*The GDMBR*

The Great Divide Mountain Biking Route
August 8th - October 8th, 2022

What is the Great Divide Mountain Biking Route?

The GDMBR is roughly a 3,000 mile cycling route consisting of single track, gravel, sand, dirt, and pavement which follows the Continental Divide. It starts in Jasper, Canada and finishes at the New Mexico, Mexico border. Over 200,000 feet of elevation are gained throughout the route.

For the record, I only completed the United States portion of this route starting at the border of Canada, and finishing at the border of Mexico.

I wanted this to be a photographic project with a curiosity around what a trip of this measure, as a solo woman traveler looks like. Especially for one who had never cycled over 75 miles in a day, never extensively mountain biked before, and who had never bikepacked. I did not even do one single shake out ride. (No part of that process is recommended. In fact, it’s exactly what one is recommended not to do.)

I wanted to understand which misconceptions of solo women in the outdoors would ring true, and which would be proven wrong.

A few were validated, and many proven wrong. I could not keep track of how many times I was asked if I was scared or felt unsafe. Or how often I was questioned about what I was using to protect myself. Or how many times my processes or gear choices were criticized. There is a story to be told around how women are often looked at and treated differently in the outdoors, but I do not feel this is the moment to tell it.

The reason being, my overall experience was wildly positive. The challenges I faced were empowering and transformative. I continue to have flashes of memories about the encouragement and generosity I received from complete strangers. The “Paying It Forward” philosophy many showed me, is still overwhelming. I was exposed to the beautiful version of humanity. The curious, generous, kind, supportive piece of humanity. It is out there, and still exists.

When I first learned about the GDMBR in February of 2022, I was in a stagnant space and knew the route was something I needed to do. I needed to get outside of my comfort zone and create an opportunity for growth. Over the years, I have come to the realization the way to accomplish this is to push my mental, physical, and emotional boundaries past anything I have ever experienced. The GDMBR certainly expanded my boundaries and shattered my perceived limitations.

What initially seemed like an enormous goal, became a simple routine. An exhausting routine, but simple. At the end of the day, all I really did was pedal and live off of a bike for two months. The simplicity of pedaling a bicycle, led to the realization of how often I have held myself back. How the anticipatory anxiety is far more limiting than the act of starting and working toward a goal.

We are all much stronger and more capable than we often allow ourselves to believe.

This is the short hand version of what I encountered or learned along the way. It’s an experience I could probably talk about for hours, so if you ever feel inclined, let’s grab a coffee.

The first day, I learned the very difficult lesson of 75 miles over two mountain passes with gaining 7,000 feet, was more than I should have attempted to do in a single day. Moral of the story, nature always finds a way of dishing out a big slice of humility. Which it continued to do so, no matter how strong I became, every single day for two months.

Through three states, I sang in three different languages to keep the grizzly bears away. I thought maybe, just maybe, they are trilingual and enjoy off-pitch singing. I also mixed in yodeling, and the Canadian Whoop. I am happy to report, all were effective.

I pushed versus pedaled a loaded bike up mountain passes more often than I would like to admit.

I flew down the descents, and loved it.

Setting up a tent in the rain, is terrible. There is an art to it, but it’s terrible. Setting up a tent in the dark while it’s raining and sleeting, incalculably worse.

I hid in ditches from lightening. During a few other occasions, it was necessary to crouch in a ball position in my tent as lightening struck around me.

Number of miles cycled: approximately 2,400. Elevation gained/descended: approximately 200,000 feet. Times getting lost: 0.

I ran out of water, twice. Food, only once.

Number of times I cried: three.

The most Coca-Cola’s I drank in one sitting: five. Well, technically four, plus one Dr. Pepper.

Number of times I almost lost my bike to a cliff: once.

I crashed once. My landing placed my head just inches from a fairly fresh cow pie.

I learned what bonking is, and experienced it in all of its glory.

Bonking: Not a scientific term. Common in endurance sports. When the body becomes functionally depleted of glycogen. The full exhaustion of energy. The body stops functioning. Otherwise know as pure hell.

I was called the wildlife whisperer, and fully lived up to the name. I would consider these my top five wildlife sightings: Male moose, mountain lion, bobcat, a pair of otters, and a wild mustang.

It’s not possible to count the amount of cows I saw. However, if I were to guess, it would be 10,000.

I became a master of the art of grocery shopping in gas stations. That being said, I really miss gas station shopping.

I bathed in creeks and lakes. Montana has some of the most spectacular water I have ever seen.

At one point, I desperately took a shower in a laundry mat. If you were wondering, the creeks and lakes were far better, and cleaner, than the laundry mat shower.

“It’s always the last five miles!”, was shouted countless times. Every single day, the last five miles always threw out some form of ridiculous mental or physical obstacle.

I learned what a full hook up is at an RV park. For those who are not aware, it is an RV with the luxuries of water, electricity, and sewer.

Most of the time, I tried to avoid RV parks. However, the best RV park experience involved a Glowing Away party thrown by the park hosts. Yes, glow sticks and a dance-off were involved.

Most frequent questions asked: “Where are you headed? Where did you start? How many miles do you cycle a day? Are you going north or south? Can I pray for you? Do you need money? Do you have a gun? How heavy is your bike? Are those hydraulics? Are you crazy? Are you famous? How many flat tires?”

Most common lies told to oneself and other cyclists: “Almost there.” “Just one more climb.” “It’s all downhill from here.” “Easy day tomorrow.”

I feel incredibly lucky to have met the most kind, welcoming, generous, and interesting people. The generosity shown to me, as a dirty disheveled cyclist, was enormously overwhelming. I hope this generosity and kindness reverberates through me for the rest of my life. I am always thinking of paying it forward.

Lastly, before I opened my eyes on the morning of the final 45 mile ride, the thought of, “I would, and have to, do this again. I don’t want this to end. I think I could just live off of my bike forever.,” passed through my mind.