Butts Patrol Cabin to Eureka

When I was crossing the border from Canada they asked if I had any firearms with me. I said ‘well, what do you need?Steven Wright

I woke up with the dawn, as my fellow cabin mates started getting up.

If I am honest the night on the dusty cabin floor, under the table, had not been the most comfortable night of my life but at least I was dry and unmolested by bears so two positive notes on which to start the day.

I had done quite a few miles so far and I suspect that this is why I was not the quickest at getting going this morning. A few generalised aches and pains but nothing horrendous and as a bonus it wasn’t raining.

I was intending to reach the US Border this afternoon. However before this milestone was realised I would have to negotiate both the Cabin and Galton Passes, together with the notorious ‘Wall’. I was looking forward to seeing this infamous and iconic root strewn 60% steep hike-a-bike mud slide.

During my departure preparations I found I had spent the night with 4 other people: Glen, an American, Philippe from France, Massimo, an Italian and a Dutchman; Floris. The latter being the chap who had advised me about my brake adjustment at the ‘Y’.

As it transpired they were all people I would meet again later in my travels.

After retrieving my socks from the stones which were still warm from the fire last night. I set off.

My rough journal notes recall: hilly day…initially all a bit of a blur really… felt bad… not hungry… nauseous.

Which is how I remember it now, as I write this entry. The good news is that things improved as the day went on.

Realistically this is exactly how I had expected I’d feel at this point. Experience has shown that if I do prolonged exercise especially for several days on the trot I feel rather sick. The LEL1, Highland 550 and multiple London Marathons all testify to this.

The good news is that I knew it would pass in the fullness of time and ‘all’ I had to do was carry on and tough it out, and eat!

I found the 20k Cabin Pass (5,978’) climb to be relentless. The trail was frequently narrow, with tons of bear scat liberally distributed around.

I came across two huge moose antlers – apparently they shed them annually and their form changes with age. Given the size and shape, research shows that they came from a bull moose in the prime of it’s life.

Each antler was much longer than my handlebar bag. So far too large to take with me, which was a shame as it would have made a marvellous souvenir.

In retrospect it is a very good job I didn’t take them with me because I subsequently learnt that removal of shed antlers from any Canadian National Park is an offence punishable by a fine of up to a maximum of $25,000CAD.

I finally reached the Wall after crossing a swamp. The obligatory pre start photo below was taken by a fellow rider who was getting his kit together at the bottom.

I had obviously seen photos of the ‘face’ but had noted somewhat ominously that there were precious few shots of people actually doing the climb.

I reasoned that this is because it is difficult to push a fully laden 70lbs+ bike up a precarious slope with slippy, unreliable, footholds and at the same time take any quality photographs.

This blurred photo nicely exemplifies the difficulty in taking a good quality shot under these circumstances.

It was very like pushing the bike up a flight of household stairs with loose rubble and/or mud underfoot.

This photo goes some way to showing the steepness of the trail. The rider in front is some 15’ above but only 25’ away from me.

There was the typical false summit but thankfully I got up it unscathed – one hairy moment but I was able to grab hold of a tree trunk and avoid falling (with bike). A good appreciation of the steepness can be found by looking at:

‘Tour divide 2017; part one falling off the wall’

Galton pass marked another encounter with snow before a fast exhilarating 10k swooping descent, averaging 10%, in bright sunshine, to the valley floor and the junction with Highway 93, the road which leads to the border and the Port of Rooseville US/Canada custom post. This was the most enjoyable day of the trip so far. I had a big smile on my face when I reached the border.

I felt I had reached a major milestone.

I was a little apprehensive approaching the border crossing. I say because I did not have an ESTA visa.

I had been urged to get an ESTA visa before leaving the UK. But my reading of the regulations was that visitors to the USA, arriving by land, did not need an electronic visa and in this instance it is cheaper to obtain a visa at the border. However the best laid plans of mice and men….. as they say.

In addition one hears of stroppy border guards giving people a hard time to people entering the US so I was less than confident of a smooth transit.

I have to say my fears proved entirely groundless. I was waved to the front of the vehicle queue and at the entrance a customs official spontaneously offered to take my photo. Bit of a shock really.

Thereafter the bureaucratic formalities went seamlessly and hey presto I was in the US – furthermore my reading of the regulations proved correct and my visa cost less than it would have had I arranged an electronic one.

I swapped my unused $CD for $US and tried to spend all my Canadian shrapnel on drinks before departing the duty free customs shop.

The weather had improved too, everything was looking up. So I suppose it was inevitable that, once I cycled out of the compound that marks the custom border control, I would miss the right turn which leads back towards the border before swinging south to Eureka. Luckily the error only entailed an additional couple of 100 meters but I couldn’t help but look a bit of a fool retracing myself in order to regain the correct route.

It was while I was cycling to Eureka that the bike started to creak alarmingly again. Not due to the rear axle this time – I checked. As per my usual protocol I chose to ignore it but it was annoying.

I had read a crazyguyonabike.com (CGOAB) report which recommending the Tsanka Inn food stop (north of Eureka) in preference to the Subway.

This proved very good advice. I had a good meal in the Inn, with friendly staff who explained the US tipping protocol to me.

What the CGOAB blog didn’t detail was the trip hazard outside the joint – see photo.

Ice, provided by the Inn, helped the twisted ankle, but things were not looking good, a massive contrast to only a couple of hours earlier when I crossed the border.

I elected to use the compression bandage I had been forced to purchase about 15 years earlier when I was attempting the Tour du Mt Blanc race. This strapping proved excellent and I left it in place for the following 3 days.

However I thought it was probably best to rest the ankle overnight so I decided to stay in the local rooms in at the Inn and ‘lick my wounds’. I took the opportunity to wash the bike and air my boots.

Multiple other cyclists elected to to do the same, coming in in dribs and drabs over the next few hours.

Slept poorly, worried about my TD race future, hoping the ankle would be OK by the AM.