Truths of the GD

Up is followed by down. Bad times don’t last forever.
Canada to Mexico isn’t downhill, but it gets less pretty.
Group size is inversely proportional to the chances of finishing together.
No one will understand your experience. Including you.
Everyone on the trail is connected by the trail.
To meet trail angels off the GD, just pedal at GD speeds.
A trip down the divide is a well lived life, ended too soon.

The ride has now been over for about a month. Somewhat strangely, I find myself frequently wearing my GD shorts – the ones I rode in for thousands of miles. They are a little too big: I haven’t gained back the weight, yet. They are still stained, literally. I helped stain a patio in them for the family in Eureka, Montana that saved Gloria when her bike broke in BC. They are also oddly faded based on what parts were hidden on the bike seat. I have other shorts, but I don’t really wear them anymore. For that matter I have other pants, but I keep going for the GD shorts. They probably weren’t the best thing to wear in a board meeting, but it’s hard being home.

Even if I wanted to forget the trip, I’m asked repeatedly about it. I think people feel obligated to ask when I show up in places I haven’t been for a couple months. Or maybe they are kind of just pissed that they worked for two months while I goofed off and are hoping I will say it was miserable. Regardless of their reason for asking it’s quite impossible to summarize in a sound bite the experiences inherent in riding a bicycle 2600 miles, for 2 months, through two provinces and 5 states with endlessly beautiful scenery and while constantly meeting wonderful and interesting people. More accurately, it is impossible to express the feelings of those experiences.

We found ourselves repeatedly in beautiful places – by a creek, on a flower covered mountain side, or next to a see to the bottom lake –  together eating lunch. The food was nothing special but the company – my amazing wife – and the surroundings were incredible. We could take a picture but it didn’t convey the smell, the feel, or the sweat it took to put us in that spot. Nor could a picture convey the child like joy of having no responsibility other than pedaling a bike through the woods.

The places we stayed could be found on a map. We could share the location. But nothing would truly capture the nature of the unique experiences along the trail. Like enjoying and appreciating the hospitality of an entire town (albeit a town of 64 people) in Ovando, MT. Sleeping and eating in the “cook house” on a working ranch on the Wyoming/Colorado border, listening to real cowboys discuss the days “wrangling”. Or staying at the Toaster House in Pie Town and sensing the hundreds of wandering souls that had passed through that focal point of the CDT and GDMBR.

The places, the freedom and experiences are greatly missed and seemingly impossible to truly share. However, the people on and along the trail made for the most lasting, profound and inexplicable value of the trip. We met Mackenzie not 5 hours into the first day, but enjoyed her always positive and doggedly determined attitude off and on for 4 weeks. The two families that rescued Gloria on either side of the US border are now firmly part of Gogarty family lore. I can perfectly picture where we met Allan as we left Steamboat. He helped shephard us nearly to Mexico with an endless wealth of knowledge, experience and great friendship. Craig and John from Nelson and Michelle from Oregon made for wonderful company and hilarious conversation. There were many others along the trail. All will be remembered each time I pull on my shorts and try repeatedly to feel all the goodness of a wonderful two month journey.