Fairbanks to Fox AK

I had no major plans of traveling today.  A little wine and dine for my gal was on today's to do list.  I needed to put some time and money into my bike to make sure she doesn't leave me stranded.  I figure 2 weeks on the road and 6 thousand miles was an accomplishment enough for both of us to warrant some sort of a day off.

I made my way over to Lands End BMW/Harley/Honda ect. in Fairbanks AK.  These guys were one of 2 shops in town that had what I needed.  My bike was due for an oil change and needed tires pretty badly.  Two weeks ago I started the trip with an oil change and brand new tires but I've been having way too much fun with the roads on my way up here and my rear tire is pretty much toasted.  I wanted to put knobby tires on the bike for the Dalton Highway anyway.  The road is a nightmare when it rains and I had no idea what the weather was like on the other side of the mountain pass.  The thought of attempting the Dalton Highway with bald tires is pretty foolish and although I've been known for doing foolish things for the sake of a good time I wasn't going to tempt fate in the tundra.

I arrived at the bike shop with no appointment.  All the way up here I just kept putting it off for another day because I didn't really have a clue when I would be arriving or if I'd even make it at all.  Finally I just gave up thinking about it and decided I would roll the dice and just hope they had what I needed and time available to service my bike.  If they didn't I would just order the parts I needed and do it myself in a parking lot.  BMW's like mine are really popular up here so I wasn't taking too much of a risk.  

The service manager was still on his first cup of coffee when I strolled up to his counter.  He could tell just by looking at me that I rode a long way and had every intention to keep on heading north up to the Dalton.  We chatted a bit about my trip and the places I've been to and where I was heading.  He told me that he was going to be able to work me in and that he did have the tires I wanted but I would have to wait a while until he cleared the other bikes off the benches first.  I was glad he was able to work me in at all so I happily took a seat on a picnic bench outside.  

The bike shop was a nice place to spend the day.  Riders were coming and going most of the day to pick up parts or get work done on their bikes and I chatted with all of them about what they were riding and the places we've been.  I got some good intel on the Dalton and where to stop along the way to get gas and food.  The bike sales guy also gave me a map and told me about a couple of good campsites and hikes.  I told him I had no intention of hiking but he drew circles and arrows all over the map anyway.  I bought an oil cooler guard and rock guard and installed them both using the tool kit in my saddle bag right there in the parking lot to keep myself entertained.

I spent all day at the bike shop and even broke out my camp stove to heat up my lunch while I was there.  The guys working there must have seen people do this before because they paid no mind to what I was up to.  

By 5 oclock my bike was done and I was on my way to a small town about an hour north called Fox.  I pulled into a dive bar called the Howling Dog Saloon and asked the chubby girl behind the bar if there were any places to camp nearby.  She said I was in luck because they have cabins on the property for rent as long as I didn't need heat or running water for 45$ a night.   I booked a room and ordered a drink immediately.  By the looks of the town and the partrons wearing out the barstools I wasn't going to have the opportunity to be picky about my accomodations that night.  

I sat at the bar for a few hours drinking Jim Beam and cola by myself that night.  The bar had a juke box playing some pretty decent tunes and the girl pouring drinks had a heavy handed pour so I decided to tie one on and enjoy my last night of "civilization" for a while.  I texted a few friends but mostly thought about what the next few days had in store for me.  I have come so far and I've seen so many amazing things but I fully expected that the Dalton Highway would be the newest highlight of the trip.  It's about 450 miles each way of mostly unpaved gravel and dirt road across the northern most mountain range and down the tundra straight to Prudoe Bay where it meets and oil field service town called Deadhorse.  The only reason this road exsists is so that the heavily loaded 18 wheelers could haul supplies and equipment to and from the oil field.  These trucks run like frieght trains up and down the mountain passes and I've been warned numerous times to stay out of their way at all times.

After a few too many I stumbled throught the bushes and found my cabin.  If it wasn't so late and if I wasn't so drunk I would have asked for my money back and pitched my tent in the parking lot.  The place was a complete dump and I'm pretty sure the bugs were the only tennants this place has seen since the first gold rush.  My desire to pass out ultimately overcame my finickyness and I settled right into the dirty sheets for a good snore.

Whitehorse to Fairbanks ALASKA.

I left my fleabag motel in Whitehorse after the 3rd time the room service lady tried to get in the room.  I just wasn't ready to leave yet.  I was somewhere between exhausted and ready to go but I wanted to upload all the pictures and spend more time then usual writing about the last few days worth of adventuring.  I think I finally left the room shortly after 11am.  I had a long ride ahead of me but the sun hasn't been setting until 9pm out here so I figure I'll just ride later into the evening.  The roads haven't been terribly crowded with wildlife but I'd still rather be able to see them fully before I go crashing into them.

It hasn't been easy to slow down and put it all online but I'm glad I'm doing it.  I'll be able to sit back and read this in 25 years and hopefully recall the memories easier and realize what kind of kid I was at the age of 32.  I've gotten a lot of feed back from friends and strangers on this blog somehow motivating them to get outside and live more fully which makes me happy.  I'm glad people are reading about my shenanigans and finding it enjoyable to watch me race North.  It's also nice to get positive feed back from all you poor saps sitting in an office chair somewhere pretending to be productive for most of your day.  Don't worry about getting caught reading this at work.  Hopefully you'll get fired and have enough time to plan your own trip.  With any luck I'll be ready for another adventure by then and we can really kick up some dust.

Today's ride was nothing short of spectacular and sketchy all at the same time.  I gassed up on the way out of town because I wasn't sure where I was going and all the touristy parts of Canada seem to be south of me.  I am quickly leaving all the oil fields too so I figured I would have to be a little more conscious of my gas consumption for the whole day.  On average I've been using two tanks per day.  The Yukon Territory is pretty legendary for being remote and the last place I wanted to be on this trip was on the side of the road with my thumb out exchanging favors for gas in the middle of nowhere.

The roads through the Yukon are awful.  I guess the Canadian Government figured out that the only reason you're on these roads is to get the hell out of Canada and go spend money in Alaska so they must have stopped paving it properly in the mid 80's.  It was fun in a lot of sections but sketchy in others.  I would dive into a corner at full speed only to have to drop down a few gears and get hard on the brakes because the curve's exit was covered in gravel or had some giant frost heave.  Riding in gravel is absolutely ridiculous because you get absolutely no traction sometimes on both tires and other times one tire will stick and the other won't.  It's fun only when the back tire slides.  When the front tire slides you will immediately require a change of underwear.  

The frost heaves are fun but wear you down after a while.  I'm not sure what scientific process causes these giant buckles in the road but they will either drop you down into a launch ramp or launch you about a foot into the air without notice.  These ramps were awesome the first forty or so times but when you hit them on a turn or land with your front tire first instead of the back tire it can be a lot to handle.  Even if the bike wasn't fully loaded they'd still scare the bejezus out of me.  I've got too far to go to yard sale my gear all over the side of the road in the Yukon.  

I cut across the border at about 5 in the afternoon.  The border guard asked his obligatory guns, drugs, and alcohol questions and I was free to go within 3 minutes.  ALASKA! Finally.  It was nice to see paved roads and miles per hour signs instead of the gravel roads and metric system everywhere.  The roads improved immediately so I was back on the throttle trying to cut my way through the state into Fairbanks before the sun went down.  

I haven't seen a news report in 2 weeks and I also stopped looking at the weather maps on my phone sometime after Nebraska, so I really didn't know what I was driving into.  Rain or shine, I'm headed North.   War in Iran or not, I'm still headed North. So I haven't seen the point in keeping up with the fuss.  I rolled into some town just before Fairbanks and really wished I had checked the news.  On this occasion the fuss really did matter.   Apparently there were forest fires raging through the townships causing havoc on small communities and burning down hundreds if not thousands of acres of land.  I'm not sure if there was another way to get to Fairbanks but had I known about the fires I would have gladly taken a detour.  4 hours of looking through and breathing in heavy forest fire smoke will make you weary.  I couldn't get to Fairbanks fast enough but response crews were all over the highways doing whatever it is they do.

I pulled into Fairbanks at about 10pm.  The sun was still out but I didn't care.  I found a suitable campsite 3 blocks from a bike shop and passed out within minutes of setting my tent.  No dinner, no phone calls home, I just wanted sleep.

The sun never got lower.  It just crossed from West to East.

Jasper to Fort Nelson to Whitehorse

I woke up feeling great this morning.  The air was cold and I could see my breath inside the tent but I was warm enough in my sleeping bag.  I could hear squirrels and birds in all directions around me arguing over who gets to make breakfast and it sounded like it was about to get physical.

I laid there a while trying to recount the last 12 days and I couldn't help but feel like taking this trip was one of the best decisions of my life.  Yesterday's ride through the Canadian countryside really put me at ease with what I was doing out here and what was in store for me over the next 3 weeks of riding.  I've fallen into the groove of waking up each morning and riding until I'm content then pulling over someplace suitable.  I'm completely self-sufficient and free when it comes to where to spend the night, sustenance, and what time to start and stop riding.  I have no schedule and I don't have anywhere specific to be for weeks to come.  My days have been a complete departure from the real world which is exactly what I was looking for in the first place.  Even a regular vacation seems to be too much trouble at this point.  I wish I was a better writer so that I can explain this feeling.  "I am alive" is the best way I can sum up my thoughts.  Besides, even if I was a better writer you should still seek out your own adventure and your own clarity of mind.  All I can say is this feeling is sublime.

No lazy, sun kissed life was this, with nothing to do but loaf and be bored.  Here was neither peace, nor rest, nor a moment's safety.  All was confusion and action, and every moment life and limb was in peril.  Jack London

Philip, my new friend on the road, was hard at work with his bike by the time I rolled out of my tent.  He was tightening up his exhaust and checked his plugs.  There wasn't too much he could do out here with minimal tools and know how.  I definitely wasn't much help to him.

We chatted a while on the mechanical issues he was having and what his backup plan would be if the bike left him stranded.  It was a sad conversation, sort of like a friend (the bike) was dying and you had to tippy toe around the obvious fact that it's ending soon for them but you get to keep going.  I left him alone a while to wrench on his bike while he mulled it over.  I knew he had to turn back but I wasn't going to make that call for him.  I've been stranded before by vehicles in my own home town and even then it was a major hassle.  I don't know what Canadian AAA costs but I'm sure neither of us could afford it.

Ultimately he decided that it was the smart choice to head back to Spokane, Washington.  The bitter truth that his adventure was ending left me with an awful feeling for his sake and for two of my own reasons.  I had enjoyed riding with a buddy all day yesterday and was looking forward to continuing North into the unknown with some one to share the experiences with.  Also, I was overcome with the fear that something out of my control could end my own adventure before I was ready for it to end.

I set off a few hours after Phillip left camp.  I wanted some time to relax on my own in the camp without cars or people everywhere trying to take pictures next to me or run me off the road.   I had a big  600 mile day ahead of me and I wasn't in a rush to start it.  There was a lot on my mind and I didn't want to rush thoughts while riding.

The ride to Fort Nelson wasn't nearly as scenic as yesterday's ride through the parks.  Somehow I had made my way out of the mountains and back into the prairies.  Canada's prairies are a lot like our own back home but I was still glad to see them.

I was jamming to my iPod on my 30th mile of perfectly straight road when I saw a heard of giant buffalo behind a dilapidated fence.  I haven't seen a buffalo in a really long time so I pulled over for a picture. They were about 70 yards away from the fence and most of them were facing the opposite direction so I started to kick dirt, growl and grunt.  I'm sure I made myself look like a complete jackass with this display but I wanted to get their attention and honking the horn on the bike didn't work at all.

My Tatanka mating dance must have been spot on because the biggest baddest buffalo in the bunch shoves his way through the pack and starts picking up speed right at me.  He was snorting and slobbering all over the place as he continued to pick up even more speed.  I felt the ground shudder beneath me from his 2 thousand pound frame punishing the soil below him.  This guy was a giant and I had no place to go.  The fence I was standing behind would easily topple if he kept on coming.  I shrieked and ran closer to my bike as if that would do anything for me.  The giant beast came to a skidding stop right in front of the really old and weak-looking fence and began to kick dirt around, stomping his horns into the ground and grunting at me.  I couldn't help but laugh at myself for taunting a giant beast and then shrieking like a little girl with a spider just as I turned and ran. My Tatanka mating dance worked like a charm and I got the pictures I really wanted.   I'm just really grateful for that fence.

I rolled into Ft. Nelson pretty late in the evening.  It was 9pm and the sun was just starting to set.  I checked into a Motel 8 to recharge and get a healthy meal.  I've spent too many consecutive nights in the woods and wanted to sleep without building myself a shelter.   A large hawaiian pizza later I was passed out cold.

The next day I decided to go to Whitehorse.  I got an early start and hoped the roads would be more scenic then yesterday's farm and oil field service company shop extravaganza.

The views today were spectacular.  Blue lakes and snowy mountain peaks and a seemingly endless horzion at times.   The roads were unbelievable as well, curvy and fast in all the right places.  I'm pretty sure I spent more time on the sides of my tires then I did on the bottom.  Great day on the road.

In Canada there are signs everywhere for wildlife.  Watch out for this, watch out for that... yadda yadda yadda.  They go on and on for miles.  The funny part is that I haven't seen any animals standing next to their signs yet.  The one time I saw an elk it was standing near a moose sign.  The moose are no where to be seen and all the other animals are confused.  Someone really needs to talk to these animals and or get all the signs straightened out.

I was hauling through the countryside at full speed when I saw 2 signs for buffalo and 2 signs that said stay in your vehicle.  I fully expected to see anything but buffalo but all of a sudden I saw a giant hulk of a buffalo slowly walking down the road.  This guy remembered his 'always stand next to your sign' class in Canadian grade school.  He was coming right at me so I pulled over about 100 yards in front of him and shut off the bike.  He saw me pull over but just kept on walking straight towards my bike.  I immediately recalled yesterday's experience with the Tatanka dance and the charging buffalo but I figured that if I didn't do the dance all would be safe.  Besides, either way I'm screwed. I hadn't seen a fence for 30 miles.  I jumped off the bike and grabbed my camera and stepped away.  I wanted the ultimate photo and I was willing to risk getting tree'd by a buffalo.   He walked by slowly and split the distance between my bike and me without a second look, and I got the picture I wanted.

The rest of the day was an endless stream of curvy roads and scenic vistas.  I must have smashed 10 thousand bugs with my helmet today. I had to pull over to clean it 5 times in 3 hrs.

Later guys,  I hope to be in Alaska by tomorrow.