Jill+Canada=Luv

I was dreading making the solo drive from Salt Lake City to Alaska, but I have to admit that for the most part I have really been enjoying it. There have been times when I have "bonked" and had to stop and walk around for a while to gear back into driver mode. I've had to make quite a few of these stops. I've been overly cautious because I am terrified of falling asleep at the wheel, and the constant pressure on the gas pedal just sears my already tender Achilles tendon (that's right, 2,700 miles with no cruise control, no air conditioning and no power steering. No stereo either! Ha! Thank goodness for iPod.) But the little old beater of a car and this battered body made it all the way to Whitehorse! Just 108 more driving miles left! Hooray!

The drive turned out to be a positive thing because it meant I made two great stops in Banff and Whitehorse, two of my favorite places in the world. I've enjoyed relaxing meals and rides with friends, and I think these activities will help me bridge the gap between the single-minded focus of the Great Divide and the vague void that is my real life ahead.

And even though it's not the same from the seat of a car, the highway is incredibly scenic. My memories of the AlCan were filled wide pavement cutting through rolling black spruce forests. I forgot that after you meander along the high prairie, you still have to cut through the northern Rockies. That part of the drive is winding, slow and mired in summer construction, but spectacular nonetheless. And I hate having to rush through it, but life doesn't always move as slow as you'd like it to.

And Canada has been good to me. I pulled my Karate Monkey off my car rack this morning, brushed the flattened mosquitoes off her fork, chipped large chunks of New Mexico mud off her frame, pumped up her cigarette-paper-thin tires, adjusted the creaky brakes, lubed the dusty chain, and went out for my first ride(s) since I left the Mexican border. Whitehorse singletrack, like the Banff mountains, is good for the soul. My friends and I did two rides - one before lunch and one before dinner - for about three and a half hours of mountain biking. I struggled more than I thought I would - I couldn't power up the steep stuff, and I felt pretty wiped out by hour three despite a week off the bike. But when I finally hit my downhill stride, I could almost feel myself physically connecting with the flow of past to future. Part of me thought I would leave the Divide and hate my bike forever, or at least for more than a week. Churning up northern dust again proved that this relationship is consuming and difficult, but I might as well enjoy it because it's definitely long-term.

Now if I could only figure out a way to make my relationship with Canada last. Are there any rich, single Canadian men out there looking for a prospective partner? Must like cats and winter. Please inquire within. :-)

P.S. I will start posting more Tour Divide pictures soon.

The drive so far

Wow. Alaska is far away. And endurance driving is hard. But Canada is kinda pretty. Thus the urge to come on my blog and post pictures.

I'm actually online right now because both my debit and credit cards were put on hold today. Impeccable timing. I love the way credit card companies freeze your accounts only at the times it's most inconvenient for you. I guess purchases in Silver City, New Mexico, one day and Jasper, Alberta, just a few short days later may look a little suspicious. I don't know. I do know I was throwing around the last of my cash today on $4/gallon gas while stressing that I was going to be completely broke before I made it to the Yukon. Yeah, driving is way harder than biking. At least cyclists can beg for food.

I drove 800 miles today in 16 nearly nonstop hours (narrow, winding roads and a gutless car make a 50 mph average the best I can do). I did take the time to do a tiny little hike near the icecap this morning. This is near the crux of the Continental Divide, where droplets of water bound for the Pacific, Atlantic and Arctic oceans go their separate ways. The Continental Triangle.

Thunderstorms moved in during the afternoon as I made my way into northern British Columbia, where gray daylight lingered until 11 p.m. I drove right through to dark. I was completely stressed about the storms all afternoon, even as I tried to remind myself that I was inside a car on pavement and they weren't going to hurt me. I'm having a hard time removing myself from "Divide" mode. I still pretty much only think about road conditions and weather, and I respond to fatigue with junk food. I was nearly wiped out in Dawson Creek, so I ate a huge bag of M&Ms and washed it down with coffee. I felt better until Fort Saint John, and then I started craving giant brownie. Luckily, I was mired in credit card problems at that point, so I missed out on the 600 sugar calories that I no longer need.

I listened to every single Tour Divide call-in via old MTBcast episodes today and Friday to pass the long drive. That's probably not helping me reintegrate back into civilization, but many of them were good for laughs (and groans of painful understanding.) Those many hours of variations of "I hurt my (fill in crucial body part)" and "it rained all day" (to which I contributed fully) is probably the reason why my brain isn't working. I forgot my social security number when I was on the phone with my bank today, and had to call my parents to get it. The misadventures in driving continue. I'm hoping to reach Whitehorse tomorrow. After that, it's just a quick jog and a ferry ride south to a place I haven't seen in three months - my home town.

Victory tour

Life has been hectic since I left the Divide. I'm currently in the middle of making the long commute between Salt Lake City and Juneau, Alaska. I had hoped to take the ferry, but I couldn't really plan my trip before I finished the ride, and the next boat was booked. I don't have the time to wait another week. So I have to make the 2,700-mile trip by myself in a 1996 Geo Prism. There's something about it that's very Divide-esque. It's even the same distance. Endurance driving.

I'm even visiting many of the same places I passed through on the Great Divide. So far, this trip hasn't flowed nearly as well as a typical day on the bike. I left my grandparents' house in Roy, Utah, on Friday just before noon and did a bit of a killer day to Lethbridge, Alberta, to give myself time to visit my friends and enjoy one semi-day of rest in Banff. I stopped in Idaho Falls to visit former coworkers, but no one was around at the office. Then I made my first gas stop in Lima, Montana, and the little store where I once bought cheese curds (those were such a rare find on the Divide and so delicious) was all out of fountain Diet Pepsi. I took a wrong turn in Butte and ended up driving 10 miles on I-90, which is actually quite funny because the Great Divide route comes right down I-15. You think I would have wondered why nothing looked familiar. I blew through Basin and Helena. The sun was still up when I passed through Great Falls, so I decided to continue north, only to discover that the only hotel before the border (a casino) was all booked up. My car was searched at the border - the first time I've been searched in several dozen Canadian border crossings. I arrived in Lethbridge after midnight, completely hammered, only to see huge crowds of people lining the street like they were waiting for some kind of parade, and every hotel in town had their "No Vacancy" signs lit. It was so foreign to me. I never had trouble finding beds on the Divide. I continued to the next town - I think it was Macleod - and crashed out in my car in the parking lot of a gas station. I slept only a couple hours before continuing on to Banff, wondering why life off the bike was so hard.

It's been good, too. On Thursday I was able to get in one last hike with my dad to Lake Blanche - about 2,700 feet of elevation gain and seven miles - not bad for three days off the Divide. I'm still noticing that I have no high throttle when I need to power up something steep, even on foot. I compare it to my Geo, who on every hill just doesn't have enough oomph to keep the speed steady and begins slowing to a put-put-put. The Divide has turned me into an old car, but I still feel healthy and seem to have all the ability I need to power myself where I need to go. I hope my Geo can do the same.

I'm sad to be leaving Utah. It's such a beautiful state and most of my friends and family live there. But Alaska beckons, as does my need to start bringing in income after three months of hemorrhaging my savings.

One nice thing about my failure to find a hotel room last night is that I made it to Banff really early today. I enjoyed a leisurely walk and an ice cream cone among the throngs of tourists that visit Banff on a Saturday in July. I went to see the Spray River trailhead (beginning of the GDMBR). It's strange to be back here. It feels like no time at all has passed since I rolled out on June 12, but in many ways it feels like eons have passed.

Keith and Leslie, who declared their place my "home" for the time being since I am currently homeless, led me on my victory tour through Banff - on a tandem cruiser, of course, through a current of tourists.

We rolled by the Ski Stop, a bike shop in Banff that threw a barbecue for the Tour Divide the night before the race. I guess as a TD finisher, I get to enjoy partial celebrity status. The owner, Jason, gave me a jersey, and supposedly this picture is going to end up hanging somewhere in the store.

I'm heading out tomorrow for more endurance driving. Keith is going to accompany for about 60 miles before I drop him off for a road bike ride, and then it's back to listening to every single Tour Divide call-in on my iPod. North to the future!