Artist, architect, and author Mike Shisler is no stranger to adventure. While this has taken many forms in his life, long-distance bicycling is a particularly revered form for this seasoned traveler. 

His latest journey, bicycling 3,000 miles along the Continental Divide, was completed in the summer of 2024.

This was Shisler’s third-such journey of like kind within the past five years. While achieving this goal is a laudable feat, it was also woven with a broader, long-term goal he has of creating a piece of art every day for 30 years.

Shisler's daily art activity started as a quiet, personal practice. (Provided photo)

At this point, Shisler is a decade into the lofty goal of daily art creation he set on his 30th birthday. While it had originally started out as a quiet, personal practice to stay connected with his creativity, over the years he began sharing it under the moniker, "Drawn There."

The result of his efforts has been an extensive gallery of art prints, cards and commissions, as well his first book Drawn There: The Art of Bikepacking—an artistic chronicling of his previous bikepacking journey from northern Alaska to southern California.

Kinute caught up with Shisler on the cusp of releasing his second book, The Art of Bikepacking - The Continental Divide, to chat about art, adventure and the inevitable challenges that go along with it.

Did you bike the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route or an alternate route along the Continental Divide?

I started this adventure with the intention of biking the GDMBR from New Mexico to Alberta. But after five days on the trail I made it to Grants, New Mexico and determined that

1. the rough, dirt and gravel road was not as enjoyable as I expected. It seemed unnecessarily rough and my rigid frame gravel bike (despite my wide tires) was not the right fit.

2. I grew frustrated chugging up the climbs and then riding the brakes down every descent because the roads were too rough to allow any sort of fast descent.

3. I also had concerns about the real dangers surrounding the lack of water and services along the backcountry route.

4. The route through the Gila National Forest seemed to go up and over EVERY SINGLE MOUNTAIN and even though I knew the route followed the Continental Divide, I felt that a few river valleys and routes around the mountain would be OK from time to time.

5. My goal of riding 80 miles per day was just not going to be sustainable on the gravel route.

6. I felt a little constrained by the gravel route and wanted to explore a few side quests on my way to Canada.

7. While on the gravel route, there would occasionally be a few miles of a paved section and it brought me so much joy. I asked myself, “why don’t I just do this all the time?”

In Grants, New Mexico I ordered new road tires and opted to create a road route that would follow the GDMBR as closely as possible and zig zag my way along the Continental Divide. This solved all of the concerns I had. 

Mike Shisler entering Wyoming by bicycling the Continental Divide. (Photo: Mike Shisler)

Why did you choose this route?

I chose to bike the continental divide because it compared nicely to the other cross-country rides I’ve done and was right around 3,000 miles (a sweet spot for me). I had already explored New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming and Montana pretty extensively, but I had never been to the Canadian Rockies and heard such great things. They didn’t disappoint!

Many people ride this route from North to South starting in Jasper in mid to late June after the snow melts. But riding in this direction would have meant I’d miss my dad’s 70th birthday in July and potentially finish too close to the end of August when I start prepping for Burning Man [an annual art event in the Nevada desert where participants create a temporary makeshift encampment]. Riding South to North meant I could start earlier (late May) and the snow would be melted by the time I hit high elevations in the north. 

Jenny Lake, Grand Teton National Park. (Art by Mike Shisler)

This trail is more rugged than some of the other long-distance routes you’ve biked. What were some of the challenges?

It’s so rugged! On some of the early sections my bike literally wanted to rattle apart and it felt like my bones were about to do the same. Once I found pavement routes the road was so much smoother. But that didn’t mean all of the challenges went away. I still had to deal with endless mountain climbs, high altitude, ever-changing weather (including snow in June) and some long days in the saddle. Even my art was a challenge in the mountains as my ink pen would continually leak and make a mess of my sketches because of the pressure that built up inside the ink reservoir. 

Shisler and his paint kit. (Provided photos)

How did you manage your food supply?

Opting to toe the line between going ultralight and still bringing some creature comforts meant I didn’t carry a cook stove or any cookware beyond a spork. I would eat as much as possible at the occasional grocery stores and restaurants I passed. In between I would fuel up at gas stations with things like doritos, candy, hot dogs and ice cream. When I knew I’d have several days between services, I could carry about two to three days worth of food in the form of trail mix, tortillas (with peanut butter, tuna, and or refried beans), electrolyte powder, gummy candies ... And I always kept an emergency stash of bars and protein powder in the bottom of my bag.

Mormon Row, Grand Teton National Park. (Art by Mike Shisler)

What are some personal highlights from the trip?

One of my personal highlights was having the confidence and awareness to change my route early on in the trip. In my 20s I would have tortured myself a bit longer and likely not enjoyed the trip as much. Even still, I struggled with the idea that I was quitting what I signed up to do. Or like I owed it to all the people who supported me to stick to the original route. But with age comes a little confidence to trust myself and do what feels best. At the end of the day, this was still an adventure requiring massive physical exertion, but it’s also a vacation that I put large amounts of time, money and resources into. I’m glad I didn’t let anything get in the way of my pride, ego or what I thought was expected of me.

Beyond that, some of my favorite moments were crossing the state lines and having a tangible marker to see how far I’d biked. In Colorado I got to bike the famous Million Dollar Highway. In Wyoming I got to bike through my favorite National Park, Grand Teton. In Alberta I got to bike through Banff, Lake Louise and the Icefield Parkway all the way to Jasper.

 Lake Louise; Alberta, Canada. (Art by Mike Shisler)

What are your favorite drawings from this trip?

I think my favorite painting of the trip was one that I painted on my very first morning of the trip. It’s a simple red dirt road in the Chihuahuan Desert in New Mexico. There is a barbed wire fence that runs through the dried brown grass and casts a shadow in the morning sunlight. But most importantly, the dirt road vanishes over a small rise so you can’t see what lies beyond. I think that’s really symbolic for the start of the trip and says “I know I need to take this road, but I don’t know where it will go.”

Dirt road, Lordsburg, New Mexico. (Art and photo by Mike Shisler)

Another favorite was at the edge of a lake in Colorado. Earlier that day I nearly got swept away by the raging rapids of the Colorado River that flooded the bike trail I was on. I nearly had to ford my way through knee deep raging water and came away feeling pretty shaken from the whole episode. But later that afternoon I came to a lake with peaceful, calm water and a sailboat gliding silently along at the far end of the lake, silhouetted by a mountain. It was a reminder that “this too shall pass.”

Dillon Reservoir. (Art and photo by Mike Shisler)

Did you face any mechanical challenges with your bike?

Luckily there were no mechanical challenges with my bike. Prior to the trip I upgraded my drivetrain for ultra-low gearing in preparation for long mountain climbs. And there were plenty of times where I spent an hour or more in my absolute lowest gear. But besides the drivetrain and a few other components, my steel frame Niner RLT9 gravel bike has now racked up over 15,000 miles over the course of three trips across North America. I’m hoping it’s ready for another big trip in the spring of 2026. 

What was the most unexpected part of the journey?

Snow! I was not prepared for snow in Wyoming in June. Nearly an inch of snow fell on my tent overnight and made it so hard to get out of my tent in the morning. Not like I was physically snowed in … but psychologically snowed in. 

I was also unprepared for the extreme lack of water in Southern New Mexico. Early in the trip I was out of water and only saved by a rancher’s cattle tank for a water resupply. Later, I passed two or three water sources that were marked on the map but found them all dry. Eventually I had to filter water from a small shallow pond full of cow manure. It clogged my filter and still tasted horrible. I had to rush out of my tent at 3am to find the nearest bush.

 Pinecones. (Art by Mike Shisler)

What’s on the horizon that you’re most excited about?

I’m currently finishing my book The Art of Bikepacking - The Continental Divide and excited to have it available before the end of 2024 and in time for Christmas. It will be available on my website drawnthere.com or through links on my Instagram: @drawn.there

In addition to art and biking, I’m an architect and excited to break ground on a new house that my wife and I are building in Southern California. It’s every architect’s dream to design their own house and I couldn’t be more excited.

Finally, I’m excited for my next biking adventure (still a very rough plan)—considering biking from St. John’s in Newfoundland, through Nova Scotia and the U.S. East Coast to Key West, Florida in the spring of 2026.