Bikerafting The Great Divide Mountain Bike Route: A Tale of Contrasts

June 27^th, 2011 – the Canadian Flathead River Valley

Having just post-holed through three feet of snow over Flathead Pass, Salsa Design Engineer and friend, Sean “Mailman” Mailen and I were descending a rocky two-track-turned-creek by a late-year runoff. The snowpack that year was 200% of normal, and Divide racers had to detour from the original route due to deep snow in the high country. Seeking full value for our effort to take on this epic route, we had decided we would brave the winter conditions and stick to the original plan. Our reward for doing so was descending into a valley that had yet to see another human being that summer. The creatures of the land (moose, bear, elk, bald eagles, etc.) had some peace and quiet from the ever-encroaching and oblivious humans.

With a gradual right-hand turn, our wet descent route merged onto dry gravel that followed a meandering river with its banks full of snowmelt. The paddler in me took notice: Why am I riding my bike along this beautiful river when I should be floating on its waters? After all, we are both going in the same direction. Over the next 32 days, these words would continually echo in my adventure brain.

May 2013 – Green River (Desolation Canyon)

I unfurled the packraft with curiosity and anticipation. Ever since arriving in Durango, CO to lead the Fort Lewis College Outdoor Pursuits program, I yearned to paddle one of the products of the small company based down the road in Mancos, CO. Alpacka Raft originated in Alaska with innovative adventurers such as Roman Dial devising modes of transportation to negotiate the rugged Alaskan Wilderness by human-powered means. The packraft was a successful development from such experiments and allowed intrepid explorers to paddle waterways without the need for conventional rafts, bulky kayaks, or other heavy watercraft. These lightweight and packable rafts were expanding a world of creative exploration and human-powered adventure.

With my background in whitewater kayaking, I quickly associated my first strokes of the packraft out of an eddy with those of a kayak designed for playboating — highly responsive and slow. At the bottom of Wire Fence rapid, I yelled to my watching students, “This is the future, my friends. Mark my words.”

July 2018 – Colorado Trail near Silverton, CO

Diana and I were about to finish a ride of the famed Colorado Trail when she turned to me and announced: “I think I would like to ride the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.”

“Oh really,” I replied. Having already ridden the Great Divide in 2011 with Mailman, I had been there and done that (So Far To Go) and didn’t really have intentions to ride it again.

With that in mind, I stated: “Maybe we should wait to ride it until 2021 when it will be the ten year anniversary of my ride. That could be fun.” I was secretly hoping that she would forget her request in the ensuing three years. Time would tell…

October 2020 – Lake Powell, UT

Diana deftly negotiated her loaded sea kayak near mine as we paddled the glassy surface of what was once the desert oasis of Glen Canyon. As I was about to learn, the solitude of the morning was nourishing plans for the future.

“You know, BD, this summer marks ten years since your ride of the Great Divide.” She remembered.

Seeking to not let her hear the surprise in my voice, I made a few errant splashes with my paddle and replied, “Yep. You will have to get some significant time off from work.”

Not missing a paddle stroke, Diana resolutely stated, “I’ll ask Mary when we get home.”

January 2021 – A Winter Evening at Home

Diana’s boss, Mary, had said “yes” to her request for six weeks of continual vacation. Fort Lewis College did the same for me. It looked like we were a go. Now it was time to get to planning. We began by revisiting my 2011 ride. At its conclusion, I had made a day-by-day coffee table book for both Mailman and I to remember the feat. Flipping through its pages, the memories came flooding back: a sleepless night above a raucous bar in Elkford, BC; a near collision with a young grizzly bear as we descended quickly off a Montana mountain pass; an offer to try some “Rocky Mountain Oysters” after a cold, wet, and muddy day in the saddle; being t-boned by an unobserving five-year-old as he turned his bike into me while riding through a street festival in Rawlins, WY; waking up to a missing cycling shoe in Ojos Caliente, NM; momentum-stopping punctures due to the devious goatheads in El Malpais National Monument; watching the currents of the rivers and creeks that we rode by. More of the same was in my future — or was it?

Given my ten years of adventure experience since my 2011 ride, an idea began to formulate in my mind. “Diana, what do you think about mixing up our journey down the Great Divide?”

Looking up from her romance novel, she feigned interest: “What do you have in mind?”

I replied excitedly, “What if we carry some additional weight and bike raft the route? We could paddle our packrafts on the North Fork of the Flathead River from the Canada/U.S. border to our friend Nic’s place in Coram, MT Glacier Distilling Company. Then we’d ride bikes on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route (GDMBR) to just outside Ovando, MT where we’d switch back to packrafts and paddle the North Fork of the Blackfoot River into the main Blackfoot River. And so on, transitioning back and forth from bike to raft for as long as we can find rivers with water to paddle, all of the way to Mexico.”

Diana: “Okay. That sounds awesome to me!”

Me: “Heck yeah! It will take some planning and willingness to endure heavier-than-normal bikes but it is all doable.”

Diana: “Let’s do it!”

July 2, 2021 – River Mile Five of the North Fork of the Flathead River

“Where are you all headed?” came the question from the curious rafters. It was day one of 43. An hour or so earlier, Diana, our friends Ben Weaver and Jenna B., and I had put in on the North Fork of the Flathead River just shy of the Canada/U.S. border. Our brightly colored Alpacka packrafts were loaded with our bikes and everything we would need to live for the duration of the trip. Simplicity in life.

Diana answered, “We are heading to Mexico.”

The bewildered response: “What?! Are you serious?”

“Yep!”

“That is awesome. Good luck!”

Friday, August 13^th, 2021 – Antelope Wells, NM

Recording a video on my phone to capture the moment, I asked Diana to think of one word to describe the previous month and half. Through the road wind created by our pedaling, she describes how the trip was one of perpetual motion. We continually moved from one mode of travel to another, from one environment to the next, and so on. By taking one paddle stroke or one pedal stroke after another, a journey that seemed impossible was reduced to easily doable and replicable increments. We paddled five rivers for a total of 216 river miles (we bypassed a sixth river due lack of navigable water) and biked 2,291 miles.

As I turned the camera to myself, the word contrast emerged from my consciousness. The distinctions between my 2011 trip and the present were striking:

• In 2011, Mailman and I encountered only a handful of other divide riders. The bikepacking craze had yet to fully develop. Those who raced were enduring the trials of the route, but few recreationalists were taking it on. In the ten years since, the popularity of the route has grown significantly, and businesses designed to support riders have emerged all along the route. While on the route this summer, Diana and I encountered riders nearly every day. It was great to see so many people enjoying the challenge of something so amazing.
• Given my previous experience, I warned Diana to be prepared to be cold and wet through Montana while being overheated and parched in New Mexico. This summer the opposite was true. In Montana we endured consecutive days of temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit with only one evening of rain. Given the severe drought, we encountered three different forest fires, forcing us to pedal through smoky, unsafe air and to find alternatives to our planned route. New Mexico, on the other hand, was relatively cool and wet. The monsoon season in the southwest was particularly strong and we had to carry our bikes numerous times when the roads turned to wheel-sucking mud. Even on our final day of riding, water and mud were flowing over the roads. Neither of us had seen the Land of Enchantment so green and lush with wildflowers.

• Beyond the environmental challenges that riding the GDMBR provides, the physical challenges presented will surely test every rider. During my first ride, I stayed relatively healthy for the duration with no errant coughs, stomach ailments, or other viral pests compromising my immune system. Due to my handlebar choice (flat bars), I did have to deal with my right hand going progressively numb as the ride continued. The drop bars of my 2021 Cutthroat provided multiple hand positions, so loss of sensation in my hands, wrists or any place else was not an issue on this recent ride. My body did, however, get ravaged by a cold as we were nearing the end of our journey through Montana. The sore throat, nasal and head congestion, and body aches were a trip-stopper, as I was forced to take 24 hours off the bike and find much needed rest in the Mountain View Hotel in Lima, MT (this was after attempting to battle the cold demons from the saddle of my bike and consequently having my worst day on a bike ever). About ten days later, Diana went through the same experience as we were about to begin paddling the Green River in Wyoming.

• Our Salsa bikes in 2011 were strong beasts of burden, but we still had our fair share of mechanicals along the way. The prototype “Anything Cages” we started with in Banff were all broken by the time we reached the Canada/U.S. border. I broke a spoke or two in my rear wheel before we managed to exit Montana and we both suffered a chain break along with frustrating flats in New Mexico. Fast forward to today and our bike performance was beyond words. Both Diana’s Fargo and my Cutthroat were flawless. We did not experience a single mechanical or flat the entire journey. Crazy! I would like to believe that this had something to do with our prowess on the bike, but we have both broken enough equipment in our times to know that isn’t the case. I was skeptical of the AXS Eagle components and the carbon Cutthroat frame to be able to endure the hardships of bike rafting, but my confidence and faith grew with each boat/bike transition and consequent mile of pedaling. Thank you, Salsa!

• In 2011 my “BD Designed” frame and feed bags along with handlebar slings performed well for what they were…homemade. Having the benefit of hindsight in what works and doesn’t work with regard to carrying gear on the GDMBR, we opted to leave the seat post bags at home in exchange for Salsa rear racks and the perfectly sized Hermosa Panniers from Bedrock Bags. The panniers are easy to pack and stable on the bike, unlike the sometimes-finicky seat post bags. They also allow quick access to needed equipment, food, etc. Additionally, the rear rack was the perfect resting spot for our packrafting gear which was easy to secure with a couple of cam straps. Lastly, with our bags color coordinated to our bikes, we were some of the most stylish riders out there, albeit not the fastest.

Without a doubt, the use of the packraft in 2021 provided a diversity of travel not encountered in 2011. The boats forced us to slow our pace to Mother Nature’s terms rather than a frantic pedal cadence to move quickly from point to point. In doing so, we were treated to many amazing encounters with the landscape and creatures of the land: a bald eagle inverting while in flight to fend off an aggressive peregrine falcon; seven moose grazing in the willows as we floated the headwaters of the Green River; four river otters playing in the currents near our camp; a bald eagle swooping down to successfully grab its next meal; letting ourselves be carried away by the surging current while peering with wonder to the bottom of the aquamarine-colored river; and countless other moments.

When I rolled up to the deserted U.S./Mexico border crossing on July 27^th, 2011, I felt myriad emotions about finishing, from elation to relief. As is the norm of the human condition, the luster of the experience would fade in the ensuing months and years, to be replaced by the next challenge. I gave little thought to ever riding the GDMBR in its entirety again. After all, there were other forest service roads, double tracks, and trails to explore.

Through Diana’s resolve and enthusiasm to experience the GDMBR, my hesitation to take it on for a second time turned into excitement and anticipation. The idea of seeing it through her eyes sparked creativity and thus we conceptualized a new way of experiencing this epic and classic route. Little did I know that the question that echoed in my brain throughout the 2011 ride would be answered ten years later. It took a decade of skill acquisition, equipment development, the emergence of a creative adventure mindset, and most importantly, the aspiration of the most important person in my life to make that simple thought a reality.

To see more images from Brett and Diana’s trip, visit their website: www.thelessoncollective.com