying some of her ashes with me on this adventure and with each Divide crossing (there will be over 30), I will deposit her essence to spread from coast to coast.  The world would be a far better place if we were all a little more like her.

So here's to my beautiful girl Koa.  I love you!  And may your goodness go on forever.

June 19: Am I Nuts or What?

What on earth am I doing?  Mountain biking 2,700 miles of unsupported, remote country with a total ascent equaling 10 climbs up Everest?  Am I nuts or what?  With an aging 59 year old body and a myriad of orthopedic ailments, why don't I just stay at home all warm, safe and snuggled up watching movies?  

What drives me?  The Answer is complicated.  It's a challenge, right? But primarily, I feel my time is running out for something as physically demanding as this.  So ... off I go to (try to) grab that brass ring!  

Loving Camping & The Outdoors!

Who am I?  I'm pretty much a loner with the lingering wounds of a bullied and ostracized child.  As such, I've never really felt like I belonged to anything. But the one place I do feel I belong is in the outdoors!  It's where I have always found solace.  Can you see how happy I am in that tree?  Look at that big, toothless grin sitting on my mother's knee camping in Maine.  Every summer, we would load up the VW van, escape NYC and my stifling private girls' school, and go camping!  Heehee!  My father was an Eagle Scout and he taught me everything.  We hit ALL the National Parks across the US and I just loved it!  

There's Something About The Bike!

1965 NYC Riverside Church
My 3-Speed Royce Union

I have always been happiest on my bike.  Kids know the freedom.  Perhaps my love for bikes started when my father and I would bike from 125th Street across the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey.  I would fearlessly race the buses down Broadway and Riverside and tangle with the taxi's in Central Park.  But no!  It was before that.  It began with my first 2 wheeler in 1st grade. My dad and I went to the school parking lot.  He held the saddle.  I mounted it and immediately pedaled away - no training wheels - just two.  And in that gravity-defying moment, my love began.  I so clearly remember this.  I turned around fully expecting to see him still holding the saddle that's how solid and safe it felt.  But he wasn't there!  He was standing 50 yards back where I had started.  "Look daddy!  I'm riding!"  We both beamed!  But wait!  I can remember even before that.  I remember sneaking down in the dark on Christmas eve and seeing the white saddle of my new two wheeler under the Christmas tree.  Can anything in this world be better than the anticipation of a child for her first real bike?  

Now, 53 years later, biking is more like moving meditation for me.  Do you know what I often think about when I ride?  Nothing!  Nothing at all!  I have come to love anything and everything about bikes.  There's this compelling fascination for the meshing of the human machine with the mechanical.  

Remembering Awesome Cycling Adventures!

It wasn't until after the completion of my schooling and the focused pursuit of a career that I began riding again.  In 1990 when I moved from Maine to Honolulu, my intention was to bike everywhere.  But I quickly hung it up as I was constantly harassed and nearly run over two times.  I opted to surf instead.  

In 1999, I had a job working in a tunnel that required I ride a bike.  Likewise, biking was the only form of transportation at jobs on Johnston and Midway Islands.  I liked how strong it made my legs feel.  So, when I got back to Oahu, I bought a little mountain bike and enjoyed exploring the back roads around Kaneohe.  When I moved to Maui in 2000, I bought my first performance road bike.  That gleaming bright Cannondale CAAD2 almost actually fit me and I started regularly biking to work and climbing the beautiful hills of upcountry Kula.  Because of increasing chronic hip pain, I couldn't run or walk much at all but I was thrilled to discover I could hammer away on the bike.  I was feeling like an athlete again!  So I starting dreaming about what else I could do on two wheels.

2002 Lake Tekapo, New Zealand 

2003 "Around" the Grand Canyon 

In 2001, I flew to the Big Island with that 'Dale, tent and sleeping bag and biked around it doing  491 miles in 8 days.  This just inspired more.  In 2002, with a move to the Big Island, I bought a real touring bike with racks and panniers and headed off to New Zealand.  I did an absolutely stunning 2,100 miles in 54 days around the South Island.  It was incredible, fantastic, awesome!  More!  So, in 2003, I did another amazing tour of 1,800 miles in 45 days "around" the Grand Canyon.  Again, wonderful, spectacular, phenomenal!  As my confidence grew, I did more and more "stealth" camping away from campgrounds choked with RV's and their whining generators.  I felt very safe hauling my bike into the woods leaving no road-side trace, pitching my tent by a little stream, lighting a little fire, in the peace and quiet by myself, cuddling up in my little womb-ie tent.  I felt like I could have gone on like that forever.  If it hadn't been for my good dog, Koa, patiently waiting for me back in the kennel, I probably would have.  (More on Koa later.)


Discovering What I'm Good At!

2005:  ASR Hip Surgery in India

But then it was all about caring for my dying mother, and then  myself.  For 20 years, my arthritic hip slowly reduced me to a nearly inert heap of writhing pain.  So finally, at age 51, I went to India for an non-FDA approved implant.  Hurrah!  This gave me a whole new lease on life!  And I starting riding again.  Soon, I was thinking about racing and at the age of 52, my racing career began!

I raced in Hawaii for 7 years and I was good at it.  At nearly every race, I would podium regardless of age.  But each year, the women's field thinned and the events became more disappointing.  So, last year I set my eyes on my first out-of-state race.  I logged 8,200 miles and 540 hours in 9 months preparing for the 75 mile Vancouver to Whistler Gran Fondo.  I was so happy to place 29th out of a huge field of 913 women and 3rd out of 219, F50-59.  I was immensely pleased to find these cyclists so courteous and skilled and the event so professionally executed.  It was a fantasy-come-true.  At 58, I felt truly tested, accomplished, sated, and at the pinnacle of my racing career. 

Getting Away from Cars!

Being a roadie requires you to ... well ... ride on the road!  And with that comes the risk of being struck by a car.  Two years ago, I was hit by a truck while riding on Oahu.   Fortunately, it ONLY resulted in a concussion that took 4 months for my head to clear, shoulder surgery requiring 1 year of rehab, 5 root canals, 3 crowns (2 to go) and 1 implant (yet to go).  My jaw (and looks) will never be the same!  And the driver didn't even get a ticket!  

A friend of mine just got his head run over by a Jeep here on Big Island!  Fortunately, he's recovering with a multitude of broken bones, surgeries, tons of plates in his head and a wired jaw.  The surgeons did an awesome job but he will never look the same either.  And I'm wondering if he will take to the road as before.  I know I suffered PTSD for quite some time.  I would instantly rage whenever a car got too close.  

It's getting to the point where if you ride and you haven't been hit, you will.  It's just a matter of time.  And to be strong on the bike, you have to put in the time.  I find myself more and more reluctant to go "play in the traffic".  As I nervously put on my RoadID bracelet, I wonder if this ride will be my last.  That's just plain crazy!  Doing what you love shouldn't involve risking your life at the reckless hands of another.

So I'm taking to the trails and I'll take my chances with those bears!  And, frankly, I'm just plain bored of riding back and forth and back and forth on the same old roads over and over and over again!   Thousands and thousands of mindless miles when I could be adventuring?  How absurd is that?

Yes!  Adventuring Again!

So, this year I'm doing something completely new - away from cars and into the great out doors again.  I yearn for roads which bring fresh panoramas with every bend and hill top.  The smells, the sounds, all senses ALIVE!  There will be meeting new people and seeing so many new things.  And hopefully, the wonder of nature will be enough to distract me from my aching legs, gnawing hunger, and staggering fatigue.  Hopefully, I will have the physical ability, the wits to rise above the challenges, and the emotional stamina to complete this challenge.

So have I convinced you that I am NOT nuts?  That this adventure is immensely sane?  Have  I  convinced myself?  Hmmm!  Time will tell!

June 18: T Minus 14 Days

In two weeks, I will leave the comfort of my Big Island home and venture out to bike pack Adventure Cycling's Great Divide Mountain Bike Route from Banff, Canada to (hopefully) Mexico.  Gulp!

The GDMBR is a network of ~80% dirt roads, ~10% single track trails and ~10% paved roads staying within 50 miles of the Continental Divide for 2,700+ miles of exceedingly beautiful but remote and vast country. The route climbs over 200,000' (that's like climbing Everest 10 times) and reaches nearly 12,000' in several places.  I will be traveling through black and grizzly bear country with mountain lions and swarms of mosquitoes.  Services along the route are sparse and at times, I will need to carry 3-4 days of food and water.  What?  Am I nuts?

I have no idea how long this will take as I have absolutely no idea what kind of speed I will be able to attain.  I expect some climbing will knock me back to 3-4 mph with flatter stretches at 10-12 mph at best.  If I am able to keep up with the schedule outlined in Michael McCoy's Cycling the Great Divide, the US portion will take 62 days without any rest days.  That's an average of 40 miles per day.  Add in 5-6 days for the Canadian portion and 1 rest day per week makes ~2.5 months of 4-10 hours in the saddle every day.  Yikes!

Believe it or not, every year there is a RACE down this route.  It's called The Tour Divide.  In fact, it's going on right now.  Check it out at http://tourdivide.org/. 143 self-supported riders started on June 14th; 15 have already scratched.  The leader has already covered over 1,000 miles of mountain biking in just 4.5 days!  Ironman?  Ultraman?  Hah!  These guys are NUTS!  The men's record is an unbelievable 17 days and 23 hours; the women's, 24 days!   It was the movie, Ride the Divide, about the 16 who raced in 2008 that first caught my attention.  Then I read the book, Be Brave, Be Strong, written by Jill Homer about her record-setting race in 2009.  I was hooked.