enlarge Photo courtesy Stephen Gleasner

Snow cornices at Richmond Peak.

enlarge Photo courtesy Stephen Gleasner

Stephen Gleasner

enlarge Photo courtesy Stephen Gleasner

Stephen Gleasner, 47, rode about 100 miles a day in 29 days, from Banff, Alberta province, to Antelope Hills, N.M., to complete the 2,711 miles Tour Divide mountain biking race.

enlarge Photo courtesy Stephen Gleasner

A scenic part of the race course in Wyoming.

enlarge Photos courtesy Stephen Gleasner

Stephen Gleasner, 47, rode about 100 miles a day in 29 days, from Banff, Alberta, Canada, to Antelope Wells, N.M., to complete the 2,711-mile Tour Divide mountain biking race.

enlarge Photo courtesy Stephen Gleasner

Mountain biker Stephen Gleasner revels in a celebratory moment during the Tour Divide.

TOUR DIVIDE

TO LEARN MORE about The Tour Divide race, go to www.tourdivide.org.

TO LEARN MORE about the 2,700-mile off-road course the race follows, which is opened to anyone, go to www.adventurecycling.com.

A mountaineer who summits Mount Everest can describe the battle with fear and death. A thru-hiker on the Appalachian Trail understands the company of trees. A sailor venturing solo around the world can appreciate loneliness.

But the land Stephen Gleasner rode his mountain bike across this summer defies descriptions in so many ways.

Gleasner, an artist from Appleton, is among a small group of mountain bikers who have completed the Tour Divide race -- a monthlong, 2,711-mile, self-supported mountain bike trek across the ranges that stretch from Banff, Alberta, Canada, to Antelope Wells, N.M.

The incredible tale of an artist and avid rider is not so much about the physical pain of riding 12 hours a day, but a test of grit spent worrying about grizzlies and finding food and shelter in the snowy mountains.

Gleasner rode about 100 miles a day in 29 days across a barren trail made up of 16 other cycling nomads like himself. And he did so at age 47, with little training or knowledge where the trail would take him or how the physical pain would affect him mentally.

"It was difficult to gauge what was happening to your body or mind, or your emotions," said the lifelong cyclist. "I talked to other riders. I wondered how far a human could go at this low level, moving all the time, always moving, always picking up and moving. I started to feel acclimated toward it at the end. You could just keep going on for a long time."

Gleasner is the only Mainer who has completed the Tour Divide, according to Aaron Teasdale with the Adventure Cycling Association in Missoula, Mont.

Only 17 cyclists lined up to race this year, and just nine finished it. They are charged with not only riding hard and long, but with figuring out how to stay on course, how to find food at night, and where to sleep.

They get no prize money, no notoriety and no guarantee of safe passage. It's all done for a singular experience.

"It's a demanding route -- 2,700 miles with 250,000 feet of climbing. These guys are out there without any assistance, no support vehicles, carrying everything on their bikes or their backs. That is a big thing to bite off," Teasdale said.

"It's the hardest bike race on the planet. As well as riding the length of the American West, you're out there on your own. It's all on you to find it within yourself to finish that ride."

The race runs about 90 percent on off-road trails from Canada through Montana, Wyoming, Colorado and New Mexico to the International Border.

What is miraculous is not so much that Gleasner finished, but that he did so with limited training. He decided to do the race less than a year before it began, after winning a suitable mountain bike in a magazine writing contest.

Gleasner only had experience riding 100 miles a day 10 years ago. During the Great Divide, he did that 29 days in a row. And he paid for it early in the race.

On only his third day, his mind tricked him for the first time in Fernie, Alberta, causing him to go off course and run out of food.

Many times Gleasner missed a turn and asked for directions from locals --most of whom had no idea what he was doing. He could not diverge from the course, or the computer chip on his bike would broadcast he was off course. In order to finish the race and be listed among the small group who have done so, riders must stay on course.

"It's quite a labyrinth of the unsigned dirt roads in our woodland mountains. It's very easy to get disoriented, particularly when you're pushing to the level of exertion," Teasdale said.

So Gleasner struggled to find the correct way into Fernie, entering the town on fellow rider Andy Buchanan's tail -- only to find everything closed.

"There wasn't so much as a Coke machine in town," Gleasner said. "I got the shakes toward evening. I needed to eat. It's a horrible thing. I did it time and time again... I'd roll into town at 12:30...