Alaska: Day 10 (14 June 09)
What to say about the Haul Road? I'd heard so many horror stories. Riders have destroyed their machines on it. Riders have crashed and died on it. The truckers will shatter your windshield with rocks as they pass, the road graders will churn the gravel up so loose that you'll sink to your axles, wolves will chase you, your bones will bleach in the sun by the side of the road... Yeah.
I'd like to say it was difficult and that it lived up to all the hype. I'm not saying it was easy. It was definitely a challenge, but either I'm a better rider than I thought I was or the GS is just that capable of a machine (or some combination of those two), but it really wasn't that bad. I can't recall being particularly out of shape at any point in time. Faced it all. The gravel. The mud. The road graders. The truckers. All of it. Came out unscathed.
Most difficult section was probably Oil Spill Hill -- I think that was the name anyway. It was pouring rain on us, so it was plenty wet and slick there. If gay arctic possums required an anal lubricant (everyone knows they come pre-lubed), Oil Spill Hill is where they'd go, dragging their little possum asses up and down the hill all day like a dog scooting on the carpet. It was that slick. Steady on the throttle. Up on the pegs. Easy on the bars and just motor on up, shifting weight as necessary to keep the bike from wandering too much. Piece of cake.
It helped, of course, that we'd dumped most of our gear in Wiseman. I was just carrying a sleeping bag (for emergencies), a first aid kit, and my tools. Danny dragged along his spare tire, just in case, and his tools. And we were both carrying a 1 gallon gas can.
We rode up there. Looked around. Filled up our tanks. And we rode back. Didn't even bother to get something to eat. Neither of us needed our extra gallon of fuel, although the GS's computer -- which provides the rider with an "Oh shit!" countdown as it's running out of gas -- told me I could go just 11 more miles when I pulled up at the pump in Deadhorse.
Was it a good ride? I've had better. Some of the scenery was spectacular, but a good majority of it was just plain boring. It was incredibly hard on the bikes and I'm not sure the GS will EVER come clean, especially the headers ($20 spent at a car wash later in Fairbanks barely made an impact on the baked on calcium chloride crap). For that reason alone, I wouldn't do it again. I'll spend more time at home when this is all over tearing the bike apart and cleaning it than I actually spent riding up there and back.
Photos:
Heading north on the infamous Haul Road.
One side or the other of Atigun Pass.
Here comes Danny.
And there he goes.
Famous rock formation: Finger Mountain. It points the way back to Fairbanks.
Danny's impressed.
Atigun Pass.
You know Comet and Cupid, Donner and Blitzen...
These puppies were everywhere.
I mean everywhere.
"Who you lookin' at?!?!"
Wooly Boogers (otherwise known as Musk Ox). Unfortunately, they would not come close for a better photo op.
The GS ... coated in Haul Road crapola that quickly turned to cement.
The photo everyone rides up there before, the famous Deadhorse, Alaska sign on the post office.
I'd like to say it was difficult and that it lived up to all the hype. I'm not saying it was easy. It was definitely a challenge, but either I'm a better rider than I thought I was or the GS is just that capable of a machine (or some combination of those two), but it really wasn't that bad. I can't recall being particularly out of shape at any point in time. Faced it all. The gravel. The mud. The road graders. The truckers. All of it. Came out unscathed.
Most difficult section was probably Oil Spill Hill -- I think that was the name anyway. It was pouring rain on us, so it was plenty wet and slick there. If gay arctic possums required an anal lubricant (everyone knows they come pre-lubed), Oil Spill Hill is where they'd go, dragging their little possum asses up and down the hill all day like a dog scooting on the carpet. It was that slick. Steady on the throttle. Up on the pegs. Easy on the bars and just motor on up, shifting weight as necessary to keep the bike from wandering too much. Piece of cake.
It helped, of course, that we'd dumped most of our gear in Wiseman. I was just carrying a sleeping bag (for emergencies), a first aid kit, and my tools. Danny dragged along his spare tire, just in case, and his tools. And we were both carrying a 1 gallon gas can.
We rode up there. Looked around. Filled up our tanks. And we rode back. Didn't even bother to get something to eat. Neither of us needed our extra gallon of fuel, although the GS's computer -- which provides the rider with an "Oh shit!" countdown as it's running out of gas -- told me I could go just 11 more miles when I pulled up at the pump in Deadhorse.
Was it a good ride? I've had better. Some of the scenery was spectacular, but a good majority of it was just plain boring. It was incredibly hard on the bikes and I'm not sure the GS will EVER come clean, especially the headers ($20 spent at a car wash later in Fairbanks barely made an impact on the baked on calcium chloride crap). For that reason alone, I wouldn't do it again. I'll spend more time at home when this is all over tearing the bike apart and cleaning it than I actually spent riding up there and back.
Photos:
Heading north on the infamous Haul Road.
One side or the other of Atigun Pass.
Here comes Danny.
And there he goes.
Famous rock formation: Finger Mountain. It points the way back to Fairbanks.
Danny's impressed.
Atigun Pass.
You know Comet and Cupid, Donner and Blitzen...
These puppies were everywhere.
I mean everywhere.
"Who you lookin' at?!?!"
Wooly Boogers (otherwise known as Musk Ox). Unfortunately, they would not come close for a better photo op.
The GS ... coated in Haul Road crapola that quickly turned to cement.
The photo everyone rides up there before, the famous Deadhorse, Alaska sign on the post office.Labels: Alaska, motorcycles
posted by Brian A. Hopkins at 1:15 AM
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