On the Great Divide, towns are a safe haven. There’s shelter, people, and most importantly, food.
When there are fewer towns, there’s no rush to get to camp. Once the tent is up and I’ve finished stuffing my face with ramen, there isn’t much to do besides write these blog posts.
A smart person once told me, “it’s not an adventure until something goes wrong.”
Think about it. What if Indiana Jones never set off any booby traps? Or, if Fred’s first plan in Scooby Doo always caught the bad guy? Or, if Gerry Bertier didn’t get hit by a car before the state finals? (actually that would be a much better movie)
The Great Basin.
No, not great as in spectacular to look at. Great as in big — really, really big.
This section of the Great Divide has a bit of an infamous reputation. It’s over 150 miles long and is the second-longest stretch of the route without a natural water source. This means you have to pick and choose your campsites wisely, or carry enough water to get you through the long haul.
We all make mistakes, but this one is inexcusable.
I let you, the loyal reader, down, and in turn, I let myself down, too. I hold this blog to a high standard and like a parent of a misbehaved child, I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.
About a week back, a group of motorcyclists who were traveling the Great Divide (apparently that’s a thing and no one told me) passed me while I was biking. They stopped and were shocked I was going as far as they were, but only using one horsepower — I told them I was more of a donkey, but since this is a family-friendly blog I’ll let you finish that comparison.
When my brother, Trent, hiked the Appalachian Trail, he often spoke of “Trail Angels” who helped him along his journey.
Quick rewind. Remember that 75-mile day that ended with an awesome view of Holland Lake?
Well, on our way to camp, Clemens gave me the best compliment that I heard on the trip thus far. After tackling a taxing 5-mile hill, he called me a “machine” — because of my consistent pacing up the mountain.
Long post. I know. So, let’s skip the formalities and bad puns and jump right into the good stuff — me messing stuff up.
Don’t get me wrong, town days are a lot of fun. There’s food, people, and all the dogs you can pet.
But, town days can make it easy to forget that I am working under a deadline. The book lays out a 70-day trip and I have exactly that amount of time to reach Antelope Wells.
Every description of the Great Divide is relatively the same. Usually something like, “an impossibly long, winding route that never takes you directly from point A to point B.” The point is to get off the main roads, onto forgotten dirt roads and trails that take you nowhere but always somewhere at the same time.
