My Biggest Fears for the Tour Divide Bikepacking Race
I’m counting down the days to the Tour Divide, and although I know it’s not at all productive – I can’t help but think about the things that scare me most about the 2.700-mi / 4,300-km bikepacking route/race.
Although I’ve hiked the Continental Divide Trail, which follows more or less the same route and passes through the same wilderness areas as the Tour Divide (despite sharing very little overlap, both parallel the Continental Divide more or less), navigating via bicycle presents an entirely new set of challenges (and scary things).
These are the scariest things – or at least my biggest fears – on the Tour Divide.
Mud
Perhaps the thing I’m least looking forward to is encountering mud on the Tour Divide. While hiking, encountering mud can range from a minor inconvenience to a significant obstacle, but rarely will it completely cripple your forward progress. On a bicycle, mud can leave you unable to make forward progress.
Mud can ruin your day either by being so deep and slippery that your tires can’t get any grip and it leaves your wheels spinning, or it can slowly build up on your tires until you’ve got so much caked on there that they’re no longer able to roll. The buildup on tires can jam up brakes, gears, and cogs – all while adding weight to your bike. Extra weight isn’t ideal, but when you’re unable to ride and have to get off your bike and push, that extra weight can make moving your bike nearly impossible. And that’s before considering that your feet will likely slip in the mud as you attempt to move your bike forward.
The only way to escape mud is to either make it through the muddy section (which could go on for miles), wait for the sun to come out and dry the mud, or wash your bike (with your precious water or, if you’re lucky, in a water source) and hope you don’t have to stop and wash it again in five minutes.
Sounds terrible.
Lightning
One thing I’m just as scared of on a bicycle as I am while hiking? Lightning.
I’ve told myself that ridgelines and peaks will likely be off-limits on the Tour Divide due to the nature of, well, bicycling, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be sections with a ton of exposure. Wyoming’s Great Divide Basin – a setting for both the Continental Divide Trail and the Tour Divide – rocked me with some serious thunderstorms the last time I was there. If you haven’t seen the Basin (photo below), know that there aren’t many places to hide out from the weather out there.
And no, the rubber tires of your bike don’t somehow protect you from lightning; it’s not the rubber in your car’s tires that protects you, either. Your car protects you because it’s a Faraday cage. Your bicycle is not (and neither is mine).
Mechanicals
If you’re unfamiliar with the term “mechanical,” don’t worry—it’s not something bikers, climbers, rafters, runners, or other outdoor enthusiasts need to deal with. It means what you may guess—that something has gone wrong with your bike’s mechanics.
Mechanicals can be something simple such as the screw keeping your seatpost in places coming loose, or they can be catastrophic, like one of your wheel’s hubs failing. Most mechanicals can be mitigated with proper preparation and by bringing the relevant tools and supplies to deal with them, a spare tube and a puncture repair kit, for example (yes, I am running tubeless, but that seemed like the easiest example to provide assuming the reader has little bicycle knowledge).
I’ve amassed what I believe to be a fairly robust repair kit filled with tools and extra parts, but my problem is knowledge-based. Finding myself in the position of a thru-hiker who is carrying an ice axe but has never once used it (or even taken the time to research how they would use it) is not something I aspire to. Bicycle maintenance (and bikes in general) is a deep rabbit hole, and before the Tour Divide begins, I hope to be as deep as I can down it.
That said, mechanicals on the ride are not something I hope to deal with.
Hike-a-Bikes
Hike-a-bikes are exactly what they sound like – hiking with your bike.
I experienced a lot (or at least more than I would have liked) of this when bikepacking the Arizona Trail; fortunately, the Tour Divide is not considered a technical ride, and the hike-a-bike sections are well-documented and infrequent. That said, weather or mud could potentially turn any dirt or gravel section into a hike-a-bike.
The notorious Koko Claims hike-a-bike right at the start (relatively) of the route. If I’m fast (I won’t be), I’ll hit it on day one. If I’m not fast (more likely), I’ll hit it on day two. This section is long enough (and close enough to the start) that some riders carry an old pair of running shoes to switch into for this section before ditching the shoes at the next town (Fernie, British Columbia. Honestly, that’s not a bad idea, and it’s something I’m seriously considering. Hiking in my cycling shoes doesn’t sound like the best idea (although I’m sure I’ve had worse).
Danger Kitties
I’m not typically afraid of animals beyond that primitive part of my brain that tells me something’s out to get me once the sun goes down. Still, I imagine the risk of being attacked by a mountain lion (aka cougar, puma, or danger kitty) is slightly higher while riding a bicycle than hiking, climbing, or navigating a waterway in the backcountry – same as trail running.
Why? Mostly because these magnificent beasts have a strong prey drive. This means that when something appears to be fleeing from them (e.g., a quickly – or perhaps slowly – passing bicycle), they are prone to chase – and kill – it. This is why you’re never supposed to run away from a mountain lion (or a bear) should you encounter one in the backcountry.
Will I see any danger kitties on the Tour Divide? Probably not. Will danger kitties see me? The chances are much higer.
Flying Insects
Flying insects can be a nuisance in the backcountry, no matter your activity of choice. However, riding a bicycle through the backcountry (or even on a road) offers these insects a new means of tormenting you – by flying directly into your mouth.
What makes things worse? When riding at night (something I expect will be frequent on the Tour Divide), all the bugs will be drawn to my bike’s light. Pedaling directly into a wall of moths, mosquito hawks, mosquitoes, and who knows what else – smacking you in the face as you attempt to breathe out your nose or the side of your mouth – does not sound fun.
One thing I’m bringing on this trip that I haven’t ever used is a pair of photochromic sunglasses (you know, those glasses that are clear in the dark but then get tinted in the sun?) The last thing I want is to be blinded by an insect flying into my eyeball on a steep nighttime descent.
Cars
I imagine many people may roll their eyes at this one, but you would be wrong to do so. Cars are—in all likelihood—one of the greatest risks to riders on the Tour Divide. Despite being a gravel route, the Tour Divide has approximately 1,000 mi / 1,600 km of pavement and much of the unpaved roads are vehicle-accessible as well (although the risk of cars running you over is typically lower on unpaved roads in my experience).
Just this week I was hit by a truck’s mirror as it passed me (obviously way too closely) on a road in California. Did the driver stop? No. I guess I should have gotten the Garmin taillight with the camera instead of cheaping out for the radar-only model (but honestly, it was a battery call more than anything else). Does that count as a hit-and-run? Did that person just commit a felony? Hopefully, they’ll get what’s coming to them.
But seriously, if there’s a cyclist on the road and you can’t pass, wait the ten, twenty, thirty – even sixty – extra seconds for a safe passing opportunity. Trying to “squeeze” past a cyclist is literally putting someone’s life at risk for the opportunity to save a few seconds. Don’t be that person.
Falling
Yes, falling (and drowning) may be a leading cause of death in the backcountry, but it’s typically not something that’s on my mind while I’m hiking (or even climbing). Dying as a result of a fall on my bike isn’t something I’m overly concerned with, but being seriously injured is. Tripping and falling in the middle of a trail can be annoying (or even injure you), but the risk of severe injury increases greatly when falling off a bicycle on the same trail (although I will be wearing a helmet).
I’ve been debating where to carry my Garmin inReach for this reason. Attach it to my bicycle? Good for transmitting location data while I’m riding, but not so great for hitting my SOS button if I get tossed off my bicycle into a ravine. I could put it in my bib pocket but then I fear it’s going to chafe me after days and days on the bike.
So what’s the solution? Don’t fall, obviously.
Why is there an extra helmet? That’s not important.
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My friend, an old man 70+, made it last year. No bigger trouble at all. So… Good Luck. You will make it, too.
I hope I’m still doing awesome stuff when I’m 70+!
Of course You do! I was 76+ when i walk PCT 2018. And I am still going on, but little shorter than PCT.