Tour Divide 2024 Recap: Part 1
Banff to Island Park and Winter in June
Well, here we go. Grab yourself something nice to drink and enjoy the play by play of the first half of my Tour Divide odyssey.
I arrived in Canmore a couple of days before the start. I idiotically left my shoes and helmet back home in Idaho like the rookie I am so had to buy new ones in Calgary en route. This ended up being a blessing in disguise as the new set actually turned out to be more comfy than my other ones. With this first hurdle out of the way, I spent some time previewing the start of the route, eating, and relaxing before setting off toward Mexico.
Day 1: Banff to Fernie. 157 miles.
The start of the race was quite anticlimactic, with various waves based on estimated finishing times setting off every 10 minutes or so with little to no organization from the YWCA in Banff. I set off just after 7am on Friday, June 14th and just started riding my bike. The beginning of the route is simply stunning. A mix of dirt roads and singletrack through Alberta and BC’s provincial parks was a highlight of the entire route. I was surfing through various groups and feeling great, perhaps in hindsight starting off a little too hot. Had our first grizzly sighting a few hours in but thankfully he was fairly uninterested in us smelly, lycra-clad weirdos.
The first crux was the infamous Koko Claims climb. Climbing roughly 3,000 vertical feet, it quickly shifts from steep rideable dirt to a long, grueling hike a bike slog for almost 2 hours through a massive boulder field. Pretty thick snow up top and over the other side into the descent made for slow progress but I got through it, despite feeling incredibly slow. This is a theme of the Divide: there are so many moments when it feels like you are making very little progress and dying a thousand, lonely deaths but it’s easy to forget that everyone is going through the same thing and you just have to keep moving.
Once through the Koko chaos it was just one more climb and descent before the first stop of the trip in Fernie, BC. I ended up rolling into Fernie in the top 10. Found a motel room and a Thai food dinner and had a good 5 hour sleep. So it begins.
Day 2: Fernie to Whitefish. 211 miles.
4am on the bike was an early start to a very long day. My longest of the Tour in fact. Looking back, it was probably a mistake to make this push. But with the insane weather we experienced late in the day, in the moment it made the most sense to get to a hotel and try to get ahead of an incoming winter storm hitting the mountains we were approaching in the coming days.
It was pleasant weather for the first few hours, and I spent the majority of the day riding with Chris from Australia and Cade from Colorado (who would end up finishing 4th overall and 1st American). We hit another tough hike a bike section called “The Wall” and soon after the sh*t hit the fan. Climbing Galton Pass rain turned to sleet turned to snow. We stopped to put on all of our warm clothes and forged on - there’s nothing to do but keep moving.
It was a long and very cold descent all the way to the U.S. border crossing. Going from snow back into rain as the altitude lessened was tough, and we still had 100 miles and two passes to cover before Whitefish. We made a quick pit stop in Eureka, MT for Subway and supplies for the next stretch and carried on.
Luckily the rain stopped for the most part, but it was still cold. We encountered more snow over the top of the Whitefish Divide, a beautiful area, and then the final climb up and over Red Meadow Pass just before dark and the final rolling descent into Whitefish. We got in after midnight. Chris and I split a hotel room while Cade pushed on another 10 miles to Columbia Falls.
Day 3: Whitefish to Ovando. 169 miles.
I slept in to 7am (lol) to wait for a nearby cafe to open where I got a much deserved hot coffee and multiple pastries for breakfast. Some very welcome pavement started off the day through Columbia Falls. I should have resupplied more thoroughly in this area, as there were very limited options the rest of the day. It was much slower going than I anticipated, a constant up and down on rugged dirt roads.
I rode mostly alone before catching back up with Chris and a guy from Belgium late in the day before heading up Richmond Peak, a tough climb that included a technical singletrack descent. We were glad to get through there before dark. Shortly after the sun went down it started raining and was a long, slow slog into the small town of Ovando, MT. Everything was closed but was able to sleep in a teepee set up for Divide riders, again shared with Chris. Rained hard all night.
Day 4: Ovando to Helena. 108 miles.
A group of maybe 5 of us were hunkered down in Ovando for the night and we waited until 7am for the local shop to open for a resupply before the big haul over Huckleberry Pass and into Lincoln. I stocked up on food and drinks and even got some hot coffee. What a treat. The rain continued and soon turned to snow over the first pass of the day.
The rain slowed for a couple of hours until arriving in the next major town of Lincoln. A quick stop for some hot food and more coffee before tackling the biggest climb of the day in the rain where I made a routing mistake, climbing a few extra miles past a key turn. Luckily I realized my error before it was too catastrophic and did my best to not let it get in my head. It’s easy for little things to derail your mental state if you’re not careful, so remaining present and focused on forward progress is critical. The upper part of the climb was pretty grueling and steep, but I began moving pretty well and settled into a nice rhythm.
With more rain and muddy roads, the progress was pretty slow going today. I arrived in Helena in the late evening despite only having ridden a bit over 100 miles. I opted to call it a day here as I was cooked, wet, and in no shape to tackle yet another big climb in the rain. I found a carwash to clean the bike, snuck into a Mexican restaurant for a burrito right before they closed, and grabbed a motel room. It ended up being one of my worst nights on the Divide. My stomach was in a terrible state from adjusting to the terrible Tour Divide Diet and I had to call the police on some people causing a ruckus right outside my room at 3am so I didn’t sleep much. A big lesson of my ride was learned: hotels are great for a shower, cleaning clothes, and charging electronics but they can also be a bigger time waster than is sometimes worth it. Next time I would consider sleeping out more.
Day 5: Helena to Wise River. 129 miles.
Despite the poor sleep I was out the door at 5am, with a pair of big climbs for breakfast out of Helena. I stopped and chatted with Jay Petervary at the base of the second climb, a legend of bikepacking, who helped set up and raise money for the Be Good scholarship I was a recipient of.
The next pass, Lava Mountain Pass, was tough. It was frigid, covered in snow, and the steepness kept ratcheting up as the miles ticked away. It turned from dirt road to chunky singletrack that required some walking, and I saw both grizzly and mountain lion tracks plodding along in the snow as I pedaled away on my own, snacking on Swedish Fish.
Making it over the summit and down into drier conditions I crossed the highway into the small town of Basin, MT where there seemed to be no resupply options. I was okay on food but think I didn’t venture far enough into town to find the shop. It’s a real advantage to know the route and all of its intricacies, so as a rookie I made a lot of mistakes on this front. Luckily I found a creek to filter some water. A frontage road and a long stretch of rolling, rough dirt roads eventually brought me to the large town of Butte, MT where I got to a Safeway just before a huge hailstorm pummeled the town. I waited it out for about an hour, refueling on noodles and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Yet again I underestimated how much food I’d need for the next 24 hours and messed up my resupply, which would come back to haunt me tomorrow.
I decided to try and make the push to Wise River tonight, which meant two more big climbs out of Butte, and the infamous Fleecer Ridge. I lucked out on the weather, missing the worst of the storm and getting on top of Fleecer around sunset. Fleecer Ridge is a stunning high-elevation ridge that has a wickedly steep descent down to the highway and Wise River. I opted to walk the steepest portion of the descent as I didn’t want to crash and my brake pads were already pretty shot from the wet and muddy conditions.
I slept in the Wise River community center which was open to Divide riders. More stomach problems plagued my night and as was becoming a regular occurrence, I felt pretty awful at night after getting off the bike as my body caught up with the fatigue and adjusting to the stresses of each day. One step at a time.
Day 6 and 7: Wise River to Island Park. 192 miles.
This is where things really started falling apart for me. It was an extremely cold morning - below freezing - as I made my way on the longest stretch of pavement of the whole route. Everything was covered in a layer of frost and I was wearing all the clothes I brought and still shivering, climbing up onto a high plateau followed by a frigid descent. I’d barely eaten anything, my supplies running very low. I luckily found a bed and breakfast off the highway that kindly made me breakfast and gave me some trail mix for the road, but this was my last resupply for the next 100 miles before Lima. This dug me a deep hole that almost ended my race less than a week in.
The rest of the day was a pretty tough obstacle. Off the pavement and into Bannack State Park, the rough dirt roads endlessly beat me down as temps went from below freezing to over 80 degrees. I was able to stay hydrated but was rationing food for the next 7 hours before the gas station in Lima where I could refuel. In hindsight, I probably should have just stayed the night in Lima and gotten back to full strength, but it was late afternoon and a group was heading to a campsite another 60 miles further so I decided to push on.
Another mistake and lesson learned the hard way: ride your own race, and don’t let others dictate your plan. I ventured into the night, a long grind to Red Rocks Campground after midnight. I was already depleted and more stomach problems made things worse. I felt absolutely horrible waking up and had a really rough morning making it to the next major town of Island Park, ID.
The Meltdown
While I hope this writing is entertaining to some of you, it’s an especially cathartic and helpful reflection exercise for me as I come down from my time on the Tour Divide. Looking back, it’s pretty obvious where I made mistakes, pushed too hard, and began digging myself a bit of a hole that would take some time to crawl out of. Today would be perhaps the toughest mental and physical test of my athletic career as I arrived in Island Park in really bad shape. I could barely pedal. My legs were swollen with fluid to almost twice their normal size and my face puffy. I felt sick and run down, overwhelmed by the stress my mind and body were under and the scale of what lay ahead. I was less than 1,000 miles into a 2,700 mile race and I couldn’t imagine continuing. I was so close to pulling the plug here, the inner turmoil nearly getting the best of me as I doubted my strength and ability and self-worth as an ultra-endurance athlete. I was close to home and the devilish temptation to just call it here and ride back to Sun Valley was sitting on one shoulder. On the other shoulder, much quieter, was the rational voice echoing some sage advice I had been given by veterans of the Tour: it gets better. Give it time.
So I took some time to reset.
Friends and family talked me off the cliff, and while I felt incredibly down, depressed, and messed up I spent the day and that night in Island Park recharging. I spent some time with another rider, Axel, who was dealing with bad knee pain and would eventually scratch here. I had to be extremely mindful and make the important decision to let go of the self-imposed pressures and expectations of constantly pushing beyond what my body could handle and shift from an intense racing mindset to just simply riding my own ride and truly listening to my body. It was a revelation, a sort of transcendent moment that eventually helped me ride faster and enjoy it more, which is a bit of a paradox. To loosen the grip is not a strength of mine, but it was necessary in such a long event. It’s far too easy to get caught up in the fray and compare myself to all the other racers, constantly refreshing the tracker, but it’s not helpful, especially as a rookie and thigh-deep in my biggest endurance challenge yet. I’m grateful for this experience - it taught me a lot. That ups and downs are inevitable. That everyone is on their own path. That it’s okay to let go. That the mind is the greatest limiter.
To quote Dune: “fear is the mind killer.”
My ride was not over. I would keep moving forward, re-believe in myself.
Thank you for making it this far. Part 2 coming soon.
-jackson
Thank you for the insights. What an adventure!! I'm looking forward to the movie!
And thank you for using Substack for this. I think it's great that longer texts are at least still being written and read here in an anti-cyclical way. There is finally more depth again without making anxious unlike Instagram.
Just watched your tour divide documentary👏 really loved your storytelling.
Especially how you captured even starting is such a big feat. This was massive!!