Section 7, the final stretch of the Tour Divide, ends at Antelope Wells on the U.S./Mexico border. However, since I created my own Great Divide loop, I decided to complete my journey by reaching the CDT southern terminus monument at the U.S./Mexico border instead of Antelope Wells.
“I hope to see you again. I remember you like fish tacos. I’ll make fish tacos next time, so come visit,” said Don as he dropped me off at the start of Section 7 in Grants. Don had given up his bed for me the night before, allowing me to rest better and be ready to tackle the last 376 miles to the finish line.
It was such a pleasant morning after the storm had passed. I saw sunflowers blooming in the field, all facing the sun, reminding me of their lesson: face the sun no matter how I feel or what happens, with purpose. Stay in sync with the cycles and be diligent about daily rituals. These teachings from the sunflowers resonated with me, and as I approached the end of my journey, I particularly focused on maintaining my daily rituals, even as I felt the urge to hurry up.
Soon, I entered El Malpais National Monument, where the CDT goes through. I remember walking on the lava fields for days. It was difficult to navigate since cairns blended in with the lava, and my hiking shoes were torn by the sharp rocks. It was harsh, and many people who came before me experienced the same. The exhibit at Zuni-Acoma Trailhead explained El Malpais, meaning “the bad country,” based on tough journeys over black lava flows, and that’s how Spanish explorers of the 1500s described the area.
Even though it was harsh when hiking, biking on the pavement was pleasant. I stopped at La Ventana Arch for lunch. The arch was tucked into a beautiful canyon, and it was completely sheltered from the wind. I felt a calming and positive energy from the canyon. Then the road took me through “the narrows.” I was sandwiched between the towers of sandstone in the east and black lava in the west. I saw Mt. Taylor clearly in the south. I thought, what a beautiful path!
After leaving the monument, I biked through a wide-open field reminiscent of the Great Basin in Wyoming. The difference was that it felt calm. As I approached Pie Town, the elevation increased, and there were more Juniper trees around, which made me feel less exposed. I climbed from 6,500 feet to 8,000 feet over a distance of 71 miles. It was a gentle ascent that I hardly noticed.
Between Grants and Pie Town, the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) and the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route overlap the most. On the road, I encountered four CDT hikers, and when I reached the Toaster House—a unique hiker/biker hostel decorated with toasters—I met four more hikers. Although I had considered camping elsewhere, I was aware that temperatures were expected to drop to 35 degrees the following morning. Since I needed to pick up my resupply at the Pie Town post office, I decided to stay at the Toaster House.
The next morning, I went to the post office, but my resupply package wasn’t there, and I felt disappointed. If I had known it wouldn’t arrive, I would have continued for another 20 miles to Davila Ranch, a CDT rest facility along the route. I had camped there when I hiked the CDT and really enjoyed my time. For some reason, the universe kept me in Pie Town.
I returned to the Toaster House to look for food items I could eat for the next few days. I was grateful for the free food that would help sustain me until I reached Silver City. It was a strange day; I couldn’t shake off the disappointment, and it felt like my spirit was drifting away. My energy just wasn’t the same. Perhaps this was a teachable moment, reminding me that I thrive better when sleeping outside in my own space, no matter how cold it might be. I already knew this, but chose to ignore my intuition and stay at the house instead. When I passed by Davila Ranch, I was happy to see John, the caretaker, again.
The next day turned out to be long, due to the rough, unpaved roads. However, I ended up having a great time by taking a significant detour to Gila Hot Springs. I reconnected with Augie, the camp host, and made a new friend, Alba. After riding 66 miles to Highway 35, I hitched a ride with Nicole and her two daughters to the junction of Highway 15, which leads to Gila Hot Springs. From there, I began biking up the hills. It’s only 14 miles, but the uphill climb is steep before descending into a river canyon where the hot springs are located. I knew I would lose daylight if I biked all the way, and at that time, no one except residents would be driving up to the hot springs.
About five miles up the road, a pickup truck driven by Larry and Carol passed by. They are neighbors of Augie, and they kindly offered me a ride all the way to the hot springs. When we arrived, I spotted Augie’s bus, and I could see a fire going. Larry called out, “Hey, Augie, we have a delivery for you!” Augie walked over to the truck, saw me inside, and was momentarily speechless. Then he exclaimed, “Miho?! Oh my god!” I replied, “Yes, Augie! I came here to see you! I took a big detour from my bike path, and I made it before dark!”
Augie introduced me to his friend Alba, and he prepared dinner for us. We were warm and cozy inside his bus, really happy to be in each other’s company. I knew that Augie only invites people he trusts into his bus, so I felt honored that he welcomed us. After dinner, I soaked in the hot springs, which completely transformed me back to myself after the strange day I had in Pie Town.
When I met Augie during my previous hike on the CDT, I remembered him saying, “We say Gila heals.” Indeed, it did.
I woke up early in the dark the next morning. It was magical to sit in the healing hot waters while gazing at the stars until dawn. From where I sat, I could see the Big Dipper, with its two outer stars always pointing to the North Star. As time passed, the constellation shifted, and before dawn, I could see the entire Big Dipper.
I reflected on the metaphor of why I kept looking at the North Star and the Dipper. Perhaps the Big Dipper represents my gifts and responsibilities, while the North Star symbolizes my purpose. Once I recognize my gifts and responsibilities, I can always point to my purpose, no matter what I’m doing, where I am, or how I feel.
Right now, my gift is this able body that allows me to explore some of the most beautiful, remote, and rugged places in the United States, along a national scenic trail and a mountain bike route that follows the Continental Divide. My responsibility is to share this experience with the world in whatever form I can. My purpose is embedded in my name, Miho, which means “protector of people, culture, and the environment,” and that is my North Star.
With that reminder, I said goodbye to Augie. Alba kindly gave me a ride back to the trailhead. I thought what an amazing full circle I made!
At the trailhead, while I was enjoying my snacks, a cyclist approached and mentioned that there is an alternative route, a single track following the CDT, requiring technical mountain biking skills. He said that he would be taking the official paved route to Silver City. I decided to take the CDT single track, knowing that this might be my first and last opportunity to ride a trail. During my previous hike on the CDT, I had taken the Gila alternative route, so I hadn’t experienced this portion of the trail. I thought that riding the CDT would offer me a chance to connect with the original route in a way I hadn’t before.
As I had imagined, the ride was hard! It took me almost three hours to cover just seven miles. Cacti and yucca, the plants I considered the most dangerous, lined the sides of the trail, along with downed trees that I had to go around or lift my bike over on the rocky, narrow hiking path. I thought this was the most difficult and technical ride of the entire Tour Divide. While Fleecer Ridge and the Lava Mountains in Montana were challenging as well, they were much shorter.
I felt proud that my bike and I managed to tackle the majority of the terrain. I pushed my limits and, although I fell five times, I got back on the saddle each time and rode better for the next segment. I walked my bike in sections where a mistake could lead to bigger consequences, yet I still managed to ride about 80% of the route, even though my bike wasn’t a mountain bike. Almost 3 hours later. I made it to a forest road and from there, it was an easy ride all the way to Silver City.
My friend Beth connected me with her friends Ellen and Ken in Silver City, where I was fortunate enough to have a place to stay the night before the final stretch to my destination: the CDT southern terminus at the New Mexico/Mexico border. It was only 130 miles from Silver City, so I thought I was almost there.
Ellen asked me if I was feeling emotional now that I was so close to the end of my journey. I told her that I had felt emotional almost every day while hiking the CDT, especially when I reached Glacier National Park and made it to Canada. However, I wasn’t experiencing the same overwhelming emotions as I approached the end of this leg of my journey. Perhaps it was because biking had been relatively easier, and I hadn’t faced as many challenges compared to my hike on the CDT. I had been consuming enough calories most of the time, including fresh food nearly every day. Since I started heading south from the US-Canada border on my bike, I felt like I had entered celebration mode, moving faster, covering more ground, and reflecting on my CDT experience.
Well-rested at Ellen and Ken’s home, I started riding the next day with a tailwind at my back, which helped me during the final two days. With the tailwind and a paved road, the uphill sections on Highway 90 out of Silver City felt easy. I then turned onto Separ Road, which I thought was the smoothest unpaved road in New Mexico. It was mostly downhill, and I crossed I-10. The unpaved bike route ran alongside the interstate, and soon enough, I saw a sign that read “Antelope Wells.” I was excited!
I took Highway 146, which leads straight south to Antelope Wells. On my way, I passed through the town of Hachita, the last U.S. town before the border, to get some water. There, I met Timmy, a trail angel and driver. I recognized him as the driver who had taken a group of us to the southern terminus last year. He asked, “When do you think you’ll be there, and what are your plans for getting back?” I responded that I was either going to hitch a ride or bike back. He then said, “Nobody’s going to be there, but I’ll be there tomorrow to pick up two hikers. I can give you a ride back. What time are you hoping to finish tomorrow, and where do you need to get to?” I mentioned that ideally, I’d finish by 1 p.m. and return to Silver City. Timmy replied, “I’ll drop off one hiker in Roseburg and take you to Silver City. I live in El Paso, and it’s no trouble going through Deming to get back. I can make that work.”
I couldn’t believe it! Timmy provided me with detailed directions on how to reach the southern terminus and shared insights about the rough road conditions. Based on his description, I estimated that it would take me about six hours to ride the final 36 miles to the CDT southern terminus monument, compared to just two hours to reach Antelope Wells.
“Only one or two cyclists a year come to the monument,” Timmy mentioned. I thought to myself how perfect that was! I wanted the final stretch to be challenging, not an easy ending.
I rode another 15 miles to the point where the CDT intersects with the highway. I walked my bike along the CDT to reach the water cache. It was a calm and beautiful evening. I set up my last camp next to a tall creosote bush and watched the sunset. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the stars began to appear, and the night sky filled with them. It was the day before the new moon, and I realized I would be completing my entire journey on the day of the new moon, which symbolizes the beginning of a new cycle. How perfect!
The next day, I reached the southern terminus of the CDT around 12:30 PM. As I had estimated, it took me six hours to cover the distance, riding over rough rocks and sand. I left just before sunrise, following the CDT for a mile to get to the unpaved road. Along the way, I encountered many thorny plants. With the combination of the spiny vegetation and sharp rocks, I was prepared to get flats at any moment, but surprisingly, I didn’t have any issues. Along the route, I saw several different kinds of sunflowers, which reminded me of their lesson: face the sun with purpose. To the west, I could see the Continental Divide.
Timmy caught up to me in his truck and said, “The last three miles are easy. I’ll see you soon.” I crossed the final CDT sign, and the road turned east, leading me straight to the U.S./Mexico border.
This was it! Just before approaching the monument, I teared up, reflecting on what it took to complete the full circle. I had come here on April 22, 2024, hoping to finish last year. After suffering an injury, I focused on healing and took many “zero days” before getting back on the trail to resume my journey in May this year. Diligent physical therapy and allowing my body the time it needed to heal paid off. I felt much stronger this year than last, not only physically but also mentally.
I made it with incredible support from so many people along the way. I paused to take in all the emotions before reaching the finish line. Above all, what I felt was gratitude. I am thankful for the opportunity to dream big, live fully, appreciate the beauty of our planet and its people, and receive love and support in life. I truly feel privileged and grateful.
I wiped my tears and rode the last few hundred feet to the monument. There stood Timmy and two hikers, congratulating me on finishing my journey. Hook, one of the hikers, recognized me and said, “I saw you in Montana!” He shared that I had left a huge impression on him because I was the first northbound hiker he encountered who was smiling. He then asked, “I remember you told me on the trail that you didn’t want to stop hiking and wanted to keep going. Do you still feel that way?”
Yes! It’s a circle.
Tonight is the new moon, marking the beginning of a new cycle—a reminder that while the Great Divide Loop may end, my journey continues. For now, I’m content to slow down and give myself some time to rest as we transition into winter, a season for rejuvenation, recovery, and rest. This way, when spring comes, I can begin making a new full circle.
Cheers!
