What might the future hold for the Tour Divide?
As a newer sport that lacks any central organization, competitive bikepacking has been impressively resistant to change. What started as an underground, self-supported, mostly solo endeavor a few decades ago is still largely the same. Unlike gravel and endurance mountain biking, no large corporations have swooped in to take over the sport’s most popular events (à la Life Time Fitness with the Leadville 100 and Unbound Gravel.) No government agencies have swooped in to shut down unpermitted events. Unpaid volunteers keep trading in massive amounts of labor for a little bit of passion and love. Unpaid racers keep showing up at events whose only rewards are days and weeks of arduous physical and mental challenges — challenges so advanced that one of the sport’s founders, John Stamstad, declared, “No amount of money is enough for this kind of difficulty.”
Although newer events have come and gone, most of the storied bikepacking races are still pedaling forward. I have been writing a series of columns about racing the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, which has been a thing since Stamstad time-trialed the course in 1999. Although Divide racing has seen its share of controversies and subsequent shifts over the years, it still clings to many of the tenets that Stamstad established. These tenets can be loosely defined as “be true to the route” and “do it yourself.”
The scrappy, independent, and unpredictable nature of competitive bikepacking is why it is such a fun sport to follow, especially for those of us who are drawn to stories and characters rather than sheer athleticism and results. At the same time, the loose organization and absence in mainstream media make bikepacking a difficult sport to follow. The official Web site of the Tour Divide hasn’t been updated since 2010. The nebulous organizers endeavor to stay away from public scrutiny and potential liability by operating in the shadows. Riders only need to pay a nominal fee for GPS tracking and show up in Banff at the established time. There are no other prerequisites and no way to establish whether riders have any idea what they are doing.
This is also a fun but problematic side of the sport. Past controversies have included racers breaking into private property, racers rudely demanding services at closed stores and overworked bike shops, racers being disqualified for rules they didn’t understand, or deviating from the course because they had poor information. The first days of the 2022 Tour Divide descended into chaos when a summer snowstorm raked the Canadian Rockies and stranded riders in life-or-death situations. Canadian search and rescue teams had to rescue at least 10 Tour Divide competitors with severe hypothermia. It can be argued that most independent bike tourists would have made different decisions about waiting out the forecasted storm, or at least approached it with adequate gear. An official race, likewise, would most likely have taken steps to avoid sending a large number of underprepared riders into such dangerous conditions. The “race mentality” pushes folks to travel light and take chances they normally wouldn’t — that’s just competitive human nature. But the lack of race infrastructure also means there are no backup resources if and when disaster strikes.
It’s worth noting that the majority of racers did not require rescue, and nobody wants their hand held by authorities or authoritarian rules. But the real dangers do give me pause about uncritically supporting events that have the potential to draw larger numbers of unprepared and unsuspecting participants.
So what might the future hold for the Tour Divide? I don’t see the race being forcefully shut down, as fans long feared when the event began to grow. Really, if the 2022 storm didn’t bring down the wrath of the Canadian government on the “Banff group ride,” it’s difficult to imagine that anything would. There were also fears that the event would outgrow itself since there are no limits on participants. But the sheer scope and size of the event seem to be self-limiting. The Grand Depart line-up rarely tops 200 people. That seems to be an ideal number for a fun and competitive event without overwhelming local services and roads.
Given it’s already overcome its most difficult barriers, I see the event chugging along as it has indefinitely. After all, Tour Divide continues to thrive after a few difficult years. 2019 brought disagreement about the film crew following the lead woman, perennial favorite Lael Wilcox. Arguments divided the community and were never fully resolved. 2020, of course, brought pandemic shutdowns. In 2021, with the Canadian border still closed, a smaller field participated in a border-to-border race called “The Great Divide Classic” in homage to the original route. 2022 returned the race to Banff and a field of nearly 200 riders, although the large search-and-rescue effort in Canada cast a shadow over the event.
As a fan, 2023 — in many ways — felt like a return to the good ol’ days. The field of 200+ riders included gravel stars and an impressive international contingent. The women’s field was the strongest yet, with 18 ladies that included past winners and record-holders Lael Wilcox and Alexandera Houchin. The stories that emerged from the race seemed like they had been written by movie screenwriters. A dynamic trio of Europeans led the race until they were stopped in their tracks by impassible mud in the desolate Great Divide Basin. A hailstorm forced them to huddle together overnight in the only shelter for dozens of miles — an abandoned porta-potty on a trailer. They seemed to have a good attitude about it. Other stories included Lael finishing strong after seeking medical assistance for serious dehydration and subsequent issues with asthma. The top American finisher in sixth place was Peter Kraft Jr., who first rode the Tour Divide as a 20-year-old with his father in 2013. After 2,800 miles, three women were close enough to sprint for third, fourth, and fifth place. For the first time, the women finishers reached the double digits. It was an exciting year!
There is still ongoing debate about the direction of Divide racing and whether some elements should change. Recently, longtime veteran Jay Petervary launched a project he calls “Great Divide Unearthed.” Since the first Tour Divide, Adventure Cycling Association has moved the northern terminus of its route north to Jasper, Alberta. In addition, the Tour Divide has introduced a number of detours and diversions over the years that mean the organized event no longer purely follows the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. Jay wants to bring competitive racing back to the full GDMBR while taking “ultracycling techniques to a new level” during a solo effort in August.
A handful of competitors take on solo “time trials” outside the organized event every year. Some argue that this is the only pure way to race a bikepacking route — away from the emotional support and potential logistical help of others. An apt comparison to these endeavors is the Fastest Known Time, which has been part of the ultrarunning and long-distance hiking community for decades. In FKT efforts, people take on established routes such as the Pacific Crest Trail or Rim to Rim to Rim in the Grand Canyon. For most of these routes, the actual fastest known time is out of reach for 99.9% of runners. Those who still “compete” in FKT style just want to do their best, as they would in any ultramarathon. Some bikepacking fans hope to see something similar for the GDMBR — a wider dispersal of efforts that can be more inclusive of different types of riders with different agendas.
If I ever manage to ride the Divide again, it will likely be in a solo effort outside the Grand Depart. This isn’t because I object to anything about the Grand Depart — I think it’s amazing to be a part of such a quirky and interesting community of like-minded people endeavoring to accomplish something enormous. I certainly don’t want to see the Grand Depart fade, and I don’t think it will. But my largest barrier is my health — namely, allergic asthma which has become more limiting despite years of treatment (allergy shots and medication.) Mid-June is the height of grass pollen season in the Mountain West. If I spend more than a couple of hours outside, I start to feel like I’m drowning. If I want to have any hope of breaking that 20-day barrier that I still want to break, I need to target a pollen-free few weeks before winter — say, mid-September — during a year that also magically happens to be free from wildfire smoke. I know — Dream On.
The fact that I’m now in my mid-40s and not quite as naive (and thus not as mentally tough) as I used to make this dream an even taller order. The 20-day barrier isn’t even that special anymore — it’s firmly mid-pack even in the women’s field these days.
Still, the Tour Divide is all about individual dreams and personal adventures in a part of the world that I love. I hope to see it thrive, with or without me, for years to come.
Thank you for reading my Tour Divide series. Here are links to the first four posts:
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