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Published: September 15th 2010
When it was like this...
I could make ground, trust me. If I had a purpose for this trip (other then just happily mooching about on a motorbike whilst not working for a living) it was to ride the infamous Dalton Highway in Alaska up into the Arctic Circle & on to Prudhoe Bay. Bikers have been testing their metal on the Dalton for years & the road is infamous. This year alone it has claimed the life of one biker & another was found lying beside it with a broken neck. How the Dalton treats you is entirely dependent on the weather. During the 24 hours of daylight Alaskan summers all bikers need to worry about are the bears, wolves & most importantly the rain. Once it rains the road becomes a muddy ice rink that is treacherous & as it has proved more than once, lethal.
On route to Fairbanks, the staging post for those willing to try, I was asking everyone I met what the weather ahead was like. I’d decided I wasn't going to be a hero (for once I hear you say) if it was raining & the conditions were against me, I simply wouldn't even try. As one biker I met put it, 'I don't
The Artic Circle
A long way from where I started. want to end my trip there'.
When Martin & I arrived in Fairbanks we'd ridden through some really ugly weather & we'd been cold & wet so we headed for a place to stay that had been recommended by an Irish biker I'd met back down in southern Canada. The campsite was cool & even had allocated parking for motorbikes so I set about servicing my bike (with more than a little assistance from Martin) whilst we waited for news on the current conditions along the 500 miles of the Dalton.
As I was flat on my back wrestling with & swearing at the oil filter on my bike, a women in her mid fifties was tinkering with her Italian scooter that was parked beside. I’d noticed it when I’d pulled in & she asked if she could take a picture & we got to chatting. As we talked I got the dreadful feeling she'd just got back from riding all the way up to Prudhoe Bay on her shiny red little Italian scooter. I was almost too afraid to ask, here I was on a huge off road motorbike built for exactly that purpose yet I was
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Email me your orders - maximum 5 blankets per person. umming & ahhring about whether to even try & there she was on a Vespa that to add insult to injury, had a basket on the front.
She told me she'd ridden to Alaska from San Diego & was now turning around to head home. When I finally built up the courage & asked where in Alaska she’d ridden, she told me she'd just got back from riding the Dalton that morning. Dam it!
So regardless of road or weather conditions, natural disasters, fatalities, bears or wolves - I was going. If I didn’t, that little red scooter would haunt me for the rest of my days!
The next morning we were ready. Martin & I called into Walmart on the way out of town, me for socks & a woolly hat, Martin for a rug with a picture of a bear on it. Don’t ask. There’s a photo on the right & I think you’ll appreciate my concerns about going into bear territory with that as it meant he was more likely to get dry humped by a Grizzly then eaten & given the choice between the two, I’d much rather get eaten. I do have
Sat Nav
Alaska! to admit for $20, I thought it was a quality piece of tat. Those at home who don’t have access to Walmart send me your orders & I can bulk ship them back in time for Christmas. (I don’t know why but Kat, I thought of you as I typed that.)
We then got on the road heading due north towards the Arctic Circle. The skies were blue & the sun was shining & so I think Mother Nature had been feeling guilty about the soakings I’d been receiving of late & decided to be kind.
I’ll admit I was a little nervous but an image of the Vespa in the back of my mind was all the incentive I needed.
Supposedly once you get on the Dalton the authorities intentionally keep the first 20 miles in bad shape to deter idiots like me from trying at all. It was rough, but as the sun was still shining I was happy. Then the road works began & they intentionally wet the mud making it more than a little slick. The only thing I can liken it to is the first few steps you take when you go
Bike prep with Martin
I told you he knew how to handle a spanner. Getting ready to take on the Dalton Highway. ice skating. Regardless of if you can skate or not, it takes a few moments before you find your stride. Now put an overweight BMW motorbike between your legs & you’ll get an idea of how I initially felt gliding along on the wet mud.
Martin was in front & as he’s a veteran off road rider I could gauge where to speed up & where to slow down & I soon got the hang of it. The wet mud & large loose chunks of gravel were the trickiest but after a while you come to realise if you keep the throttle open you’re hopefully through the slippery bits before you can get too worried.
The mountain scenery was beautiful & with the help of sunshine, dry dirt & a surprising amount of tarmac we made it to the point marking the Arctic Circle in good time. There we met 3 fellow bikers who were turning round from there as they didn’t want to chance going any further, two of them had the same bike as me which was a little concerning. One of them told me less than one tenth of one percent of the world’s population
lives within the Arctic Circle. It’s probably one of those facts I happily take as Gospel when it is in fact utter rubbish, but it did seem to make the accomplishment a little more special, so I’m a believer. Plus the fella who told me & I both shared a dislike for American immigration officials as despite being an American they gave him a hard time for wanting to enter Alaska.
After about 5 & half hours in the saddle we made it to Coldfoot Camp, the halfway point on the Dalton & as I hadn’t broken any bones or the bike I was a happy man. We had intended to camp at Coldfoot & push on the following day but after a large, lazy lunch the sun was still shining & as we didn’t know what the weather would be like the following day we decided to push on, the intention being to camp out on the tundra when we’d had enough.
Our speed crept up as my confidence grew (Martin was always fast) so the miles started falling & we both thought we might possibly make it all the way to Prudhoe. The prospect of camping
Here goes...
0.0 of the Dalton in bear country & potentially having to listen to Martin being sexually assaulted by a Grizzly attracted to that blanket was a grim prospect & so I was happy to keep clocking up & counting down the miles.
After climbing over the Brooks Range (& Atigun Pass for those who watch Ice Road Truckers) it got colder & a lot flatter but was still beautiful. It was nice to pull over, switch off the engine & just enjoy the fact I was in the Arctic Circle. I had a huge grin & started to think all those hours of prayer my mum has clocked up on my behalf & the money she has invested in lighting candles in various churches around the world were really paying off. Thanks mum! X What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
About thirty miles outside Prudhoe Bay the weather turned to shit, so much for the power of prayer (only joking mum, I haven’t forgotten St. Jude is the Patron Saint of Hopeless Causes - I know, I know). A thick wet fog is no fun to ride through as it’s hard to tell where you need to put the
front wheel & it was getting very cold. We persevered & just as Prudhoe appeared out of the fog Martin ran out of gas (that’s petrol to all those back home - you learn something new every day). As my fuel tank wasn’t big enough to cover the miles between the stints I had an extra fuel can & after we had negotiated a suitable rate (where else was he going to get fuel, its supply & demand people, supply & demand) we rode the last couple of miles into Deadhorse (it’s a picturesque as it sounds) & decided to fuck the idea of sleeping in a wet tent within the Arctic Circle & went looking for one of the two hotels in town.
We knew the hotels were hugely expensive (& yes I know, it’s supply & demand) but we didn’t care & booked a very, very, basic, drab room for a mere $240. We did get a can of disinfectant each thrown into the bargain so it didn’t hurt too much. Food was available 24/7 & despite missing dinner there were still pastas, sandwiches, soups, fruits & wait for it... a cookie, cake & doughnut section -
to keep us amused until the night dinner came out at 10pm. Needless to say I didn’t make the night dinner, nor did I sample the fruits, pastas or soups etc. After a serious attempt at eating $120 worth of cookies, cakes & doughnuts I waddled back to my room happy.
I couldn’t sleep (partly wondering if they’d restocked the cake display) so I passed the time walking around the hotel which looked like a cheap set from those early episodes of Star Trek, chatting to the shift workers who were being paid fortunes for three month stints up there. Full of interesting people that hotel, packed full. Everyone had a tale as to why they were prepared to work up there & more importantly, what they were going to do with the money!
The next morning we spent time loading the bikes up with food prior to departure. Chocolate milk, sandwiches, crisps, fruit & cakes were all packed in at the expense of disposables like maps & thermals. We fuelled up & started south. After all those weeks heading north it was odd pointing the the bike in a different direction, north had been fun & I
wondered what south had in store.
Inevitably on the way back we met a girl working a Stop sign. In contrast to her counterparts in Canada, in Alaska the Stop sign workers belong to one union, the pilot car drivers you follow through the road works belong to another & the machine operators to a third & its very hard to change between. So there was no option of a warm cab anytime soon & thus she was stuck out in the elements in the Arctic Circle Stop sign in hand whilst she saved up for a wedding. When you think you have it bad, think of her.
We camped at Coldfoot on the way back & made it back to a sunny & warm Fairbanks the following day. I’d done what I’d set out to do, taken my motorbike from New York to Alaska. Now I'm thinking, Argentina is meant to be nice I'll TRY & get there.
Southern Alaska.
Prior to returning to Canada I went for a ride around southern Alaska for a few days & the last pictures from this entry were taken there. The place is amazing, possibly one of
Coldfoot Camp
Coldfoot Camp - halfway to Prudhoe Bay within the Artic Circle & they do $10 huge dinners. the most beautiful corners of the world I’ve seen. I did have to get one of my bike boxes welded back together first as the vibration from the ride to Prudhoe had split my top box in two but once that was sorted I got back on the road, destination Argentina.
Riding along the main highway I was told to stop to look for Beluga whales. When I hear the word ‘whale’ I picture something the size of an oil tanker or perhaps a killer whale crashing on to a beach to eat a seal. Beluga whales are little bigger then a dolphin & in my opinion should be stripped of the whale title altogether.
The bear discussions I was having with literally everyone I met were beginning to become a sore point. The stark warnings of being eaten alive etc etc. etc. were beginning to wear thin. I'd seen 3, two scurrying into the bushes & one playing with a traffic cone. Three!!! I was starting to think they were a myth spread by the locals or they'd all been lent out to the BBC & National Geographic. The more plausible theory is they are scared of
With a little confidence...
& the right bike, you can really fly along this part of the highway. me which is understandable. Everyone else was seeing them, I even considered baiting someone elses tent & watching to see what happened but eventually decided against it.
Surely I'll see loads on my way back through Canada?
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Kat
non-member comment
Hi Mr G! If I am the Kat you are referring to ref the blankets then you are errily right! Way before I saw the comment I was eyeing the picture thinking - MMMMMmmm - I like that blanket! Thanks for the blog - its great reading about your crazy adventures. You do swear an awful lot though considering your Mum is reading it! Take care mate, Love Kat x