Continental Divide - Preparation
INTRODUCTION
The American continental divide splits the watersheds. Rain that falls east of the divide flows towards the Atlantic Ocean. Rain that falls to the West - the Pacific. It is the world’s longest single divide, running from the Southern tip of Argentina all the way to the Bering Sea in Alaska. In the contiguous US it forms the backbone of the Rocky Mountains - cutting through the nation’s highest mountain passes and defining most of the western national parks. Similar to the Pacific Crest Trail or Appalachian Trail, the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) was formed by hardcore backpackers and cyclists, and is one of the US “triple crown hikes.” Over the past few decades enterprising motorcyclists have formed GPS tracks that run the length on a combination of dirt and paved roads, trying to hold as close as possible to the ridge line and the original backpacker’s trail.
I’d heard of the route from a few adventure blogs and earmarked it for the right opportunity. Since my first multi-week trip through Mexico (story here), I’d been looking for a longer and more challenging journey. Being far too sissy to do this on foot, motorcycle was the best choice and my personal favorite way to experience the world.
Why now? For the average person everything is driven by timing. I am not a professional adventurer, writer, photographer, or instagram influencer. As much as I’d like to I can’t set off on remote trail networks on a whim, and this article is not monetized as a springboard into an exciting new journalism career. Don’t get me wrong - I’ll romanticize this experience at times, but I am not quitting corporate life to take to the wilderness. As with most stories the logistics are more practical.
In early 2020 I took a position leading the Avionics Production team for SpaceX’s new Starship program. The goals of the program were and are lofty - build a transportation system capable of supporting a human colony on Mars. The team was small in it’s original seeding. We had four engineers, one technician, and two or three donated toolboxes in an abandoned section of the factory. It became apparent that expansion was needed on a mass scale, and we kicked off recruitment and facilities initiatives in both California and Texas. Over the course of a year we grew to a team of 70 across two sites and delivered enough hardware to execute a dozen flight tests, with mixed success. The effort was simultaneously the most rewarding and exhausting of my career.
Note - All photographs taken from public land
In the middle of all this I developed a bacterial infection in my lower intestine that I struggled to fight off. Despite the magic of antibiotics the ailment manifested as debilitating abdominal pain, and eventually put me in the emergency room. Drugs and rest managed to clear the infection, but doctor’s orders were to exercise, avoid stress, stop drinking caffeine, and follow a strict (and difficult) diet. After a few weeks of pain, sick days, and medical procedures it was clear my condition was mis-aligned with my work. My body was screaming “STOP!” and I decided to take four month’s leave to focus on healing.
All time went to healthy living. As expected - rest, exercise, and diet helped. My weight bounced back from 136 pounds to my natural 150. Quarter-mile walks around the block turned to surf sessions, cycling, and full-body workouts by week four. I committed to 2+ sessions a day, and by week five I could get back on a dirt bike. Karen (my fiancée) was both incredibly supportive and thrilled to see me back to my old self. The days became long, and I tore through a list of chores and personal improvements that had been on the back burner.
Throughout the process I was creating ambitious plans for how to utilize the time, and I landed on one month of recovery, two months of outdoor adventure, and one month of international travel with Karen. I felt the near-term goals would keep me motivated, and the schedules seemed to align with her work, COVID restrictions, and the seasons. I decided this was the opportunity to run the trail. Detailed planning started in earnest in April, with the trip scheduled to start mid-June.
THE EXPERIENCE
I started with the basic question for the trip - Why am I doing this? It came down to three things:
It is healthy. I needed a way to spend multiple months that would keep me active and leave me better off than I started. I’ve found most other forms of travel don’t do that. I come back full of experiences but physically drained. Jet-lag, rich food, drinks, and partying aren’t what I’m going for.
I love the outdoors, and continuously pick up outdoor hobbies that I don’t have time to service. Hiking, skiing, rock climbing, mountain biking, and dirt biking gear clutters my garage. Any opportunity to get out of the office and into the wilderness is attractive.
I love adventure motorcycles. Perhaps cliché, but something about living off of a bike lends legitimacy to a nomad lifestyle. You feel like you earned the experience, and were closer to it than you would be in a car, train, or plane.
Once I understood the why the route fell into place. My intention was not to burn through the trail in record time. I wanted to stop off at ideal points for action sports (eg. mountain biking, river surfing, rafting, hiking), sight-seeing (Rocky Mountain NP, Yellowstone, Grant Teton, Glacier, Yosemite, Sequoia), and experiences unique to the states I’d pass through. Above all else, I didn’t want to be stressed out about strict timetables or commitments.
ROUTE PLANNING
There were two parts to this exercise - planning the CDT route and deciding when and where to venture off-trail. I’ll start with the CDT.
Thankfully I am not the first brave soul to attempt this. Several adventure riders have mapped the CDT, and from my research gpskevin did this the best - scouring data from around the web to show alternate routes, points of interest, gas stations, camp sites, difficult bits, and good places to eat. Kevin’s team is incredibly friendly, and he funds his efforts both by selling the GPX routes (which I purchased) as well as leading group events along the routes.
The original goal was to follow the CDT all the way to the Arctic ocean, passing from California to Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Alberta, the Northwest Territory, the Yukon Territory, and ending is Alaska, where I would ship myself and the bike back to California. As is typical in these things I had to call an audible - there is too much uncertainty around Canada’s COVID-19 travel restrictions. As of this update (6/11), the international and inter-provincial borders are closed, with no accommodations or exceptions for vaccinated persons. A real bummer.
The new route follows the trail north to the Canadian border, then veers west to run down the Pacific divide, tracing the mountain ridge-lines of Washington, Oregon, and California. Overall it runs about 7,000 miles (4,500 off-road) through over 100 designated wilderness areas, reaches 12,500 feet at its peak, and visits 9 national parks:
Joshua Tree
Saguaro
Rocky Mountain
Yellowstone
Grand Teton
Glacier
Banff (if border is open)
Yosemite
Sequoia
With the altitude and latitude variations come dramatic changes in scenery, wildlife, and weather. Saguaro national park will be 118 degrees Fahrenheit next week. Some of the Colorado mountain passes still have snow coverage. Wyoming and Montana are Grizzly territory. The variety adds to the experience but complicates planning and packing. At the very least I’ll have to change my habits - I’ve become accustomed to the SoCal 70 and sunny.
The route is littered with opportunities for active living. Aside from hiking the national parks there are cave paintings in New Mexico, river surfing in Salida, downhill mountain biking in Breckenridge, hot springs, yoga and a concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater, a trip on a historic railroad, horseback riding, fly fishing, white-water rafting, swimming holes, and what I assume will be tons of good people. The route taken at full speed would take about 4 weeks, and I’ve budgeted 8. Plenty of time to stop and smell the wildflowers.
Generally I’ve packed everything I need to live for 4 days at a time. Camping gear. Cooking gear. Bear protection. Clothes line and detergent. Water and water filter. Food. Solar power. I’ll steer clear of a big list, but it is modeled after everything a backpacker would carry for a 4-day excursion plus tools, parts to fix the bike, and electronics. The notional plan is to camp >50% of the time, but historically I’ve never been able to predict how I’m going to feel. As always I’m sure that number will be revised on the fly.
I spent a while (too long) thinking about how I wanted to document the trip. As a guiding principle I didn’t want to ever feel like the documentation was guiding the journey (for the ‘gram!). Video blogs tend to be the most consumable, so I bought a tripod for the GoPro, turned the camera on myself, and tried filming an intro. What a mess. I quickly discovered it is awkward to speak alone into a camera, and for whatever reason I couldn’t stop swearing, pausing, or doing both. Armed with a stocked blooper reel and a newfound respect for instagram influencers, I decided vlogging simply wasn’t for me.
Writing and photography, on the other hand, are therapeutic and less edit-intensive. I decided to start this blog, and I’ll have my laptop, DSLR, and GoPro with me. Custom foam pelican cases protect the gear from the elements and inevitable bike drop, and I hope to post new content at least once a week while on the journey.
THE BIKE
Fair warning - this section is going to be technical. If you are not a motorcycle lover, mechanic, or outdoorsman feel free to skip - this isn’t story telling so much as a log of the bike buildout. Given the bike was going to be my only home and lifeline for two months, I needed to make sure it was fit for the adventure I wanted and packed accordingly.
I’ll start with the bike itself. Following my first adventure (see here), I grew fond of more challenging off-road routes and wary of carrying the weight of a mid-size twin adventure bike. I routinely found myself thinking “I want to go there!”, but limited by capability and my own skill level. The big bike was smooth on the highway, but frankly I find cruising long miles more boring than therapeutic, and I wanted to get further off the beaten path.
Even beyond wanderlust, the final straw was actually safety concerns. I took the big GS out to the Mojave desert to run the 3-day Mojave road with a group of friends. On the highway ride there I got a flat in my rear tire and urged the group to go ahead without me. I knew the GPS coordinates of the first campsite, and I would fix the flat and meet them there.
The bike limped the 50 miles down the road the nearest shop and we had the rear tube swapped as daylight started to fade. I set off to find the group and took a left onto the first un-named dirt road leading to the GPS location. About 30 miles in sand washed out the front end, and I tipped the big bike over, trapping my own body underneath it. Normally I would be able to lift the bike, crawl out, and put it back upright, but the bike happened to fall facing downhill. I couldn’t get any leverage, and had sudden panic that I was trapped, alone, and in the dark.
After a few exhausting and unsuccessful attempts to un-pin myself, I did the only thing I could. I started digging myself out with my hands - one scoop of sand at a time. About an hour later I cleared enough earth to get out, but the experience had damaged both my fingers and ego. Bleeding from having filed away my fingernails, I righted the bike and went on my way. I re-connected with the group and went on to have a great experience, but learned two things:
Heavy bikes aren’t suitable for solo trips in remote areas
Satellite phones are worth it for peace of mind
I bought a sat phone the next day, and started looking for lighter and more capable dual-sports to build a long-distance adventure rig. Around the same time Husqvarna announced the all-new 701 Enduro - a re-branding of the KTM 690 in Husky’s white and blue livery. I had always loved KTM but loathed the orange and black color scheme, so jumped at the idea and dug a little closer. Here’s what I liked about it:
Dry weight comes in at 320 pounds. A featherweight against the GS (420 lbs)
Higher performance engine package. Seriously quick both on and off road.
Higher performance WP suspension. Same line as the hardcore enduro bikes.
Stiffened sub-frame relative to lower-capacity dual-sports. Able to carry a passenger up to 180 lbs or luggage for a multi-month journey.
6,000 mile service intervals (advertised). Much better than your typical dual-sport, and the best of any single cylinder bike on the market.
Everything above makes the 701 an amazing adventure bike platform, but to be honest the bike in stock form leaves a lot to be desired. Too big to be a good enduro bike. Too uncomfortable and featureless to be an adventure bike. Off the show room floor it feels like the bastard child of both worlds. I can’t say I was impressed with it right off the bat, but motorcycles are like pizza - always good. In the first couple years I put on 6,000 miles and went on a few 3-5 day trips across Southern California and Baja Mexico, collecting damage and memories.
Eventually I decided that the bike was at its best in Supermoto trim and road use, and threw on sticky rubber and 17” wheels. That setup was far and away the most exciting, and left me grinning and lifting the front wheel out of every corner. By the time I started planning this adventure the bike was dialed in for riding the canyons of Malibu, and there was major transformation left to do.
The adventure build began with a long wishlist and a budget. Despite living in LA my 300 instagram followers did not buy me sponsorship or subsidization, so like most people it was on my own dime. As the budget inevitably grew I tried to avoid bling - every purchase went towards improving reliability, navigation, comfort, or performance, in that order.
Reliability Improvements:
The 701 clutch slave cylinder is a well-documented failure point and was re-designed by Husqvarna in 2019. They recommend replacing the seal, but most people opt for replacing the whole unit. I went with the Oberon unit.
Holes in your radiator are a bummer and a sure-shot way to leave you stranded. I protected mine with AOMC’s radiator guard.
An engine guard/skid plate is a must - the stock plastic piece wouldn’t make it. I went with AXP Racing’s offering because (1) it is a low-friction material and (2) it extends out to protect the rear linkage. Now I can bottom the bike on a tree or rock with confidence.
All wiring was strain-relieved and given anti-chafe tape if routed against a metal edge. There are plenty of teflon-based tapes on the market that will do the job, but I highly recommend doing this. Electrical failures are difficult to troubleshoot out of the shop.
Rear ABS was bypassed via the KTM ABS dongle. ABS can be dangerous and annoying on the trail. It defaults to “on”, and I’ve nearly crashed into my riding buddy a few times while the system struggled to find non-existent traction. The dongle leaves the front ABS always-on and rear always-off, so you never have to touch it.
Navigation Hardware:
Garmin’s Zumo XT is one of only a few GPS units specifically designed for motorcycling. The screen is readable in direct sunlight and it integrates well with my Sena headset, iPhone, and sat phone. My only complaint is that Garmin’s software suite to load maps, update firmware, and change settings is alarmingly complicated. I downloaded five or six different applications before it was finally ready-to-ride, but no problems since.
iPhone’s are seriously powerful when paired with the right navigation app. I’d recommend Gaia GPS. The software is easy to use. The maps have incredible detail. You can load and create GPS tracks with ease. It kicks ass, and I’ve been using the paid version of it for a few years.
Garmin’s inReach Explorer acts as a last-ditch GPS, sat phone, and “oh shit” device. The interface is clunky to try to use for navigation - I bought it for the SOS feature and always keep it attached to my body. Pushing SOS summons a search and rescue team, who will communicate with you anywhere in the world (minus a few countries) and send the appropriate team to bail you out.
Creature Comforts:
Seat Comforts makes the best seats around. The stock seat is hard as a rock and barely suitable for a 1-hour trip. My butt thanks me.
Rade Garage’s F4 Rally Kit provides lots of goodies, but the main benefits are wind protection, improved lighting, and broken out USB power. The new fairings deflect air up and over my helmet - not much buffeting even at highway speeds. The stock headlight has been replaced with two monster LED units that retain the high and low beam switch. Power outputs have gone from zero to 4 waterproof USB outlets, all powered through the ignition switch (on when key is on).
Scott’s steering stabilizer and sub-mount damper reduces vibration through the bars ten-fold. Typically these are sold on the promise of less head-shake and front-tire deflection, but the difference is especially noticeable on the highway. I no longer feel like I’m shaking to death, and will eat up more miles in a day.
Performance Upgrades (the fun stuff)
Rade Garage auxillary fuel tank and intake provides another 1.5 gallons of fuel up front and removes the ridiculously massive airbox. Range is up around 200 miles now, which is much less than big ADV bikes but good enough for this trip.
LeoVince slip-on exhaust dropped seven pounds off the bike, opened up air flow, and runs much less hot than the stock unit. It also sounds bitchin’.
Rottweiler power commander re-maps fuel and ignition to match with the upgraded intake, free-flowing exhaust, and emissions delete. Throttle response is now more linear throughout the range and power is noticeably up in the mid-range.
As blasphemous as this sounds I installed less than half of the hardware. I don’t particularly enjoy wrenching, and needed progress on the build to continue while I worked on my health. Build credit goes to Brandon at South Bay Powersports, who is the only mechanic in the area I trust. He worked with me through a couple last minute issues, was at his shop well after-hours two nights before departure to bolt on the final touches, and made the process feel like a team effort.
In my experience no matter how early you start preparation it always comes down to the wire. Due to COVID-related supply chain issues every piece we ordered arrived weeks late. The worst offender was a replacement key lock set. During teardown I discovered that at some point a thief tried to steal the bike by snapping the steering lock. The part went on order in April with a May delivery date, but never came. Every few weeks Husky would slip out the backorder date another few weeks. I spent 10 hours on the phone scouring the country for any OEM or aftermarket part that would get me going, but came up empty. I even called Husky corporate, who explained that the backorder dates are automatically updated and therefore unreliable (thanks).
I had two leads left and one week to get a new part or the trip would be delayed. One shop in Michigan - nope. Another in Colorado - nope. Out of desperation I called a Husky dealership to beg them to take apart a new bike. To my surprise the sob story moved them, and they only charged me for the labor to pull off the part I needed. The dealership asked not to be named (KTM gets pissy about touching new bikes), but they really saved my ass and deserve nebulously pointed credit.
Despite the headaches I’m super happy with the build. The 701 has been transformed from a bastard child into a dream adventure bike, and I feel stress-free and well-prepared for the road ahead. Finished bike porn below:
PARTING THOUGHTS
The past week has been a roller coaster. How will I handle being away from my family? Does the route have everything I want to see? Do I have everything I need to pack? Will the bike be ready? Am I physically ready? I have to keep reminding myself of the basic fact of travel - there is always a reason not to go. The timing is never perfect. It isn’t easy. It isn’t comfortable. I could get hurt. At some point in the prep process you just have to trust the planning, sweep the negativity under the rug, and go.
Fast forward to right now (8pm the night before). Early this morning a switch abruptly flipped. Laser focus on logistics has turned to manic and unbridled excitement - something akin to an eight year-old’s Christmas Day. Maybe it is finally seeing the bike all packed up, but all I want is to be out in new places, living day to day, and taking problems as they come. This is where I’ll sign off from this post. Time to get some sleep, eat a hearty breakfast, and hit the road.