Vacation time

So Jayell you put the Grip Puppies on over the Oxford grips??? the seam does not close up but they are comfortable. Did you have to stretch them??
The width was good tho...something I was concerned about and my cramp busters and Go Cruise hold them in place.....that stick seems pretty strong too.

Appears they are designed to have the original rubber removed and these put on.

Day 14, Monday June 20, 411km. Fairbanks, AK to Coldfoot, AK, 422km.

What a road, what a ride, what a day! So fantastic. Overwhelming almost. I am so tired. But quite happy.

Light rain fell through most of the night and continued into the early morning. I slept well but had absolutely no motivation to pack up in the rain. After a few snooze alarms, I did what was necessary.

While unhappily packing the soggy tent away, a kind soul approached. "Coffee?", she asked. "It's dark Peruvian." How could I refuse? She extended a ratty Thermos cup, but it contained lovely hot, black coffee. Such a thoughtful gesture. Suddenly, my spirit was lifted, my work easier. Kathi was an older women, travelling on her own from Colorado. Her Harley trike was across the highway, at the local dealer waiting for parts. She had been stuck here at the campground for a few days, her vacation time slipping away. There was little else she could do. We exchanged pleasant conversation, I finished packing, thanked her once again and wished her well, then hit the road.

Last fall, I got this wacky idea to ride to the Arctic Circle. But that was all it was: a wacky idea. So here I was, nine months later, about to hit the Dalton Highway en route to latitude 66° 33'.

The Elliot Highway runs about 88 miles in between Fairbanks and the start of the Dalton. It is asphalt, but in not particularly good shape. Lots of patchwork, plenty of dips, some gravel. I arrived at milepost 0 of the Dalton at around noon. Stopped for a couple of photos, but had to make a hasty retreat; the mosquitoes were unbelievable.

The Dalton highway, regarded as one of the most dangerous in the world, was built in the early seventies as a haul road to service the Alaska pipeline and transport goods to the Prudhoe Bay oil fields. It was never intended for public use, but is now open to all. Eighteen wheel truck traffic is constant, but now so are cars, motorcycles, RVs, and buses.

Many folks travelling this route go the entire way to Prudhoe Bay, at the Arctic Ocean, milepost 414. The Arctic Circle lies at milepost 115. I had planned to go as far as Coldfoot, milepost 175. As soon as the Dalton begins, so does the gravel. Conditions were dry most of the early way. There are hazards everywhere: potholes, bumps, dips, washboard, hard packed gravel, loose gravel, patchy asphalt, most are not signed. Sharp turns, steep changes in elevation. I must pay full attention. About fifty miles in, riding a steady pace, about 50mph, the bike lightly squirming around seeking traction, everything going well, when suddenly the front end began to shake violently. Deep gravel which I hadn't seen. I didn't panic, but thought "This is it, I'm going to get launched." I accepted that a crash was inevitable. It happened so quickly, yet so many thoughts went through my mind: it's been a great trip, at least; how will I get the bike home? How will I explain things?

I avoided the brakes, gently rolled off the throttle, the bike settled down. Once again, all was well. A lesson learned: the Dalton demands complete attention and respect. If you crash up here, or have a mechanical problem, you're entirely on your own.

Carrying on at a reduced pace, encountering various conditions, including some light rain, I arrived at Yukon River, milepost 56, one of only three fuel stops on the highway. The parking lot was a mud bog. $5.499 a gallon. Don't bother asking for premium. $219 a night for a room in a shack. Sweet young girl working the counter, though.

Back on my way, milepsot 90, was a sign saying "Road Damaged". You mean it gets worse? The next mile or two were the most terrifying of my life. Fresh, deep gravel, not graded, heavy from the rain, but not yet mud. I had to tip toe through, no more than 10 or 15 mph, the bike heaving and protesting the whole way, threatening to topple over at any moment. Very difficult, but quite a relief to emerge on the other side.

Calcium chloride is used on the road to help control dust. When it rains, it turns to mud. The bike was filthy.

At about 3:30, I reach MP 160. "This is it", I thought. The Arctic Circle. I'd achieved my goal. There's not much to see here, actually. No fanfare, no souvenir stand, no attendants, no lineups. Just a fancy sign and a display explaining the four seasons in the Arctic. But I was delighted to be there. I took a few photos, patted myself on the back, then continued north.

I arrived in Coldfoot late in the afternoon, but first stopped at the Arctic Interagency Visitor Center. Out of place with everything else on the Dalton, it's clean, modern, full of exhibits and information. Helpful, friendly staff. I hung around and gave myself a few geography and history lessons. Time well spent.

Across the highway is Coldfoot camp, nothing more than a truck stop. Rooms, showers, and food are available. Pitch your tent for free, dinner buffet is $22, breakfast $14, a hot shower $14. Nice staff, very friendly and helpful. I was exhausted at the end of the day, slept well in the tent, though there was a team of sled dogs about a quarter of a mile south who got very excited from time to time.

Critter count: I have no idea, I couldn't take my eyes off the road.

Tomorrow: the treacherous ride south.




Dalton highway, milepost 0.




Lots of mud.


The Yukon River fuel stop; little more than a shack.


The Yukon River bridge.


There's plenty of mud. So glad my wife washed my pants before I left.


Somewhere south of the Arctic Circle.





I did it!




Filthy bike.


Passing trucks make quite a mess.


South of Coldfoot.


Coldfoot gas.


Not a bad tent site for free.

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MacDoc said:

So Jayell you put the Grip Puppies on over the Oxford grips??? the seam does not close up but they are comfortable. Did you have to stretch them??
The width was good tho...something I was concerned about and my cramp busters and Go Cruise hold them in place.....that stick seems pretty strong too.

Appears they are designed to have the original rubber removed and these put on.

Click to expand...

No, I'm on the road still. Not many Grip Puppies dealers around these parts. In any case, I've developed good callouses and it's become less of a bother.

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Thanks.

Looks like you got a reasonable ride to the Arctic Circle.....we decided not to in the AWD just from a timing standpoint and now regret it as it's still on our bucket list. We've been within 300 km three times...Iceland twice and Fairbanks.

Road looks perfect ...damp so no dust but not too muddy....tho your bike and pants might want to argue that

Enjoy

Hope all is well Jayell....saw an ADV rider today while I was out for a scoot and wondered how you were doing.

Sorry for no updates, there is little wifi or cell service, and sometimes not enough hours in the day. All is well.

Day 15, Tuesday June 21, Coldfoot, AK to Fairbanks, AK 435km.

Dark skies welcomed the new day, but at least no rain. Not yet. I had the trucker's hearty breakfast buffet, fueled up, then on my way.

I had planned to go north about another seventy miles to Atigan Pass, said to be quite spectacular. But with the low, dark clouds, I decided to skip it.

As soon as I made the left turn from Coldfoot Camp to the Dalton at 9:00am, the rain began. And so did the first problem. As I experienced earlier in this trip, my visor was fogging. I could not see. Not a good thing at the best of times, but especially unwelcome here. I had to ride with the visor cracked open, but it wouldn't stay open. Fully open was better, but getting pelted in the face by rain is not pleasant. Nor are flying rocks. I cursed and cussed, then gave it some thought. I stopped at Gobblers Knob, an oddly named place, which is nothing more than a rest area at the side of the road. My brilliant, and last straw idea was to remove the chin curtain on the helmet, which ought to allow more air to escape. Eureka, it worked. I could finally see clearly in the rain with the visor snapped shut. Good news.

Now to get on with the task. The rain made conditions extremely difficult, plenty of mud and slippery sections. One section, in particular, was a real challenge. I could see from a distance, shiny mud, not deep, but as slick as glass. White knuckle time again, but slow and steady wins the race. Milepost 90 lay ahead, the scene of yesterday's horror show. I'm not sure if conditions had actually improved overnight, or perhaps I was better mentally prepared, but this time it wasn't quite so nasty.

The rest of the ride was full of the usual hazards, but taken as they come with a little patience got me safely back to MP 0. Should I feel ripped off that I didn't have perfect weather to ride the Dalton? Or, maybe it's better that I got to experience it under less than ideal conditions? I was just happy to escape in one piece.

So, I left Coldfoot at 9:00am and arrived in Fairbanks 4:30pm. Seven and a half hours to go 435km. Yes, I took a few breaks, stopped for the odd photo, but that is slow going. I can only go as fast as the road will allow.

I went back to the River's Edge campground in Fairbanks. Kathi, the coffee lady, still there, still waiting for parts for her bike, losing patience. I asked the clerk where the nearest car wash is. "We have one right here on the grounds", he replied. Perfect. It's important to wash the corrosive Dalton off the bike as soon as possible. It wasn't shining, but twelve bucks got most of the mud off.

Beside my tent was a guy on a 2015 40th Anniversary Honda Goldwing. Showroom shape. "Do you think I should ride the Dalton?", he asked. I quietly chuckled to myself.

Tomorrow: the Denali Highway




The Alaska Pipeline parallels the Dalton for much of the way and occasionally crosses under.


"Please don't climb on the pipeline."




Gobblers Knob?


Mud everywhere.




Even the brake rotors were packed with mud.




Beware the Dalton.


Dalton Highway, milepost 0, looking south. Back to the asphalt of the Elliot Highway, 88 more miles to Fairbanks.


I forgot to take this photo yesterday.


What a difference a day makes.


Home sweet home.

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Note: Wifi and cell service continue to be hard to come by, and sometimes I've just not enough time to write. Thanks to those who've expressed concern. All is well.

Day 16, Wednesday June 22 Fairbanks, AK to Paxson, AK. 450km.

A comparatively dull ride, by Alaska standards, began the day south from Fairbanks on highway #3 towards Denali. Things started to liven up not far north of the town, mountains suddenly popping up out of nowhere. Denali, the town, looked somewhat exclusive, that is, plenty of very fancy hotels well out of reach of this rider. A nice place for a pit stop, though. One shop in town was called "Denali Harley Davidson". Cool, I thought, a bike shop! Alas, it was no more than a clothing store. I should have guessed.

Eighty miles southwest is Denali, the mountain, the highest peak in North America at some 22,000 feet. Too bad it was covered in clouds.

The real reason I'd come this way was to ride The Denali Highway, a lonely stretch of road, about 135 miles, 120 of which are gravel. I rode from Cantwell to Paxson, west to east. The gravel begins a few miles in, and doesn't end until about fifteen miles from Paxson. Unlike the Dalton Highway, the Denali has no commercial truck traffic, and at times is truly deserted. Services are few and far between. The weather was clear and warm, the road dry and dusty. More of the same potholes, washboard, etc, but no mud! Tight and twisty in some sections, lots of changes in elevation. Wonderfully scenic, more so than the Dalton.

After a while, I started to doze off. I know it sounds crazy on a motorcycle, but it's common for me. Time for a break. I found a pull out with a nice grassy area, had a snack and some water, then a thirty minute nap. That's all I need to feel alert and refreshed. Thumbs up to the GS rider who stopped and checked to see if I was okay.

About halfway through, over a bridge crossing a river, I saw two riders pulled off. I stopped for another quick break and some chat. One of the guys was on a KTM with a holed radiator. He didn't seem too concerned though, had plenty of water, so he moved on. It was also here that I met Dave, a very friendly GS rider from British Columbia. We agreed to ride the rest of the way together. The pace was moderate at best, perhaps even slow at times, but there was just so much to see. Sometimes we had to stop just to take it all in. Incredibly beautiful and rugged.

With no motels around for miles, Dave and I would camp for the night. A lifelong woodsman, he told me that this area is under the jurisdiction of the Bureau of Land Management. As such, camping is permitted anywhere, other than private property, though sites are not developed. Close to the end of the highway, near Paxson, Dave found us a good secluded spot, not far off the highway, on the edge of a lake.

He was set up for this sort of thing, I was not. I only have a tent and sleeping bag, but no food. Dave got a proper fire going and happily shared his food. We had beef jerky, chicken, a pot of noodles, hot chocolate. I could only offer warm beer. He even dropped a line in the lake, fully intending to fry up anything worthwhile, but no bites. The three beavers I saw weren't interested.

With limited firewood, and an eye cast towards breakfast, we called it an early night. A good thing, too; I was beat!

Tomorrow: goodbye Alaska!


Another map I had to draw myself; Google is not familiar with the Denali Highway.


Denali, the town. Bring your wallet!


Harley shirts, get your Harley t-shirts here!


Typically beautiful Denali scenery.


I found this bush plane tied up at a rocky airstrip at the side of the road. Entirely airworthy, too.


I dig those balloon tires!






Yours truly.






Dave consults the map.








Dave casts a line.


Incredible views. Everywhere!





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Enjoying this thread. Looks like you're having fun.

Nice write up and good to hear all is well!

Day 17, Thursday June 23, Paxson, AK to Beaver Creek, YT 471km.

Dave is an early riser, really early, and he was rewarded with the sight of a moose and her calf swimming the length of the lake. Too bad I slept in.

The campfire was going when I woke, Dave preparing breakfast for the two of us. Hot cereal, more hot chocolate, and some fruit. A nice start to the day.

It was about 7:30am when we began to ride. Now onto the paved section of the Denali, there were many serious dips. One was so severe, my bike bottomed and scraped hard parts. I checked at a later stop for damage, but found nothing.

I was running low on fuel, but Paxson turned out to be a ghost town. We stopped to check the map, then decided to swap bikes. Moving south on #4, I aboard Dave's 2005 BMW R1200GS. I found the big GS very comfortable, a bit more room on the seat and more leg room than my Tiger. A nicer handling machine in low speed stuff, too. The engine gets the job done with typical German efficiency, but lacks the soul of the sweet Triumph triple, I think. Dave found the Tiger a bit more sporty than his own bike.

Finally, we arrived at a mom 'n pop gas stop and diner. I rolled up to the pumps, but forgot that the BMW's front brake lever was much firmer than what I'm used to on the Tiger. The bike came to a sudden stop, then so slowly fell over to the left. I couldn't hold it, and suddenly Dave's bike was lying in the dirt. What an embarrassment! Dave helped me right the bike, no damage done. I felt terrible for him, though, and apologized repeatedly.

The proprietor of the restaurant, Mo, was delighted to have us, and coaxed the old, rickety gas pump to life, then went in and put coffee on for us. Dave had a slice of pie, while I stuck with coffee only. After ditching Dave's bike and freeloading off him the night before, I thougt it only fair to pick up the food and gas tab.

Back on our respective rides, we rode further south, looking for the Tok cut off, #1, which would take us north and back onto the Alaska Highway. We pulled over for a photo, Dave coming to a stop on my left side. This left me no room to get off, and I always get on and off on the left side. Further, I've noticed that the side stand on the Tiger is a wee bit long; if the ground is high on the left side, even a bit, things can get exciting. I got off the bike on the right, and it very smartly followed. That's two bikes over within one hour. Once again, Dave helped me pick it up. Not a scratch. I didn't feel quite as bad about this one, but still embarrassed. Dave was likely wondering what kind of rider he'd hooked up with.

Back to the Alaska Highway where we stopped for fuel and some groceries. I was going back to Yukon, while Dave had another day or two for Alaska. We took a couple of photos and said goodbye. Dave left me his phone number and invited me to stay at his place when I came through. What a nice guy!

The ride from Tok to Beaver Creek, YT is dull and not particularly scenic. "Welcome home", said the Canada customs man, then a short ride to Beaver Creek. It was about 5:00pm and I wasn't in the mood for the tent. $99 for the room. "Too much", I said, and turned to walk out. "Wait! Wait! How much do you want to pay?". No more than sixty. He showed me a block of rooms, away from the regular motel. A tiny room, two single beds and a TV, the shower a few doors down. Fifty bucks. "I'll take it." Laundry on site, a restaurant across the road. Things worked out rather well.

Tomorrow: more Alaska Highway




Time for some chat with a couple of riders from Minnesota.




Waiting for the pilot car. Bikes go to the front!


Goodbye and thank you to Dave.


Five stars in Beaver Creek!

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Day 18, Friday June 24, Beaver Creek, YT to Teslin, YT, 629km.

It's a good thing I stopped in Beaver Creek last night, no matter how slimey the room was. There's nothing beyond for miles!

There is a ton of construction on the Alaska Highway between Beaver Creek and Whitehorse. Delays were expected. Lots of gravel to negotiate, several pilot cars to follow. Some incredibly beautiful areas, when not interrupted by construction.

Beyond Whitehorse, I stopped in Teslin for fuel. I was going to carry on, but decided to stay for an early supper, then find a tent site.

Following the meal (by the way, the Yukon Motel has really fine food), I met a young guy all the way from London, England named Tim, riding a million mile Triumph Thunderbird. His was a 2001, actually with 93,000 miles, and it showed every single one of 'em. Lots of patchwork repairs. He said there were plenty of spots where he was camping, so off we went. His site was big enough for both our tents.

He told me he was on a round the world trip. "Wow", I said. "How long?". Twelve years, he says.

Not twelve weeks, not twelve months. Twelve years! And he has no intention to stop. He claims he is doing research on the world's indigenous peoples and their sports and games. Good luck to him. He has been through Europe, Africa, South America, the western United States, and north west Canada. Next stop: Alaska and then New Zealand.

We shared a campfire and some beer, then were joined by a lovely retired guy named Walt, from Saranac Lake, NY. He may be from New York, but he made it clear his heart lies in north west Ontario; he loves fishing and snowmobiling.

Critter count: A big grizzly on the side of the road near Whitehorse. And a rabbit!

Tomorrow: the Cassiar Hjghway




Destruction Bay, YT


Haines Junction, YT


Teslin Lake, YT


Our campsite at Teslin Lake.



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Day 19, Saturday June 25, Teslin YT, to Watson Lake, YT, 260km.

A slight hiccup along the way today. Read on...

I said goodbye to Tim, and wished him well on his quest. Breakfast at the Yukon Motel, where I joined Dennis, Chuck, and Andrew, three KLR riders from Edmonton. I had met them earlier in Coldfoot. Their intention had been to go to Prudhoe Bay, but they wisely turned back as the weather and road conditions were so poor.

This ride is merely a warm up for them. Next year they will ride from Edmonton to Tierra del Fuego, the tip of South America.

The day began with the unnerving ride across the Teslin bridge. It's a metal grate, very long, and not the least bit motorcycle friendly. No problem, but no fun.

Heading to Watson Lake and Junction 37 is a fairly straight, boring run on the Alaska Highway, though scenic in some spots. There are still more construction zones to negotiate, more pilot cars to follow.

About 40km from 37, around 12:30 pm, under sunny skies, yet another long stretch of construction gravel, this one no different than any other. Certainly more tame than the worst stuff in Alaska.

Here I encountered the exact same situation as I had going up the Dalton. Violent shaking of the bars. Only this time, I wasn't as lucky. I was simply going too fast in the deep gravel and lost control. Bike in the ditch at 50mph. My own bloody fault. The moment the bike left the road was heartbreaking. How could I have been so careless to allow this to happen? Damage is not too bad, it could have been so much worse. Lots of shattered plastic, broken mirrors, slightly bent handlebars. Personal stuff scattered everywhere. The rider was extremely lucky, too: bruised knee, jammed thumb, contusions on lips and brow, rattled teeth, headache.

Wonderful people stopped to help. Four or five folks helped get the bike out of the ditch and onto the road. Sean, Larry and Jackie. A few others. Dennis, Chuck, and Andrew, with whom I had shared breakfast earlier, stopped to see if I was okay. John and Chris driving the flat bed.

The bike wouldn't start. Perhaps a tip over switch or fuel shut off? We couldn't find any info in the owner's manual. Flattened the battery trying to start.

I was feeling okay moments following the crash, but once in the flat bed, not so much. My vision started going funky. All I wanted to do was sleep. Such good care at the Watson Lake hospital. Stacy and Dr. Tannis were so pleasant and patient. A thorough check, a warm blanket, an afternoon nap. They even fed me. And gave a hug. Angels, they were.

And then there was James, owner of the towing company. He provided the use of his shop, his tools and equipment. He wheeled a transport truck into the front parking lot, said I could stay in the sleeper overnight. He even brought me to his own home, gave me a hot shower. His very kind wife, Alissa, fed me some leftovers and coffee for dinner. So generous.

James told me I was the third or fourth bike he'd recovered from the same gravel stretch this week. There was an F650GS in his shop he'd pulled out. This fellow had attended D2D, as well. An apparent write off. James' company was the one who laid the gravel. He told the local highway authority it needed to be graded, but they didn't want to spent the money. Still my fault.

He drove me back to his shop and left me with the keys for the night. After a few minutes on the battery charger, the Tiger fired immediately. No leaks, no trouble. I spent some time trying to cobble various bits of the bike back together. I'll have it road worthy in the morning, but it is looking decidedly second hand.




Tim is loaded and ready!


Dennis, Chuck, and Andrew.




James' shop in Watson Lake.


Luxurious accommodations!


Everything I needed was here.

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Day 20, Sunday June 26, Watson Lake, YT to Bell II, BC, 495km.

Well, here I sit, in front of a glorious campfire, on my own, a bit more than twenty four hours after nearly prematurely ending my trip, or perhaps even worse. I couldn't think of a better place to be. It's a beautiful secluded and "secret" campsite, so said the nice young girl at the counter at the Bell 2 Heliskiing Lodge. They have very expensive rooms, RV spots, and tent spots. But she told me to go to this one, just over their property line. Right on the banks of a rushing river. No charge. Perhaps I wasn't wanted on their grounds? No matter.

I slept well in James' truck the night before and woke early. I felt much better than the prior afternoon. My thumb was a bit sore, but that's it. James had left me the keys to his shop, so I got a jump on final repairs. I had to wait for him to bring a honking big pipe so we could give the bars a tweak. With that done, Frankenbike was ready. Off to the local ATM, then I made restitution. Three hundred bucks worth for the tow. Ouch. Though, things could have been so much worse. I'm so grateful for the help I received.

I was a wee bit tentative on the bike to begin, not sure of the repairs, and also not so sure of my own skills. A slow and steady pace would see me through the day. After a short while, the bike felt right. Not so sure about the rider.

It was late once on the road, shortly before noon. I set out north from Watson Lake, looking for junction 37 and the Cassiar Highway. This leads into BC's northern interior and to Prince George.

I wasn't sure what to expect of the Cassiar. It's very different from the Alaska Highway. This road is narrow, forest on both sides, tighter turns, but still fast and sweeping, many spots with no shoulder, virtually no run off anywhere. A mistake would cost dearly.

The further south I go, the more scenic and enjoyable it becomes. Other than a few construction zones and the odd patch of gravel, the highway is in excellent shape. It's also deserted. Very little traffic. Towns (if they can be called that) are about sixty miles apart. Towards the end of the day, I'm in the Rockies. Again. So scenic. Given today's late start, I stopped at a small grocery store and got some light food and fruit for tonight, rather than going to a restaurant. I didn't want to stop riding.

When paying for the groceries, I discovered I still had James' keys. "I'll mail 'em when I get home", I thought. I had no intention of going back to Watson Lake. In the parking lot, I struck up conversation with a friendly fellow riding a Harley. "Where are you headed?" I asked. Back home to Watson Lake, he sez. No kidding! Say, do you know a guy named James? The keys are on their way!

Near the end of the day, I rounded a bend and saw a very large bear crossing the road. He couldn't have been more than 100 metres ahead. Impressive, of course, but we wanted nothing to do with one another. Finally around 8:00pm, I arrived in Bell II and this little gem of a campsite. It's the perfect end to a great day. Incidentally, tonight is the first night in about two weeks where I will actually need a flashlight.




James on the right, his friend Darren on the left. Good guys, both.




Does anyone know this TV show?








Behold: Frankenbike!


It's a good thing I an extra pair of ROK straps.


Along the Cassiar Highway.






The Bell 2 Lodge.


My perfect campsite.





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Wow ...50 kph come off into a ditch and you are still riding!!!???......kudos.
We found the Cassiar remote, wet and cold last year.
Did you skip Hyder and Stewart?

@Jayell glad to hear that you and the Tiger are relatively ok. ?

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Glad you're ok. Seems like a common occurrence...

I guess that's a selling point for Jesse's ....I think the frame would bend before those things got damaged.....and maybe not even then.


I actually considered strapping my factory luggage on the 2010 strom when one popped open ...likely was not firmly locked ...but still.

MacDoc said:

I guess that's a selling point for Jesse's ....I think the frame would bend before those things got damaged.....and maybe not even then.


I actually considered strapping my factory luggage on the 2010 strom when one popped open ...likely was not firmly locked ...but still.

Click to expand...

I would think Jesse's and any other aluminum pannier would be more repairable then plastic. You can always bash back in place, or at least close enough to make it work.

Those Givi's cost me $250 for the pair. I could buy 5 pairs before I came to the price of one set of Jesse's. And that's a good point about how strong they are. When mine got damaged, the bike was hit pretty hard on the side, so Jesse's would have damaged the frame!

Day 21, Monday June 27 Bell II, BC to Smithers, BC with a detour to Stewart, BC and Hyder, AK 511km.

After a good night's rest, good weather, and spirits high, I didn't even let some early trouble bother me. I had to pass some mud on the way from the campsite back to the lodge. Lying across the path was a small fallen tree, which didn't cause me any grief the night before. This morning, however, the big time adventure rider was felled by a mighty three inch twig. Indeed, the rear wheel of the Tiger refused to go over, choosing instead to take a dirt nap. That's three times down in a few days? Maybe I should choose a different hobby? I could only chuckle, knowing this wasn't serious and assistance was nearby. Lying in soft mud, there was no way I could get the bike up, despite my efforts. I walked up to the lodge, looking to recruit some help. There was a senior pumping gas for his RV. No help there, I thought. Moments later, a young guy pulls in in his pick up. A young, big guy. There's my man, I thought. He happily agreed to help, but it took all the strength we had. I thanked Justin heartily and moved on.

The plan was to head towards Prince George, but I wasn't sure how far I'd get. I'd also planned a detour to Stewart, BC and Hyder, AK. It is said to be a lovely ride, and it proved to be so. A wonderfully winding road, spectacular mountain views, and The Bear Glacier halfway along. Hyder is an interesting town in that it is the most eastern town in Alaska, and easily accessible from BC. Many folks visit for the sole purpose of checking Alaska off their list. With nowhere to go from Hyder, there is no US customs when entering. However, one must clear Canada customs when returning. It's also very popular to become "Hyderized", a ritual involving the consumption of 151 proof alcohol. The inn was closed when I visited town, but I most likely would have wimped out, anyway. I later learned that I missed the best part of all, The Salmon Glacier.

I carried on back to the Cassiar towards highway 16 and Prince George. It was becoming late, but then I recalled my friend Dave, with whom I rode a few days earlier, lives in Smithers, BC, about an hour on. He had generously invited me to stay for a night. A quick phone call, and I was on my way. Dave's place is just out of town, I had to negotiate a stubborn and a little bit intimidating herd of cattle on the dirt road.

I was given a warm welcome by Dave and his wife Debbie, they offered anything I might need. We ate like kings as we traded stories of the recent days. Their dog Molly, a border collie with boundless energy, was especially entertaining. Some nice conversation following dinner, then off to bed.

Tomorrow: southern BC!




Time for a dirt nap. Must be Monday morning.


Bear Glacier.




Hyder, AK


When did they adopt the metric system in the USA?






Prime commercial real estate in downtown Hyder.





Get Hyderized at the Glacier Inn!




Looking back to Stewart.


Gracious hosts, Dave and Debbie.






The view from Dave and Debbie's front window.

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