Day #1 Out of Breath

Článek je k dispozici i v češtině 🇨🇿.

It was a chill morning, about 6°C and I had to dress wisely. The first section is more or less uphill, and I didn’t want to sweat too much. It was a delicate balance.

I tried to be very consistent in my power. Never go above zone 2, keep it low and steady—I’m not here to win. I’m here to finish and catch my flight. I stuck with a front group for about 10 minutes just to enjoy the moment, but I managed to hold my pace and they disappeared in the distance.

My issue was that I wasn’t able to breathe through my nose. It’s the right thing to do when it’s cold. Your nose is full of fuzzy hairs that catch all evil bacteria and viruses and warm the air. But my nose was clogged up and as I left the main group, I was shooting snots all over the ground. I hope it’s not against the rule of leaving no trace. Or do bears eat snot?

🏔️ Yeah, It Was Nice

I wasn’t able to speak properly as my voice was cracked, but as we just started, nobody was in a big chatty mood. My bear bell was the loudest one, most of the riders didn’t have anything. I wasn’t scared of grizzlies and most of my thoughts were about whether I would finish. If I can prevent some dangerous encounters, why not do it? It’s only seventy grams.

The first section is on Goat Creek Trail which is a nice wide gravel road in the woods. When I had reached Spray Lake the landscape changed. The forest opened and I had a gorgeous view of the numerous peaks of the Rocky Mountains. That was the first time in the race I had a smile and positive thoughts. I don’t take a lot of pictures on the first day of the race but on Tour Divide, I made a big exception.

The forest trail transitioned into a wide, washboard road, and the sky turned to dark colours. I was afraid we were just about to get a serious rain hit but after a few drops of water it calmed down. A little bit of rain could have been useful. The road was very dusty and every time some car passed by, I put my buff over my face. Once again, not ideal conditions for my lungs.

🫁 Gasping for Air

As I went back to the woods and to the High Rockies Trail I faced a new challenge. The pleasant downhill has suddenly changed to a steep trail. I tried to keep my cadence as low as possible and I was on my lightest gear, but I was out of breath. Not in the way I couldn’t get enough oxygen to my blood. I couldn’t breathe. I was trying to, gasping for air, but my lungs were blocked. I was trying to calm down and in a minute I could breathe normally. At least for the moment. I didn’t want to endure this shit again. This was hell no. I can’t do this. It is the end.

I knew I was in serious trouble. This isn’t some mild cold. I don’t remember ever being this scared in my life. Is it even safe to continue? What if I lose my breath in the middle of a storm and I wouldn’t be able to continue? Who would save me? I didn’t want to consider the SOS button as an option. No one should really on it. It’s only the last resort.

But what could I do in the middle of the trail? There’s no bus for racers who drop out. I had several episodes of that maleficent experience before I finally hit a smooth road. I was still scared it would consume me as soon as I got to the first steeper pass. Luckily for me, it didn’t come back. And I hope it never will. Unfortunately for me, I was digging a different grave for myself.

👃 Yummy Stuff

I reached a Boulton Creek Store, the first possible resupply. I didn’t need any food but to boost my morale I bought a bottle of Pepsi. I asked for tap water, and they told me that an ice cream shop nearby would satisfy my needs.

My struggle wasn’t only because of the pain in my throat, regular caught, severe headpain and inability to speak, but I also lost my appetite. That’s quite a deal in a bikepacking race. I forced myself to eat a few bars, but my calorie deficit quickly became unsustainable.

The Elk Pass was easy. There was a steep section where I pushed my bike to avoid breathing problems. The weather was improving and I put off my merino base layer. After the pass, there are 60 kilometres of rolling but mainly downhill road. I met a few spectators along the road.

It wasn’t that bad after all. As I released all my yummy stuff from my nose I could breathe better. I wasn’t in a presentable appearance because after a few hours, I stopped aiming my snots and they randomly covered my clothes and bike.

I had this feeling that it might be doable. I had a plan. Nose breathing will relieve my throat. I would take a cough drop every hour. I won’t be crazy about riding nonstop and keep it calm.

🫀 Koko

Everybody knows about Koko Claims. This pass is rich in huge rocks and steep sections with a lot of avalanche signs. Because it’s known for its brutality I tried to use a trick. I had a pair of worn-out trail shoes. I wore them as soon as I saw big rocks. It was super comfy but didn’t help me much. My problem was breathing.

As the climb was steep and my heart rate was already elevated from the illness, I had to breathe heavily even though my progress was very slow, and many races passed by me. I was breathing through my mouth, and it was just bad.

Trail shoes weren’t the best idea as there were a few pedalling sections. And I switched back to my biking shoes before the summit, because I thought it was all. It wasn’t. It was just a short descent, but the big rocks continued very quickly.

Overall, I felt like a piece of shit once again. At the top, there was some snow but nothing serious. The descent was very steep and the roads were full of water. My feet didn’t make it dry.

🫠 I Was Alone

I wanted to get to Fernie and hit the hotel. It should have been a downhill to get there but the headwind wasn’t very tasty.

What I found very challenging was the lack of internet signal. When I’m happy during a race, I usually don’t look at my phone, so it wouldn’t bother me much. I tend to miss messages and calls and I usually don’t take photos either. But during low moments, I search for positive messages that people sometimes send me. Or I can tell someone that I’m dying but I’m OK.

Most of the time I was in airplane mode and I tried several times if there was any signal. There was nothing. Literally nothing. Just a vacuum of space. I knew that signal wasn’t that common, but that it was SOMEWHERE.

The remoteness of the area struck me in that moment. I was alone. No one was going to help. It’s only on me to get up, clip the pedal and start making the progress again. Later I concluded that signal is only in towns. As soon as I leave the town perimeter, it stops. I don’t know if this is only for the internet because my SIM card was only for data.

😬 There Is the Hope

So I told myself I could survive just another day. There was a last climb to Fernie, it wasn’t steep, and the terrain was pretty smooth. I had enough power in my legs, but my lungs were betraying me. I had to stop from time to time as I didn’t have enough oxygen. But I made it to the top and the descent was fabulous. It was getting dark, but I was able to do it without any light and I turned it on when I hit the asphalt road just before the Fernie.

There was a welcoming party at the town gate. I stopped near the gas station and threw my trail shoes into the trash can. I won’t need them anymore.

My plan to get a hotel has quickly become naive. You can’t book a hotel at 23.00. Everything was booked or reception was closed. What to do now? It was going to be cold night and my faith in my sleeping gear had quickly diminished. What to do? What to do? I was wandering around the town not knowing where to put my head. And then I saw it. A small concrete building with a chimney. The pit toilet! Does it mean that destiny will show me only the kind side of the face?

I was sneaking through the darkness as a burglar to explore if the place wasn’t occupied. Luckily for me, there were no rats or Tour Dividers. Also, no toilet paper which has two sides of the coin. I would have to use my toilet paper to do a shit. But it was also less probable that someone would try to use this facility at night. It looked abandoned.

I tried to eat a sandwich from a gas station, but I wasn’t really hungry and I fought for every inch. I couldn’t make it through and I kept another half for the morning.

I was able to do 254 race kilometres which put me slightly above my threshold zone. That didn’t give any assurance as the first day is usually always the easiest one. And Tour Divide is not about having a few good days but about enduring the whole route.