North to Alaska!
Hi Everyone,
I'm in Prince Rupert, BC, at an Internet cafe w/ free wifi if I buy lunch. It's definitely a local hangout. I'm having a GREAT time! This is my chance to catch up on sleep, laundry and e.mail. I was here 4 years ago so have done the tourist thing but I might revisit the museum. I'm waiting for the ferry tomorrow at 6:00pm to go to Haines, AK.
Saw my first black bears yesterday! Rode in the rain but it wasn't the worst, it was only annoying. Smells: fresh cut wood on logging trucks, pine scent when the rain starts and falls on the moist earth, a unidentified tropical scent in the country. I asked about it - you won't believe this! It's an additive to gasoline to cover the smell of exhaust. Don't know yet which company does that. I wonder if my bike would smell like plumeria?
Traveling solo I meet people. Bikers mostly but also locals where I do business, other travelers from all over the world who think I'm either crazy or supremely brave. It's a toss-up. I met a guided group of Brazilians (men) who asked where my husband was, why isn't he with me and how is it he lets me travel alone? Some things I don't bother to explain. Cultural differences. I especially love that my bike is better than theirs. When I start my engine it blows them away.
Gas is roughly $1.29 Canadian per liter for regular and up to $1.49 or so for supreme; the bike needs supreme. After conversion that translates to about US$7 per gallon. I've ridden 2200 miles so far. It won't take me as long as expected to get from Haines to Anchorage so I'm hoping to spend a day in Haines as a tourist. I love gold rush history and it's big in that area. Even so, I'll get to Anchorage 6 days early. That means I can do a bear tour and maybe a day trip out of the city (Wasilla to see Lisa? of Ice Road Truckers or to Palmer for the day) to somewhere the group isn't going. And the ride home could be shorter than expected.
I had my first 600 mile day on Wednesday. It wiped me out. There's no plan for doing THAT again any time soon. My butt still hurts and I've never had that problem. Four hundred miles is a big day, I can do 500 if it's fast and easy. At least I know I can do 600 if I absolutely have to.
It's been raining and overcast in BC for 2 months, temps are 10-15 degrees below normal. Rivers are flooding, orchards are underwater, houses washing away. It was so cold in April and May that crops couldn't be planted until June and now those crops are drowning. No sun, no germination, no sign of let-up. The sun came out for two hours the other day for the first time in 3 weeks. It was headline news, no exaggeration.
Hey folks... I'm in Anchorage! I made it... and in good form.
The bike is covered with bugs and mud from the road work. My gear isn't exactly clean either.
On the Alaska Marine Highway I met all sorts of people on their life journeys. For some elders seeing Alaska is on their bucket list, for a young couple a new job has called them north to start a new life and for one Chicago couple in their late 40s it's a journey in search of a new place to settle. They sold everything, quit their jobs (luckily both are very employable) gave up their apartment, bought a Subaru and a pop-top and hit the road. Portland, OR is so far their first choice. One elder couple from the Netherlands had traveled halfway around the world in a homemade camper van to see Alaska; an Amish family (parents with NINE daughters!) and their driver came from Ohio in a small bus to see the midnight sun in Prudhoe Bay. Several bikers were on board and a father/son team from Pennsylvania planned to ride to Prudhoe Bay before the son starts his freshman year at college. It was an inspiring group. Since then I've met many more bikers from distant parts making my journey seem small. It's humbling.
Except for women riding two-up with their hubbies and I haven't seen any women on bikes. I seem to be the only woman riding and on top of that, solo. As it turns out, I'm the only woman in the group going out on tour next week. Three other men join; two from the Bay Area and one from Abu Dhabi along with John and Ed, our ride leaders.
The ride between Glennallen and Palmer, AK this morning was spectacular. There was high overcast with possible rain but the mountains in the distance were in bright sunlight. The snowy peaks sparkled, the green slopes glowed.
It has been raining so consistently (Prince Rupert has rain 300+ days a year) that I bought some rain shoes. There was only one design available: black, dark gray, light gray and silver... plaid. What a hoot! and I actually like them. If there had been another choice I wouldn't haven't bought these and would have missed out on the fun.
There is so much daylight it's disorienting; it never gets darker than dusk and it's hard to go to bed. The light changes fast and by the time I head home August 24th there will be about 6 hours of true dark in Anchorage.
Gravel: There was construction between Haines and Anchorage and the roads have sometimes long gravel patches. A couple construction areas have pilot cars which makes it easier - no pressure from idiots behind me in speeding motorhomes. And bikes get to move to the front of the line because of the dust. YAY!
This is the land of Rocky and Bullwinkle - many moose and lots of squirrels; moose mom and baby in the road and the big guys in the lakes eating the water grasses. The baby was as tall as mama but only about 1/3 as long. He looked so silly with those long legs and HUGE knobby knees. Squirrels run back and forth across the road, tails high, playing chicken with the bike. Porcupines in the road! If you see one, go around, they won't move and it's one way to get a flat that I hadn't considered. Whales - dozens! - in the bay just out of Petersburg, AK; eagles and bears seen along the shore from the ferry.
After several days of marginal hotels I'm in the Anchorage Sheraton; it's top end. It makes up for the grubby carpets, dirty sinks, plastic covered pillows, lack of towels and sometimes no TP. I'm on the private floor with comp meals, lots of clean towels and a carport for the bike. Ahhhhh!
Greetings again from Anchorage ---
It's Saturday evening (I think) and the group arrives tomorrow so that must be Sunday. Monday we'll will head out on the AK/YT tour. I am SO ready to go!
It was a week ago but my ride into Anchorage was absolutely beautiful, especially the last 100 miles or so on the Glenn Highway between Glennallen and Palmer. The sky was gray but the distant mountains were in bright early morning sun, glowing green with craggy snowy peaks. It was incredible! Then it rained. Oh, well.
After the crummy hotels on the way up I can finally sit at the desk and write without putting a towel on the chair that doesn't bottom out. This room is luxurious and it has a CLEAN CARPET. The bathroom is clean, too. Everything is new including a 46" HD TV. There is a private lounge with a view, wifi, breakfast and evening appetizers (read: dinner) included. What a difference.
Last time I rode this area was in 2000, it was my first time back on a bike after my accident and I was terrified the entire time. Now that I'm on the same roads in many places with 11 years more experience I wonder at that horrific fear and marvel at what it took for me to get on that bike. Things here haven't changed so much, but I have.
One of my nightmare experiences in 2000 was the Whittier tunnel; it's 2.5 miles long, had just opened to car traffic and wasn't paved but covered with diamond plate; wet and lethal. I was terrified and it made me sick to my stomach. It's been 11 years, I rode it today on my way to Whittier for the glacier tour; it's still not paved but it has a better surface and was drier. It was still nerve wracking but not nearly as bad as it felt in 2000. Eleven years of experience has changed me as a rider at least some, I still have a lot to learn and incrementally I'll get there. And my bike has been immensely improved with replaced parts and some really great upgrades thanks to Big Will. It's a better bike allowing me to be a somewhat better rider.
Today I rode through that same tunnel to Whittier to catch a boat for a glacier tour (glaciers are beautiful and noisy! Thunderous cracking as the ice cracks before calving and then a big splash and ka-boom as the ice crashes into the water) and then took the tunnel back. This is when I had my first "OH, S..T" moment. I was to go first in the tunnel followed by an employee so he could slow the cars behind me. He said to go, or so I thought, but as I entered the tunnel he came behind me waving and honking. I stopped, he said to turn around and get out. I couldn't turn around, no room, and there is no reverse. He said there was a train coming. OK, here it is--- Oh, S..T! I managed to back out with his help but in the process he almost pushed me into the tracks and tipped me over. (Non-riders should never pretend to know how a bike balances). It didn't help my nerves any, my mouth was pretty dry. It was all OK, the train came through and I went on my way. Whew!
It's time to move on. I've been here a week and I've been antsy since day three. The day trips I've done were good, very nice riding and it was good to get out of Dodge; flying to Redoubt Bay on a float plane to see bears feed in the river (lots of bears! really fun), riding to Palmer with a visit to the Musk Ox Farm, riding to Whittier for a boat tour to see the glaciers. After doing the usual tourist things; city tour to get my bearings (no pun intended), going to the sled dog show (disappointing except that holding the 18 day old puppies was cool). Downtown Anchorage has all the tourist crap: offensive t-shirts ("I keep missing my ex but I'm working on my aim") and bumper stickers, tourist junk stores, overpriced "adventure" tours.
Anchorage is a town for passing through. People come for a day, maybe two, make their connections and go on their way to other true Alaskan adventures. I'm done.
Being a solo traveler I easily meet people. Some really interesting people on interesting journeys have crossed my path as well as a woman from Santa Barbara! I'm having breakfast with two riders from Anchorage (Alice and Denny) who were on the South American adventure with me 6 years ago. That was the trip from hell and no one gets it as much as someone who was there with you. I still haven't seen any other women riders.
Some notes on being here:
Most days I don't know what day it is - well, it's today, of course - so I can only plan for tomorrow or the day after.
Gas prices are more reasonable in Anchorage; premium is in the $4.19 range, down from well over $6 in BC.
There is no helmet law in AK.
The Anchorage Army/Navy Surplus store is the real deal; extra heavy duty clothing ice road trucker style.
So far I haven't seen any mosquitoes - yet.
It's 10:30 pm and the sun is still high. Sunset this week is around 11:00, it's full light until almost 11:20 and dusk until sunrise which is around 4:00. By next week sunset will be around 10:15 and there will be about an hour of full darkness before sunrise at around 4:45. The change is fast; daylight looses about 6-7 minutes a day. In the few days I've been here I can see that the afternoon sun has changed position.
The air above Anchorage is abuzz with small planes going every which way with the big commercial airliners. There are three airports in the city; Lake Hood for float planes (no boats allowed), the international airport and a private/charter small plane airstrip downtown. Planes take off from that air strip heading towards the hotel, climb just higher than the top floor (my room!) and bank to the side. It's nuts. Flying is the main form of transportation in AK, one in 5 residents have planes. From my floor you can see planes taking off from all three airports. Lake Hood is the busiest float plane airport in the US.
In my city wanderings I came across a summertime noon "music in the park" concert. It was a warm day, I took off my socks! Yes, fashionistas, I was swearing socks with my TEVAs; very comfortable! Where is the fashion police when you need them?
Earthquake: At 6am (what day is it?) there was a 5.4 shaker centered a few miles south of Talkeetna (near Denali); I felt it on the top floor. This wasn't the first I've felt since arriving, there was a shake my first day. Apparently there are about 1000 in this area each day. The Good Friday earthquake in 1964 is a big tourist attraction: earthquake museum, a film with a giant vibrator, souvenirs, Earthquake Park....
Well, I finally know what day it is; it's Monday. I finally asked. It was so nice not knowing or even caring for a while. Since we'll be back in Anchorage later this week and I need to make plans for regular bike maintenance and do some other errands before going out on the Prudhoe Bay run it's handy to know the day.
All week long the group has been wondering at how the people on those tour busses do it. None of us likes the idea of sitting hermetically sealed behind glass and we're all swearing (over our dead bodies) never to take a cruise or bus tour. We like the freedom, the fresh air and the adventure of the bike. Those tourists probably think WE'RE the crazy ones.
The commercialism is disgusting. It's all about how to get tourists to spend and buy, buy, buy. Princess Cruises and Holland America have taken over the tour industry in Alaska; they own the hotels, the ships and busses and often own most of the small "local" businesses in the towns they visit. Or they demand a cut of the sales in order to bring the busses by. The local argument is that without the cruise lines there would be nothing. The cruise lines have clout and push other visitors aside: the other day we got bumped upon arrival from top end reserved rooms to the worst the hotel had to offer. It was a central office action, the hotel desk clerk had nothing to do with it, the hotel was full, she couldn't change it and we were stuck.
Having said that, I took a river boat trip today with about 12 bus loads worth of people. I got jostled by rude, pushy seniors demanding to be first and in front and once was whacked in the shins with a cane by a nasty old man. I was doing nothing except standing in line. I stood clear of these folks and desperately promised myself to never be like them. Even with that, the boat trip was fun, I learned a lot about the native people and how they lived. The best part was the Alaskan sled dog kennel. Go figure.
I walked to the Fairbanks HD store. It was drizzling so I wore my black, gray and silver plaid rubber rain shoes, the ones I got in Prince Rupert. Very snappy! The last time I was here was in 2000 when I was on moto crew for the Alaska AIDS Vaccine Ride. One of the other moto members gave me a bike bell from this store. I still have that bell, it has made a complete circle and come back to Fairbanks. As I was leaving the store a torrential downpour started so I waited a few minutes. The sales woman (get this!) offered me a ride back to my hotel.
John and Ed are taking very good care of us on our bikes and that includes daily bike checks, even mine, and giving me any heads up necessary. They won't do anything to my bike without asking but if something comes up they'll let me know and help me if they can.
We had another great ride this morning from Fairbanks to Denali. It was cold, in the mid-high 40s and warmed some until we went to altitude, but I have that great hot gear. The guys were pissing and moaning about being cold. Poor fellas. It was a quiet ride compared to recent days. After lunch we rode into Denali National Park. The mountain was in the clouds, it rained on and off, the sun came out occasionally and the views were spectacular. Ed's wife, Patricia, joined us for dinner. She owns a small gift shop in the independent group of stores across from the hotels. She has excellent taste and her store is anything but the same old thing. The Denali HD store was disappointing.
It's the last day of this tour so it has to be Thursday. The other day Ed commented that he could feel the seasonal change in the air and today I could smell it. In Denali it's COLD; 40 degrees. We left Denali in the clouds and rain and rode down the Susitna Valley into the warm sun, mountains on both sides topped with fresh snow. Mt McKinley (Denali) was clear! We could see it and we're part of the 30% club; about 3 in 10 who visit will see the mountain cloudless. The day was very warm (65-70) and sunny. Keep your fingers crossed that this holds for the next week, until I get back from Prudhoe Bay.
Back in Anchorage at the same hotel I realize that we've lost about 3 hours of daylight since I arrived; sunset is 10:15, sunrise is 6:12. There is real dark at night now.
The bike is in for it's 5000k servicing, tomorrow is laundry day and I'll take lots of naps until the new group goes out on Tuesday.
We had our farewell dinner tonight. It wasn't anything different than the other nights except that I got my 75 day pin from Ayres. That means I've accumulated 75 days of riding with Ayres Adventures and I get a discount on my next trip. Fred, Bob and Bruce are very funny, we had lots of good laughs this week and enjoyed the ride together. But... after dinner NONE of them said good-bye to me and they all exchanged contact info with each other across the table. I was invisible. It doesn't matter, I have nothing in common with any of them and even if they are nice guys on some level I'll never see them again, but it was very rude. Ed and John, our tour leaders, were aware of this behavior all week and John always made sure that when I was interrupted mid-sentence by these creeps to include me so I could at least finish my thought. They were fun to ride with but there is no love lost. Groups are a crap shoot.
The three riders left early today and I didn't get up to see them off at breakfast. After their rudeness last night I didn't feel it necessary. As long as I can step beyond the circle and laugh at their chest thumping and bloviations it's OK.
Day 1: Anchorage to Fairbanks, AK. 420 miles
We have our bikes, mine is an F650GS. It's different from my Harley and although it's a good bike, goes like hell and will do the haul road, the seat hurts after the first half hour (BMW is notorious for bad seats), the grips are too small for my hands and the windscreen is a joke. Somehow there is a big wind that comes around and hits my throat and chest and it goes down my neck. I had to wear my rain jacket as a windbreaker to stay warm.
We had a long ride to Fairbanks. We rode the Richardson Hwy and I remember it from being on moto crew for the first Alaska AIDS Vaccine Ride in 2000. I saw the gravel pit campsite and the Richardson and Denali Hwys intersection pit stop. As always, the scenery is majestic; the river, mountains and huge clouds. There's no point in taking pictures, it's way too grand to capture. You have to see it for yourself.
At our gas stop in Delta Junction I had absolutely the worst BLT I've ever had in my life. After I ordered it the girl asked if I wanted it on toast. My response; "well yes, it usually comes that way". Then she asked if I wanted lettuce and tomato with it. It cost me $7.50. I was hungry, it was horrible.
The new group is very quiet and I'm included in conversations. It's a nice change.
DAY 2: to Fairbanks to Coldfoot, AK; 250 miles.
Big day! The Dalton Hwy which was originally called the haul road is a construction road built from north of Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay to haul supplies to Prudhoe Bay for the construction of the Alyeska Pipeline. The pipeline goes 1000 miles all the way from Prudhoe Bay to the port of Valdez.
We started on the Dalton Hwy right after a water truck came down and turned around to wet the dirt we were to ride on. Oh, S..T! I could see John's face as the truck turned around right in front of us before we had a chance to pull onto the road. Mud. Just what we needed. We got through it but towards the end of that section the dirt was deep and soft and I thought I was going to go down. The mud was deep and slick, I was on a hill and couldn't find a clear track. There was only one other small stretch of mud after that but we had mostly really nice hard pack dirt, some gravel and long stretches of pavement. There were times when I couldn't tell if I was on hard pack or a paved surface. The pavement wasn't always in the best condition, potholes, frost heaves and broken road, but it was better than we had expected. There wasn't much traffic, only a few trucks, almost no cars. Our bikes were covered with mud and twice we stopped and cleaned the lights. The back lights were the worst.
Carlson's Arctic Circle Trading Post is the real thing. We stopped there for coffee and to use the "deluxe" outhouses. The couple running it homesteaded the land in the 70s, had 5 kids, fostered or adopted 17 more and run the store.
We crossed the Yukon again, the bridge was about 1/4 mile long heading downhill and the surface was wide wooden planks. Fortunately it was dry. We had lunch at the Yukon River Camp where the Alyeska pipeline crosses the river (this time the BLT was really good), gassed up and walked to the visitor center to see the pipeline and get a closer look at the bridge. A woman coming out of the restaurant asked me where I was going, I told her and she cheered. She was particularly excited to see a woman doing this. This unexpected support from a stranger was wonderful.
Later in the afternoon we stopped at the Arctic Circle for the usual tourist photo of each of us by the sign.
Once again all I can say is that this place is huge and stunningly beautiful. Fall colors are just beginning and the fragrance of autumn is in the air. We rode the Roller Coaster (long uphill climb, 2-3 miles) followed by a long downhill (another 2-3 miles). At first the downhill wasn't too steep but you couldn't see the bottom until you got further along the road suddenly got steeper. At the bottom the road immediately started up again, steeply at first, then less steep as the top neared. It was dirt but thankfully it was dry; in the rain it's treacherous. No shoulder, no side rails, just a drop off. YEOWW!
Coldfoot is on the map because it was an old mining town from the late 1800s. It was where prospectors got cold feet and turned around. We're staying at Coldfoot Camp, a truck stop with truckers quarters (basic, clean and not fancy) and the food is good home cooking. The quarters are dormitory style except that each room has it's own shower. It's deadly quiet outside except when the dog kennel next door gets going,or when the person in the room next door has the music too loud. Everything seems to have quieted down for the night.
DAY 3: Coldfoot to Deadhorse (Prudhoe Bay), 240 miles.
We started out on 22 miles of bran spanking new paved road. Without warning the pavement ended and we had packed dirt, gravel, the occasional older pavement, packed dirt... and so on. Late in the day we had about 60 miles of very good packed road surface that sometimes looked like blacktop. It was dirt but I rode it like pavement. That's the way it was most of the day with the occasional small construction zone. The best part? No rain.
We crossed the Brooks Range foothills in early light and rode up the Chandalar Shelf (gravel), a cut in the side of a mountain for road crews to work on the pipeline. Everywhere we rode the pipeline was only a few yards away. A few miles later we crossed the (in)famous Atigun Pass (again, gravel) and the continental divide to the north slope. There is no human life out there north of the mountains until you get to Deadhorse; only grizzlies, packs of wolves, caribou herds, mountain sheep and squirrels. Silly squirrels; they indecisively stand in the middle of the road and scramble when a truck or bike came by. Many don't make it.
In the afternoon it got COLD. The high temp was 40 degrees and riding at 60 mph the chill factor brought it to 25 degrees. Even with hot gear I was cold. We crossed the Alaskan Tundra - miles and miles and miles of flat nothingness.
At the end of the day we all made it to Deadhorse. I don't care how cold I was, I achieved my goal. For the two Aussies who have ridden off cliffs, down ravines and up the other side, across creeks and over boulders, this ride is a piece of cake. Not for me; it's a big challenge but I have to say it's definitely getting easier.
We're staying at the Caribou Hotel, a dorm style facility used mostly by the oil company crews and execs. The buildings look like construction trailer offices except there are several wings off the main building and each room as a small but full bathroom. Again it was cafeteria food and basic rooms. There's a TV! And internet is available! There is nothing to do here, no alcohol allowed (big security concerns) and except for going outside for fresh air, I wonder how this compares to living on the space station. John needed our passports for the tour tomorrow. He had to submit copies 24 hours in advance so security checks could be done on us all and we could get our tickets.
Once again, I'm exhausted and it's time for bed. Tomorrow we repeat today's ride the other direction and in 4 days we'll be back in Anchorage. With any luck the weather will hold and skies will stay dry, please only for the next two days. Just get the group back down the Dalton on dry roads. After that I don't care how much it rains.
DAY 4: Deadhorse back to Coldfoot
I'm almost too tired to write. The bike a BMW (F650GS) is tiring; it's windy and uncomfortable, not at all the comfort of my Harley so the days feel longer but it's perfect for this road and I'm glad to be on it.The dirt, gravel, construction and mud is a lot of work. Today was day the 3rd of 4 ride days on the Dalton, heading back to Coldfoot. So far the weather has been perfect, we hope for another good day tomorrow.
We started the day with a tour of the Prudhoe Bay oil field facilities - from the outside. It's called the Ocean tour because the bus stops at an old dock, lets us out and we can touch the Arctic Ocean. It's way too cold to dip into - low 40's - but we all stood at the edge and maybe put a finger in. After 911 the inside tours were canceled and now full security is required before anyone can even get on the bus and go through the checkpoint. We were shown a propaganda film to explain the workings of the area and we were told how much care was put into preserving the wildlife and preventing spills and contamination. Maybe, maybe not.
The bus drove for several miles - the place is huge - and we saw the desal plant, several drilling rigs and pumps, several fire stations (each oil company has their own) and saw rolling housing. It moves with the drilling, while you sleep. We couldn't see much because of the ice fog. Our driver told us stories of polar bears and their antics. He also told us about survival and the totally dark winters. Life here sounds more like science fiction and life on another planet, or like living on a space ship.
Before leaving the area we went into Deadhorse to the general store. There is a small post office, a gas station of sorts and the Caribou Hotel (where we stayed).
It was 25 degrees when we got up, the bikes were frosted. After 10:00 when we left, the temp was about 35 and the bikes had been in the sun so were warmed. Without internet I can't look up the chill factor but I know it was cold. I used all my hot gear. What a thrill - hot pants! After a while the bike battery wasn't up to the task, later in the morning the bike wasn't starting well. I had to disconnect the hot pants, by then it was warm enough.
We headed back down the Dalton, over the Atigun Pass again, down the Chandalar Shelf, came upon the usual road construction (watered roads, scrapers and lots of slick mud) and we are again staying in the same truck stop in Coldfoot as the other night. There's nowhere else. Except that the walls are paper thin and you know everyone's private habits, it's actually kind of cool.
Only one more day on the Dalton; about 190 miles to the end (or beginning) of the Dalton. Seventy five more miles gets us to Fairbanks for lunch. Then on to Denali. Then I will have done it and can begin thinking about the ride home.
DAY 5: Coldfoot to Fairbanks (250 miles) then to Denali (136 miles).
It was going to be a long day so we left at 7:00 to ride to the end of the Dalton (the first 190 miles). As luck would have it, we rode into rain, lots of it. It wasn't a heavy rain but it was steady and it looked as though it had be raining several hours. So far we'd been lucky with three days of good weather. The Dalton was wet and slick, the gravel was slippery but manageable, the dirt became as slippery as oil. It was cold and windy to boot. Passing semis sprayed mud all over and one time it was so bad I couldn't see through my face plate. Deep fog covered the passes, I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead and no one could see me. We rode the "roller coaster" again, this time in slippery yellow mud. It was a long way down before going a long way up. Every inch being upright was a good inch. Inches turned into miles and eventually we got to the end.
The parking lot at the Yukon River Camp where we stopped for gas was so muddy that our boots became caked with 2 inches of mud chunks; my boots are a mess. Our tires were also mud caked. Mud ran down the back of my rain gear, both jacket and pants. I had mud inside my helmet and on my hair, my glasses have a brown film on them. My wrists ache, my thumbs hurt, my forearms are sore, my shoulders and neck are stiff.
Well, I DID IT! I F.....G DID IT! I rode the Dalton Highway all the way to Deadhorse (Prudhoe Bay) and back.
Coming off the Dalton was a huge high and a great relief after the 5 hours of hell in the rain and mud. Fortunately, I never went down. The only incident of the trip was that one of our group put his foot in a hole when stopping, lost his balance and fell over. He's bruised but OK.
When we first started up the highway we all took pictures under the sign as haul road (Dalton Hwy) virgins. Today I stood under the Dalton Hwy sign and gave it the finger. Yep, got the photo. I made it through without incident but not without a few nervous moments. In the sun we had seen the best of the road and now with the rain, the worst. We are not haul road virgins any more.
As I was walking around I got cheers and kudos from all sorts of people. Women in particular seemed to be excited about my adventure. I was stared at because of the mud on my gear and stopped on the street. At dinner John gave a toast to my endeavor. On top of this, I'm the first woman to do this ride with Ayres Adventures. I've heard stories of a few woman who have ridden the Dalton but so far they are just ghosts. It never occurred to me when I signed up that there wouldn't be other women in the group. Except for a couple of women riding two up who I met way back in the beginning, I STILL haven't seen another woman on a motorcycle yet this trip.
We finished the day in Denali. From here on out everything will feel anti-climactic.
After coming off the Dalton: The next 60 miles (to lunch) were some of the most satisfying in my life. I was tired, hungry and my feet were cold. I caught up with the others at the restaurant and we all celebrated our success. I was more in a state of disbelief than anything.
My rain gear long ago turned into wind gear and then to mud gear. It also still happens to work in the rain. As a matter of course I put it on every morning before going out. The pants will be toast by the time I get home, there are small tears and tiny holes around the bottom. The only part of me that got wet on the haul road were my feet. I could feel the water slowly seeping into my boots through the stitching and drop by drop into my socks. I could feel the water wicking up my feet to my ankles. My boots and socks, lower part of my leather pants and the bottom of my rain pants were soaked and muddy. My feet were FREEZING! But I didn't have time to worry about them, it took my full attention and then some to stay on the road. I never have to do this (the Dalton) again.
The fall colors are starting and autumn fragrance is in the air. Ten days ago at Denali everything was green, now it's all copper, red and gold. I noticed the different scents in the air as we rode south and actually were among trees, not the arctic desert. And it is a desert: very little precipitation, most snow drifts in from high winds and the winter temps average -40. Add wind chill..... YIKES! And polar bears...
Out of Palmer today we went up Hatcher Pass Road as far as the Independence Mine. It's an old gold mine from 1906- the 1940's with many original buildings. I was able to go into one of the dorms with a school room on the upper floor. The ride up was beautiful, through a narrow canyon with an extremely picturesque river and rock walls. The beauty still surprises me.
At 9:45 in Anchorage it's fully dark. When I first got here sunset was around 11:30 and there was light all night. The other day in Deadhorse it was light all night.
Monday was our last day of riding and now we're back in Anchorage. I picked up my bike from Denny's house and he'd been working in his garage. He'd been sanding cabinets for the new kitchen and my bike was covered with sawdust. He got his compressor out and "dusted" the bike for me.
John keeps congratulating me and telling me how proud he is of me that I successfully rode the Dalton. He knew what the challenge was for me. We both googled "women motorcycle riders on the Dalton Highway" and found a German woman who had ridden it in 2009. We're looking for more. There are a few, not many, and I'm curious to know who they are.
We had our farewell dinner tonight and this time EVERYONE said good-bye and exchanged contact info. This group is SO different.
Tuesday morning (tomorrow) I'll be up early, loading the bike, having breakfast as soon as the dining room opens and hope to be out of the parking lot by 6:30 on my way to Tok, AK. It's my first ride day on the homeward leg. This ride isn't over, I still have 3500+ miles to go before getting to Santa Barbara.
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Santa Barbara Riders | 430 Pepperdine Ct. | Santa Barbara, CA 93117
M@M Marilyn