Alaska: Day 20 (24 June 09)

Very strange dream last night. I dreamed that Danny and I were riding on flying horses. These weren't Pegasus-like horses with wings -- just regular ponies, except they could fly. Call 'em organic motorcycles.

In the dream, there was a third rider with us. Not sure who he was, but it seemed like he was a guide of sorts, leading on his own flying stallion, showing us the best roads. Touring the scenic countryside of (presumably) Idaho, we passed fields and fields of cattle until we came upon one particular pasture in which there lay the largest bull I have ever seen. I made some comment about the size of the beast and how I hoped he would stay in his corral, to which our guide said, "No worries, that bull's too damn big to fly. Just watch this." With a cowboy hoot and a holler, he plummeted from the sky, diving at the enormous bull. Waving his hat (guess we didn't have helmets), war-whooping, he proceeded to chase the bull around the field, doing touch-and-go's behind the beast, enraging it as it sought to escape the antagonizing horse and rider.

This went on for some time until, suddenly, the bull proved our guide wrong, launching itself into the air. It didn't fly high and it didn't stay up long, but it flew none-the-less. Turning, the bull hooked the horse and rider and sent them tumbling. I remember quite vividly in the dream: the pinwheeling rider, arms and legs all akimbo, falling from the sky, then cartwheeling in a bloody, bone-shattering tumble across the ground. It was clear from the fall, the way he hit the ground, and the heap in which his body finally came to rest, that the rider was dead.

That's all I remember of the dream, but it was enough to set me on edge the next morning. As I passed signs in Idaho, Utah, and Colorado saying "Open Range," I kept a keen eye out for that bull.

Never saw the bull, but I was damn near taken out by an 18-wheeler that lost a hub cap (I think that's what it was) as it approached me from the opposite direction in a big 55 mph sweeper. The hub cap, if that's what it was, looked an old style derby or bowler hat -- only it was made of chrome. I was doing about 70 in the curve when it came rolling at me on edge (what would be the brim of the hat). I could just imagine it hitting some bump in the road and going airborne to stike me across the throat, decapitating me at worst, slicing through my jugular at best. I adjusted my lean angle to avoid it, but then it did hit a bump, not bouncing into the air, but changing its trajectory. It was now on a bee-line for my front wheel. I leaned harder, diving to the inside of the curve as the truck screamed past -- the driver probably unaware he'd launched a deadly missile at me -- and the hub cap missed my front wheel by about a foot. Whew!

461 miles today. All backroads. Some of the most scenic roads I know, passing through Moab, UT, then east to Ridgeway and Ouray, CO, where I thought about stopping in at the nekkid hot springs (aka Orvis Hot Springs) -- some of you might remember the place from Pierre's ride report (you can find it on my website, of course). Two years ago, Hwy 550 out from Ouray to Silverton was in horrible shape and my buddy Greg vowed not to ride it again because it was too scary, but today I found it newly paved, smooth as glass, grippy as Gorilla Tape, and absolutely glorious. The GS and I howled through 10, 15, and 25 mph switchbacks with no shoulders, no guardrails, and thousand foot penalties (blow a curve here and you're quite simply D.E.A.D.). I really needed my CBR, but the GS did me proud. It's an extremely capable bike and I had a great ride.

Gassing up in Silverton, some guy in a pickup struck up a conversation, asking where I'd been. I told him I'd just come down from Alaska. "Oh? I did that on a Guzzi several years ago." He struck out his chest and boasted that he'd gone all the way to the Arctic Circle. "You get that far?" he asked. I smiled and told him the GS and I had gone to Deadhorse, as far as you can go without dropping into the Arctic Ocean, some 250 miles north of the Arctic Circle. "Oh? On that big bike? You rode all the way up the Haul Road?" "That's right," I told him. "How many times did you drop it?" he asked. I refrained from smacking him upside the head and simply told him that the GS had never been dropped, not on the Haul Road or anywhere else. Then it was time to make tracks.

I stopped in Durango for the night. The entire town was booked up. After trying four different hotels and thinking I would have to press on, someone said they thought the Ramada still had a couple rooms. The GS and I flew down the street and checked, finally acquiring the very last room at the Ramada for $130 a night. It was a nice room, but I much prefered my $40 room at the Amber Inn in Bliss.

No photos. Never touched the cameras in fact. I was having too much fine riding the twisties.

Alaska: Day 19 (23 June 09)

My friend Crazytrain (of ZZR1200 fame) has long said that, having ridden all over the country -- including awesome roads like Deal's Gap, Arkansas, etc -- that in his opinion some of the best riding in the USA is in western Idaho. All I knew of Idaho was that crappy Lost River region in eastern Idaho that I'd ridden with Greg a couple years ago. Swore I would never return. But western Idaho was reputed to be different...

I can say now that western Idaho is everything Crazytrain said it was. Just incredible. Very little traffic and hundreds of miles of beautiful sweepers following rivers like the Knife and Salmon. Beautiful country and fantastic roads. I took the new Tourance to the edge without ever feeling I was really pushing the envelope. Just an easy rhythm, left to right and back, over and over again, in a nice day of sunshine and blue skies.

At a gas station somewhere, though, I happened to notice a 1/2-inch cut in my front tire. Spitting on it, I watched as an air bubble grew very, very slowly. Not much of a leak, but I'd have to keep an eye on it. Tire pressure was still good for now.

With an early start (on the road by 7), I did an easy 564 miles of backroads, eventually stopping in Bliss, Idaho for the night. When I called home, the conversation went something like this:

bahwife: "Where are you, Brian?"

bah: "I'm in Bliss."

bahwife: "Yes, dear, I know how much you enjoy riding your motorcycle, but where are you?"

[rim shot!]

The Amber Inn in Bliss was great. Comfy bed. Cable TV. Free wireless. All for $40.

Tomorrow I'll head into Utah, slipping through Moab, then on to Ouray, Colorado and points south.

A small cut in my front tire. Haul Road damage or something more recent? Have to keep an eye on it.

Western Idaho. Nothing but curves forever.

The GS loved every minute of it. I was, indeed, in bliss.

Alaska: Day 18 (22 June 09)

The next morning, we were off and running at our usual 9:30 or so. This would be our last day riding together. I needed to change my back tire, though. Remembering that there were several bike shops in Cranbrook (Greg and I had stopped there 2 years ago, so he could buy some warmer gloves), I took the exit and headed into town, thinking it'd be worth it to pay someone $25 or $30 to mount the tire for me. We whipped into Honda Powerhouse on the main drag in Cranbrook and were met by the owner's son Jared. Jared was super nice, but, unfortunately, their mechanic was out for the day. He suggested we try the Kawasaki shop down the road and offered to call and make sure they had someone on hand to mount the tire. When he called them, though, they wanted $75 to do the job. Screw that. I can do it myself.

Since it was pouring down rain outside (what else is new, eh?), I asked Jared if we could pull the bikes into their shop, out of the weather. He was happy to oblige, opening the shop up for us and offering the use of their compressor, the mechanic's tools, and anything else we might need. What a great guy! They even had a tire machine, which, had Danny and I only known how to use it, would have made things super easy. We mounted the tire the old fashioned way, though. No trouble. I'd put 8,000 miles on the Tourance and it still had tread, maybe 1,500 more miles of life in it. Great tires, those Metzler Tourances.

With my tire off, I decided to check my rear brake pads because they'd been grinding. Turned out I was down to metal on metal, so I pulled out the spare pads which I'd packed along and installed them. Danny's pads were also shot, but he'd neglected to bring replacements. Jared checked their stock, but didn't have anything to fit the V-Strom. Danny could just stay off his rear brake until he got home. I didn't have that option on the Beemer, as the brakes are linked.

Danny's front tire was also looking pretty shabby. Jared had a replacement in stock, so Danny bought it from him and we mounted that as well. It was another Trailwing, and we'd already decided the Trailwings are crapola, but what'r'ya gonna do, eh?

Thanks again to Jared. He was incredibly helpful and accomodating. If you're ever in Cranbrook, BC, be sure and stop in at Honda Powerhouse. If Jared had only been able to stop the rain...

We left out of Cranbrook and hit the US border. "Welcome back to the United States," said the customs agent and I thanked him. It felt good to no longer have to recalibrate kph to mph in my head. Danny was determined to make I-90 by dark, so that he could press for home. I was wet and cold and in no hurry by the time we reached Kalispell. It was about 9 pm Oklahoma time and I figured if I stopped there I'd be able to make a phone call or two before family and friends starting going to bed. I pulled into a Motel 6 for a room, while Danny pressed on alone. We said our goodbyes in the parking lot, both of us knowing it would be extremely weird riding on our own after so many days on the road together. Danny would press on the Interslab and be home in two days, while I would ride my original route through western Idaho, then into Colorado and New Mexico, sticking to fun, twisty backroads.

Danny signs for his brand new Bridgestone Trailwing -- you can see how excited he is to be the proud owner of another one of those tires. Thanks for everything, Jared!

Alaska: Day 17 (21 June 09)

Summer Solstice, Father's Day, and my son's birthday, all rolled into one wet Sunday. Intended to call my son, but naturally I didn't have a cell phone signal. He originally wanted to come along to Alaska (riding my Dakar) and there were many times I thought it would have been really nice to have him along.

Enjoyed the Icefields Parkway between Jasper and Banff for the second time. At one point, we left the rain behind and the sun painted a lovely rainbow on a nearby peak. I only wish my photo had done a better job of capturing the vibrant colors. Could probably tweak it a bit in Photoshop, but I'm uploading all my photos here untouched.

Finally got a very bad photo of a mother black bear and her cubs. She had three cubs, even though you can only see two in my photo. Very poor photo again -- it was raining and she headed into the woods with her cubs just like every other other mother bear we've seen.

We stopped for the night at The Crossings, a really nice lodge located between Jasper and Banff. Rooms there are pretty expensive, but I bargained with the girl at the desk, pointing out to her that they weren't very busy. Better to rent me a room at a reduced rate and at least make some money. "Besides," I told her, "we're tired and you don't really want to make me ride all the way to Banff, do ya?" I think I was flirting with her a bit too much, though, because she got confused and accidentally charged like $350 to my credit card.

Danny's in a hurry to get home, so we've been talking about splitting off in a day or so. He'll be taking the interstate back once we hit the States tomorrow, and I don't really feel like trading the end of my trip for a couple boring days riding the slab. Before we part, though, I probably need to change my rear tire. The Tourance looks like it might actually get me home, but better safe than sorry.

A promise of no more rain...?

Mother and 2 of 3 cubs.

Alaska: Day 16 (20 June 09)

Another wet day spent making tracks south and east. 451 miles. We both thought it was more when we stopped in Smithers. Wanted to get farther, but we needed to dry out. I've scrapped the plan to head down through upper Washington State and we're going to retrace our route through Jasper and Banff.

We darted back into Alaska briefly to visit Hyder. Not much to see. There's not even a U.S. border crossing -- guess Uncle Sam doesn't care if you slip into Hyder undetected. It's not like there's anywhere you can go, I guess. We rode in, looked around for 2 minutes, and turned around and rode out -- didn't feel the need to get "Hyderized" or anything. Crossing back into Canada (3 minutes after we'd left), the customs agent examined my passport and asked all the usual questions about accepting packages from someone else, firearms, merchandise that I intended to sell in Canada, etc. I said, "Dude, I never even got off the bike ... just rode down to the end of the street there and turned around and came back." He acted like that was pretty common.

Hyder, Alaska. You can just about see the entire town in this photo.

Bear Glacier again.

Finally got a photo of a fox. This was about the fourth one I had seen, but all the others had run into the woods before I could take thier picture. This little fellow was adorable and in no hurry to vacate the premises. I was pretty pleased with this shot.

He did eventually take his leave, though. I also never got a photo of a moose -- saw plenty, but they were far too timid. Only one we ever got close to, Danny kinda chased it into the woods with his motorcycle. And I never got a pic of a porkypine* even though I saw 3 or 4 of them. There was one porkypine who scurried over to a culvert when Danny zoomed past him (without seeing him). I stopped. "You're going to run into that culvert as soon as I pull out my camera, aren't you?" "Oh, no, " he said, "you go ahead and get out your camera, I'll just sit right here for you." So I got out the camera. The porkypine smiled, "You want me to say 'cheese' or what?" I turned on the camera and removed the lens cap. Raised the camera. Pointed it at him. He immediately darted into the culvert. Bastard.

*Yes, I know the correct spelling is porcupine. I like my spelling better.

Alaska: Day 15 (19 June 09)

Haines Junction to Dease Lake. 500 miles in the rain. The 20 or so miles of road just north of Dease Lake was slippery mud. Loads of fun. We got a room at the only motel in town and crashed.

The Cassier Highway is probably packed with critters and amazing views, but not in a steady, driving rain.

This butterfly checking out my filthy GS might be the only pic I took all day.

Alaska: Day 14 (18 June 09)

The ride out of Valdez was quite spectacular -- glaciers and waterfalls around every corner. I was glad that we'd waited, because if we'd ridden out the night before, we'd have felt the need to hurry. It was nice to take our time and enjoy the views. This was probably my second favorite stretch of road, second only to the Icefields Parkway.

Returning to Canada, the customs agent asked my purpose for entering. I told him I was trying to get home and his country was in the way. He thought that was funny.

It really felt like we were homeward bound now. The Cassier awaited us -- and we were both looking forward to riding that stretch of highway through B.C., rumored to be twisty and packed with critters -- but it definitely felt like the trip was winding down. Danny was in a hurry to get back and I admit to being a bit homesick myself.

We eventually wound up in Haines Junction for the night, escaping the steady rain.

Photos (in no particular order):

One of many waterfalls outside of Valdez.

Danny and falling water.

Gulls (near Worthington Glacier, just outside of Hyder).


Amusing information sign at the Worthington Glacier. Ice worms. What'll they think of next? Proof that life can exist in the most extreme environments, I guess.

The Worthington Glacier. We hiked up to this one ... most of the way anyway. It was steep and we were a bit lazy from riding bikes for the last two weeks. I really wanted a nice photo of myself tucked into a blue crevasse, but it wasn't the prettiest of glaciers anyway.

Landscape shot near Worthington Glacier.

Always a view to die for.

Bear Glacier just outside of Valdez.

Alaska: Day 13 (17 Jun 09)

When last we saw our two brave adventurers, they were checking into the Anchor Inn in Whittier, Alaska ... a rather scary town populated with weathered fishermen, stoic oilfield roughnecks, and women who'd maybe spent a few too many winters in the cold arctic wind. My first impression of the place: it looked like an easy town in which to get knifed. The room at the Anchor Inn was actually much nicer than either of us thought it would be.

Here's the hotel. It's just about your only choice for staying in town at a reasonable rate. There is no office -- don't bother looking. Go into the bar and talk to the barmaid about a room. She'll toss a key at you without even telling you the cost. If you try to give her a credit card, she'll tell you to take care of everything when you check out.

Strangest thing about Whittier ... something like 90% of the population of Whittier all live in this one building.

Our ferry didn't leave until 2:45 in the afternoon (miss that one and we'd be waiting until 10 pm the following evening!), so the plan was to sleep in and have a lazy morning lying around. Wouldn't you know it, the ONE morning when Danny could sleep in, he was up at 7 am. With him up, there was no way I could sleep in, so I was up too. Every other morning, couldn't seem to get him up and on the road until about 9 or 9:30, but the ONE morning I told him to sleep in ... Grrrrrrr.

Anyway, it was a long wait for the ferry ride, but it kinda completed the theme for this moto adventure: "Alaska by Land, Sea, and Air."

The ferry arrived right on time. Another sloppy photo shot through the pouring rain, looking out the window in the ferry terminal building. The cars are lined up for the ferry. Our bikes are out there somewhere. The ferry folks let us ride on ahead of the vehicles. Probably felt sorry for us because it was raining so hard.


We got the bikes strapped down in the vehicle hold. Once underway, the vehicle hold is locked down and you're not allowed below. No problem. The ferry has everything you need: cafeteria, two lounges, a little theater (really just a big screen TV in the lounge, but they did show a movie), etc. The ride to Valdez was about 6 hours long. We ate a meal, watched a movie, explored the boat, shot lots of photos, and took naps in the comfy lounge chairs.

Fishing boats in Prince William Sound.

The rocky shore is lined with sea lions/seals. Sorry for the crappy photo. Shot in the rain, of course. Seems it was ALWAYS raining on us.

Another fishing boat and a field of icebergs. Funny thing, I saw the ship's captain in the cafeteria getting coffee and joked, "Shouldn't you be looking out for icebergs?" (I was thinking of the movie Titanic, of course.) He didn't realize I was joking and replied, "Oh, I have a little while yet before we get to them." An hour or so later, sure enough, there were the icebergs. The ferry slowed down and manuevered through them.

Took so many photos of icebergs, that it's hard to decide which ones to share. Strange, the fascination we have for great big chucks of ice drifting about in the ocean.

Ice.

Berg.

I thought this one looked like a dragon.

Some of the icebergs had passengers.

More ice.

Coming in to Valdez, I'm pretty sure this is where the pipeline ends there at all those holding tanks. Interesting seeing the end-of-the-line for the pipeline after we'd spent so much time riding beside it, all the way up to Prudhoe Bay where it starts. There's a big tanker getting loaded up. Let's hope it's not another Exxon Valdez, eh?

Old man and the sea...?

One of my favorite photos. Sometimes I get lucky.

When we got to Valdez, it was late, so we decided to go ahead and get a room for the night. The ride out of Valdez is supposed to be pretty spectacular and we didn't want to make it late at night -- also weren't sure where we'd be able to find a place for the night if we left Valdez.

So, zero miles ridden this day, unless you count the distance on and off the boat. LOL.

Alaska: Day 12 (16 Jun 09)

We headed south from Fairbanks, hoping for a view of Denali (aka Mount McKinley). It was too cloudy, of course (I think Denali is hidden something like 364 days a year). In order to get a looksee, we rode into Talkeetna and chartered a private plane. We opted for one equiped with oxygen, so that we could fly over the summit. Our pilot was Dave and he was awesome -- knew everything imaginable about the area, glaciers, etc.

Me, Danny, and pilot Dave beside Dave's twin engine Piper.


Glacier ... just a big, slow-moving river of ice. I think this puppy is several miles wide.

Our first view of Denali, "The High One."

The landscape is breath-taking. Beautiful, just beautiful.

Converging glaciers.

We were fortunate enough to fly over just as two climbers reached the summit of Denali. It takes two weeks to acclimate and climb the mountain, and we flew over just as they completed their climb. You can see two climbers on the peak in the photo above -- there were a half dozen others below in an area called (I think I'm remembering this correctly) the ballfield, waiting to ascend the last leg. Can't see the two above? I'll zoom in for you.

There they are.

More views. I must have snapped hundreds of Denali, the surrounding peaks, and the amazing landscape

.

Cobalt blue pools of glacial melt sparkled on the icefields below us.

After our plane adventure, we continued south through Anchorage and down to the Portage Glacier. It was raining on us, of course (seems we've had rain every day). We rode through the Whittier Tunnel and found a room at the Anchor Inn. Tomorrow, we'll be catching the ferry across Prince William Sound to Valdez.

Bergy bits (that's an honest-to-gawd technical term for iceberg fragments, believe it or not) adrift near Portage.

Danny nearing the Whittier Tunnel.

And here he is nearing the exit. The tunnel is something like 7 miles long and you ride between the railroad tracks. Steer clear of the rails, because they will likely throw you down. I didn't find it particularly nerve-wracking, but there was a Goldwing rider coming through behind us who was absolutely terrified. Once through, he asked me about the ferry, saying that he didn't think he could handle riding back through the tunnel. Changed his mind, though, when I told him that the ferry cost $164 for bike and rider. LOL.

Alaska: Day 11 (15 June 09)

We packed up and rode back to Fairbanks. Changed our oil at the Walmart as planned. THANKS AGAIN, WALMART! Then we got a room at a Super 8.

Danny's rear tire was toast, so we changed that out front under the covered parking. He was supposed to run a Tourance, same as me, but for some reason showed up for the trip with a Trailwing. The Haul Road ate that cheapass Trailwing for breakfast, I guess, 'cause it was truly shot. The Tourance on my GS looked like it just might get me all the way home. We had a hell of a time trying to get the new tire to seat on Danny's wheel and finally had to get the shuttle bus driver at the Super 8 to run Danny around town looking for a good air supply. Our little air compressors just weren't up to the task of seating the tire. Anyway, I think it was about 1:00 in the morning when we finally got Danny's bike all put back together and hit the sack. Of course, the whole time we were working on the bike, it was as bright as noon outside.

Sorry, no photos. We kinda forgot to take any while we were working...

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.

Alaska: Day 9 (13 June 09)

Up at the crack of dawn -- oh wait, I don't think the friggin' sun ever bothered to set. LOL. Actually, we haven't been in a real hurry any morning yet, most days getting on the road about 8:30 or 9.

We rode in to Fairbanks, waving to Santa Claus at the North Pole on the way. (You do know there's a town in Alaska called North Pole and that whenever you send a letter to Santa, that's where it goes, right?) In Fairbanks, we scouted out that most quintessential icon of consumerism: the local Walmart. We needed gas cans to carry with us up the Haul Road, just to be on the safe side. We finally found the Walmart, bought our cans, and since we'd gone in by the auto service department, I walked over to talk to a couple of the auto mechanics. I explained that in 2 days time we'd be coming back from Deadhorse and needed to do an oil change. I explained that we had all our own tools and we'd hauled along oil filters, but we needed a drain pan and someplace to dump the old oil. I asked them if we bought our oil from Walmart, would they mind loaning us a drain pan and letting us change our oil there outside their shop. They were more than willing to help out. THANK YOU, WALMART!

With that load off our minds, we were ready to face the infamous Dalton Highway, known as the Haul Road. I was glad to find a plan for the used oil. Later in the trip, Danny and I talked to a father and son team on FJRs who said that they'd found an old country road and simply dumped their oil on the ground. I bit my tongue and didn't tell them what I thought of that.

Anyway, we hit the road for points north. Took our pictures by the Dalton Highway sign. Took our pics at the Arctic Circle. Soon we were in Coldfoot -- last gas stop. We topped off our tanks and filled the 1 gallon jugs we'd bought in Fairbanks. Then it was up the road just 17 miles to the little burg of Wiseman, where we had a room reserved at the Boreal Lodge.

Tomorrow, the hard part of the journey -- the infamous Haul Road, nearly 250 miles of deep, treacherous gravel and dirt laced with calcium chloride. Dusty as can be when dry, slippery as whale snot when wet. We'd been rained on damn near every day of the trip so far. Should we expect anything less for tomorrow...?

Yours truly at the start of the Dalton Highway.

And the Arctic Circle.


Boreal Lodge in Wiseman, AK. Our home for the next two nights.

We had the room on the end -- #1.

Brave adventurer (still in his rain pants).

Alaska: Day 8 (12 June 09)

Fairly short day of riding for us (282 miles), especially after the long days we've been putting in. After a great breakfast provided by the ladies at Moose Creek Lodge, we rode to Dawson City, took the free ferry across the Yukon River, and then rode the Top of the World Highway into Alaska. Coming into Tok (pretty much everything in and out of Alaska flows through Tok), it was raining cats and dogs. I spotted Fast Eddie's and Young's Motel, recognized the place from other riders' travelogues, and decided we were good -- right on schedule actually. We had a fantastic dinner at Fast Eddie's, then hit the sack. Tomorrow, we'd ride to Fairbanks, then Coldfoot and Wiseman, from which we'd stage our assault on Deadhorse and Prudhoe Bay.

Our Dynamic Duo in historic Dawson City.

Jack London's cabin in Dawson City.

The larder where Jack kept his goodies safe from bears.

Ferry across the Yukon River.

Always a good idea to locate the safety equipment.

Poker Creek, Alaska, the U.S.A.'s most northerly border -- on the Top of the World Highway. Absolutely spectacular riding, mostly dirt.

bahwolf in Alaska. What's the world coming to...?

Jack Wade Dredge near Chicken, Alaska. The guy at the gas station in Chicken said they were preparing for their annual Chickenstock (think Woodstock) and were excited because there were women coming from Dawson for the big event. He told me there were only 3 women in Chicken and all were old enough to be his mother. I'm not sure if he was pulling my leg or not...

Another shot, showing the buckets linked together like a giant motorcycle chain, used to dredge the creek bed in search of gold.

Alaska: Day 7 (11 Jun 09)

The blogging from the road thing is turning out to be a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. We either get in too late to bother (after a full day of riding, I really need my sleep) or we wind up in places where I can't get free wifi ... so, apologies for falling so far behind, but it is what it is. You're going to mostly be getting photos from here on out with minimal commentary.

We pulled another LONG day, finally stopping at a place called Moose Creek Lodge, about 15 miles west of Stewart Crossing. Google Moose Creek Lodge for their website (I know they have one, just too tired to find it for you right now). It was a pretty cool place and I would definitely stay there again. We had a really nice cabin -- much, MUCH nicer than we expected when we pulled in off the Alaskan Highway. We were their only guests for the night (the threat of fire seemed to have run off most people) and the ladies that run the place treated us grandly, fixing us both dinner and breakfast the next morning. I had a nice hike in the woods and we both got some much needed rest.

Here are the highlights (in no particular order):

Inside of our cabin. Comfy beds. Home-made comforters. Pretty rustic, though: no electricity or running water.

If you needed to make a phone call...

On a serious note, the threat of fire (which seemed to be following us through Canada, shutting down the highway behind us) was ever present. The cabins were all rigged with emergency sprinkler systems to keep embers from igniying the roofs.


People have asked how bad the mosquito problem really is up here ... yeah, it's really that bad.

Moose Creek Lodge. What a great place; can't recommend it highly enough.

Even the dog had his own little Moose Creek cabin/doghouse.

This is the only moose I saw, though.

Our trusty steeds.

We're having a hard time adjusting to the near-continual daylight. Here's Danny checking the time on his watch ... and you can see the "noon day" sunshine outside the cabin window.

A mosquito draining my buddy!

Your weary adventurer.

Alaska: Day 6 -- More Photos

Signpost Forest at Watson Lake.

Fires burning just off the side of the Alaskan Highway.

Bison.

The burger I ate at lunch was a bison burger. Probably just as well these guys didn't know that.



Our trusty steeds.

Around every corner, another amazing photo op.

Just twist the throttle and go...

Alaska: Day 6 (10 June 09)

What an exciting day! I'm mostly going to let the photos do the talking (with my captions, of course). The plan was to do a short 190 mile day, settling in at the Hot Springs at Liard River, but that didn't quite work out. First of all, there were dangerous wildfires raging in the area. We'd heard that Liard River Hot Springs had been evacuated, but that turned out not to be true. When we got there, we found the place smoky but open for business. Business was so good, in fact, that we couldn't get a room. I should have called and made reservations. Without a room, we decided to press on to Watson Lake, which is where we are now, tucked into the historic Air Force Inn. The hot springs will have to wait for another trip.

Getting to Watson Lake was dramatic, though. North of Liard River, the fires were burning just off the Alaskan Highway. The Forestry Service guys actually closed the highway down right behind Danny and me. In fact, we were eating burgers at a little joint and for a few minutes it looked as if we were going to have to flee to the north, leaving our burgers behind. It was like something out of a war movie: smoke everywhere, helicopters constantly passing overhead, people asking us very seriously about our direction of travel.

We managed to get out unscathed -- you might have guessed that since I'm sitting here typing this. LOL.

Tomorrow we'll ferry across the Yukon River.

Photos...

It was a day featuring so much wildlife, we starting passing critters by. This fella really wanted his picture taken, though.

He even brought his friends.

They were insulted when Danny wouldn't share his beer.


Black bear number ... hell, we saw so many black bears, I quit counting. What's that? Oh, just another black bear. And we wouldn't even bother stopping. I did see a mother and two cubs, but she hustled them off into the forest so fast that I couldn't get my camera out. The little boogers were too cute for words, though. I wanted to catch one and bring it home for my daughter.

Yes, this is a grizzly bear. I believe this pose means "Come any closer, Tourist Boy, and I will definitely fuck you up!"

He was just that close. Also saw two grizzly cubs -- no sign of mama, but I'm sure she was probably close. The cubs ran off into the woods before I could the camera out.

I think Danny's a little homesick. Here he is reading all the cards his wife and sons sent with him. Poor guy.

Helicopter just overhead, dumping water on the forest fires.

"Hurry up, Danny!"

My planning for this trip might be described as a bit "anal retentive." Here I am with my green notebook in which our every move is detailed to the Nth degree. "It's in the book, Danny, and that means we're doing it, dammit!"

Alaska: Day 5 (9 June 09)

Our longest day yet. The GS's odometer called it 605 miles, but it sure felt like more. We're on schedule, though, our worn-out selves parked in Fort Nelson -- another Canadian town that has failed to impress.

Not a lot to write about ... I'm bushed. The ride -- especially coming on the heels of the Icefields Parkway -- was unspectacular, to say the least. Lots of trees.

Photos...

Dawson Creek, where the Alaskan Highway begins.

Okay, I've now seen the world's largest beaver...

Poor fella ... send beer!

Along a stretch of the old Alaskan Highway. This is like the only curved wooden bridge in the world or something -- google it if you want the facts (instead of my speculation).

Alaska: Day 4 (8 June 09)

Another long day. Rained on us all morning. Crossed the border at Eureka with no problems. The Canadian customs agent had to be one of the prettiest young women I have ever seen. She asked me why I'd come to Canada and I said I'd heard the world's most beautiful women were here. She just laughed.

The afternoon turned gorgeous -- sunshine and one of the most fantastical rides I have ever experienced: the Icefields Parkway in Japser National Park. Photos don't do the place justice. Even if you have to drive a car, go see the place before you die. I thought Banff was spectacular. The Icefields Parkway easily topped Banff.

It was about 10 p.m. when we finally arrived in Jasper -- back on schedule! Everything was closed except for a bar where we managed to snag some hamburgers and beer. I sweet-talked the l'il Australian honey at a motel to give us a $199 room for $99. Ayup, still got it. (Or she was just afraid we'd go somewhere else. LOL.)

Photos...

Danny at Lake Louise.

Black Bear #2.

Along the Icefields Parkway.

" Daaaaaaanny..."

Icefields Parkway and our trusty steeds.

Bow Lake in Jasper Nat Park.

"Don't bother me; I'm eating..."

Icefields Parkway. You can see the road we just came up.

Alaska: Day 3 (7 June 09)

What a day!

We left Jackson bound for Teton National Park, Yellowstone, and ultimately Kalispell, Montana. That was the plan anyway. I think the first indication that things weren't going to go smoothly was when we woke up to rain. Or maybe it was when Danny's spare tire flew off the back of his bike and came skidding across the road toward me in the apex of a rain-soaked twisty in the Tetons. Some quick evasive manuvering and I was fine, but that'll wake you up in a hurry. We got it strapped back on in short order. Funniest thing was the Japanese tourist who pulled up beside Danny (he had continued on, oblivious, until he realized I was no longer behind him -- I had pulled off to retrieve his tire, of course), rolled down his window, and said, "You lost your spare tire." You have to hear Danny say it with the proper accent to really get you rolling in the aisles, but you get the idea. I think the Japanese tourist might have snapped Danny's photo. Crazy American biker! LOL.

And we saw our first bear -- a nice size black bear browsing the underbrush just off the side of the road. Apologies for the crappy photo -- it was near dark, with low hanging clouds and drizzling rain, when I pulled off and snapped it.


As we climbed in elevation, the rain turned into slushy snow and the temp plummeted. Soon it was near freezing. By the time we reached the south entrance to Yellowstone, it was coming down really good. The ranger in the kiosk didn't even look at the passes we'd bought earlier at the entrance to Grand Teton National Park. He pointed to the Ranger Station nearby and said, "You guys might as well go in there and get warmed up before turning around." Yellowstone, it seemed, was closed. Snow plows were enroute, but for the moment all roads through the park were closed to anything without chains.

Crap!

Here's a photo of Danny sitting in the line at the park entrance, moments before we were told the way ahead was impassable. You can see the snow frozen to his windshield. This was before it starting coming down really hard.



We were in a bit of a quandry. The only option was backtracking all the back to Jackson and figuring out an alternate route from there. Best bet appeared to be going over Teton Pass to the west and then turning north through Idaho and southern Montana. One thing was certain, we weren't going to make Kalispell tonight as planned.

We were concerned, however, with whether we could get over Teton Pass. I think it's actually higher in elevation than the passes through Yellowstone. We rode back to Jackson and found a place to eat breakfast, got out some maps and our Zumos, and started strategizing. How to tell if the pass was clear, though? I finally called my friend Elaine and gave her the project to find out. She called back not more than 10 minutes later. She'd talked to a Wyoming State Trooper who assured her that he'd just come down from there not an hour ago. There was snow falling, but the pass was clear. Great news because otherwise we'd have had to go even further south before turning west. Thanks, Elaine!

So that's what we did. The ride over Teton Pass was gorgeous, albeit cold and wet. The ride up through that part of Idaho wasn't bad, but the ride through Montana was just spectacular -- even if we did get rained on most of the day. We're camped out in the Thunderbird Hotel (not as cheap as its name might imply) in Missoula, about 117 miles short of my original goal for tonight. Not bad for having backtracked, gone way out of our way, and spending most of the day cold and wet.

I'd write more, but it was a LONG day. The ride back down from Yellowstone was particlarly taxing, as the snow was freezing on our visors, clothing, and bikes. I was leading and had to wipe my glove across my visor every 30 seconds to keep it clear of ice. The only way to keep it from fogging was to leave it cracked, which meant my lower face was frozen -- icecicles hanging from my mustache!

Before I sign off and head to bed, though, I have to tell you about the cruiser couple we met at the Ranger Station in Yellowstone. I'd like to say they were Harley riders (because they certainly fit the stereotype), but they were actually on Triumphs. They were totally unprepared for the weather and road conditions. Hailing from somewhere in Texas, they'd ridden their bikes up, apparantley with no rain gear or anything. They were soaked and cold. The guy was on the phone calling AAA to come tow their bikes back down to Jackson, where they planned to rent a U-haul to get the bikes back to Texas. I think the wife had had enough. They seemed amazed by our gear and our "just another day on the road" attitude, and they couldn't believe we were riding off into the blizzard (even if forced to backtrack through it).

Oh well.

I'll leave you with a couple photos of yours truly on the road and near the Jackson Lake dam (which is where I believe the Snake River originates).

Nite!

Alaska: Day 2 (6 June 09)

Another 600 mile day. We're safely ensconced in Jackson, Wyoming, after a rough day fighting the wind (the left sides of our tires got a workout!) and dodging (unsuccessfully) the rain. The good news is that we're right on schedule, even though we made a liesurely departure from Danny's sister's house (with eggs and sausage for breakfast, we were in no hurry to leave).

The last run into Jackson on Highway 191 along the Hoback and Snake Rivers was a sweet as I remember it from my last trip through here (check out the "Rocky Mountain Tour" ride report on my website), even though we were being rained on.

Danny's already complaining about the long days in the saddle, but he's prepared for it. Here he is with his Monkey Butt Powder.

Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, and lots of fun miles tomorrow. Of course, they're predicting snow to the north of us ... we'll see how it goes.

Alaska: Day 1 (5 June 09)

Danny and I got off to an early start at 7 a.m. Bahwife even got up to see us off and took a few pics. Here are our intrepid adventurers heading down my driveway:

I'm not sure what Danny's trying to say about our trip with this riding buddy on the front of his Strom ... kinda ominous, though, eh?



As we were leaving my neighborhood, James Pratt came riding up on his GS Adventure. He'd ridden out to give us a send-off. Thanks, James!

We did 597 miles, arriving at Danny's sister's log home in Peyton, Colorado. Dana and her husband Brooks put us up in great style with individual guest rooms and a delicious steak dinner and plenty of good companionship. Thanks, Dana and Brooks!

Their home is gorgeous. I absolutely love these log homes and will probably have to build my own someday.

Alaska: Ready to Roll

The GS is packed and ready to make its run for points north, aimed at the garage door and armed with nice new Tourances. If I were to give you a closeup of the tires, you could tell by the succulent rubber tits that they haven't even touched pavement yet. Danny and I just mounted tires (on both bikes) over Memorial Day weekend.


With that spare tire up top, it seems like quite a load, doesn't it? In truth, it's a lot less weight than your typical Harley fat chick.


I decided to forgo vanity for safety's sake and applied some reflective tape to the rear of the bike (on the panniers and the possum-scraper). Carrying that load, the reflective piping on my jacket is blocked from view to the rear, causing me to worry about getting rear-ended by ignoramuses with cell phones firmly implanted in their ears. I'll be much too far from home to be injured, stuck with a damaged bike, or D.E.A.D.


The PIAAs should take care of visibility to the front.


For those who are interested, here's a cockpit view: Zumo GPS, iPod, and cupholder all RAM-mounted in place. I'll be seeing a LOT of this in the coming days.

Won't be long now. Needless to say, I'm anxious to be underway.

Is it time to go yet?