A Strike is Declared

The warning signs had been there for several days but I ignored them. My legs were threatening a general strike claiming unacceptable working conditions and I just didn't listen to the signals they were sending. My quads started hurting (something they haven't done in over 1000 miles) especially when pushing hard and just didn't want to respond. Any chance at negotiation disappeared when I continued to try to press on to Skagway into yet another day of headwinds, now gusting to 40 mph after four days of tough riding with severe headwinds.

The ride down to Carcross the day before the push to Skagway was particularly tough, especially after taking the Tagish Cutoff after Jake's Corner with rough chipseal to go with the nasty headwind.

I crawled into camp, ate dinner at the diner so I wouldn't have to bother cooking and collapsed in the tent.

Two days ago, the day that strike was declared, I headed out along a string of lakes that lead towards White Pass and on to Skagway.


The valleys that the lakes are in serve as fantastic funnels for wind. And, Boy Howdy, (as a Texan I met on a different trip would say) the wind was funneling. I was told by a Mountie I met later that it was gusting to 40 mph and holding steady at around 30. In biking terms, it meant an all out effort to go 5 mph on the flats, three gears from the bottom. Any hill, even the dinkiest little pimple required my granny (lowest) gear and a Herculean effort to go almost 3 mph.

There were some neat looking old mine workings along the way, which briefly took my mind off of my suffering.


After 28 miles of this fantastically enjoyable riding experience, I stopped at a rest area on the shores of one of the lakes for lunch. It was chilly so I pulled out my stove and made some hot chocolate to go with the bagel sandwiches. When I finally was ready to stand up to pack up and go, I found that my legs were not cooperating. I walked around a bit and realized that another 25 miles to the pass was not going to happen.

I walked around the side of the lake and found a sweet little campsite, set up the tent, and collapsed for a four hour nap.


I woke up, cooked dinner, and shared the campfire that my neighbors had built. The spot I had found was well known to the locals who go there to camp and fish. My neighbors were Shannon and Tom, the Mountie I had mentioned earlier.

After dinner and a beer, kindly supplied by my neighbors, I went back to bed. I had finally gotten the message my legs were sending: more rest and more food. I decided that I needed a rest in Skagway.

The ride the next day over White Pass was spectacular. The wind had died down to what I now considered negligible but on previous trips would have called strong. I finally made it to the pass and entered Alaska.


There was a helpful sign pointing out the direction in which the sun can sometimes be seen. I was lucky and did see it!



I then got a glorious 15 mile downhill through a gorgeous valley.





Skagway is a neat little town that was established in 1897 during the Klondike gold rush. Iit's a bit touristy because of all the cruise ships that visit.


The food is really good, though. My favorite place is The Red Onion Saloon, which used to be a brothel during the gold rush.


Tomorrow, I'm taking a ride on the famous White Pass railroad up over White Pass to Bennet and Carcross and back. It'll be great to let something other than my legs provide forward motion for a change!


-- Post From My iPhone