Bikepacking the Great Divide

By Ed Gravelle

The Great Divide Mountain Bike Route is the longest mostly off-pavement bikepacking route in the world. Beginning in Jasper National Park in the Canadian Rocky Mountains, the course travels to Banff and through the states of Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico before ending at the Mexican border in Antelope Wells. Along the approximate 3,100-mile circuitous path, the route crosses the continental divide about 30 times while gaining and losing some 200,000 feet in elevation. The surfaces include approximately 2,100 miles of dirt road, 60 miles of singletrack, 900 miles of paved road, and 50 miles of paved bike path. 

These details were taken from the Adventure Cycling Association website, which I recommend as a great source of information if you want to know more about the route: adventurecycling.org. From the website you can also purchase hard copy maps and/or download the course to most GPS equipped bike computers.

Getting to the start turned out to be one of the hardest parts of this trip. After my flight landed in Edmonton, I learned my bike box had been swallowed by the blackhole of the airline’s lost luggage system. Six days later, after I had returned home, I was notified that my bike box was safe and sound back in Canada. I returned to Edmonton, shuttled five hours to Jasper and finally got started on my solo trip south the morning of August 11. 

The trail did not disappoint as I immediately entered a 15-mile stretch of the most spectacular singletrack and scenery I had ever seen. I shed tears of joy at the beauty of it all as I passed by herds of elk, big horn sheep, and streams and lakes of crystal clear to turquoise green and blue colored water all set against the majesty of the Canadian Rocky Mountains.

All along the route, the views and terrain were so much different than I am used to seeing along the East Coast. I travelled through diverse regions featuring steep climbs in thick woods, gently rolling hills on wide open plains with no trees in sight, snow-capped mountains, alpine meadows, blue ribbon trout streams and mountain lakes, high deserts, mesas and volcanic formations. I passed by or through areas we have all heard of such as Banff, Glacier, Yellowstone, and Grand Teton national parks, and cities of Eureka, Helena, Steamboat Springs, Breckenridge and Salida. I felt like I was in a Ken Burns documentary as I took in the sights and learned the diverse history of the land and people.

My journey came to a sudden end on day 43 (Sept. 22) with about 300 miles to go. I was speeding effortlessly down a long gradual downhill dirt road with a stiff tailwind (this a rarity) and my thoughts turned to how hard it was to get here and how thankful I was to be so close to the finish. In my mind I praised my old bike for holding up so well over the many steep rocky roads and through the infamous mud in New Mexico. I should have knocked on wood, because as I reached the bottom of the hill and turned onto a short section of paved road, both tires flatted and my rear derailleur hanger broke. 

I was rescued by a local sheriff who drove me 38 miles to the nearest town of Grant and offered to drive me back if I got my bike fixed. Sadly, my flight home was already booked and there was no room in the schedule to fix the bike and finish the ride. Instead, I rented a car and spent a few relaxing days hiking in the Grand Canyon and Sedona before catching my scheduled flight home from Tucson.

On my long journey south, I met many people who helped me and wished to hear of my adventures. I am thankful for these trail angels who provided me with the physical needs of food, water and lodging, along with the pleasure of human companionship and the inspiration to continue onward. They had many of the same questions about my trip which I’ll answer as best I can.

Why did you do this?

This is a difficult question, but I think my life’s loves, inspirations, and events both good and bad blended together and led me to this place I was destined to be. I don’t know that I completely understand the reasons myself, maybe someday I’ll figure it all out. It could be that the answer is simpler than I believe it to be – maybe I just like to ride and be outdoors.

Were you lonely travelling by yourself?

I know this sounds cliché, but it is true – I was alone but never felt lonely. While I missed my family, the trail had become my best friend – the one who I could tell all my secret thoughts, hopes and fears. I always had the company of the winds that blew, the rains that fell, and the hypnotizing sound of tires rolling over gravel and asphalt. At night the sounds of the forest and plains were like music to my ears, and I felt the presence of nature all around me like a warm embrace.

What did you think about?

This is one of my favorites and a big reason I enjoy doing solo treks – how many words did you say I had for this article, Darryl? This may sound bad, but without the “distraction” of others, I was free to let my mind wander where it would. Of course, there were simple thoughts like where will I get my next food, water and stay the night. Otherwise, days went by when I was “in the zone,” and thought only of the motion of my body moving over the earth like a butterfly effortlessly floating along with the wind. You might think this boring, but I loved those times when I felt I could ride forever like a machine and my mind was a clean slate free of worry. When thoughts did enter my mind, they were random, like a magician fanning a deck of cards and asking me to pick one – turn it over and that was my thought for the day. Hours went by like minutes as I pondered whatever was dealt to me. I wish I could remember it all, but usually the thought was erased when I stopped riding, like a dream that disappears when you wake.

Where did you sleep?

Most nights I slept in my tent at designated camp spots or at stealth sites located in wild areas. The best of these were located along beautiful trout streams and lakes or in wide-open plains where I was lulled to sleep by the songs of the coyote. I also spent several nights in motels, hostels and hunting cabins, or camping behind saloons and cafes. One night I slept in a teepee at a llama ranch, and another under the stars on a hillside overlooking the city of Butte.

Each day was a new adventure and I have so many memories and stories I wish I could share. Some of my favorite times were camping in the Great Divide Basin in Wyoming, the very long – 10-20 miles or more – steady climbs and descents in Colorado, beer and elk meatloaf in old west saloons, and the beautiful trails and dirt roads in the Rio Grande National Forest. 

Long bikepacking trips are special adventures that aren’t for everyone, but they can be the most satisfying thing you have ever accomplished. Be forewarned that at times you will be tired, dirty, wet, cold, hot, hungry, thirsty, afraid and generally uncomfortable. Things don’t always go as planned, but you learn to adapt and move on. If you make it through the first two or three weeks, you should begin to find your “trail legs,” and a physical and mental strength you never thought you had. Any extra pounds you have will melt away as you transform into a lean mean biking machine. I started out relatively fit and lean, but still lost 15 pounds along the way.

EPILOGUE – Two days after I got home, I hiked with my daughter Emily, her husband Christopher, and grandchildren Sophie and Eddie to the top of Whiteface Mountain. My wife, Chris, met us at the summit to celebrate them all becoming ADK 46ers. I would not have traded this day for anything, even for the final miles of the Great Divide that I missed.

The thought of those missed miles was always there in my mind. I got my revenge in my own twisted way, when I boarded a train to Buffalo and started riding at 11pm from the shore of Lake Erie towards home, and I didn’t stop until I covered 300 miles on the Erie Canalway/Empire State Trail. Now my mind is at peace, and I can put away my bike and rest for a while, or at least until I come up with my next great adventure.

Ed Gravelle (edgravelle20@gmail.com) is a 65-year-old retired geotechnical engineer living in Ballston Lake with wife Christine. When not running, hiking or biking, he is otherwise a couch potato who enjoys reading and doing crossword puzzles. His favorite sport is watching his grandchildren Sophie (12) and Eddie (10) run cross-country and, more recently, race cyclocross.