The road to the Great Divide – a stroke of good luck!

Well, having slogged to get back to Cork after a bumpy few months early in 2024, little did I realise that bumpy and all as that was, it was nothing compared to what was to come!

On arriving in Cork I stayed with my dear friend Barry for a few days, then I had an opportunity to house sit in a fantastic Irish cottage in literally the back arse of nowhere. My friend Sinead had moved to the country some years ago after relocating back from Australia. Her family home was up a ridiculously steep farm road which was a dead end. It was a traditional Irish bungalow with rolling hills, cattle and sheep as the only local residents. Sinead headed away with her family on holiday, and I was left in complete isolation for three weeks. However, despite starting to look for a place called home in earnest, it quickly became clear that renting and buying in Ireland is a national crisis – prices for sale properties were obscenely overpriced, and the auctioneers were profiteering by continuously putting words of ‘fiction’ up called ‘Guide Price’….which bore absolutely no resemblance to actually what they knew the property would sell for. For example, a property on the market for €280,000 eventually sold for over €400,000! I quickly realised that the possibility of buying anything was slipping away, but nowhere near as quickly as any rental options were. There simply was nothing, and what there was led me to be caught in a bind as I was required to produce one years previous salary……how does a few Kenyan Shillings, Vietnamese Dong and Indian Rupee’s sound as an alternative…..no, oh, OK!

Over the weeks that followed I house/dog sat for Barry and one of his friends, who lived close by in Dublin Hill. This is one of those hills in Cork which rises steeply from the city centre….I remember coming up it in 2022 after cycling Bob from Rosslare to Cork…..I was going so slow people walking were overtaking me. So any time I needed something from the shops I had to roll down the hill on foot, then hire a sherpa to haul me back up. I continued to look for properties to rent or buy, but it was fast proving an exercise in futility and frustration. I was lucky to secure work both from Australia and Ireland in reviewing historical abuse cases, so that was keeping me from going completely do-lally. And I was able to use Barry’s old Nigel Dean touring bike to get some great rides in, mainly with my old cycle group, the Lee Roadies, as well as some solo rides in the northern hills surrounding Cork….truly wonderful rising, so so quiet, beautiful scenery and great roads. I’d ride out to Glenville, then down to Blarney for a coffee, then a short ride back to Dubin Hill…..with four seasons consistently revealing themselves each ride! Oh, it was good to be in Cork, but it was also extremely frustrating as the reality of not being able to stay in Cork, or even Ireland, if I could not locate somewhere to live, was dawning on me. So, in tandem with looking for an abode, I was also preparing Bob for the next trip to…..well, I had no idea where! Summer was fast slipping away (such as it is in Ireland!) and so heading to Europe was looking fragile, and heading to the US to do the Great Divide, which I wanted to do as it was the final continent, would mean doing the ride in Autumn and winter (snow and ice!). But if staying here was not an option, then all I had left was Bob, me and the open road.

After a crappy few weeks with my back, I managed to get an MRI which revealed not one, not two, but three prolapsed or damaged discs in my lower back, which my friend and doc signalled needed to be seen by a surgeon. I was not in the least bit surprised, given my history of back surgery and pain. But disappointed as to what that meant for my future riding.

At that stage I had seen one place which I really liked – it was a set of converted stables adjacent to the old ‘mental asylum’ in Cork, so they had history and character. It was in a small gated community away from traffic and also on the edge of the city, so countryside was just metres away. I booked to see it, but as the agent arrived she told me ‘we have literally just sold it’. She nonetheless showed me around – a 2 up, 2 down small place which was steeped in character and history. Alas it was not meant to be. But a few weeks later she called me to say the previous ‘buyers’ had fallen through and would I like to buy it! What a stroke of luck. So, I put in an asking price bid, and asked that they take it off the market as I was not going to engage in a bidding war. So, they did, another stroke of luck! And No. 6 The Mews was suddenly mine.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only ‘stroke’ to come. At my father funeral in May I had experienced a ‘funny turn’ when my lip started to droop, I had pins and needles in my face and jaw, and overall felt pretty crap. I put it down to stress of the day and of course, didn’t seek medical attention. On two further occasions in Cork, I had experienced something similar with dreadful blurred vision and facial numbness……And no, I didn’t get it checked, and yep, you’re ahead of me, you know what’s a’comin!! Sure enough, on the 17^th August, I had had a great ride with the lads up Bael Na Morrive and Macroom, clocked 105 k, was having lunch a few hours after getting back and bang…..things changed in a heart beat. I lost use of all my limbs, my vision was completely distorted and my head spun. I lay on the floor in this house I was housesitting, unable to move, not near my phone, and panic setting in. I lay there for hours, hoping the feelings would subside, and eventually they did enough for me to fall asleep. The next day I awoke feeling very fragile but not in the same state as the day before. My head pounded and I was weak for sure. In the afternoon Barry took me to the Mercy Hospital in Cork where, lo and behold, not only had I had three TIA’s (starting with the episode at dads funeral which left an footprint on my brain) but the day before ‘bang’ was a full blown stroke in the Peripheral Inferior Cerebellum Artery (PICA). I was apparently very lucky, as it was a ‘star burst’ stroke, with the clot breaking up in to shards and ricocheting off sections of my cerebellum. Had it not exploded like that, it would have caused havoc. And then they found a small hole in the heart (a PFO) and two Pulmonary Embolisms. A bit of a train wreck! What followed was a stressful number of weeks in hospital and rehab, with set backs and progress in equal measure as I slowly recovered. What was hit most was my concentration, my balance and hideous fatigue. It truly was a significant blow, and I struggled on more than one occasion to see what the point was in going on – I had seen this movie before!

After 6 weeks in hospital, I was well enough to leave, but as I was in effect homeless now, I discharged to a bed and breakfast. The next day I got on a plane to Malta to catch up with Lu. I had a walking stick and looked half p&ssed – I availed of the ‘assistance’ program in the airports and it was simply great. I spent the following week recuperating whilst gaining confidence walking and balancing again! On my return, I was homeless, but a mate Fergal put me up, fed me, and cared for me, while the Mews was being finalised, which it was in early October. I pulled up outside my new house with nothing but the bags I had had on Bob! But through the kindness of so many friends, and the Lee Roadies cycling club, we quickly furnished the place with 2^nd hand stuff. I have loved living in the Mews, its so quiet and in a perfect location. The first thing I did was buy a bike wall hook, and hang Bob on the kitchen wall, as a permanent reminder of such wonderful times together!

Over the weeks I started to get more things, and then took the bold step to start riding again. 3 months after the stroke, I had my first spin. Muscle memory is such an extraordinary thing – I was as steady as a rock on the bike, but would fall over when walking to the coffee shop! Over the coming weeks, the full extent of the damage to my cerebellum started to reveal itself, with hideous fatigue, central neuropathic pain, lack of concentration, and episodic (im)balances which caused me to fall or drop things. I won’t lie, there were some pretty dark days, but thanks to Lu, family members, and wonderful friends like Bar, Richie and Sheila, Lar, Jerry, my fantastic doc Mick, Fergal, Decky, Jane, Con, the Lee Roadies, and so many beautiful friends back in Australia, I started to piece my life back together, and then dared to dream of another adventure.

Whilst it is undeniable that most folks have considered my next plan to be foolhardy, even dangerous, given all that has happened, I also know they most of them know that for me, there is unfinished business. Should I even be contemplating such a challenging adventure. No. But I have a choice; sit here in my lovely little townhouse and while away my days yearning for one more adventure and bemoaning my bad luck….or……go out with a bang, one last hurrah with Bob on a stupidly difficult route. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, do I stay or do I go. GO.

So, the Great Divide.

The route follows the Continental Divide and is 90% off-pavement using high-quality dirt roads, gravel roads, trails, and a few short sections of unmaintained tracks. Bikepacking the GDMBR requires only intermediate off-road mountain biking skills, but it is a painstaking test of endurance based on the sheer scale of the route, with over 200,000 feet (60,960 meters) of elevation gain and loss.

I slowly started to get Bob ready, which was a feat in itself, as almost everything needed to be changed out to be ready for such a demanding challenge. Literally all my equipment needed to be upgraded, Bob needed serious work to make it possible to fix anything and everything on the fly, and some serious planning was required. There are days with no access to food or electricity, and loads of wild camping. But bit by bit, over weeks, months, the plan started to come together, whilst all the time questioning my sanity.

So, here we are, at the brink of another, and final, adventure with Bob. I picked May 11 as kick off day, as its my late fathers birthday. The plan is to fly to El Paso, and ride west from there to connect with the Divide and Hachita…..and then its north for thousands of kilometres to finish in Banff to meet my oldest daughter Charlie, who lives there.