This would be my second "big" trip, but I'll always think of it as the first step towards a deep love of Adventure Touring. A friend of mine mentioned that he was going to ride to Prudhoe Bay in Alaska. I asked him if I could come along before I could even look at a map to see where Prudhoe Bay was. He agreed to my company and I went out and bought a 1995 Kawasaki KLR 650 and proceeded to "kit it out" with new fork springs, skid plate, windscreen, tank panniers, and fork brace. But I didn't have much confidence in the electrical system and even though I thought I might have fixed it, mere weeks before the of departure I bought a 2000 model. I switched over all of the upgrades and was ready to go with days to spare. My riding partner and I had researched the route, the weather and our provisions and felt that we were ready. Here is the story of our journey into the unknown.
Total Miles: 5,600 miles, 17 days
White Rock, BC – Deadhorse, AK and return
Tickets: 0
Mishaps: 0
Puckers: 0
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Day
.5 – 100 miles
The odometer on the KLR had just rolled over 10,000 when I left Seattle
this evening and the 100 or so miles I put on between then and now were
just the start. My riding partner, Doug Walker, and I agreed to meet in
White Rock, BC to start our epic journey northward, to the Arctic Ocean.
We had been talking about and planning this trip for almost a year. We
looked at maps, mileage, bikes, routes, equipment, supplies and money.
Amazingly enough, it was about to begin.
Day
1 – 480 miles
We had a wonderful meal at a nearby restaurant and spent the night at
a small motel in White Rock, BC. The helpful woman at the motel desk in
White Rock suggested that if we wanted to avoid the Vancouver traffic
on Friday morning then we should leave by 6am. The alarm went off as it
was supposed to do and we packed up the bikes and took off east to Hope,
BC. This is a rather dull stretch of road, and at this hour there wasn’t
much going on. We had a quick bite to eat at Hope before heading north
up the Frasier River Canyon (#1). It’s a beautiful stretch of road
and includes some excellent scenery along the Frasier River, through Hell’s
Gate Air tram base and then on to the more arid and warmer climates of
Ashcroft and Cache Creek. Once we left Cache Creek we had reached a point
where neither of us had been this far north before. At Cache Creek the
road becomes the #97 and the landscape flattens out from a spectacular
river gorge to more mundane hills, farms and forests. At Williams Lake
we decided that after the heat and the early start to the day we deserved
a rest. We found a not-so-quiet spot near the lake underneath a large
tree and attempted to nap. Unfortunately, the gleeful children playing
in the water, the crows calling out to each other and the chain smoker
at a nearby table all conspired to keep us from complete rest. However,
it was still appreciated (even though our chap stick melted in our tank
bags – it was hot!). We pulled into Prince George and found a motel
less than a block away from Moxie’s, a tasty “classic”
grill. I’m not sure what “classic” is supposed to mean,
but they have a damn fine Honey Roasted Garlic Sirloin that really hit
the spot!
Day 2 – 435 miles
As would be typical for the trip, we didn’t leave Prince George
until almost 9:30. We’re on vacation, darn it, and we’re going
to sleep in if we want! However, we didn’t get started on the road
right away even after leaving the motel. It seems that the muffler/heat
guards that a friend of mine made didn’t quite do the trick and
the plastic bag Doug used to line his saddlebag with melted onto some
of his clothes. We need more insulation, and we need it now. Fortunately
we’re still in the hands of civilization and we found a Home Depot
nearby. What to get, what to get??? We scoured the aisles and found some
pipe insulation that was actually something like two sheets of aluminum
foil with bubble wrap in between. Can’t hurt, right? So we buy a
roll, cut and tape it together to create a lovely insulating wall inside
of Doug’s right saddlebag. Tools and gear repacked, we proceeded
westerly on the Yellowhead Hwy. Now begins our journey into the unknown!
The Yellowhead winds through lots of agricultural lands with frequent little towns dotting the way. The mountains got bigger and the trees got thicker. The temperature was comfortable, the sky was mostly blue, the roads were in good repair and traffic was not a problem. It was a great start to our trip. Breakfast was found at the OK Café in Vanderhoof, served by Mennonites of all people. We made a couple of stops along the way at Topley and New Hazelton for refreshments and brief breaks, in addition to a few photo stops. At Topley Doug found that part of his helmet was missing. It’s a little part that holds the visor on and is fairly vital. The first zip tie of the trip is called up for duty.
At Smithers, BC, we met a gentleman who strongly encouraged us to make the side trip to Stewart, BC and then cross over to Hyder, AK to see where the grizzly bears feed on the salmon. It sounded good, so we made reservations at the Rainey Creek Campground in Stewart. The name should have warned us, but we were naïve. The ride up #37 from the Yellowhead junction near Kitwanga was peaceful, with very little vehicle traffic. We saw our first black bear (there would be six seen on this day alone) as well as a beaver and a marmot. Once we took the turnoff to Stewart the scenery became more intense. The mountains reared up in front of us like the teeth of a bear. Glaciers and snow-covered peaks played hide-and-seek with the clouds and the sun was slowly sinking to the far northwest. Rivers rushed past us with their cold water frothing over rocks that had tumbled down the mountainsides. It was a beautiful ride.
Once in Stewart we had dinner at a Chinese restaurant and then reconsidered camping and looked into the availability of a motel room. We were shocked by the price and tucked our tails between our legs to go set up camp. In the rain. And the almost-dark. Surrounded by mosquitoes.
Day 3 – 451 miles
We woke up at 5am with really cold rainwater dripping on us from a leaking
tent. Our sleeping bags were wet. Our gear was wet. We were wet. We got
up, dragged everything over to a covered picnic shelter and in the cold,
cloud-covered morning light we stuffed all of our soaking stuff into bags
and tied them back on the bikes. Alas, we couldn’t leave town just
yet: the gas station didn’t open for another hour. And the café
wouldn’t open for another 10 minutes, but we let ourselves in anyway
and had a seat in the relative warmth. After a leisurely and tasty breakfast
we rode over to the gas station, filled up the bikes and then rode a very
wet ride back through the not-so-spectacular mountains that couldn’t
be seen.
We rejoined the Stewart-Cassiar Hwy at Meziadin Junction and headed north, into progressively better weather, although it never truly warmed up. There isn’t much in the way of civilization until you get to Iskut, and even that is a just a tiny little store by the side of the road. We stopped – unfortunately – at Dease Lake for lunch. Icky, no-character place with a server who repeatedly hacked over her order pad and the food. Yuck. Come to think of it, I didn’t eat there, but Doug had some pie. Somewhere along there is Bell II (not sure if that’s a “2” or an “11”; Doug says “11”). It’s a really nice and expensive looking place. Apparently their clientele are those insane people who require a helicopter to get to the glaciers and snow fields in order to ski. Regardless, it’s a nice place with friendly people.
We had been warned about the road conditions along this highway; that there was lots of construction and stretches of gravel, and we were not disappointed. The gravel sections were well-marked and easy to anticipate. They were generally fairly well-packed, although I can see that a good rain would easily make it a quagmire. The gravel sections were varied in their length and placement, never knowing if the next corner would be solid or not, nor how long it would go on. There was one stretch of construction that was particularly unpleasant. It stretched for over 10 miles and was all loose and thick gravel. This was quite treacherous as the gravel can grab your front tire and pull you over if you’re not careful. Not to mention the fact that it was raining again.
There were a couple more black bear sightings that day,
as well as some horses along the side of the road. It was one of those
“Watch for Livestock” areas, and unfortunately someone wasn’t
watching, as we saw two dead horses a couple of miles later. It’s
odd how you get used to seeing road kill deer or rabbits, but a horse?
That really threw me off…
At the northern end of the Stewart-Cassiar highway is the Alaska Highway.
We stopped briefly at this junction and then headed west along the Alaska
Highway, following its gentle curves and studying the vastness of the
surrounding forests. We ended the day at Walker’s Continental Divide
Motel in Swift River, BC and none too early. It had been a long day, starting
with a wet tent and then nothing but roads that required our constant
concentration. The motel at Walker’s was an ATCO building, something
that Doug and I had scorned not more than a couple of hours earlier at
Junction 37 (http://www.atcostructures.com/) but it was heavenly! Warm,
comfy, quiet, hot showers and available! As a bonus, even though the kitchen
was “closed”, they still managed to rustle up some homemade
soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (on homemade bread) – it was
to die for!
Day
4 – 300 miles
A breakfast just as tasty as the previous evening’s dinner set
us on our way from Walker’s and on our way along the Alaska Highway.
The weather cooperated and was about 68 degrees and mostly sunny. I
am still amazed at the number of trees that Northern BC/Yukon/Alaska
have! They stretch as far as the eye can see, and with no people populations
to interrupt their command of the hills and mountains. I have to admit
that I’m very disappointed to see the extensive “re-engineering”
that they’re doing to the Alaskan Highway. There are literally
dozens of places where you can see where the road used to go, but in
the interest of safety (or whatever) they have since moved the road
so as to maintain a more level, straight and therefore dull route. Doug
and I took the time to follow a bit of the old highway through the woods
on our return trip, which was really fascinating. If we had more time
on this trip I think that I would have liked to have followed more of
it. The road crew had chewed up the road surface to allow for a faster
naturalization, but you could still see chunks of asphalt scattered
around. Sigh. They’re ruining a perfectly good road – go
ride it now while it’s still remotely interesting!!!
We saw our first moose of the trip; a timid cow munching away in a river down below the highway. She must have been camera-shy because even though we were quite a distance from her she started to move away, so we left her alone.
There was a nice stop at Whitehorse, YK, which is a place that both Doug and I really liked. It’s a clean bustling town with lots of nice shops and businesses. The motorcycle dealership doesn’t stock anything for the KLR though, and it’s a 3 day wait for shipments. I guess if you were to live here you’d be better off just have a parts bike sitting around.
After Whitehorse Doug and I continued west through Haines Junction where we had a surprisingly tasty dinner at the Kluane Park Inn. The mountains became larger and more snow covered and the fields were filled with fireweed, named so because it is the first thing to take root after a forest fire wipes out an area (or any other disturbance of the vegetation).
At Kluane Lake the highway becomes more like a rural two-lane road that I would expect to see around the Pacific Northwest. It followed the shore of the lake closely and had some fun corners and dips. Eventually the road straightened out again and Doug and I decided to stop at Destruction Bay for the evening. It was a nice enough place, but not terribly remarkable. It did, however, have the three requirements: food, bed and gas. It also had some cool stickers that I’m going to put on my bike!!
Day
5 – 480 miles
After a rather uncomfortable night’s sleep (for me) we got up,
had a bite to eat and headed for the Alaska border. The weather had
turned on us again and had become cloudy and cool. We ran in to a lot
of construction, which in the Yukon means miles of gravel and either
mud or dust, depending on the weather. It also means flinging rocks
from passing vehicles. Doug’s headlight cover was soundly cracked
by a rock tossed up by a car we were passing; not a pretty sight. I
recall saying “ouch!” a few times as rocks smacked my legs,
or being thankful that I was wearing a full faced helmet as they pummeled
my head and visor. My headlight guard eventually cracked as well. The
clear guards were a worthy investment!
We did see two white swans in a small lake, and a moose cow and calf crossed the road in front of us, but there wasn’t much activity in the wild life department that day. I can’t say that I blame them; I was glad to get to Beaver Creek, YK and have a good hot meal. The Alaska border isn’t too far from Beaver Creek and we reached it in no time. Doug and I pulled up together (no line – surprise!) and the patrol officer looked like he was ready to exhibit all of the Power of the Border Patrol Rightfully Bestowed Upon Him. He immediately motioned for us to take our helmets off and produce our papers. As we were complying another patrol officer came out and said “Hey John – you’ve got a phone call”. “John” looked at Doug and I, then at the phone and you could see that he was deeply disappointed. He took the phone and retreated to his booth. The new patrol officer looked at our papers, asked a couple of basic questions, then asked what our destination was. When Doug said that we hoped to ride to Prudhoe Bay, the officer smiled and replied “You’re sick”. He then mused about a Canadian and an American traveling together and asked “What’s your association?” Doug said that we were friends – I think that the border patrol doesn’t see a lot of mixed country traveling companions and it caught him off guard. I thought it was funny.
The border itself is interesting in the fact that they mowed a wide swath of forest for the entire length of it.
The road was fairly interesting for the first hour or two into Alaska, with wide sweeping vistas and far distant mountains. I enjoyed the numerous streams and watching the trees and vegetation change with the increased distance we were heading north.
Unfortunately, the road once again straightened out and the views became less spectacular the more miles we covered. We stopped in Tok, AK for a short break and then continued on to Fairbanks. We apparently made a bad judgment call here. We both figured that with Fairbanks being a town of over 30,000 people that there would be plenty of choices in places to stay. This wasn’t so. Even on a Tuesday night we found motel after motel booked. We did find one place, but they wanted so much money for the room (sans bathroom) that we passed. We finally got desperate and took a room at the Klondike Inn. It was expensive, and to give you an idea of what kind of place it was, Pizza Hut wouldn’t deliver after 11pm (and it was, indeed, after 11pm). We called Dominos, who brought us hot pizza shortly after.
Day
6 – 0 miles
We had decided to remain in Fairbanks the next day. The goal was to find
a nicer place to stay, a place to leave some of our gear while we trek
north, find some rear tires to put on the bikes when we got back and pick
up some last minute supplies. We called around and found what we thought
was a really nice Bed & Breakfast. The thought was that a B&B
would be more likely to store our gear for a few days while we went traipsing
through the northern country. The problem with this B&B was that it
was truly a business, not some cute and charming home that someone has
opened up to visitors. Oh well, I digress… We ran our errands and
took no pictures.
Day 7 – 260 miles
Of course it’s raining for the beginning of our big journey to the
Arctic. We have breakfast at the B&B and pack our minimal bags onto
the KLRs. It’s rather urban (well, for Alaska) through Fox and up
to the beginning of the Elliot Highway. The Elliot Highway, I was to find
out later, is a wonderfully fun road! But this morning it was miserable.
It was raining, heavy fog and cool. I seriously started asking myself
why I was doing this, and considering going back to Fairbanks. I figured
that I could see other parts of Alaska and the Yukon. But I stuck it out,
following Doug through the clouds for a while longer. Then we were rewarded.
The roads started to dry up a bit, and the clouds weren’t quite as thick as previously. We came to the junction where the Elliot Highway continues west and the Dalton Highway starts north. The road sign says “ALL VEHICLES DRIVE WITH LIGHTS ON NEXT 425 MILES” That’s a lot of miles.
The Dalton Highway is also known as the haul road, as it is and was the primary way of getting supplies in and out of the Prudhoe Bay area. It was built to bring materials and workers in who were building the Alaska Pipeline and it follows the pipeline closely for its 425 miles.
The road conditions on the Dalton Highway are about as varied as the views. We started out the first few miles in a quagmire of muck inches thick that grabbed our tires and pulled our bikes willy-nilly along the road. Doug and I stopped and looked at each other, the thought of 425 miles of this a daunting challenge indeed! But we kept on going and soon found the road drying out a bit more, so that we were able to practically fly down the hard packed dirt/gravel surface.
We ran into light rain occasionally, which was a mix blessing as while it made the roads a little trickier, it also kept the dust down from the semis that barreled down the road towards us. Most of them moved over considerably and some of them slowed down. Doug and I would also slow down and move over as far as possible to give them as much room on the narrow road. There are a surprising number of trucks on this road!
We saw two lynx on our way up the Dalton. It was very exciting – they crossed the road right in front of us and even paused to give us a baleful eye that only a cat can muster. Of course they were also too quick to hang around for photos, so you’ll have to take my word for it.
We were surprised to find gas, food and lodging just past the Yukon River, as The Milepost (a Godsend of a book to have for a trip like this!) stated that there was no gas until Coldfoot. I found out later that this stop isn’t always “open” and therefore not a reliable source. We filled up “just in case” even though we each were toting 2 extra gallons on the backs of our bikes. Mind you, we paid for this peace of mind with the most expensive gas I had ever seen: $2.99/gallon for 87 octane. We had a hot sandwich and soup here before heading on to Coldfoot and then Wiseman, where we had made arrangements to stay for the night.
We stopped at the obligatory sign for the Arctic Circle, but were chased away quickly (by our own choice) by a busload of tourists. I can’t imagine how cheated I’d feel if someone else drove me to the Arctic. This is something that’s best experienced on your own, of your own doing and your own determination and will.
Just as we were approaching Coldfoot it started to rain hard, but luckily for us we were on one of those rare stretches of pavement that someone snuck in and the water poured over the pavement instead of creating a mud bath. Coldfoot, and all “towns” after Fairbanks, is nothing more than a building or two that houses those all-important three basics: food, shelter and gas. Coldfoot was unimpressive in its appearance, but it served tasty hot food and had gas readily available. There was also the impressive-sounding “Slate Creek Inn” which was nothing more than an ancient ATCO building stuck in a field across from the gravel parking lot. Fortunately for us, our sleeping arrangements were taken care of 13 miles up the road in Wiseman, AK, which is an actual town from the gold mining days. The town is much more than anything else I had seen along the Dalton and actually contained real log cabins dating from a hundred years ago. It appears that quite a few people live here, making due with what they can find, and in the case of our host and hostess, lodging people for the night. The Boreal Lodge is made from ATCO buildings, but the owners did a fine job of hiding that fact and even provided a “common area” where a clean and modern kitchen/sitting area was available for all guests. Pots, pans, dishes, utensils, coffee maker (and coffee!) were all provided for guests’ use. Of course the only caveat is that there are no food stores after Fairbanks, so you have to be prepared. We weren’t, which is why we ate in Coldfoot. It was another restful night’s sleep.
Day
8 – 240 miles
The day’s journey would be relatively short – just long
enough to not make it there and back in one day and just short enough
to allow for a lazy morning. We packed the bikes up again and headed
north. The weather was cooperating for the moment – so fickle
– and gave us sunny skies so that we could appreciate the passage
through the Brooks Range and our approach to the end of the road: Deadhorse,
AK.
The geology was amazing to see: entire mountains thrust up at impossible angles and layers of erosion that have taken their toll. The rivers coursed through the valleys and the grasses smoothed out the edges of the hard stone. The Dalton Highway is fairly level for a good distance, but then climbs quickly up the south slope of the Brooks Range. The haul road crests the Brooks Range at Atigun Pass, which was a dirty, muddy, gravely mess – and we hadn’t even hit the construction zone yet. It’s a steep, narrow pass and I’m glad to say that we didn’t meet any semis coming down while we were coming up. Descending the north side there was construction, with speeds limited to 10 mph. My bike can’t even go that slow, so we just coasted down as best as we could without attracting attention to ourselves. It was muddy (really muddy; the kind of mud we encountered when we first started on the Dalton Highway the previous day) so I was in no hurry to come down the other side of the Pass anyway.
The mountains in the Brooks Range are amazing; I have never seen anything like them before. They are massive, closely packed together and look like they were just created last week. And they go forever. I’m used to mountain passes where you say “ooo” and “awwww” for ten minutes and then you’re back in the foothills. Not here. These mountains went on for hours. Absolutely amazing. It’s things like this that come to mind when people ask “How was your trip?” It’s something that I can tell them about, but it’s never anything that they’ll understand unless they see it for themselves.
Eventually the mountains started to move off into the distance and the space between them grew. The lowlands held bogs and marshes and grasses as far as the eye could see. It took a long time, but eventually we left the mountain range behind completely and we were surrounded by … flatness. I almost felt like I was in Nebraska. Well, not really.
Finally, after about five hours of riding we arrived in Deadhorse, Alaska: the end of the Dalton Highway and as far as you can ride north in the United States (and all of North America, I believe). We had reserved an outrageously expensive room in the not-so-elegant Arctic Caribou Inn and still had the privilege of paying for dinner on top of that. I will confess that it was a very good dinner, and an all-you-care-to-eat buffet, so I could have really taken advantage of that if I had the appetite.
Day
9 – 240 miles
Deadhorse gets approximately 7” of rain a year, which is less
than Phoenix, AZ. Because Doug and I are special, they got about 1/3rd
of their annual rainfall the night that we were there. We got up early
because we had paid a bit extra to take the Official Tour that not only
tells you all about oil production on the North Slope, but it also allows
you access to the Arctic Ocean. Doug and I were quite surprised to find
out in Fairbanks that the average person is not allowed access to the
ocean but must first register for a permit or submit their personal
information for inclusion in a tour such as the one we were to take
at least 24 hours in advance. Who knew?
The tour was ok; essentially a great long self-promotional piece about the oil companies that are doing the drilling in the Arctic and how they’re not really damaging anything and put everything back the way they found it when they’re done. Whatever. I want to see the ocean.
It was cold and windy – not a good combination. Doug and I took pictures of each other and we watched a few hardy (stupid?) people join the Polar Bear club by completely submersing themselves in the 34 degree water. Not for me.
After the tour was over we returned to our cozy ATCO room, packed up our gear and bought some sandwiches to have later at the lodge in Wiseman (we made arrangements to stay there again, despite not having the cash required by the owners – they were kind enough to take us on our word that we’d mail them a money order from Fairbanks, which we did as soon as we got back). We packed up the bikes under mostly cloudy skies, with rain visible in the not-so-distant distance. It looked like a cold ride out of town. The tour guide had said that it was 42 degrees, but with the breeze factored in there was a wind chill of 21. Brrrrr.
The wind was a constant source of distraction, blowing in fairly steady from the same direction, but always cold. I also knew that a good headwind would seriously cut down our fuel mileage and cause fatigue that much sooner. About 100 miles out of town it started to rain. Ahhh – heated grips are a godsend! I had hoped that as we headed inland (and south) that it would warm up slightly, even if the wind didn’t diminish. However I was dismayed to find that while wind did drop slightly, so did the temperatures. It began to snow! Doug and I found ourselves struggling along at freezing temperatures on a wet muddy road and snow-covered visors, with no where to go but forward. The snow tortured us for 40 miles while we slogged through the mud and potholes that appeared out of nowhere. Semis blew past us, the drivers sitting comfortably in their heated rigs. Once again, I questioned my sanity. I began to wonder if my heated grips were working any more, as I couldn’t feel my fingers very well. The inside of my visor was fogged, but I couldn’t open it because then my glasses would get covered. I was constantly wiping snow off my visor just so I could see Doug’s taillight. Sigh. What else would one expect in the Arctic in August than snow?
During a brief stop at the side of the road I suggested to Doug that we ask at the next pump house if we could stand around in a warm room for a bit, just to thaw out. There are pump houses along the pipeline at fairly distant intervals (I’m guessing about every 60 miles or so?), but it didn’t take us long to find out that these are highly secured places, and I think that only upon threat of immediate death would they let you inside. Doug and I did not qualify.
We got back
on our bikes and trudged southward. The snow was beginning to stick
to the ground and the elevation level on the nearby hills showed that
we were reaching the snowline.
Never daunted, the construction crew was still hard at work at Atigun
Pass and we crawled over it again at 10 mph. I had the promise of warmer
weather on the other side of the Pass in my head, so we kept going through
the snow and rain. As we crested the Pass Doug motioned to his bike
– it was overheating badly. Mine was running hot as well but I
assumed that it was from the slow uphill climb that we were doing. It
turned out that we had traveled through so much mud that it had clogged
the radiator fins and they were no longer effective. We stopped by a
mountain stream and poured water over the radiators of both bikes until
enough was cleared off to get us safely back to the Lodge. Upon our
return to Wiseman Doug also discovered that his radiator fan switch
was broken, one of the reasons his bike overheated so much more than
mine. We hoped that we could fix it tomorrow when we got back in to
Fairbanks.
The weather cleared up 40 miles before Wiseman and we had an almost enjoyable ride back to the Lodge, although a hot shower had never felt so good! And conveniently, the ham and cheese sandwiches we had purchased in Deadhorse to eat cold grilled up nicely with the butter I had stuck in my pocket from the morning’s bagel. That, in addition with hot instant soup and hot chocolate made for a most appreciated meal. Yum!
Day
10 – 260 miles
The next morning was bright and sunny, like nothing had happened the day
before. We got fueled up in Coldfoot and then made a quick trip down a
fairly smooth and fast haul road. We had taken pictures on the way north,
so now it was just a quick jog back in to Fairbanks, where we hoped to
get Doug’s switch fixed and new tires on our bikes.
We took a celebratory break at the end of the Dalton Highway, snapped some pictures and had a snack. Then we finished the trip in to Fairbanks of the now-wonderful Elliot Highway. This road was full of full little twisties and dips and really kept me on my toes – and leaned over, the way a bike should be!
Upon our return to the B&B we found that our reserved room wasn’t even on the property, but at another location. I was perturbed and said that I had specifically requested a room here, in this building, as this is where our gear is. The owner then tried to put us in a much more expensive room, but we weren’t having any of that. He finally relented (and I could see that it pained him to do so) and gave us the more expensive room at the originally agreed-upon rate. Bah! I’ve never been so disappointed at a B&B then I was here.
Day
11 – 280 miles
We had purchased tires at the local Kawasaki dealership before the trip
to the Arctic but weren’t sure if we would need them replaced immediately
after the trip to Deadhorse or if we could make it to another town and
have it done there. One look at my rear tire said that we should do it
now. We took the new tires back to the dealership and while they did the
change that morning for us, it seemed to take them an exceptionally long
time, not to mention their outrageous prices (it seems that everything
in Fairbanks is outrageously expensive). They did indeed have the switch
that Doug needed, but they were asking $100 for it. Doug and I decided
that we could rig something up ourselves and wait until we could find
a more reasonably priced part later. Needless to say, we got a late start
out of Fairbanks and decided not to head south to Denali but instead to
head directly home and have a small cushion of time (which we needed,
it turned out)
We did take advantage of our “extra time” by exploring some off-road sights that had piqued our interest earlier in the trip. While I had wanted to make it across the Yukon border before we stopped for the night it looked like it wasn’t going to happen. Instead we camped along the side of the road at a rest stop, about 20 miles from the border. It was a pleasant spot and fairly quiet.
Day 12 – 330 miles
The morning was beautiful. We had no problems crossing back into the Yukon
and stopped at Beaver Creek for a hot breakfast. We called ahead to Whitehorse
and made reservations for the evening. The ride was very pleasant, with
wide open skies and views that just don’t stop. We had a brown bear
cross the road directly in front of us – I’m still waiting
to see if the pictures turned out from the disposable camera.
We ran in to
some construction on the way to Whitehorse and without the rains that
we had previously the dust was thick! There are land yachts (RVs) everywhere
and they choked us with the dust they caused. Doug’s bike overheated
again as we trudged through an exceptionally long and arduous section
of construction. We had to do something about this or his bike would be
toast when we get to the warmer climes of southern BC. We arrived in Whitehorse
and immediately went to the Kawasaki dealership that doesn’t stock
anything. Its no surprise that they don’t have a radiator fan switch,
but the guy confirms what Doug and I had been thinking: bypass the thermo
switch and put in a manual switch. We thank him and walk across the street
to Canadian Tire (“Not just tires!”) and locate a switch,
wire, some connectors and other fun electrical stuff. We haul our purchases
to the bikes, find our hotel and head for dinner. Got to have priorities.
After dinner we headed to the warm, dry and well-lit parking area that
our bikes are in (this is a happy thing) and after a short bit of confusion
we spliced in some wire, zip tie a switch to Doug’s handlebar and
voila! We have a manual fan switch!
Day 13 – 274 miles
Once we left Whitehorse behind the scenery again picked up pace and there
was lots to look at. We made a specific stop at Walker’s to have
some more of their tasty homemade food. We didn’t get a very early
start, and with a few more off-road exploring trips we didn’t get
as far as we had thought.
Watson Lake, while you may not know the name, is famous for it’s Signpost Forest. Here is one picture, but it will never do the place justice. There are over 50,000 signs posted here – I was quite surprised at the magnitude of this place!
At Junction 37 we went straight where as we had previously come up from the south. For the return home we were going to follow the Alaska Highway almost to it’s beginning (we ended up skirting Dawson Creek). We weren’t sure how far the places were on the map from where we were, so we stopped at the first motel we saw, which was at Iron Creek. I’m not even sure if we were in the Yukon or BC, as I didn’t see any signs. I think it was the Yukon… It turned out to be a good stop, with fresh food, a warm room and a TV. We had to laugh at the sign taped to the top of the TV: “Do Not Change the Channel. There Is Only One Channel”. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the owner could control which One Channel it was from the main building. We were at his mercy for our electronic entertainment.
Day
14 – 325 miles
Today was a surprise. No, not that it happened, but the terrain that
we rode through. I had no idea what to expect from this corner of BC,
but was pleasantly surprised to find mountain passes, rivers, steep
hills and windy roads. We saw much wildlife, including Stone’s
sheep (they looked more like goats to me), caribou, two black bear and
deer. The weather looked promising, but the promise was never kept.
It was cold for most of the trip (ok, ALL of the trip) through Muncho
Pass and it rained on us periodically. The roads were in mostly great
shape, with some tricky downhill corners that were all gravel just to
spice things up a bit. We stopped just before Summit Lake for some homemade
cinnamon buns (Moose Buns, they called them) and to warm up a bit more.
After coming over the Pass and working our way down to Fort Nelson, I felt an odd sensation from my bike. At first I thought that it was the engine not pulling smoothly, but then I wondered about the chain. No sooner did I wonder about it than it came off the sprocket. I was lucky that’s all it did. I knew that the chain was on its last legs, but I honestly thought that it would get me back to Seattle. Nope, not now. Doug tightened it as far as it would go, but the sprockets were worn and the chain was still sagging. Far from nowhere, we did all we could do: limped it slowly down the mountains to Fort Nelson. We were fortunate to find a shop that, while not officially “open”, was still willing to work on the bike. They didn’t have any parts (there seems to be a theme here), but the mechanic was willing to remove a link from the chain so that we could at least get to Fort St John the next day. It was really too late to make the journey to Fort St John that night, as there is nothing between the two towns except for a couple of hundred kilometers of empty road. We found a cheap motel and made an early evening of it.
Day 15 – 238 miles
We got up especially early so as to make it in to Fort St John at a
reasonable time, which we did do. The ride from Fort Nelson to Fort
St John isn’t anything to write home about and took about four
hours. It’s mostly flat open land. The morning had thick fog that
lasted for quite some time, although we still managed to see a nice
sunrise. That didn’t last long, however, as it then rained for
the next three hours until we pulled into Fort St John. We had three
motorcycle shop phone numbers from the guys in Fort Nelson, but when
we called them, none of them carried the parts we needed. One of them
suggested the Kawasaki dealership that turned out to not carry the parts
we needed either. However, the owner was more helpful and called to
his supplier in Edmonton and arranged to have the parts I needed put
on a bus for delivery at 8 am the next day (that’s Saturday delivery!).
I agreed and we went off to find a motel for the night. We got the last
room at the Bluebell, took nice hot showers and then promptly fell asleep
for three hours. We got up long enough to dine at the local Pizza Hut,
channel surf and then fall asleep again.
Day 16 – 283 miles
We dropped the bike off at 9am and then went to find breakfast. The
service was done by 11am and we had the bikes loaded and on the road
by 11:30. The sun was coming out in Fort St John and we thought that
we might be in for a pleasant ride for our trip down past Prince George
and hopefully Spences Bridge. It wasn’t to be. We started out
by backtracking slightly up #97 so that we could take the Hudson’s
Hope loop south, thereby skipping Dawson Creek. I had also heard that
this was a more interesting road, and I’m guessing that it is.
There were lots of deer happily munching grass on either side of the
road, and we saw a moose, coyote and another black bear. The road follows
the Peace River and there are lots of farms in the area that made for
some very nice scenery. The road is winding and climbs up and down some
nice hills. I even managed to drag the end of my tool tube I had mounted
to the skid plate of my bike.
Then it struck: the Flat Gremlins attacked Doug’s bike. We were about 20 miles from the nearest town and there was a light rain. What to do? Neither of us had actually fixed a flat tire before (and these have tubes so there’s a bit more work involved than your standard tire plug kit) so we were a little hesitant. After a short debate at the side of the road Doug decided that he’d try and fix it. We pulled the bikes over to the widest spot at the side of the road that we could find and started looking for something to jack the bike up on to. Luckily for us the railroad workers were not tidy and had left a number of steel plates scattered around the nearby railroad track.
Once the bike was up we took the rear wheel off and consulted the magazine Doug had purchased in Prudhoe Bay that had an article on “how to fix a flat tire”. That article was a godsend!
With the handy tools that we had packed along we soon had the tube out of the rim and found the nasty hole. We suspect that the tube was pinched, as we couldn’t find any evidence of anything going through the (almost new) rubber itself. Doug then pulled out his trusty bicycle repair patch kit and fixed the hole.
We must have made quite a sight, sitting by the side of the road with all of our gear scattered around us. Only one person stopped to offer help, so either we looked like we knew what we were doing or people just don’t care. It took us about 2 ½ hours to get back on the road, but that also included the time we stood around looking at the tire saying “What should we do?” as well as the actual bumbling through the magazine article and repacking the bikes when we were all done. Not too bad, if I say so myself.
Once we were back on the road it was much later than we had hoped for. Our goal had been to stop about 3 hours south of Prince George, but it looked like we were going to hit Prince George instead. We decided to stay near Moxie’s again (yum!) and get another early start in the morning. Doug had to catch a ferry to Victoria and had to be at work the next day so we had very little time left to spare.
Day
17 – 580 miles
Morning cruelly arrived at 4:15 am and we were on the road by 5am. The
morning started out cool, but quickly heated up once we hit Cache Creek.
We were in a race to get Doug to the ferries, so there wasn’t
much stopping. Gas stops about every 3-4 hours and one break at Cache
Creek for drinks and munchies. We parted ways at Sumas, where I crossed
the border back in to the States (not even a question as to where I
had been – how disappointing!) and Doug hoofed it to the next
ferry home.
Approximately 5,600 miles had rolled over on my odometer when I pulled into my driveway at the end of the day – and I had one sore butt! But it was a great trip, and I am so glad that we were able to complete it with so few mishaps.