I left Salida, the beginning of Section 6 of Tour Divide, and started climbing towards Marshall Pass. The climb was gentle. The dirt road was bumpy. I was surrounded by the bright yellow aspen leaves. After 3.5 hours of ascent, I made it to the top, and the pass looked familiar. I hiked through there one early morning and got water from the snow melt. Now it’s fall, and there is no water running where it was. 

From the pass, I enjoyed a long descent all the way to Highway 50, seeing beautiful fall colors and feeling the breeze on my face. I rode the highway about 13 miles until the route turned onto a dirt road at Doyleville. One of the trail angels I met while I was hiking the CDT lives in Gunnison, which is about 20 miles from Doyleville. She offered to let me stay at her house, so I hitched a ride to Gunnison and was excited to reconnect with her. However, she wasn’t there, and I could not get hold of her. I was disappointed. I was running out of daylight, so I decided to look for a camp and found one in the trees near the library. The trees didn’t have leaves anymore, but I went to bed with the hope that these trees would still keep the condensation out of my tent and keep me warm.

The next morning, I hitched a ride with Jim, who lives in Salida. He gave me a ride back to the trailhead. When we arrived, he said, “Are you sure you wanna get dropped off here?” He looked concerned. I had other people ask me the same question before, so I laughed and said, “Yes! You aren’t the first person to ask me the question.” He said he wanted to give me a ride for a few extra miles. Since I lost a few hours by making a detour to Gunnison, I decided to take his offer. When we drove over a hill, big snow-capped mountains appeared right in front of us. I said, “That must be the San Juan Mountains!” I was thrilled to see San Juan again. Jim dropped me off, and when we were saying goodbye, he said, “ I’ll give you my phone number in case you need help.” I appreciated his caring spirit. He said, “Good luck!” and he left. 

I started riding towards the Cochetopa Pass. It was a gentle climb all the way to the top. 

As I started to go down the pass, I noticed that there were a lot more trees compared to the other side. I left the Gunnison National Forest and entered the Rio Grande National Forest. Not only did the vegetation change, but the landscape also shifted to a plateau.

I hit Highway 114 and rode for a few miles of smooth pavement. I turned onto the country road to approach the second pass of the day: Carnero Pass at 10,166 feet. On the highway, the headwind was strong, and once I entered the canyon, I was shielded from the wind, and I enjoyed a quiet ride through conifers, aspens, and juniper trees. 

From the pass, I made a 17-mile descent down and this stretch became my favorite part of Section 6! It went through a beautiful canyon with aspens and dramatic red rocks, passing Storm King Mountain in the early evening light. I kept stopping and admired the beauty. I turned onto another country road, making my way up the hills surrounded by towers of red rocks. I passed the signs of Elephant Rocks and Eagle Rocks. Right after the sunset, I found a perfect camp under trees and watched a harvest moon rise over the rocks. An owl flew by silently in the twilight, and it was magical. I felt a calming energy from the area.

The next morning, I woke up feeling pleasant since it was the warmest night I had had in the past two weeks and very quiet. Well rested, I pedaled out at sunrise to Del Norte. Starting early and watching the sunrise from the trail is my favorite way to begin my day, and I haven’t been able to do it since it’s been very cold. I was happy, and the ride was enjoyable, surrounded by beautiful rocks in the high desert. The route took me to a mini pass of East Butte and then descended to Del Norte. On the way down, the trail got sand,y and it was difficult to keep the wheel straight in the deep sand. When it turned into a wide dirt road, I was relieved.

I made it to Del Norte and picked up my resupply at the post office, and stopped by the bike shop before heading out to one of the most remote sections of the ride. The bike technician said, “This is the last bike shop for the next 500 miles. So whatever you need, you should take care of it here.” I checked the sealant and chain condition before I came into the shop, and I knew my bike was in good shape. He put air in the tires and said, “The weather is good today, so you should get over the pass if you can. It’s 45 miles from here.” That would be a long ascent, I thought. I thanked him and began a long climb towards Indiana Pass, which is over 12,000 feet, the highest pass of the entire route. 

This stretch became one of my favorites since it had epic fall colors endlessly. It was unreal. The entire hill was covered with golden aspen leaves, and I thought it was euphoria. Although it took me six hours to get to the pass, it was so worth it. Going down the mountain, weaving through aspen leaves, and seeing Little Red and Big Red mountains illuminated by early evening light was incredible. 

I went over another pass and as I came down the hills, I saw a CDT hiker. There are many alternative routes, and the Great Divide MTB route is one of them to avoid San Juan entirely. After chatting with her, I kept going and saw 5 more CDT hikers on the route. They knew the weather was coming on Friday and told me that they planned to hunker down in Chama. I rode until it was dark. I was trying to put as many miles as I could before Friday. The best-case scenario for me was to make it to Cuba before the rain, hitch a ride into Albuquerque, and hunker down at a friend’s home for a few days until the storm passes.

The next morning, I woke up sweating! I was almost in New Mexico, and I could tell it was getting warmer and warmer as I moved south. 

I started my day climbing up La Manga Pass, the last pass before crossing the state border. When the sun hit the hills, the aspen leaves turned to shine like gold. Even though it was a paved road, there wasn’t much traffic in the early morning. I enjoyed the quiet ascent up to the pass.

From the pass, I made a long descent and turned onto a forest road. Soon, I saw a sign that read: Carson National Forest, New Mexico. I was happy to cross the Colorado/New Mexico border!

I heard many GDMTB riders mention that New Mexico was the toughest. After riding a few miles in New Mexico, the road became rocky and bumpy. Soon, the path was covered with smooth, round rocks. I kept slipping over these rocks and had to push my bike for the longest time since I began the ride from Canada. I finally made it through that stretch, and I was relieved to be able to ride the bike again to the pass. The CDT and bike route crossed a few times. When I reached Hopewell Lake, I remember hiking passed the lake, getting water, and taking a lunch break on a cloudy and windy day at the lake. I was hoping to get water from the campground, but it has already been closed. I approached one of the campers and met Dave, who kindly gave me water. He said it rained a lot earlier. I was lucky that I came through the area in the beautiful evening. I thanked him for the water and kept riding until dark.

Since the road conditions were rough, despite the fact that I put in 12 hours, I was only able to ride 83 miles when I was hoping to put in at least a hundred. This might be New Mexico, I thought.

The next morning, I started in the dark. I saw the moon and stars, and I kept praying that it would be a dry day despite the rain forecast. After I finished some bike maintenance, I left my camp, and soon the sky turned red in the east. I saw a blue sky in the south, the direction I was heading. A good sign, I thought.

I descended to a valley, passing a couple of small towns. I climbed toward Balle Grande Peak, passing Valet Springs, which was dry. I was low on water, but again I’m on my bike. I can get to Abiquiu around lunchtime and get water there, so I kept going without looking for water. 

The road was much smoother than what I had experienced the day before. It was pleasant climbing and flying down the hills. I loved being surrounded by trees in the northern part of New Mexico. I noticed a lot more birds in the New Mexico forest than in Colorado. Hearing bird songs, I felt relieved since they are usually out when the weather is nice. 

I stopped at the Forest Service office in El Rito to fill out my water. The office was closed due to the government shutdown. Luckily, they had tap water outside of the building, so I had access to water. But I could not use the bathroom. Although I’ve been in the wilderness, the government shutdown affected me in such a way. The Forest Service officers were still working outside. When I talked to one of the officers, she said she cares about people and trees, so she works without being paid. I thought that was not fair. 

From El Rito to Abiquiu, it was all pavement and downhill. I stopped for lunch in Abiquiu and continued my way south, praying for the weather to hold. The rain has been delayed for a couple of days, helping me keep riding and stay dry. 

I knew it was going to rain heavily soon, and I needed to hunker down for the storm to pass. Some roads would become impassable when it’s wet. Right before leaving Abiquiu for Cuba, I reached out to Sarah, my NOLS climbing instructor and friend in Albuquerque, to see if I could stay with her for a few days. Despite such a last-minute request, she responded with excitement and told me that she and her husband had done the Great Divide MTB route northbound years ago. “We can help you get ready for the southern New Mexico section. Goatheads are about to pop and puncture your tires. So, come on down!” said Sarah. I’ve heard about Goatheads, a plant with sharp spines, a common hazard for cyclists since the spines would cause flats. I was relieved and excited to see her. It’s been 10 years since I last saw her in Albuquerque.

There is one important lesson I learned that I knew, but I just have to remember. When people give me advice, it is subjective and based on their own experience, and it may not apply to me. Right before I hit the Polpadera Hills, two northbound E-bikers stopped me and asked, “Have you done this next section before?” I said no. They warned me that this would be the most difficult section of the Tour Divide, the 10-mile river bed that I will most likely walk my bike the entire way to make it through. One of them said that he had been doing the Tour Divide every year and had avoided this section until this year. After he had gone through, he said, “I would not recommend anyone to do this, and I will never do it again.”  I thought that pushing my bike for 10 miles in my bike shoes would be extremely difficult, and I would have to walk all night long to make it to Cuba the next day. When I got there, the first climb was steep, but I never had to get off my bike, and then from there, I enjoyed a gentle climb over smooth slabs of rock. There was one very steep section, and I walked about 20 feet to pass it, but otherwise, I never had to push my bike. I wasted my mental energy worrying about this section because I believed them. They were on the E-bike with fat tires, their gear was more suited to ride the section, and if they had to push their bike, I thought I would have to. It was a good reminder to advise unless asked.

I made it all the way to the summit right when it was getting dark. I was going to camp at the Summit, and I saw a huge hunter camp with lights and heard generator sounds, so I descended a couple of miles from the pass and found my own quiet spot in the trees and called for the day.

The next day, it started to rain by mid-morning, and I was soaked with rain and sand by the time I made it to Cuba. I hitched a ride to Bernalillo with Amanda and her daughter, Mariah, and Sarah picked me up from there and brought me to her home. My bike and I were in such a mess, and I was grateful to be with Sarah, a former NOLS instructor and a lifelong adventurer. She knew exactly what I needed to clean things up. After taking a shower, I greatly appreciated Sarah and Dan, her husband, for providing me with the simple pleasure of having a roof over my head to stay dry, a place to clean up, and cook meals for the next two days.

After taking a couple of days off, the weather forecast predicted that it would be windy in Cuba with a slight chance of rain. Dan is a paraglider, and he reads the wind forecast often. He helped me understand the wind directions and speed that was expected for the next day. He mentioned that this time of the year is a windy time, and regardless of the weather, it’s just going to be windy. 

The next day, Dan dropped me off outside of Bernalillo on 550, and I began hitchhiking. I waited for over an hour. Eventually, Crystal and Patrick, a Navajo couple from Albuquerque, picked me up and took me to Cuba. Patrick gave me donations as I was leaving. I was very grateful for their kindness.

As I anticipated, I started paddling into the headwinds as soon as I left Cuba, and it wasn’t as intense as what I experienced in the Great Plains in Wyoming. After riding for a few miles, a van pulled over and I saw an Asian woman driver. She looked at me and asked, “Are you Asian?” I said, “Yes! Are you too?” She said she was Chinese. I learned her name is Marie, and she is supporting her husband Jim, who is riding the Tour Divide. She had so many questions and was very curious about me. She said it’s rare to see an Asian woman doing this kind of adventure, and she was excited to see me. We talked and I told her I would catch up with Jim and I’ll see her again.

The road turned slightly north west for about 25 miles, and I was able to catch a tailwind to fly through the section. It made such a big difference. I saw Talantura crawling on the road, a sign that I had entered the high desert of New Mexico.

I saw Marie again and met Jim. We chatted for a little bit, then I left, passing Whitehorse, and rode for 8 more miles to get to the BLM land to camp. The sunset was gorgeous, and when I made it a small pass, I saw Mount Taylor covered with pink clouds. I found a nice camp spot under juniper trees. The wind was dying down. It was warm. I was hidden from the road. I kept thinking about Marie and Jim. I really liked them, and I hoped I would see them again in Grants the next day.

I began my morning early today with the hope of beating the wind and getting most miles in before the wind picked up. Alas, it was windy with a gust of over 30 mph by 9 am! I pushed through the wind, moving slowly, and when I finally made it to Grants, I was relieved and happy to see Don, my trail angel, who offered me to stay with him when I came through Grants last time when hiking the CDT. He took me to a store and bought me food, took me to his home, and set me up to rest and clean up. I was grateful to have a home, especially on a windy day like today. I was wiped out and windburned after riding for just 5 hours.

Don said, “You brought the wind and heat, Miho!” He has a great sense of humor, and just like last time I visited Don, it is easy to be around him, in the sense that I can be 100% myself. It is supposed to cool down, and the wind will calm down, shifting from south to north for the rest of the week. 

Perhaps I brought the wind and heat. If that’s the case, then tomorrow, I will leave the calmness behind, with a feeling of contentment that I made another full circle to reconnect with Don, remembering our sweet friendship, trusting that we’ll see each other again.