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Published: October 6th 2008
So, I guess today would be day 6 of Matt2 touring North America, and what a journey it has already been.
Perhaps a little background might be nice for those of you who know nothing of the trip. Last April while walking the streets of Brooklyn I decided that after the summer in the Great North of Alaska I would like to return to the City by means of a motorcycle. When I returned to Anchorage I was talking with Matt Stevens and Erin Ginley about my idea. When Erin elbowed Matt to alarm him to what I had said, Matt was in. So in in fact that Matt Stevens bought a bike within days, at least it seemed. We had the summer to prepare ourselves. Neither one of had ever really even rode motorcycles before, but we couldn't let the small details slow us down. We were resolved to travel from Alaska all the way 'home' to the East Coast.
Skip ahead to October 1, the day we were supposed to leave, and neither one of us were truly ready. We didn't get out of town until 6 p.m and were able to make it as far as
Still in Anchorage.
Funny story. Stevens' trip was almost upended in Muldoon(still in Anchorage). John Carlos almost clipped him in the parking lot. That dude can't drive. How random is that?Chickaloon. It was an incredibly clear gorgeous night and gave us no indication of what we were about to face.
Heading out the next morning(technically still morning, it can take Pokey three hours to break camp) the weather still appeared to be fair. Within an hour all that changed. The skies turned gray and cold as we would become very familiar with what is called the "Alaska Factor".
Snow.
It started snowing and within a half hour or so it started sticking to the road, but we pushed on. When we stopped for lunch about 2 hours out we were both already frozen. I couldn't feel my fingers or tows a lack of feeling I would become accustomed to for the next couple of days. After some hot soup and coffee we decided to push on, albeit slowly. Riding a 427 pound bike with 100+ pounds of gear and my fat ass on top of that is probably harder to control than a pig on skates. As it turns out, especially by concrete seems, where for the first time that day I put down my bike. Don't sweat it. I'm fine. At 30 miles per hour with
all the gear on I've taken much harder falls at 3 in the morning, if you know what I'm saying. My bike took it fairly well with the exception of a nice ding on my right box.
At the time Stevens was riding in the lead and I knew he would flip shit when he looked in his mirror and saw me and my bike sliding down the road. So, I took a quick peek to the rear to check for traffic and did my best to signal Matt that I was fine. He circled around to come help me heave the bike up. Matt is such a good friend that in his rush to help me, he dropped his bike as he was getting off, almost into the gully, which would have truly sucked. Anyway, we picked up the bikes and decided we would forge ahead without any thoughts of leaving second gear, or breaking 25 mph.
Well, the weather got no better. I also wasn't getting any warmer. When we finally got to Glennallen(normally a 3-3 1/2 hour ride from Anchorage) the snow got worse. A lot worse. There was already 5 inches on the ground
and the forecast was for the snow to continue through the weekend. We were in deep shit. Our ferry reservation was for the 5th and we might have been a third of the way there.
Enter Jack Gustavson. As we are gassing up in Glennallen we were getting all kinds of attention. Stevens had bent a bar over his gas cap and this guy came over to help us out. Turns out he's a huge motorcycle enthusiast and really interested in our trip. We were asking anyone and everyone about the road ahead. Jack got on the horn and started looking for weather reports from people he knew along the road ahead. "Yeah, there are a couple of idiots here on motorcycles in Glennallen on their way to Tok, wondering what the weather looks like ahead." He took a couple of pictures and took off. Matt spent about another 10 or 15 minutes futzing with his gear and Jack shows back up with his 'good' camera because he wanted to post us on AdventureRider.com. He offered to follow us out of town to see how we made out. I barely made it out of the parking lot, but made
Waiting for Jack, our Savior
Hard to tell from the side of the road, but there was about 5 inches on the ground. The road sucked, fresh snow on top of frozen shit. it on to the road.
The snow really started to come down and we were afraid of getting snowed in. We made it 6.5 miles up the road before I lost the bike again. This time I was fine, but my pride was a little bruised, and I was a little pissed. So, pissed that I'm sliding down the road trying to stand up and chase my bike. This time I knew we couldn't go any further. Jack called for more weather down the road and reports were that it broke. Either way we knew we needed to make it to Tok to have a real shot at making it to our ferry. It turns out that Matt2+Jack=a ride out of the snow. Jack offered to go back get his trailer and get us past the snow. We accepted.
About 50 miles later the snow broke, the roads cleared and we were back in action. It was brutally cold, but we figured we would make it. We kept on an hour or so, until the roads looked like ice. I insisted we stop in Mentasta, about 60 miles from Tok, figuring we already beat the storm system.
The next morning we woke up, Stevens stuck his head out the door and declared it looked like Christmas. I nearly shit. If it really closed in on us we could be stuck in Mentasta for a week, and who knows when the next ferry we could catch would be. For about the next hour we really mulled our options, like we had any. We took a walk out to the road, were it was just wet and figured it was now or never, we had to make a break for it. Within 3 miles the road turned to shit. The 60 miles to Tok took us 3 hours. It wasn't snowing in Tok, but the roads were capped, and according to some Redneck, "Slicker than deer guts on a doorknob."
Anyway, we forged out of Tok and made a mad dash for the Canadian border where we heard the weather was better. As mad of a dash can be characterized at 20 miles per hour. We crossed the border at about 6 and heard the weather had broke ahead and decided to push again. And it did, after we made it past the 30 miles of fog.
We pushed and pushed and pushed. I have never been so cold in my life. It felt like I got my ass kicked in a snowball fight. Face rubbed in the snow, snow down my shirt and pants, the whole deal. My fingers were frozen inside my frozen gloves. Same for feet and boots. All in all we spent 12 hours on the bikes that day at about 20 miles an hour and an average temperature of 30. Visor fogging constantly, and I forgot to mention I replaced my nose with a leaky faucet that could only be blown or scratched every 2 hours. I have no idea how we did that day really.
Otherwise the road has been supremely kind to us so far. We have found a pile of firewood awaiting us at every campsite and many friendly and generous people along the way. I have been amazed how much more open people are to us on the bikes. Everyone is interested in what we are doing. I can't tell you how many dudes in pickups gave us the big thumbs up as we were plugging down the road through the snow.
The day after the
snow couldn't have been more beautiful-not that the mountains covered with snow weren't beautiful, in fact despite the snow and cold, that day on the bikes was quite majestic. It was such a relief to hit dry pavement, to put the bike in third, fourth, and fith gear. It felt so good to be able to lean the bike again and dig into a couple of turns. There are few things I've pulled off that can compare to the sense of accomplishment I felt as we pulled into Haines, down the river, past scores of bald eagles. What a trip it has been so far. It is the little things that become cherished in these conditions; Matt's thermos of hot tea, my warm hands rubbing my cold toes, the cascade of warmth inside a gas station, peanuts, Tasty Bites, a nip of whiskey, a picnic shelter to sleep under, the clouds breaking with the sunshine at my back. And the simple becomes divine.
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Jeff Skolnick
non-member comment
Intrigued!
Matt, I am extremely intrigued with your trip and will keep track of you on the road. Keep us informed!