Quit our jobs, sold our home and everything in it, gone riding...

[Lightcycle]

Update from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/22.html

From Lillooet, we rode to Cache Creek in the searing heat of the BC drylands. Temperatures soared to 37C and we took shelter in any available shade we could find. Although not technically a desert in terms of rainfall, the BC interior is semi-arid with its terrain of sagebrush, grasslands and rolling hills. It reminded me a lot of the climate and terrain of the south-west US.

Obligatory riding shot through the BC drylands

View of Highway 99 and Fraser River on the way to Cache Creek

Deserted antique farming equipment arranged as artwork on the plains of drylands

More views of 99 winding its way next to the Fraser

Laundry day. Neda forbid me to show any of my underwear on religious grounds. They're a bit holey...

At Cache Creek we camped next to a guy who was coming down from Alaska. His name was Gene too! What a co-incidence! And he provided us with maps and advice on traveling north. This must be a sign that we are headed in the right direction. Prior to coming out west, we had no idea where we were going, Taylor from Island BMW told us there were two ways north, the Cassiar Highway and the Alcan (or Alaska Highway). I was just going to follow the GPS, Highway 37, which was the Cassiar, and Taylor told us it was the more direct, but the more scenic route, despite the pavement being not as smooth, when there was pavement (!)...

Who is this handsome chap peering out from the back of the RV in front of me...?

The weather was getting oppressively hot and we stopped at a lake on the way to Prince George to go swimming. We met a few motorcyclists who also had the same idea, many were dipping their T-shirts into the waters to get the evaporative-cooling effect while riding in the heat. At Prince George, we took TransCanada 16 west to try to make it to the beginning of the Cassiar Highway before nightfall.

Came across an interesting site on the way to the Cassiar

Some of the Wet'suwet'em First Nations tribe set up a fishery in Moricetown Canyon, just north of Smithers, BC. It's the tail-end (pun intended) of salmon spawning season, and the fish were jumping upstream into the waiting nets of the fisherman to be tagged and then released, presumably to help planning the numbers for the season's crop of fish.

Waiting for the fish to jump into the nets. If only fishing were this easy...

HEY! It is *this* easy!

Trying to figure out which fish they tagged and which they just released without tagging, the fish that were the most interesting to them were the ones that jumped straight into the net.

Made it to the bottom of the Cassiar Highway!

We made a friend at the Cassiar campgrounds

At the campgrounds in Kitwanga, at the beginning of the Cassiar Highway, the owner asked us where we were going and we replied, "North!". He scared us a bit when he said we were heading up kind of late in the season and were going to run into cold weather. Hmmm... Oh well. The next morning, his dog Dahlia greeted us at the tent door. Her cuteness factor was high and she delayed us for over an hour the next morning as she taught me how to play fetch with her cloth frisbee.

I taught Dahlia a few tricks as well...

We're steeling ourselves for colder weather ahead!

 

[Froglet]

What a life-changing experience this is! I'm in total awe Good for you. I'm looking forward to seeing what's next!
Ride safe!

 

[Jason Bourne]

Awesome pics and story telling. Keep it coming!

 

[Lightcycle]

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/23.html

The Stewart Highway (aka Highway 37A) runs east/west off the Cassiar Highway. The scenery along the way is a mix of dense alpine forest and mountainous terrain. It's only a 65 km detour to visit the town of Stewart, BC, at the end of the 37A, and we are rewarded with amazing views of glaciers, terminating just a few hundred meters from the highway.

Bear Glacier, on the way to Stewart, BC

A snow cave on the side of the mountain

Bridge crossing on Stewart Highway

Gorgeous motorcycle scenery on the way to Stewart

Weather is cold and wet, rainsuits on for most of the day

Stewart, BC is a working town, home for plenty of miners and the BC Hydro workers who are working on the nearby dam. The US border is just 2 kms away and when we told the owner of the Cassiar Campsite last night that we were going to visit Hyder, Alaska, just across the border, he questioned our sanity, "Why on earth would you want to do that? It's a dump! Nothing there but a bunch of draft-dodgers!"

Well, he was right. The town was a dump. I don't know why anyone would want to visit Hyder, yet it's one of the most popular motorcycle destinations amongst the Iron Butt Association and long-distance riding clubs. But looking at a map, it's obvious why. Hyder is the southern-most city in Alaska accessible by road. There's way more bragging rights in saying, "I rode all the way to Alaska!" than, "I rode all the way to the middle of British Columbia!"

But now you know: Hyder, Alaska = Fake Alaska...

What the..? We're in Alaska? When did that happen?!

The town is such a dump that even the US government has forgotten about its existence. Our ride over the "US/Canada border" was heralded by nothing but a sign proclaiming, "Entering Alaska". No passport control, no customs, no immigration. Just a sign. Oh, but there was a Canadian border patrol on the way back to Stewart, BC. No doubt to stop those draft dodgers from sneaking into Canada. We talked to a guy whose sister forgot her Canadian passport when entering Hyder. Canadian customs wouldn't let her back into the country and she had to have her passport couriered to Hyder to get back in!

One of the more prominent buildings in Hyder is the US Postal Office, and there is a large sign on the side of the building, "Apply for your US Passport here". Presumably if the draft dodgers ever wanted to rejoin mainstream America, they could do so with an explanation at the US Postal Office.

Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum at the Hyder General Store

We heard a funny anecdote about the stateless nature of Hyder. Supposedly, once a month, a state trooper from Ketchikan, AK flies into Hyder, and during the week that he's there, nobody drives their car - all their licenses and registrations have long since expired! Dodging the draft, dodging the DMV, same thing, I guess!

With nothing much to see in Hyder, we tried to find the bear viewing area at Fish Creek. The Hyder General Store is run by a huge mountain man, 8 feet tall, 360lbs, with a grizzled, grey Alaskan beard straight out of Grizzly Adams. We were scared to ask for directions, for fear that he would pop us in his mouth and swallow us whole, but he turned out to be really nice and pointed us a few miles down the (very gravelly) road.

Getting educated on the difference between black bears and grizzly bears. Did you know you're not supposed to run from bears? Given my natural flight-or-flight instinct, I'm really screwed...

You can see down the length of Fish Creek from the bear viewing area. Lots of naturists set up telephoto cameras and video equipment at the far end

The US Forestry Service built this special viewing area to keep tourists safe from the bears that wander the shallow stream at feeding time. From this sheltered vantage point, we were supposed to see them swatting at salmon as they swam tiredly upstream to spawn and die. All we saw was a bunch of dead salmon, seagulls picking at their corpses; no bears, though. I think we came too early in the afternoon. We must have stayed for over 3 hours just sitting, staring at dead salmon and gluttonous seagulls.

Pretty much all we saw the whole day

Of course, the minute Neda leaves to go to the washroom, a baby black bear saunters into the parking lot, sniffs around and leaves!

Not wanting to ride back in the dark, we left for Canada empty-handed just as the sun was setting, and at our campsite in Stewart, our next-door neighbour who was also at the viewing area told us that a couple of bears came out to dine after sunset. Grrrr!!!!

Log teepees on the Cassiar

A warning sign of some sorts...?

Gravel section of the Cassiar

You can see in the picture above newer trees growing in the sections where previous forest fires have cleared the area. This is part of the natural cycle for forests, and small signs are erected on the side of the highway displaying the year of the forest fire in that section.

We traveled north on the rest of the Cassiar Highway in cold, foggy and overcast conditions - very different from the desert-like interior of BC that we left just a couple of days ago. Most of the length of the 874 km highway was paved, with the exception of a couple of long stretches of gravel. We shared the road with logging trucks and the odd RV and it really felt like we were riding in the deep forest of the province as the Yukon Territory loomed ahead of us.

 

[Lightcycle]

Update from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/24.html

We're now at the north end of the Cassiar Highway, as it terminates at the Alaska Highway. The full name is the Alaska-Canada highway, or Alcan Highway for short, but most people refer to it as the Alaska Highway. The road was originally built by the US Army to provide a way to get troops and munitions to defend Alaska against the Japanese immediately after Pearl Harbor.

More importantly, we're in the Yukon Territory! I've never been here before, and I had to look up what differentiates a Canadian Territory from a Province. From Wikipedia:

"The major difference between a Canadian province and a territory is that provinces are jurisdictions that receive their power and authority directly from the Constitution Act, 1867, whereas territories derive their mandates and powers from the federal government."

Watson Lake is a small town just east of the Cassiar/Alcan intersection and that's where we decided to camp for the evening. Upon entering the town, we saw an unusual sight: thousands of signs on posts erected on the side of the road. Not just a row of posts, but a whole forest full of them! We got off to investigate.

Signpost Forest in Watson Lake, YT

At Watson Lake's visitor centre, we found out that this all started with an American GI stationed at the Alaska Highway during WWII who got homesick, so he nailed up a sign from his hometown. Others started doing the same, and now tourists from all over the world bring signs from their home to nail them up at the Signpost Forest. There are over 75,000 signs today. Seems there are more thieves in this forest than Sherwood...

Saw a few Ontario signs here. Good to know kleptomaniacs from our province are well-represented...

While at the visitor centre, we overheard one of the staff talk to a guest in fluent German! It turns out that Whitehorse, which is the capital of Yukon and only 4 hours drive away from Watson Lake, is quite the hub for trans-continental flights. This is due to a shorter distance for northern hemisphere countries to fly over the Arctic, than it is to fly latitudinally over the fat part of the globe. In fact, there is a direct flight from Frankfurt to Whitehorse. This would explain all the German tourists in rented RVs that we ran into wandering around the Yukon Territory.

Neda gives up counting the signs at the Signpost Forest

We camped for the evening at Watson Lake, and again, talking to the owner of this RV Park, he told us we were traveling very late in the season and made up some fancy, scary stories about snow and frost if we were to journey northwards. So the next morning, we journeyed northwards.

On the way to Whitehorse, we stopped in Teslin, a small town right on the Alcan, for a break. There we met Young, a Californian who rode his Trumph Speed Triple up here. He had just gotten his rear tire replaced, and he was in Teslin trying to find the local who helped him when he was stranded on the side of the road earlier. Young just left us a note on our guestbook! Cool!

From Whitehorse, we rode the Klondike Highway north to Dawson city, the same route that over 100,000 prospectors took to travel to the Yukon after gold was discovered in 1896. The journey for them was long and arduous and they had to carry everything they needed on their backs. For us, the 500km ride was scenic and our trusty motorcycles carried everything for us!

Pretty sure none of these buildings actually existed at the time of the Gold Rush, they were built for the Tourist Rush.

Dawson City is one wild-looking town straight out of all the Wild West movies. There are still some original buildings from the turn of the century, but most of the stores and businesses are built and decorated to reflect the town's rich history. By the time most of the prospectors arrived in the Yukon, most of the gold claims had already been staked so the majority came all the way for nothing. Still, some worked in the mines for companies and started businesses catering to the continuing influx of new prospectors, and this was where Dawson City was born.

But do they sell an oil filter for a 450 EXC? Didn't think so...

We treated ourselves to a couple of nights in a local bed and breakfast, it was pricey, but it was soooo luxurious sleeping in a real bed again! During the day, we strolled the wooden boardwalks around town. It was the end of the tourist season so some of the stores were closing soon and the town was not as busy as it was just a few weeks ago. During its heydey in 1898, Dawson City housed so many prospectors and businesses that it was the largest city in Western North America north of Seattle.

Row of pretty coloured buildings

These guys look like they just came from Crankworx 2012!

Neda is busy making new friends to replace all the human friends we left behind

I've been meaning to grow a dodgy-looking 'stache my whole life.

Fiddlin' away the time in Dawson City

After the glitter of the Gold Rush faded and news spread that most of the claims in the Klondike had already been staked, prospectors left Dawson City in droves, some looking for gold in Alaska, others returning home with their pockets empty. Still, the infrastructure for a large city had been built and over time, Dawson City escaped the fate of several Gold Rush ghost towns. Just a couple of decades later, it re-emerged as a new mecca for entertainment, drawing in the wealthy and affluent on large steamships to spend their time and money here.

Original buildings kept untouched as a historical display

The original buildings were built right on the permafrost land during the summer of the gold rush. However, once the winters came, the warmth of the floor melted the waters of the ground underneath and caused the first structures to cave in on themselves. Later buildings were built on raised supports.

The fake front facades that look like they came straight from a Hollywood set were propped up to mask the cheaply-built buildings behind, as they were hastily erected to service the rush of gold prospectors. The facades were ornately painted to give a sense of permanence to prospective customers. All the modern tourist stores are built in the same tradition on raised supports and fake facades, as you can see in the pictures above.

I can just imagine two gunslingers facing each other at opposite ends of this street at high noon. DRAW!

We learned so much about the Klondike and the history of Dawson in the couple of days that we spent there. I'm really enjoying this meandering by motorcycle, it's a lot more enriching than just spending the entire time on the road and seeing towns from behind a visor, while missing out on all the culture and history.

But tomorrow, we ride!

 

[Lightcycle]

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/25.html

It's a grey, overcast morning as we leave Dawson City to head west. Just outside of the city, a tiny ferry called the George Black waits to take us over the Yukon River. It only fits about 4 RVs at a time, but it runs quickly - taking just 5 minutes to cross the river. And the price is right - it's free! During the winter, the ferry stops running and residents just drive or snowmobile across the ice to get to the other side.

Boarding the ferry from Dawson City to the Top of the World Highway

Across the Yukon River, the patchy pavement quickly turns to gravel and starts to climb up above the timberline. We're on the Top of The World Highway, one of the most northern highways in North America. It probably got its name because most of the road rests on the spine of the mountains that overlooks the Yukon to the north and colourful valleys on both sides of the ridge.

The view is duplicated on the other side of the road!

It's hard to choose which side of the road to look, all the different coloured trees in the valley look like they've been painted by Seurat. The gravel is fairly hard packed, but is only open in the summer. There is very little traffic on this fine Sunday morning, but half-way through the ride, a red R1200GS Adventure blasts by us like we were standing still. I manage to glance at his plates as he passed us and was surprised to see another Ontarioan! What are the chances?

Trying to see the pointillism of it all

Top o' the World to ya!

Looking down into wonderfully coloured valleys

About 100 kms in, we reach the Canada/US border where I experienced the absolute most friendliest border crossing! The border guards were all, "Sure take a picture", and "Yeah, you can rest right over there"... It didn't seem like they saw a lot of traffic, but when they did, they told us there were a lot of BMW motorcycles in the mix. As if to prove his point, the red 1200ADV from Ontario was parked right up behind the building. We chatted with Brian, from Huntsville, ON, he was on an 18-day round-trip from Ontario to Alaska and back! Wow, that's a lot of riding!

Brian is waiting for his two other riding buddies that he left behind in the gravel dust, he told us to watch out for them

This border crossing is interesting, it's one of the few customs buildings jointly run by both the US and Canadian governments. The RV on the left is coming into the US and the minivan on the right is crossing into Canada.

More BMW motorcycles at the border

Neda went over to chat with the new GS riders, two 1200s and an older F650GS. Turns out they were from Florida, flew into Anchorage, rented BMW motorcycles and were on their way to Dawson City.

Neda chatting with the Floridians

It's official! This trip is now INTERNATIONAL!!!

From the US border, or Boundary, Alaska, as it's named, the road turns into the Taylor Highway. Same gravel, same twisty, mountainous cuves, same amazing scenery, and once again, another BMW motorcycle from Ontario blows by us! This time, an R1200RT! Oh, the humiliation! I intercom Neda, "Seriously!?!" This was presumably one of Brian's riding buddies, he was a big man and he made the gigantic RT look like a small bicycle underneath him!

50 kms later, we see the sign for Chicken, Alaska. I'm not really sure you could call it a town, just a collection of buildings in a big gravel lot. We pulled in and saw Brian and his riding crew as well as a couple of Harleys. Motorcyclists seem to make up the majority of the tourists at this stop. We had lunch (fish and chips, not chicken) with Brian, Heinz and another 1200ADV rider, all from Huntsville, ON, as well as Baltimore Jim and his partner Phylis from Aspen, CO, who have both put on a gajillion miles on their Harleys. Had a great time exchanging travel stories!

Heinz pulls out of Chicken on his miniaturized RT

Did you know the residents of Chicken originally wanted to name their town, Ptarmigan, but they didn't know how to spell Ptarmigan! Chicken Ptarmesan?

After another 100 kms, the Taylor Highway reaches the Alaska Highway at Tetlin Junction. We don't get passed by any more BMW motorcycles from Ontario, although at this rate, I fully expected a C1 to come zipping in between us. We keep on riding north until we hit the North Pole. North Pole, Alaska, that is!

Not sure why Giganta-Santa is wearing pasties...

North Pole, Alaska is nowhere near the magnetic north pole, but they play up the whole Christmas theme with roads like Kris Kringle Drive, and all the poles that their road signs are mounted on are striped white and red like candy canes. Jeez... We do fall into tourist mode though and stop into the Santa Claus house to see their real-live reindeers and pose with several dozen SoDS (Santas of Differing Sizes).

And not one of them with a red nose

Given how cold it's getting, this seemed entirely normal

As we ride north of the North Pole (is that even geographically possible?), we enter Fairbanks as the gloomy weather has now turned to rain. Wonder where we can go from here...?

 

[killerkeith]

Russia?

 

[silverbullet132]

Russia?

Magadan

Sent from my MB860 using Tapatalk 2

 

[homme de fer]

Magadan

Sent from my MB860 using Tapatalk 2

+1. I've heard it's nice at this time of year.

 

[Mr.Azim]

I pretty much have this blog open trying to catch up to "today" lol... looks like you two are having a blast. Best of luck!

 

[RockerGuy]

Interested in following this now, since its getting colder

 

[Lightcycle]

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/26.html

Deadhorse, Prudhoe Bay.

The name is whispered in revered tones as one of the Holy Grails of adventure motorcycling - the most northern point in North America that you can travel by overland vehicle. The treacherous road leading up there has been featured in Ice Road Truckers and World's Most Dangerous Roads.

So, since we were in the neighbourhood, we decided to see what all the fuss was about...

In 1968, North America's largest oil field was discovered in Prudhoe Bay, on the edge of the Arctic Ocean. Then the oil crisis hit, so the US Government thought what a great idea it would be to build America's most dangerous road in the northern tundra of Alaska, and then stealth-market it on ADVRider to attract motorcyclists from all over the world to brave 414 miles of dirt, mud, potholes, washboard, gravel and pay over $5 a gallon along the way for the privilege! And the motorcyclists came, and together they all subsidized the construction of the Alaska Pipeline!

South section of the Dalton Highway, the Alaska Pipeline a constant fixture

We left Fairbanks the morning after arriving. So many people along the way had warned us of the impending cold weather that we were feeling a little rushed. The rains in the area had not let up for the last couple of days and the forecast didn't leave us with any window for dry weather for another week. So we decided if we were going to do this, it would be now. I think we suffered a bit for our lack of preparation. More on that a bit later...

The Dalton Highway begins about 70 miles north of Fairbanks. Almost immediately we are confronted by construction, and we are told to wait for a pilot vehicle to escort us through a single lane of freshly-laid dirt. The pilot vehicle eventually showed up after 15 minutes, but it led us all the way through while tailing a watering truck! The construction crews water the dirt to keep down the dust, so we were basically riding fresh mud created just a hundred feet ahead of us. Great.

We slowly slipped and slid over the muck, a lineup of impatient truckers behind us shaking their heads at these two bikes from Ontario with street tires barely keeping their rides upright. If we dropped the bikes at this point, they probably would have just run us over to keep their delivery schedules!

Our first break at Yukon Crossing

Two muddy construction zones later, we had our first break at Yukon Crossing. We gassed up our tanks for the next leg, ate a brief lunch and then talked to two bikers coming from the north. We were curious about the road ahead and since the weather and construction changes daily, the only fresh information are from travelers that have just come off the road. They told us we had endured the most toughest section and that it was just hard-packed gravel ahead of us. Neda and I breathed a collective sigh of relief until we found out that they had only gone to the Arctic Circle marker and back, not all the way to the end of the Dalton. They had turned back at mile 115 of 414 and had no information on what was ahead further north - what many have said was the most treacherous part of the Dalton Highway.

Nice pavement on the Dalton is the exception, not the rule. Beautiful scenery on the Dalton is the rule, not the exception.

We've officially crossed the Arctic Circle!

Anything north of the Arctic Circle gets to experience the midnight sun in the summertime, but is also plunged into 24 hours of darkness in the winter. Most tourists and motorcycle travelers end their Dalton Highway trek at the Arctic Circle marker, taking a picture of the sign for posterity and then turning back south to Fairbanks, but we're after much larger game!

There are only three towns on the Dalton Highway. No other services exist on the road, no McDonalds, no gas stations, no convenience stores, nothing but cold Alaska wilderness, 18-wheelers and the constant companionship of the Alaska Pipeline running parallel to the highway. I'm told that the Automobile Associations refuse to service the Dalton, not considering it a proper road. Any catastrophic breakdowns/crashes along the way will involve you hiring a private towing company to come out and fetch you at $5/mile back to Fairbanks. My mental calculator was working out how high the financial stakes were the further north we headed.

The "town" of Coldfoot came upon us at mile marker 175. "Town" in quotes because it looked to be a collection of trailers strewn across a muddy, gravelly lot just behind the trees off the highway. This was the last place we could get gas before Deadhorse, and a large sign reminded us, "Last gas for 240 miles". 240 miles was stretching the limits of our tanks, so we both made sure to fill up our 4L jerry cans just in case. I thought how ironic it would be to run out of gas on the Dalton, while not a hundred feet away, the Alaska Pipeline pumped 2.1 million barrels of oil a day past us...

Boreal Lodge in Wiseman

The second town is Wiseman, only 14 miles north of Coldfoot. It is an original gold mining community, but now houses historical log cabins and a few lodges and BnBs for travelers on the Dalton. Most of the population of 20 people practice a subsistence lifestyle, only hunting and gathering what they need to survive, nothing more. We stayed at the Boreal Lodge, which was quite a step up from the trailer/hotel in Coldfoot. That night, I pondered over all the travel advisories I'd read about the road to Deadhorse in Prudhoe Bay. I felt like I had read just enough to scare me, but not enough to prepare me, given that our route to this point was already difficult and yet, from what I read, the worse was yet to come.

Neda didn't seem to be worried at all. Either we weren't surfing the same websites, or she's got balls of steel.

Well, tomorrow we find out.

 

[Lightcycle]

Update from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/27.html

Neda's guilty pleasure is a TV program called, "Most Extreme Elimination Challenge" (MXC). On the show, contestants are run through a crazy obstacle course where more and more outlandish situations are thrown at them in an effort to knock them off their motorcycles. No wait, that's the Dalton Highway...

"The insides of my shorts are now the same colour as the road but I'm OK!"

When we wake up in Wiseman, we discover it's been raining all night and still coming down in the morning. This means that we'll be facing our first extreme elimination challenge - slippery, greasy mud underneath our smooth, street tires. Like they say in MXC, "DON'T GET ELIMINATED!"...

2 wheels vs 18. GAME ON! Sukakpak Mountain in the background

The Dalton Highway was built especially for truckers hauling material all the way up to Prudhoe Bay to build the Alaska Pipeline. It's also called the Haul Road, and today is used to carry supplies to Deadhorse, where all the work is done extracting the crude out of the oil fields. Trucks are the undisputed King of the Road and riding amongst them requires special attention. The biggest danger is getting hit by rocks and stones kicked up by any one of the 18 wheels passing you by at close proximity. The speed limit on the Dalton is 50mph and it is not uuncommon to see rocks hitting your windshield and visor at closing speeds of a plastic-shattering 100mph. The common wisdom is to always pull over when you see a truck approaching, turn your helmet to the side of the road and duck behind your windscreen.

Neda wipes her muddy visor after being blinded by a passing truck

We're told that in the dry summer months, you can see a truck approaching for hundreds of metres away due to the dust cloud in the distance. Today, the dust clouds are replaced with a head-to-toe mud bath, sometimes temporarily obscuring your visor if you don't get your head turned away in time. Don't even think about smearing the mud with your already dirty gloves, so you're riding blind until you can get stopped to pull out a clean-ish rag.... "DON'T GET ELIMINATED!"

Rain and thick fog still fail to mask the brilliant autumn colours in the flatlands.

The trees become more sparse the further north we travel, as the environment is getting more inhospitable to anything shorter than ground vegetation. Stretches of construction still present challenges to our 2-wheeled vehicles, as they are not laying down asphalt, just more dirt and gravel for the trucks. The Dalton Highway was never intended for non-commercial passenger vehicles, and the condition of the road reflects this. In fact, the US government only opened the road to public access as late as 1994.

Whiteout conditions on the Atigun Pass

The Brooks Range covers most of Northern Alaska and the Yukon Territory. Most of the land north of this mountain range is called the North Slope, as the mountains face north and drain precipitation into the Arctic ocean. In fact, the original name of the Dalton Highway was called the North Slope Road. This is where we are introduced to our next Extreme Elimination Challenge: snow and ice on the Atigun Pass.

The Atigun Pass climbs 4739 feet above sea level, and as we make the ascent up the wet, gravelly road, we encounter white-out conditions, the shoulders and mountain-sides slowly accumulating with snow. Our speed drops, not only because of the road conditions, but because we are also busy marveling at the amazing views unfolding before us.

Riding through the snow-covered mountain ranges, the views are amazing! Too bad the road conditions have us scared sleetless.

To me, riding the Atigun Pass in a snowstorm has to be the highlight of our trip so far.

Starting our descent down the other side of the Atigun Pass

Atigun Gorge, just north of the pass

Made it through the Atigun Pass!

Taking a break in the Atigun Gorge with our buddy the Alaska Pipeline

Neda is admiring the scenery

Off we go again!

Our preparations for the Dalton Highway were non-existent. We just showed up. While most motorcyclists donned knobbies or more aggressive tires, we were using Tourances, half-bald from long riding days on the abrasive pavement of the BC and Yukon highways. All the weight on my bike was piled up on my passenger seat and topcase, making my centre of gravity precipitously high and back. While riding the greasy muddy sections, I felt like a tight-rope walker balancing a bowling ball at the top of a long broomstick!

Lunchtime at Galbraith Camp

At Galbraith Lake, we came up with solution to my high centre-of-gravity problem. We took all the food out of my topcase. And ate it. Next Extreme Elimination Challenge - "Postprandial somnolence" - rider drowsiness induced by overeating.

Galbraith Lake

So muddy

We found out that construction crews spray Calcium Chloride on the roads. CaCl2 is a thickening agent which thickens the mud and hardens it in the summertime. However, when it gets wet, it produces a slippery clay that when splashed onto hot pipes and radiators, bakes into a ceramic that is impossible to get rid off without a chisel. We are recommended to immediately wash this crap off our bikes before this happens, since CaCl2 is mildly corrosive as well.

Somewhere underneath all that mud is a motorcycle and a rider

We made friends with a lot of flaggers at construction sites

Often there is a 15-30 minute wait at each construction site. Motorcycles are typically waved to the front, so we got to chat with a lot of the flaggers while waiting for the pilot vehicle. We found out from this flag-person that a stretch of the Dalton was closed a couple of days ago due to snow, so it was fortunate we were arriving today. She told us that while her station was closed, she built a snowman to hold the stop sign, and as it melted, all the construction drivers mocked her snow-flagger for falling asleep on the job! LOL!

 

[Lightcycle]

Following a pilot vehicle through a construction site

I leave a healthy distance behind Neda. We've found that our dirt bike skills come in handy on this road, and when the road becomes too gnarly and the bikes go sideways, a little throttle helps to keep everything upright and pointed straight. "When in doubt, throttle it out!". Oh and, "DON'T GET ELIMINATED!"

Final stretch (literally and figuratively) before we reach Prudhoe Bay. Next challenge: deep washboard ruts in the background

Happy Valley is at mile marker 334 and the rain starts to let up and we see sun peeking out from the clouds. The mud turns to hard-packed gravel and our speeds pick up a bit. We are sobered up by the sight of a car and a truck overturned in the ditch and we slow down again. Obviously, they too fell victim to complacency on the Haul Road and paid the price. Speaking of which, at a tow-charge of $5/mile, 400 miles north of Fairbanks, I assume it was cheaper leaving the rotting carcasses of their vehicles up here than pay for a tow back to civilization.

The obligatory picture at the Deadhorse General Store - one of the only Welcome signs in this oil camp

We like our sign better!

The drilling community of Deadhorse slowly appears on the horizon. It appears slowly because all of the buildings are no more than one-story tall, having been hauled up on the back of an 18-wheeler. Our relief at reaching the end of the treacherous Dalton Highway is tempered by the fact that we are really only half-way through it. We've got to do it all again to get back to Fairbanks!

The weather forecast shows non-stop rain for the next 5 days. Do we wait and risk snow or ride back in even deeper mud?

"DON'T GET ELIMINATED!"

 

[Lightcycle]

Russia?

Magadan

+1. I've heard it's nice at this time of year.

No idea where you guys are getting your outlandish travel suggestions from.

 

[Wingboy]

Nice exclamation point!

 

[Lightcycle]

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/28.html

So cool seeing how far we've traveled on a map of North America! Some interesting statistics:

Toronto to Vancouver = 4206 kms
Vancouver to Deadhorse = 4117 kms

Our cross-country trip to Vancouver is almost exactly half-way to Deadhorse! This really puts the vast distances of Arctic Canada and the US into perspective!

Deadhorse gas station - feels like we're filling up directly from the ground!

Our first task was to fill up our empty tanks. After our last gas stop in Coldfoot, we were almost completely dry. However, we were shocked to find out gas is $5.33/gallon in Deadhorse. Almost directly underneath our tires lies the largest oil fields in North America, but due to state taxation issues, there are no refineries in Prudhoe Bay. All the gasoline up here has been shipped up via the 18-wheelers that tried to kill us the day before.

Downtown Deadhorse.

Almost all the buildings here are single-story trailer units that look as if they are fitted together like Lego. This is less a town than it is a community of oil drilling companies that ship workers here for months at a time, begrudgingly tolerating the harsh and spartan conditions, counting the days and paycheques before they return home to family and civilization. No one is here for leisure except the few adventure motorcyclists and the odd traveler looking to reach the Arctic Ocean.

Our oasis!

Accommodations here are as exorbitantly expensive as the gas. The cost to ship supplies and materials for the workers up the Haul Road are reflected in the prices that the tourists pay, while everyone who actually works here is completely comped by the companies they work for. Neda did some research and found that the Prudhoe Bay Hotel was the best deal in town - all buffet style meals and a 24-hour kitchen. We booked in for two days and paid a handsome price for the respite from the non-stop rain and mud outside.

The hotel was full-service, so we were welcome to help ourselves to all the supplies they stocked. And for the price we paid, we went ape-sheet on laundry soap, fabric softener, soap, condiments, wet naps, as well as raided the kitchen for a weeks worth of sandwiches, cookies, potato chips. As we watched the rain continue to fall non-stop outside, we were comforted in the knowledge that our bikes would be nice and top-heavy-tipsy for the ride back in the mud that was building up! So not looking forward to that...

Deadhorse indoor fashion accessories

Every "building" (converted trailer) in Deadhorse has a policy - either take your outdoor footwear off, or put these fetching blue booties on while you walk around. Otherwise the inside of the buildings would be coated in the same mud that our bikes were outside. All the washrooms and dining areas had large signs reminding everyone to wash their hands and to use the hand sanitizers. The temporary population of 3000 workers in Deadhorse are 80% male, and like most guys, health and cleanliness rank low in their list of priorities. As well, Deadhorse is a dry town, as you can imagine the troubles that alcohol would cause in a place composed entirely of testosterone. Neda remarked that everyone was so friendly towards her. I told her she should try visiting a prison sometime too...

Portable drilling equipment, the weight and pressure on those tires are so immense, it can only travel a few mph without them overheating and exploding

The Dalton Highway ends a few miles short of the Arctic Ocean, so to reach it, we had to book a tour from one of the local operators. There was a 24-hour waiting period for them to clear our passports with the US government. Security is a major concern, which is why there is no public access to the water without an identity check and an escort. Luckily my unpaid speeding tickets in two states did not count as a National Security violation, and we hopped in a van the next morning to see Deadhorse and the Arctic Ocean.

Typical Lego trailer buildings in Deadhorse

We did see some construction of permanent buildings in Deadhorse amongst all the trailer structures. They learned the lessons of Dawson City and were using raised floor construction so as not to overheat the permafrost underneath.

A little Deadhorse humour - we are north of the timberline so these are the only trees we'll find up here. I like the nod to the gold and the Inukshok as well

The funky goggles that we are sporting are for our protection should a passing 18-wheeler spray us with bullet-shaped rocks. A lot of injuries on the slope are from exactly this and there are strict speed limits on passing other vehicles.

Coldfoot, er feet in the Arctic Ocean!

The air temperature was about 4-5C (40F), but the water felt much colder! We're told that some people actually go all the way in and swim in the dead of winter! Crazy!

Rusted metal oil barrel on the shores of Deadhorse beach

Driftwood on the beach

This driftwood is exactly like us! No, I don't mean that we are drifting around Alaska aimlessly, the wood is from Canada. Since there are no trees up here on the North Slope of the Brooks Range, the Arctic currents carry timber from the Yukon and the Northwest Territories and deposit it on the shores of Prudhoe Bay.

Deadhorse art - This was the site of the original discovery of oil in Prudhoe Bay. This statue is supposed to resemble the pilot flame burning on top of oil rigs

Immediately after the tour, we steeled ourselves for the long ride back down the Dalton Highway. It's been raining for the last two days straight without a break and I'm dreading the mud bog that we're going to have to ride through. Neda compounds my fears by reminding me that the road we will be riding will be very different now from the one we came up, so we really have no idea what to expect.

As if to drive the point home, the potholed stretch of road just south of Deadhorse is now besieged by hurricane-like winds. Our bikes are leaned sideways into the cross-winds as we try to find a dry line through the mud and washboard. Almost like it was a sentient (and malevolent) creature, the Dalton keeps throwing things at us, and I sense that it's somehow angry at us.

Very different scenery on the Atigun Pass

As we reach the Atigun Pass, most of the snow has melted, and the view of the gorge is tinged with low-lying reddish-brown vegetation. It is a much different road as all the pitfalls and dangers have moved on us. Even the construction areas are different, as crews finish one section and move on to another.

Atigun Gorge-ous

Approaching a deserted construction site

Almost all the construction sites are deserted as we are riding back south on the US Labor Day Monday. Although there are no watering trucks today, the rain has made the roads even slicker than on our run up. So many times I feel the bike sliding out from underneath me and I have to consciously suppress the survival instinct to roll off or brake, and goose the throttle instead. Neda's hand is hurting from the deathgrip on the handlebars. My sphincter has a deathgrip on the motorcycle seat.

The only tires worse than these would have been racing slicks

Mud at the Yukon Crossing

During our tour of the Arctic Ocean, our escort told us that August is the rainiest season in Northern Alaska. Something that we should have researched *BEFORE* coming up here!!! We are soooo unprepared. Just like the time we tried to ride up the Indian Himalayan mountains during monsoon season. We really don't make things easy on ourselves...

One thing that worked out for us was that we dodged mosquito season by a couple of weeks. During the summer, all the stagnant pools of water in the area provide a perfect breeding ground for billions of mosquitos who go on a rampage, swarming caribou and motorcyclists up and down the Dalton.

Neda likes construction sites because of the readily available port-a-potties...

During our research, we had read about the "700 yards of terror" on the Dalton. This can occur anywhere on the road and will absolutely frighten the shale out of a motorcycle rider. Our "700 yards" happened to lie right at the end. As the GPS counted down a few kms till we would hit the Elliot Highway, the mud on the road quickly multiplied. This was the Dalton's final assualt on us. My speed dropped to a crawl as the motorcycle wobbled in every direction but straight. Traction was non-existant. The high and heavy weight of all the laundry detergent and potato chips from the Prudhoe Bay Hotel threatened to topple my GS at every inch. I have never wanted to stop and give up on a motorcycle road, but those last few kms of thick and greasy, heavy mud on the Dalton had me seriously considering calling a tow-truck to come pick me up.

As we reached the safety of the pavement and broken asphalt, I heard Neda whoop over the intercom. There was much rejoicing as we celebrated having gone up *AND* down the Haul Road and arriving back in one piece!

Clean again!!!! Took us forever to power wash the CaCl2 and mud off in Fairbanks

 

[homme de fer]

Every new post somehow tops the last. Outstanding!

 

[PaoloC]

Every new post somehow tops the last. Outstanding!

I know!!

Gene and Neda wow!!

Im at work and I was wondering how your trip was going as it was a few days since I checked in.

Obviously you have my admiration and although I consider myself a pretty lucky guy in money and love.... Gene, you've got that, except your love rides a motorcycle!! ... and that makes things so much cooler!

I hope you guys realize how lucky you are to have each other on this journey (Gene should consider himself even more lucky) :lmao:


I know you guys are going by the seat of your pants, but I wish you guys had been better prepared for the last portion of the trip (especially with your tire choice)... There is too much to risk (nothing is worth your health IMO) in what you guys did. Definitely B A D A S S but please be careful.... I think with proper tires your journey would have been much more enjoyable.


safe travels from a stranger who is completely captivated by you guys...

P

 

[vrus]

I am watching round the world at the moment, those guys had it good! Support crew, free bikes etc. Anyways they just reached Magadan and wish you luck if you are going that route. Those "roads" there are insane.