Well, the hardest part of my trip seems to be travelling back home. I had an easy flight out of Inuvik. The airline, First Air, didn't have a problem with flying my bike at all. They even had good food on the flight! I got to Edmonton, stored my bike in bagage storage, and headed over to my hotel for the night.
This morning, I caught the shuttle back to the airport and then things started to go to hell. The guy at the Alaska Airlines desk said that they wouldn't fly my bike unless it was in a bike box. Alaska, of course, doesn't have bike boxes. Neither does anyone else in the entire airport. All the other airlines let passengers fly their bikes in big plastic bags but not Alaska. They insisted that they wouldn't load an unboxed bike on the plane.
The Alaska ticket agents were incredibly surly and unhelpful. One of them was this bimbo chick who just stood there looking bored. The other guy just shrugged his shoulders. They basically said that this was my problem and I should have checked with the airline earlier as to their policy with bikes. I didn't have any trouble at all last year flying home with Alaska airlines from Juneau so I didn't think there would be a problem now.
On the other hand, all the Canadian airlines were amazing when I asked for their help making phone calls and brainstorming ideas to help me out even though I wasn't flying their airline. The even watched my bike and bags for me so I wouldn't have to drag them around the airport. Even the RCMP guys tried to help.
Finally, someone dragged out a cut apart box in two pieces and, with the help of another passenger who is also a bicyclist, we cobbled together a partial box, put it inside a big plastic bag, and taped the hell out of it. The whole thing was an awkward mess and way more difficult to handle than if the bike was in just a bag with both wheels on. But, rules are rules and pragmatism or logic has no part to play.
Next came customs. I had to drag my stuff through with little to no help from anyone from the airline. They literally stood there and watched me struggle with my bags and bike. The bike in the 'box' didn't fit through the big X ray machine so, I'm not kidding, I had to take it all apart to get it hand checked. Then, I had to put it together again using a few more miles of tape.
Next came security where they unpacked all my carry on luggage. The only thing missing was a strip search! At this point, I was late for the flight and was about to miss it. Amazingly, they held it for me and both Sam and I are now heading towards Seattle.
I have noticed that Canadians are much more laid back and easy going than Americans. They maintain their sense of humor and humanity and are always ready to lend a hand. The contrast in attitude between the American and Canadian airlines was truly striking. The Canadians were cheerful and helpful while the Americans were indifferent and unfriendly. I think we Americans have a lot to learn from our northern neighbors! J'adore Canada!
-- Post From My iPhone
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Inuvik At Last
I finally made it to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories! I had a nice day heading north from Eagle Plains with cool, windy weather.
I crossed the Arctic Circle!
I met six other cyclists in two groups. It was nice to not be the only crazed cyclist on the Dempster.
The scenery after the Arctic Circle was magnificent with fantastic fall colors.
I wish I had more iPhone photos but I didn't have anywhere to recharge my battery and the solar charger just doesn't work well this far north.
It rained all night at Rock Creek Campground so I decided to spend the day there to wait out the weather. There was a nice shelter with a wood stove so I stayed warm and dry. Four Gwich'in First Nations guys came by and hung out for a while. They gave me some roasted caribou head meat that was quite good. It tasted a lot like turkey thigh meat, not chicken.
The next day was warm and sunny. I got a taste of the famous Dempster mud for about two miles after the campground. It was the consistency of wet cement. It stuck to everything: the fenders, brakes, and me. Riding was impossible. Even pushing the bike was next to impossible since the wheels were locked up with mud. Luckily, things got better after a few miles and I was able to ride again though I had to push up a few hills because the bike didn't have enough traction to get up the hills. As things dried out, the road turned back into the usual 'Dempster pavement'. The rest of the day was fantastic with great views of the tundra in all it's fall glory.
I crossed into the Northwest Territories and had a few nice downhills before I ran into road construction. I had to stay out of the way of dump trucks, backhoes, graders, and the big road rollers that make the ground shake. Of course, everything was torn up which meant more mud.
The next day was an easy day with flat road and fairly smooth dirt.
I crossed both the Peel River and MacKenzie river by ferry. I camped by a nice lake and was ready for my last day on the road.
It rained the last night. What does that mean for the Dempster? MUD!
This time, there was no escaping it. There were some sections that were a bit better but then I'd hit it again and everything would clog. It even got into my chainrings so even the chain wouldn't move.
I'd stop to clean things which meant I had to put my feet down so the cleats on my shoes that clip into my pedals would clog and I'd have to clean those, too. This went on for about 25 miles on what was to be a 55 mile day. It got to the point where I had to clean things several times a mile accompanied by loud cussing in two languages.
What could make Dempster MUD hell worse? 40 degree rain and a strong headwind. I got two offers for a ride both of which I turned down, determined to make it on my own. After four hours of this torture, I took the third offer of a ride. This was too much misery even for me. I figure that 25 miles of MUD hell equals at least 55 miles on a dry day so, in my mind, I rode the whole Dempster and anyone who says different is welcome to come up here to ride a mud encrusted bike in the cold rain.
Here is the end of the dirt road.
This is the main street in Inuvik.
There is a neat Catholic church shaped like an igloo.
The whole town is built on continuous permafrost so all the buildings are elevated to keep from melting into the ground. All town water, sewer, and gas lines run above ground in a utilidor system.
Some buildings have cooling systems to bleed off heat from the ground.
Today I rode out to the airport for a flight to Edmonton where I will spend the night. Tomorrow morning I fly home to Portland and the real world.
-- Post From My iPhone
I crossed the Arctic Circle!
I met six other cyclists in two groups. It was nice to not be the only crazed cyclist on the Dempster.
The scenery after the Arctic Circle was magnificent with fantastic fall colors.
I wish I had more iPhone photos but I didn't have anywhere to recharge my battery and the solar charger just doesn't work well this far north.
It rained all night at Rock Creek Campground so I decided to spend the day there to wait out the weather. There was a nice shelter with a wood stove so I stayed warm and dry. Four Gwich'in First Nations guys came by and hung out for a while. They gave me some roasted caribou head meat that was quite good. It tasted a lot like turkey thigh meat, not chicken.
The next day was warm and sunny. I got a taste of the famous Dempster mud for about two miles after the campground. It was the consistency of wet cement. It stuck to everything: the fenders, brakes, and me. Riding was impossible. Even pushing the bike was next to impossible since the wheels were locked up with mud. Luckily, things got better after a few miles and I was able to ride again though I had to push up a few hills because the bike didn't have enough traction to get up the hills. As things dried out, the road turned back into the usual 'Dempster pavement'. The rest of the day was fantastic with great views of the tundra in all it's fall glory.
I crossed into the Northwest Territories and had a few nice downhills before I ran into road construction. I had to stay out of the way of dump trucks, backhoes, graders, and the big road rollers that make the ground shake. Of course, everything was torn up which meant more mud.
The next day was an easy day with flat road and fairly smooth dirt.
I crossed both the Peel River and MacKenzie river by ferry. I camped by a nice lake and was ready for my last day on the road.
It rained the last night. What does that mean for the Dempster? MUD!
This time, there was no escaping it. There were some sections that were a bit better but then I'd hit it again and everything would clog. It even got into my chainrings so even the chain wouldn't move.
I'd stop to clean things which meant I had to put my feet down so the cleats on my shoes that clip into my pedals would clog and I'd have to clean those, too. This went on for about 25 miles on what was to be a 55 mile day. It got to the point where I had to clean things several times a mile accompanied by loud cussing in two languages.
What could make Dempster MUD hell worse? 40 degree rain and a strong headwind. I got two offers for a ride both of which I turned down, determined to make it on my own. After four hours of this torture, I took the third offer of a ride. This was too much misery even for me. I figure that 25 miles of MUD hell equals at least 55 miles on a dry day so, in my mind, I rode the whole Dempster and anyone who says different is welcome to come up here to ride a mud encrusted bike in the cold rain.
Here is the end of the dirt road.
This is the main street in Inuvik.
There is a neat Catholic church shaped like an igloo.
The whole town is built on continuous permafrost so all the buildings are elevated to keep from melting into the ground. All town water, sewer, and gas lines run above ground in a utilidor system.
Some buildings have cooling systems to bleed off heat from the ground.
Today I rode out to the airport for a flight to Edmonton where I will spend the night. Tomorrow morning I fly home to Portland and the real world.
-- Post From My iPhone
Monday, August 24, 2009
Eagle Plains
Mileage: 2900
Critters: lynx, wolf tracks, eagles, hawks, ptarmigan, rabbits, lots of Germans
I'm in Eagle Plains, about half way up the Dempster Highway.
The pavement ended about five miles after the junction with the Klondike Highway.
The riding has been tough with some sections of really bad road full of big rocks and potholes.
Other sections are smooth dirt or gravel and are easy going.
The Tombstone mountains were spectacular with beautiful fall colors on the tundra.
This truck just pulled into the parking lot.
I have no idea what a dismantled, shrink-wrapped fighter plane is doing here.
I have four more days of riding to Inuvik. The forecast looks pretty good though I will have some strong headwinds in the Richardson Mountains. I will cross the Arctic Circle tomorrow. I hope to see some caribou from the Porcupine herd and maybe some wolves.
-- Post From My iPhone
Critters: lynx, wolf tracks, eagles, hawks, ptarmigan, rabbits, lots of Germans
I'm in Eagle Plains, about half way up the Dempster Highway.
The pavement ended about five miles after the junction with the Klondike Highway.
The riding has been tough with some sections of really bad road full of big rocks and potholes.
Other sections are smooth dirt or gravel and are easy going.
The Tombstone mountains were spectacular with beautiful fall colors on the tundra.
This truck just pulled into the parking lot.
I have no idea what a dismantled, shrink-wrapped fighter plane is doing here.
I have four more days of riding to Inuvik. The forecast looks pretty good though I will have some strong headwinds in the Richardson Mountains. I will cross the Arctic Circle tomorrow. I hope to see some caribou from the Porcupine herd and maybe some wolves.
-- Post From My iPhone
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Mud Happens
I just got into Dawson City back in the Yukon. The Top of the World Highway was spectacular but brutally tough riding. Things weren't too bad for a while after Chicken but there was a steady, light mist that saturated the road, turning it into mud.
The road has lots of sand in it so riding it is a bit like riding on wet sand at the beach. And, of course, there are potholes... lots and lots of potholes. And there's lots and lots of washboard to go with the mud and potholes. There is hardly any traffic so I rode wherever I could find the smoothest surface, which sometimes was in the oncoming lane or, in this case, right down the middle.
And, of course, what's a horrible road surface without ridiculous numbers of steep hills to go with it.
I had to walk the bike up a few of the hills, something I rarely ever do, but the mud was so deep, I didn't have a choice.
Both Sam and I ended up pretty dang filthy. My shoes used to be black.
I thought I was really getting tired, that was why the hills were so much harder to pedal up. It turns out it was mud built up in my fender.
Once I cleaned out all that muck, the hills got way easier.
Yup, it was a tough ride but the scenery was great and I really enjoyed it. They don't call it the Top of the World Highway for nothing.
Yesterday, I only rode 40 or so miles but with the mud, potholes, and hills, that was plenty. I had heard from other cyclists that the owner of the now closed Boundary road house rented out cabins. Well, when I got there the place was deserted except for three other travellers. There was Stefan, a German travelling by car, Geneie, a Swiss hitch hiker travelling with Stefan, and Travis, a motorcyclist from LA.
The border, a few miles up the road, is closed at night so we were all stuck there. We ended up building a nice campfire and sleeping on the floor of one of the cabins that had been left unlocked. It was fun hanging out with the Boundary Boys. One of the best parts of travelling is meeting interesting people in unexpected places.
Today was supposed to be easier. To quote a British cyclist I met a few weeks ago, 'Ha, bloody, ha!!' The day started with a four mile climb to the border. For almost all of the rest of the day, the road went up and down over ridges and hills. The road was supposed to be paved but most of it had reverted to dirt. The hills were ridiculous with several long climbs approaching 12% grade. I'd come down a hill, not very fast, mind you, because I had to weave between the potholes, and I'd see the next hill which led to my very loud cussing at everything from road engineers, the idiot (me), who decided that riding this road was a great plan, to the geologic processes that put those damn hills there in the first place. After the third or fourth of those insane knee grinders that I climbed at around 2mph, my legs were shot but I still had something like thirty miles to go. I stopped to eat several times, slathering butter on bread and crackers to get more calories.
I still felt like my legs were running on fumes and it was only the thought of a nice dinner, a long hot shower, and a night in real bed with a bathroom mere steps away that got me through those last miles.
I passed another cyclist, Chris from Germany, on a recumbent. It was great to commiserate about the hardships of the road with someone who really understood.
I finally rolled down to the Yukon River ferry and ran into some motorcyclists with whom I had shared a campsite back in Burwash Landing about a week ago. Because there are relatively few roads up here, I tend to run into people I've met earlier or who know people I've met. I saw three people I knew just on one street.
Dinner was a huge serving of Chinese food and after hanging out with Stefan and Geneie at a bar for a bit, I headed back to my room at the Bunkhouse hotel and slept like the dead.
-- Post From My iPhone
The road has lots of sand in it so riding it is a bit like riding on wet sand at the beach. And, of course, there are potholes... lots and lots of potholes. And there's lots and lots of washboard to go with the mud and potholes. There is hardly any traffic so I rode wherever I could find the smoothest surface, which sometimes was in the oncoming lane or, in this case, right down the middle.
And, of course, what's a horrible road surface without ridiculous numbers of steep hills to go with it.
I had to walk the bike up a few of the hills, something I rarely ever do, but the mud was so deep, I didn't have a choice.
Both Sam and I ended up pretty dang filthy. My shoes used to be black.
I thought I was really getting tired, that was why the hills were so much harder to pedal up. It turns out it was mud built up in my fender.
Once I cleaned out all that muck, the hills got way easier.
Yup, it was a tough ride but the scenery was great and I really enjoyed it. They don't call it the Top of the World Highway for nothing.
Yesterday, I only rode 40 or so miles but with the mud, potholes, and hills, that was plenty. I had heard from other cyclists that the owner of the now closed Boundary road house rented out cabins. Well, when I got there the place was deserted except for three other travellers. There was Stefan, a German travelling by car, Geneie, a Swiss hitch hiker travelling with Stefan, and Travis, a motorcyclist from LA.
The border, a few miles up the road, is closed at night so we were all stuck there. We ended up building a nice campfire and sleeping on the floor of one of the cabins that had been left unlocked. It was fun hanging out with the Boundary Boys. One of the best parts of travelling is meeting interesting people in unexpected places.
Today was supposed to be easier. To quote a British cyclist I met a few weeks ago, 'Ha, bloody, ha!!' The day started with a four mile climb to the border. For almost all of the rest of the day, the road went up and down over ridges and hills. The road was supposed to be paved but most of it had reverted to dirt. The hills were ridiculous with several long climbs approaching 12% grade. I'd come down a hill, not very fast, mind you, because I had to weave between the potholes, and I'd see the next hill which led to my very loud cussing at everything from road engineers, the idiot (me), who decided that riding this road was a great plan, to the geologic processes that put those damn hills there in the first place. After the third or fourth of those insane knee grinders that I climbed at around 2mph, my legs were shot but I still had something like thirty miles to go. I stopped to eat several times, slathering butter on bread and crackers to get more calories.
I still felt like my legs were running on fumes and it was only the thought of a nice dinner, a long hot shower, and a night in real bed with a bathroom mere steps away that got me through those last miles.
I passed another cyclist, Chris from Germany, on a recumbent. It was great to commiserate about the hardships of the road with someone who really understood.
I finally rolled down to the Yukon River ferry and ran into some motorcyclists with whom I had shared a campsite back in Burwash Landing about a week ago. Because there are relatively few roads up here, I tend to run into people I've met earlier or who know people I've met. I saw three people I knew just on one street.
Dinner was a huge serving of Chinese food and after hanging out with Stefan and Geneie at a bar for a bit, I headed back to my room at the Bunkhouse hotel and slept like the dead.
-- Post From My iPhone
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Cluck, Cluck
I'm currently in the town of Chicken, Alaska on the Taylor "Highway". Highway is deserving of quotes since it is now dirt/ gravel/ mud/ potholes. None of the above qualifies as a civilized highway. The hills go up and down all day but the views are fantastic. Yesterday, I still had real pavement.
Here is the token chicken in Chicken.
The town is made up of three parts. I'm in Downtown Chicken right now.
There are 47 more miles until the border and real pavement. Until then, I have some really tough riding to haul through. It rained again this morning but it has cleared up some now so, hopefully, the road will have dried out some, too.
I ended up staying in Chicken for the day and exploring. I even tried my hand at panning for gold and found a few flakes.
Another guy had more luck.
I'm not about to quit my day job, though, in the quest to strike it rich. I did meet a few gold miners and had some interesting chats with them. The owner of the Chicken Gold Outpost mined for gold for years where the buildings now are and made a modest fortune. He now has an RV park and cafe on the old mine site that he runs during the summers and travels during the winters.
As I was heading to bed, a small plane landed on the airstrip and taxied across the road to park in the RV park I'm staying at. Kinda surprising to see a plane come in and park just like a car.
Chicken jokes abound in this place. The annual music festival is called Chickenstock. I had to buy a T-shirt that says 'I got laid in Chicken'.
They have to use generators to produce electricity and only one place in town has indoor plumbing and proudly advertises the fact.
It's two more days to Dawson from here and then I decide on the last leg of my ride. Currently, the weather looks promising so I'm hoping to go north past the Arctic Circle to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories. I've heard that the tundra is starting to turn color and is absolutely gorgeous. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the weather holds for another couple of weeks.
-- Post From My iPhone
Here is the token chicken in Chicken.
The town is made up of three parts. I'm in Downtown Chicken right now.
There are 47 more miles until the border and real pavement. Until then, I have some really tough riding to haul through. It rained again this morning but it has cleared up some now so, hopefully, the road will have dried out some, too.
I ended up staying in Chicken for the day and exploring. I even tried my hand at panning for gold and found a few flakes.
Another guy had more luck.
I'm not about to quit my day job, though, in the quest to strike it rich. I did meet a few gold miners and had some interesting chats with them. The owner of the Chicken Gold Outpost mined for gold for years where the buildings now are and made a modest fortune. He now has an RV park and cafe on the old mine site that he runs during the summers and travels during the winters.
As I was heading to bed, a small plane landed on the airstrip and taxied across the road to park in the RV park I'm staying at. Kinda surprising to see a plane come in and park just like a car.
Chicken jokes abound in this place. The annual music festival is called Chickenstock. I had to buy a T-shirt that says 'I got laid in Chicken'.
They have to use generators to produce electricity and only one place in town has indoor plumbing and proudly advertises the fact.
It's two more days to Dawson from here and then I decide on the last leg of my ride. Currently, the weather looks promising so I'm hoping to go north past the Arctic Circle to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories. I've heard that the tundra is starting to turn color and is absolutely gorgeous. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the weather holds for another couple of weeks.
-- Post From My iPhone
Monday, August 10, 2009
Big Chain Ring, Fireweed, and Gawking Tourists
The trip out of Haines Junction was really easy riding for once. I even used my big chain ring quite a bit, something I rarely get to do because the riding is usually too hard. The road was fairly flat after climbing a small pass and there was no headwind, for once. It was still pretty smokey so I couldn't see much of the mountains I was riding by.
I found an amazing campsite right on the shores of huge 150 square mile Lake Kluane and slept great with the sound of the lake lapping the shore. Any other place and this lake would have condos and hotels surrounding it. Here, there are two tiny villages and one RV park along it's shores and that's it.
I had another great day yesterday, hauling out 60 miles in under five hours from Burwash Landing, home of the biggest gold pan the world.
Sam wanted to try out life with a hood ornament but after a bit of thought, we decided maybe it wasn't such a good idea because of the excess weight.
I was in camp by 2:30, had a nice, lazy lunch, and set up my tent. It started sprinkling so I climbed in the tent and took a nice nap. It rained all night but I stayed cozy and dry.
This morning it was cold but had stopped raining and, Yeeha!, the smoke had completely cleared and I could see all the mountains the tallest of which had a sprinkling of snow on them! As I headed north, the sky cleared and I had a nice warm day with lots of sun.
The vegetation has certainly changed in the last few days and is now boreal forest growing on permafrost. The dominant tree is black spruce but it doesn't grow very tall and is often tipped every which way making for a strange looking forest. Because the trees are small, I can easily see for miles in all directions.
The territorial flower of the Yukon is the fireweed, the same plant we have back home.
The locals told me that they track the progression of summer by the blooming of the fireweed. It starts flowering at the bottom and slowly works it's way up to the tip. When the tip is done flowering and seeds have formed on the stalk, fall is here. Based on this system, there is still a bit of summer left.
I've noticed that the attitude of drivers going by me has changed a bit in the last few days, especially RV drivers. I'm used to them waving and I either wave back or nod my head if they do but lately they've been gawking at me like I'm some sort of exotic wild animal. They just stare at me, bug eyed, with their mouths literally hanging open as they go by. Sometimes they take photos and one guy even took video of me while driving!
Today some of them were downright rude. I had stopped for lunch at a rest stop and since they don't have picnic tables in the Yukon rest stops, (they do in BC) I spread my plastic tablecloth on the pavement and sat on the ground and ate. Well, these Germans took a picture of me eating on the ground like I was some sort of feeding animal! They never even said hello or anything. I couldn't belive it!
The road has had lots of frost heaves, small roller coaster bumps and dips, on it because it is built on permafrost and as the permafrost melts, the road above it becomes destabilized and ends up looking like some giant crumpled it. It's not a problem for a bike but the RVs have a rough time of it. They bob up and down like boats in a heavy swell. It's pretty funny to watch. If they go too fast, they can even catch some air. I saw a 40 footer almost turn into the General Lee! I was wondering where all the skid marks on the road came from.
I finally figured out that they are trailer landing marks kinda like the skid marks at the end of runways.
I certainly have a love-hate relationship with RVs... mostly hate, especially with the monsters that are the size of a city bus with four or more slide outs pulling an SUV. Yesterday, I saw one pulling a Hummer! Their model names are pretty funny: Wilderness, Montana, Monaco,Tuscany, Hitchhiker. Yup, your RV is about the size of a principality. I think they should start naming RVs after battleships, aircraft carriers, or, better yet, oil tankers. I've watched some of them pay over $350 for gas. Even the small ones don't get more than 10-12 mpg while the big ones towing a car are around 4-5 mpg.
Of course, all my arrogant snobbishness hides a secret RV envey mostly towards the end of long days. The thought of a warm, dry place with comfy couches, beds, and a fridge full of food sounds really nice when compared to a picnic table, a tiny tent, and yet another pasta meal for dinner.
I just crossed the border into Alaska again.
The road up to the border was especially bad with horrible washboard. I ended up riding down the middle of the road to avoid the worst bits. It's hard to believe that this is the only road leading to Alaska. There is surprisingly little traffic on it. I was told that traffic is down about 50% in the last five years.
I got shaken up badly and managed to lose a water bottle somewhere and didn't notice until miles later. Now, I'll have to find a replacement somewhere.
A strong headwind kicked in around the border and i decided to cut the day short because of the ominous rain clouds that were heading towards me. I set up camp just in time and dove inside as the rin started. Later, there was a gorgeous sunset over the lake by my campsite.
-- Post From My iPhone
I found an amazing campsite right on the shores of huge 150 square mile Lake Kluane and slept great with the sound of the lake lapping the shore. Any other place and this lake would have condos and hotels surrounding it. Here, there are two tiny villages and one RV park along it's shores and that's it.
I had another great day yesterday, hauling out 60 miles in under five hours from Burwash Landing, home of the biggest gold pan the world.
Sam wanted to try out life with a hood ornament but after a bit of thought, we decided maybe it wasn't such a good idea because of the excess weight.
I was in camp by 2:30, had a nice, lazy lunch, and set up my tent. It started sprinkling so I climbed in the tent and took a nice nap. It rained all night but I stayed cozy and dry.
This morning it was cold but had stopped raining and, Yeeha!, the smoke had completely cleared and I could see all the mountains the tallest of which had a sprinkling of snow on them! As I headed north, the sky cleared and I had a nice warm day with lots of sun.
The vegetation has certainly changed in the last few days and is now boreal forest growing on permafrost. The dominant tree is black spruce but it doesn't grow very tall and is often tipped every which way making for a strange looking forest. Because the trees are small, I can easily see for miles in all directions.
The territorial flower of the Yukon is the fireweed, the same plant we have back home.
The locals told me that they track the progression of summer by the blooming of the fireweed. It starts flowering at the bottom and slowly works it's way up to the tip. When the tip is done flowering and seeds have formed on the stalk, fall is here. Based on this system, there is still a bit of summer left.
I've noticed that the attitude of drivers going by me has changed a bit in the last few days, especially RV drivers. I'm used to them waving and I either wave back or nod my head if they do but lately they've been gawking at me like I'm some sort of exotic wild animal. They just stare at me, bug eyed, with their mouths literally hanging open as they go by. Sometimes they take photos and one guy even took video of me while driving!
Today some of them were downright rude. I had stopped for lunch at a rest stop and since they don't have picnic tables in the Yukon rest stops, (they do in BC) I spread my plastic tablecloth on the pavement and sat on the ground and ate. Well, these Germans took a picture of me eating on the ground like I was some sort of feeding animal! They never even said hello or anything. I couldn't belive it!
The road has had lots of frost heaves, small roller coaster bumps and dips, on it because it is built on permafrost and as the permafrost melts, the road above it becomes destabilized and ends up looking like some giant crumpled it. It's not a problem for a bike but the RVs have a rough time of it. They bob up and down like boats in a heavy swell. It's pretty funny to watch. If they go too fast, they can even catch some air. I saw a 40 footer almost turn into the General Lee! I was wondering where all the skid marks on the road came from.
I finally figured out that they are trailer landing marks kinda like the skid marks at the end of runways.
I certainly have a love-hate relationship with RVs... mostly hate, especially with the monsters that are the size of a city bus with four or more slide outs pulling an SUV. Yesterday, I saw one pulling a Hummer! Their model names are pretty funny: Wilderness, Montana, Monaco,Tuscany, Hitchhiker. Yup, your RV is about the size of a principality. I think they should start naming RVs after battleships, aircraft carriers, or, better yet, oil tankers. I've watched some of them pay over $350 for gas. Even the small ones don't get more than 10-12 mpg while the big ones towing a car are around 4-5 mpg.
Of course, all my arrogant snobbishness hides a secret RV envey mostly towards the end of long days. The thought of a warm, dry place with comfy couches, beds, and a fridge full of food sounds really nice when compared to a picnic table, a tiny tent, and yet another pasta meal for dinner.
I just crossed the border into Alaska again.
The road up to the border was especially bad with horrible washboard. I ended up riding down the middle of the road to avoid the worst bits. It's hard to believe that this is the only road leading to Alaska. There is surprisingly little traffic on it. I was told that traffic is down about 50% in the last five years.
I got shaken up badly and managed to lose a water bottle somewhere and didn't notice until miles later. Now, I'll have to find a replacement somewhere.
A strong headwind kicked in around the border and i decided to cut the day short because of the ominous rain clouds that were heading towards me. I set up camp just in time and dove inside as the rin started. Later, there was a gorgeous sunset over the lake by my campsite.
-- Post From My iPhone
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Smokey Mountain Blues
Mileage: 1898
Critter count: 2 wolves
Quote prize: Carolyn
Nope, I haven't gone south to North Carolina and the Smokey Mountains, however, there is smoke here, a lot of it. There is a big fire by Teslin in southern Yukon and the smoke has carried over here. Where is that wind when we need it? It's really unfortunate since the ride from Haines to Haines Junction went right by some spectacular huge mountains. I could make out their outline in the haze just enough so I knew what I was missing. Here is one of my better photos.
The first thirty miles out of Haines was a magical combination of flat road, smooth asphalt, and no head wind, something I haven't seen since around Oregon or southern Washington. All the hard riding has paid off though. I was cruising at between 14 and 15 mph on a fully loaded bike and found it easy riding.
The second day out of Haines was a long climb to Chilkat Pass. It was hot, buggy, and smokey. The smoke and almost complete lack of traffic made for a pretty creepy ride. I saw two wolves! The first one was on a hill side. I thought it was a mountain goat at first but then I realised that it was running like a dog. The second one stood in the road and watched as I pedaled closer but took off before I could get a picture.
As soon as the sun sets, it gets pretty cold- around 40 degrees so my nice warm sleeping bag is a real treat to snuggle in to. It's tough getting up in the mornings with 60-70 miles to ride especially since I can't really see anything.
I'm currently in Haines Junction. They have a sculpture that looks like a giant frosted muffin with people and animals stuck in it instead of blueberries.
Speaking of berries, I had a slice of Saskatoon pie a few days ago. Saskatoons are berries that grow on trees and taste pretty good in pie. I always thought that Saskatoon was just a city I'm Saskatchewan but I guess the town is named after the berry.
I'm heading for Tok today, which is five days ride from here. I'll make the decision as to where I go from there whe I get in. The fire situation in the Yukon is really bad and I'm guessing the same is true for Alaska. I talked to some motorcyclists yesterday and they said that the smoke in northern Yukon is really thick and they could barely see twenty feet. There is a bit of rain coming that'll probably help a bit. I'm still hopeful that I can ride until the end of the month somewhere but I don't see the point to continuing if the conditions stay as they have been the last few days.
-- Post From My iPhone
Critter count: 2 wolves
Quote prize: Carolyn
Nope, I haven't gone south to North Carolina and the Smokey Mountains, however, there is smoke here, a lot of it. There is a big fire by Teslin in southern Yukon and the smoke has carried over here. Where is that wind when we need it? It's really unfortunate since the ride from Haines to Haines Junction went right by some spectacular huge mountains. I could make out their outline in the haze just enough so I knew what I was missing. Here is one of my better photos.
The first thirty miles out of Haines was a magical combination of flat road, smooth asphalt, and no head wind, something I haven't seen since around Oregon or southern Washington. All the hard riding has paid off though. I was cruising at between 14 and 15 mph on a fully loaded bike and found it easy riding.
The second day out of Haines was a long climb to Chilkat Pass. It was hot, buggy, and smokey. The smoke and almost complete lack of traffic made for a pretty creepy ride. I saw two wolves! The first one was on a hill side. I thought it was a mountain goat at first but then I realised that it was running like a dog. The second one stood in the road and watched as I pedaled closer but took off before I could get a picture.
As soon as the sun sets, it gets pretty cold- around 40 degrees so my nice warm sleeping bag is a real treat to snuggle in to. It's tough getting up in the mornings with 60-70 miles to ride especially since I can't really see anything.
I'm currently in Haines Junction. They have a sculpture that looks like a giant frosted muffin with people and animals stuck in it instead of blueberries.
Speaking of berries, I had a slice of Saskatoon pie a few days ago. Saskatoons are berries that grow on trees and taste pretty good in pie. I always thought that Saskatoon was just a city I'm Saskatchewan but I guess the town is named after the berry.
I'm heading for Tok today, which is five days ride from here. I'll make the decision as to where I go from there whe I get in. The fire situation in the Yukon is really bad and I'm guessing the same is true for Alaska. I talked to some motorcyclists yesterday and they said that the smoke in northern Yukon is really thick and they could barely see twenty feet. There is a bit of rain coming that'll probably help a bit. I'm still hopeful that I can ride until the end of the month somewhere but I don't see the point to continuing if the conditions stay as they have been the last few days.
-- Post From My iPhone
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Spur of the Moment Detour
I was all set to take the noon fast ferry to Haines so I could continue my ride back up towards the interior of Alaska. I had a few hours to kill so I went in the National Park hiking center to find out how I would need to reserve a spot to hike the Chilkoot trail, the next time I was in Skagway. The ranger looked at me and said, "Why don't you do it now? Do you think there's much of a chance that the next time you come back here, you will have this great weather?" I went back outside, pondered my maps and decided he was right. I went and rented a pack and hiking poles and a few hours later was getting a ride to the Dyea campground, which is right next to the trailhead, with Dyea Dave. Sam was locked in Dave's sister's back room back in Skagway. The next day I hit the tail.
I had signed up for a three day hike so my first campground on the trail was at Sheep Camp, about 12 or so miles up the trail. Now, in the Cascades in most places, I would consider twelve miles a short day. The Chilkoot is not like the tame Cascades trails I'm used to. It is full of rocks and roots that I had to pick my way through. There isn't a single switchback on the trail. If there is a hill, the trail goes straight up over it. Some sections felt like I was on a stairmaster.
I finally got into Sheep Camp in time for the ranger's trail report and history talk. It had been a hot, muggy day and the next day was also going to be hot so we were encouraged to get an early start. There was a group of boy scouts from Seattle, a Kiwi, a couple of teachers from Wasilla, Alaska who didn't seem too thrilled with their association with Sarah Palin (no, they can't see Russia from their house), three women from the Yukon, and me.
The history of the gold rush is all around the trail. There are bits of metal, shoes, clothes, a steam engine, stoves, pieces of old boards, horse bones, pots, etc. Here is a woman's boot.
I'm definitely a history buff but I've never been somewhere like the Chilkoot where I got to experience the past in such a direct way. Everyone, including the boy scouts, who were loving the trail, spent hours each day thinking about the experiences of the Stampeders as we slowly picked our way through the trail. The further we went, the more impressed we got with the tenacity of those people.
Day two was the tough one with the climb to the Scales and then over the Golden Stairs. The Scales was the last flat section of trail. Here, the porters hired by more well to do Stampeders weighed their loads on a set of scales set up on a wooden frame and, in a lot of cases, raised their rates. I suggested to Mike, the scout master, that he should hire out his scouts as porters and, in the interests of historical accuracy, raise their rates at the scales. He could call it a fund raiser.
The Golden Stairs is a steep boulder field that we had to climb our way through. The photo isn't great but you can see two tiny hikers on the snow field. The pass is the second notch from the left. (I have better photos on my nice camera.)
Here is a view looking back south with a rusting pipe of some sort.
Most Stampeders crossed the pass in the winter, which is much easier to do since it becomes a steep snow field instead of the jumble of boulders that are there during the summer. Remember that each person had to haul 2000 pounds of supplies up the trail, something that required between 40 and 50 round trips. Here is a photo from the Skagway museum of the recommended pile of supplies each person crossed the pass with.
Going up the boulder field was challenging with a pack. Coming down, even with an empty pack would be pretty bad. At least in the winter, one can glissade (slide on the butt) back down.
Some of the stuff that was hauled over the pass was just amazing. I saw a huge saw blade maybe 4 feet across several miles past the pass. The ranger at sheep camp told us that an entire steamship was taken apart, carried over, and reassembled on one of the lakes. An entire brothel, complete with employees, was also carried up.
After the pass, there was still some tough going left but it slowly got easier. The second night, I spent at Deep Lake. Here is the view from my dinner spot.
The last day, I hauled out the final ten miles to Bennett where I had lunch and then took the train back to Skagway.
What was amazing about the gold rush was that few people died despite the incredibly harsh conditions. This can mostly be attributed to the Canadian Mounties who kept order (they had a machine gun set up on the pass to ensure that everyone behaved) and required that each Stampeder have adequate food and supplies. They even inspected the boats that were built by Lake Bennett after they saw what a few of the early Stampeders were doing. One guy showed up, made a raft, and off he went. That was fine. Another guy showed up with a dog sled, tied his dogs to the side of the sled for floaties, shoved the whole thing in the lake and sailed off. 'Oh man, these people are all gonna die' the Mounties thought. That's why they did boat inspections and even required a boat sailing test before Stampeders were allowed to sail down the lake.
I'm now in Haines and am hanging out on the beach by the campground watching some bald eagles fish.
Tomorrow, I'm back on the bike heading for Haines Junction. The weather is supposed to hold with only a day or two days of light showers in the forecast. Otherwise, Days are in the 70s and evenings are in the low 60s.
-- Post From My iPhone
I had signed up for a three day hike so my first campground on the trail was at Sheep Camp, about 12 or so miles up the trail. Now, in the Cascades in most places, I would consider twelve miles a short day. The Chilkoot is not like the tame Cascades trails I'm used to. It is full of rocks and roots that I had to pick my way through. There isn't a single switchback on the trail. If there is a hill, the trail goes straight up over it. Some sections felt like I was on a stairmaster.
I finally got into Sheep Camp in time for the ranger's trail report and history talk. It had been a hot, muggy day and the next day was also going to be hot so we were encouraged to get an early start. There was a group of boy scouts from Seattle, a Kiwi, a couple of teachers from Wasilla, Alaska who didn't seem too thrilled with their association with Sarah Palin (no, they can't see Russia from their house), three women from the Yukon, and me.
The history of the gold rush is all around the trail. There are bits of metal, shoes, clothes, a steam engine, stoves, pieces of old boards, horse bones, pots, etc. Here is a woman's boot.
I'm definitely a history buff but I've never been somewhere like the Chilkoot where I got to experience the past in such a direct way. Everyone, including the boy scouts, who were loving the trail, spent hours each day thinking about the experiences of the Stampeders as we slowly picked our way through the trail. The further we went, the more impressed we got with the tenacity of those people.
Day two was the tough one with the climb to the Scales and then over the Golden Stairs. The Scales was the last flat section of trail. Here, the porters hired by more well to do Stampeders weighed their loads on a set of scales set up on a wooden frame and, in a lot of cases, raised their rates. I suggested to Mike, the scout master, that he should hire out his scouts as porters and, in the interests of historical accuracy, raise their rates at the scales. He could call it a fund raiser.
The Golden Stairs is a steep boulder field that we had to climb our way through. The photo isn't great but you can see two tiny hikers on the snow field. The pass is the second notch from the left. (I have better photos on my nice camera.)
Here is a view looking back south with a rusting pipe of some sort.
Most Stampeders crossed the pass in the winter, which is much easier to do since it becomes a steep snow field instead of the jumble of boulders that are there during the summer. Remember that each person had to haul 2000 pounds of supplies up the trail, something that required between 40 and 50 round trips. Here is a photo from the Skagway museum of the recommended pile of supplies each person crossed the pass with.
Going up the boulder field was challenging with a pack. Coming down, even with an empty pack would be pretty bad. At least in the winter, one can glissade (slide on the butt) back down.
Some of the stuff that was hauled over the pass was just amazing. I saw a huge saw blade maybe 4 feet across several miles past the pass. The ranger at sheep camp told us that an entire steamship was taken apart, carried over, and reassembled on one of the lakes. An entire brothel, complete with employees, was also carried up.
After the pass, there was still some tough going left but it slowly got easier. The second night, I spent at Deep Lake. Here is the view from my dinner spot.
The last day, I hauled out the final ten miles to Bennett where I had lunch and then took the train back to Skagway.
What was amazing about the gold rush was that few people died despite the incredibly harsh conditions. This can mostly be attributed to the Canadian Mounties who kept order (they had a machine gun set up on the pass to ensure that everyone behaved) and required that each Stampeder have adequate food and supplies. They even inspected the boats that were built by Lake Bennett after they saw what a few of the early Stampeders were doing. One guy showed up, made a raft, and off he went. That was fine. Another guy showed up with a dog sled, tied his dogs to the side of the sled for floaties, shoved the whole thing in the lake and sailed off. 'Oh man, these people are all gonna die' the Mounties thought. That's why they did boat inspections and even required a boat sailing test before Stampeders were allowed to sail down the lake.
I'm now in Haines and am hanging out on the beach by the campground watching some bald eagles fish.
Tomorrow, I'm back on the bike heading for Haines Junction. The weather is supposed to hold with only a day or two days of light showers in the forecast. Otherwise, Days are in the 70s and evenings are in the low 60s.
-- Post From My iPhone
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)