Continuing to enjoy your report, top shelf. This pic reminds me of Gnome Chomsky.
I have earned every single gnome pun.
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Headed North - The Lemonade Tour
- Thread starter oomis
- Start date
I have earned every single gnome pun.
Seriously, is all these kids do sleep? I haz places to explore.
My alarm goes off at whatever o'clock, and it's clear nobody else is awake. Being as considerate as I can be, I drag all my crap out of the room into the common area to get myself together. A quick shower, the bike is loaded up and a thank you to the owner/manager as she returns from walking the dog. There's a Tim Horton's in town, and seeing as I've been mostly in the US, it is a better substitute for my McDonald's routine.
For those who don't know what Tim Horton's is, well, you must be from away because it's definitely a Canadian thing. Long story short, it's a coffee shop that makes very mediocre coffee. It is, however, a Canadian institution. It's one of those things that I turn my nose up when I'm home, but make a beeline for when I'm away. It's the terrible comfort of mediocrity and omnipresence.
What a great *&^%%ing line that is. Man, I should write more. :norton
I learn on my way up that there's a music festival going on in Dawson City. *&^%ing hell, another town sold out? What, am I bringing the tourists with me? Well, this time it's the Dawson City Music Festival (DCMF), a 3-day musical bonanza that draws music fans from all over the *&^%-damned tundra.
In all of the ride reports for this part of the world, the town camp site is relatively well-reviewed, and though I absolutely did NOT want to camp again (especially if I was going to be spending a couple of days here to rest, as I had been planning), I was thinking that my nightmare would have been to find not only the hotels sold out, but the campsite as well. Do I head straight for the site, or spend time trying to find a room?
I spot the Downtowner on my way in, wrench my bars over with another curse and decide to try my luck. This seems to be the epicentre of the D2D Rally, which I have missed, so I figured what the hell.
Mary, at the front desk, says that there's one room available tonight, a king suite, but that was it. One room, one night, that's it that's all. And as it is in these small towns, she is pretty sure that there's no other rooms available. The town has been sold out for months, as the DCMF is a big deal around these parts. Fine, I said, I'll take it and be grateful for it...but batting my eyelashes a bit I asked her "are you sure there's nothing else available? I'm not fancy, but I've come such a long way..."
bat bat
"Well, there was this mix-up earlier today. This big group that was going to come in but now we're not sure, and I was told to hold back a couple of rooms just in case..."
"Can you check and see? I sure would be grateful for any arrangements."
Mary makes a call.
"Oh, is that so.
"Yes I see, I didn't know.
"Well that's good to know!"
She can release the rooms. Sweet baby jeebus I have a home for a couple of days. AND there's a music festival in town - where do I get the tickets again?
The rooms and the festival tickets aren't cheap, but my gratitude, stinkiness and exhaustion are overpowering whatever frugal discipline I had left.
Remember, I don't have a job. But *&^% it, I'm at the top of the world, I've ridden a billion kms and there's the promise of music and beer and NOT RIDING for a little bit. Also, showers and not bears.
And this is the bar that does the Sourtoe Cocktail! Right downstairs! Wait, what's the Sourtoe Cocktail? Really?
It's a toe. A real toe, that presumably came from someone's frostbitten foot, that gets dropped in your drink. That you don't swallow.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/mK45sykwL7k" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
There was a line-up, and the routine was that you went to the bar to buy a shot of something (Canadian Club whiskey for me) and then you got in line. You paid the old timer $5 for the privilege, and then you had to drink the drink such that the toe touches your lips (the kiss) BUT that it doesn't pass your lips. If it passes your lips, even to touch your teeth, there is no soup for you. The man in front of me was summarily dismissed because he couldn't follow instructions.
I didn't find it all that revolting. It's sterile, packed in salt, doused in alcohol... I know it's a touristy thing, but I'm a long way from home. I don't know if I'll ever be back here again, so I'll happily indulge in the touristy thing.
And so I hit my spot back at the bar, order my pulled pork sandwich and my (Yukon) Gold to write a bit and start yakking with strangers. All nice.
Enter Eleanor. A mousey little thing who's been travelling all over North, South and Central America on her own because hell yeah why not. All I know is that one moment I was kissing a toe in a glass and the next we were having a discussion about South American macroeconomics and the impact of the socio-political environment. Wha???
I'm just loving the conversation, frankly I've been starving for some sort of intellectual stimulation, and I'm getting a turbocharged dose. Turns out she did a degree in the University of Toronto, my hometown, so she and I have a lot of cultural context in common.
Before any of you dirtbags ask for pictures, or what her mom looks like, I do have a picture, but that comes later.
Anyway, I have no ulterior motives. I'm really just craving a human, in-person connection, and this girl has stories that are more interesting than mine.
And I'm travelling with a garden gnome. That sets the bar pretty high, IMHO. :norton
I told her that if she's staying in town, we should hang out the next day. I've been drinking and she hasn't - because she's smart, a single woman travelling on her own, this isn't her first rodeo - and with a smile that left me thinking she was humouring me, she agreed to meet me in front of the hotel at 10 am and we'd see what's what.
Off to bed with me.
Dawson is a great town. It makes my top 3 - in no particular order, it's Key West FL, Moab UT and now Dawson City YT.
Everything is built up on the permafrost, which can be 30+ feet deep in places. It shifts with the freeze / thaw cycle, which shifts the buildings around, making plumb and square pretty much theoretical.
But it's a brilliant town, straddling that line between touristy and authentic so very well.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Bzl06q5WhbI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Ellie and I decided we wanted to see Dredge #4, now a national historic site. All I can say was that this thing must have been an amazing feat of engineering for it's time.
Hamiltonians, this one's for you:
This dredge literally created it's own pond. It would dig forward and fill backwards, creating a moving hole in the ground, filled with water, that it would float in. The link does a better job of explaining it than I could, but it boggles the mind...
Next on the agenda was the Jack London shack
We were treated to one of the most wonderful interpretive talks on the amazing Jack London - his life, his writing, the amazing legacy that he's left as one of the most revered ambassadors of the north. For a taste...
Ellie and I walked around town, and swung by the tent for DCMF. She was planning on leaving Dawson that day, but I argued that it would be a really big shame to be in town for this festival and not go.
But it was expensive - $160 for a weekend pass. That was 3 days of music, but no option to just buy a day - it was all or nothing. Out of her price range, but she decided to stay when I offered to buy her a pass.
Why would I offer to do this? What's in it for me? I did it because it was a nice thing to do, and I could. I decided I'm going to do more of this sort of thing - an unexpected appreciated thing just because I think the world would be a better place if people did more of this sort of thing.
In the end, she decided to go 50/50. It was a beautiful day, almost 30C so far north, so we decided to hit the beer tent and get started. We drank, we told stories, and it began to occur to me how very much focussed on herself she was. I suppose it's inevitable when one spends as much time travelling solo as she had - well over 6 months, and she readily recognized this in herself. When all you're accountable for is yourself, and you have to be assertive as a woman travelling solo does, that's what happens. It's starting to grind on me a bit, starting to border a bit on the rude, but I put that aside.
So we're shooting the breeze in the beer garden when a mother and daughter sit down, and we start chatting. The great thing about an environment like this is that everyone is a traveller. So "where are you from?" is an easy conversation starter. Great stuff for an introvert.
Enter Bobbie (mother) and Jessie (daughter) from Vancouver Island and Whitehorse, respectively. They pegged Ellie and I for a) a couple and b) boring
Boy were they wrong. Of the two of us, I was the boring one, and I'm not a boring man by any stretch. We kept them enthralled with stories of our travelling. What was weird for me was how strange it felt for me not to be the most interesting person in the room...
But we decided that we all liked each other, and so my solo act had grown to a duo, and then to a quartet. We drank, we caroused, it was super good.
At the end of the night we decided to head back to the Downtowner for a drink. Here's a pic of Jessie, Ellie and myself. Pics or it didn't happen, right?
Everything is built up on the permafrost, which can be 30+ feet deep in places. It shifts with the freeze / thaw cycle, which shifts the buildings around, making plumb and square pretty much theoretical.
But it's a brilliant town, straddling that line between touristy and authentic so very well.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Bzl06q5WhbI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Ellie and I decided we wanted to see Dredge #4, now a national historic site. All I can say was that this thing must have been an amazing feat of engineering for it's time.
Hamiltonians, this one's for you:
This dredge literally created it's own pond. It would dig forward and fill backwards, creating a moving hole in the ground, filled with water, that it would float in. The link does a better job of explaining it than I could, but it boggles the mind...
Next on the agenda was the Jack London shack
We were treated to one of the most wonderful interpretive talks on the amazing Jack London - his life, his writing, the amazing legacy that he's left as one of the most revered ambassadors of the north. For a taste...
Ellie and I walked around town, and swung by the tent for DCMF. She was planning on leaving Dawson that day, but I argued that it would be a really big shame to be in town for this festival and not go.
But it was expensive - $160 for a weekend pass. That was 3 days of music, but no option to just buy a day - it was all or nothing. Out of her price range, but she decided to stay when I offered to buy her a pass.
Why would I offer to do this? What's in it for me? I did it because it was a nice thing to do, and I could. I decided I'm going to do more of this sort of thing - an unexpected appreciated thing just because I think the world would be a better place if people did more of this sort of thing.
In the end, she decided to go 50/50. It was a beautiful day, almost 30C so far north, so we decided to hit the beer tent and get started. We drank, we told stories, and it began to occur to me how very much focussed on herself she was. I suppose it's inevitable when one spends as much time travelling solo as she had - well over 6 months, and she readily recognized this in herself. When all you're accountable for is yourself, and you have to be assertive as a woman travelling solo does, that's what happens. It's starting to grind on me a bit, starting to border a bit on the rude, but I put that aside.
So we're shooting the breeze in the beer garden when a mother and daughter sit down, and we start chatting. The great thing about an environment like this is that everyone is a traveller. So "where are you from?" is an easy conversation starter. Great stuff for an introvert.
Enter Bobbie (mother) and Jessie (daughter) from Vancouver Island and Whitehorse, respectively. They pegged Ellie and I for a) a couple and b) boring
Boy were they wrong. Of the two of us, I was the boring one, and I'm not a boring man by any stretch. We kept them enthralled with stories of our travelling. What was weird for me was how strange it felt for me not to be the most interesting person in the room...
But we decided that we all liked each other, and so my solo act had grown to a duo, and then to a quartet. We drank, we caroused, it was super good.
At the end of the night we decided to head back to the Downtowner for a drink. Here's a pic of Jessie, Ellie and myself. Pics or it didn't happen, right?
Sunday.
The weather was amazing yesterday. 35C so far north, and apparently they do get weather like this from time to time. The North is an amazing place.
Anyway, last night amid all the carousing, Bobbie and Jessie and I had made plans to hang out today, after all the alcohol wore off. I wasn't really expecting to do so - you know, sweet drunk talk doesn't always translate to action in the harsh morning.
I woke up, breakfasted in the hotel restaurant, and then went back to the room to write for a bit. I was pleasantly surprised when they knocked on my door to see if I was alive. They had plans to switch campsites, so after a walk around the town we decided to meet up later at the beer tent.
Since my former employer is still paying for my health benefits, I decided to snag a massage. The masseuse was great, and since she was local I decided to pick her brain. We chatted about all kinds of things, including the police presence in the town.
B&J had commented more than once on all the cops that had been imported into the town for the music festival. I hadn't noticed anything, but then again I'm not from there, and it's all relative, right? My masseuse confirmed that they had brought police up from Whitehorse because in past years there had been problems. Underage drinking, vandalism, folks who came for the beer tent and not the music. Looking at it later, the beer garden was jam packed with folks who were clearly not interested in the music - the way it was set up was such that in lieu of paying the $160 for the weekend pass to get into the music tent, you could pay $0 and drink in the beer garden right next door and hear most of the music.
All that being said, everything that I saw was harmless. I am, however, from the big bad city...
B&J met up with me later on, and we spent some time in the music tent. There were 3 bands that stood out to me.
Alex Cuba is a Cuban-Canadian, living in BC, singing in Spanish, covering one of the greatest Canadian bands of all time, Blue Rodeo. In this performance, one of the members of Blue Rodeo, Jim Cuddy, is on stage, collaborating and singing his song with Alex Cuba in Spanish.
To me, that mash-up is what it means to be Canadian.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6Sv-NLalci8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Jaron Freeman-Fox tore it up, but made that rookie mistake of trying to calm down a drunk, rowdy crowd after having encouraged and incited them in the first place...
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/k1Z_eo8X2Iw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
MonkeyJunk
I was looking forward to seeing MonkeyJunk because their name is awesome, but they turned out to be an amazing performance, maybe one of the best I've ever seen. They're a 3 piece blues/rock outfit, and they just worked so hard on stage. It was like they didn't even care about the audience. They didn't pander, they just worked.
No bass player - the singer played a tele through an octovater.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/TYd1QIwozoA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
The weather was amazing yesterday. 35C so far north, and apparently they do get weather like this from time to time. The North is an amazing place.
Anyway, last night amid all the carousing, Bobbie and Jessie and I had made plans to hang out today, after all the alcohol wore off. I wasn't really expecting to do so - you know, sweet drunk talk doesn't always translate to action in the harsh morning.
I woke up, breakfasted in the hotel restaurant, and then went back to the room to write for a bit. I was pleasantly surprised when they knocked on my door to see if I was alive. They had plans to switch campsites, so after a walk around the town we decided to meet up later at the beer tent.
Since my former employer is still paying for my health benefits, I decided to snag a massage. The masseuse was great, and since she was local I decided to pick her brain. We chatted about all kinds of things, including the police presence in the town.
B&J had commented more than once on all the cops that had been imported into the town for the music festival. I hadn't noticed anything, but then again I'm not from there, and it's all relative, right? My masseuse confirmed that they had brought police up from Whitehorse because in past years there had been problems. Underage drinking, vandalism, folks who came for the beer tent and not the music. Looking at it later, the beer garden was jam packed with folks who were clearly not interested in the music - the way it was set up was such that in lieu of paying the $160 for the weekend pass to get into the music tent, you could pay $0 and drink in the beer garden right next door and hear most of the music.
All that being said, everything that I saw was harmless. I am, however, from the big bad city...
B&J met up with me later on, and we spent some time in the music tent. There were 3 bands that stood out to me.
Alex Cuba is a Cuban-Canadian, living in BC, singing in Spanish, covering one of the greatest Canadian bands of all time, Blue Rodeo. In this performance, one of the members of Blue Rodeo, Jim Cuddy, is on stage, collaborating and singing his song with Alex Cuba in Spanish.
To me, that mash-up is what it means to be Canadian.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6Sv-NLalci8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Jaron Freeman-Fox tore it up, but made that rookie mistake of trying to calm down a drunk, rowdy crowd after having encouraged and incited them in the first place...
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/k1Z_eo8X2Iw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
MonkeyJunk
I was looking forward to seeing MonkeyJunk because their name is awesome, but they turned out to be an amazing performance, maybe one of the best I've ever seen. They're a 3 piece blues/rock outfit, and they just worked so hard on stage. It was like they didn't even care about the audience. They didn't pander, they just worked.
No bass player - the singer played a tele through an octovater.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/TYd1QIwozoA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Did you stop in and visit Gnome, Alaska?
You know, when I learned that Gnome Alaska was a real place, I actively considered ditching....er...releasing Chris back into the wild. Alas, the schedule for the return home would ultimately make that an impossibility...
Dawson City - Sunday July 20th
Sunday's a quiet day. I had a wristband for the festival today, but I'm a bit burnt out, so I didn't go. I suppose I could have tried to sell the wristband, but I didn't. I just wasn't into the music scene, and after having spent a couple of days with a pack of people, I was kind of missing the camaraderie. Knowing that I was leaving for Inuvik tomorrow, I decided to spend the day catching up on writing, managing my photos and focussing on getting a good night's sleep.
My original plan was to meet up with fellow riders in Dawson City. You know, I'd just stumble on a group of like minded riders that I could just tag along with for safety and company. And we'd like each other and become great friends and someone would buy the rights to the movie.
Except while I was in Dawson, it seemed to be devoid of riders. On the Sunday there were a couple of ADV bikes parked outside the Downtowner, but their owners weren't obvious. I didn't want to be that dork poking around the town looking for other riders like I needed friends...I honestly don't know what I was thinking, except that I'd figure it out later.
I wasn't super psyched about riding the Dempster solo. I had read all the reports and was well aware how dependant success was on the weather, and at the same time how quickly the weather could change. While I had been truly blessed by great weather so far (perhaps too much so, as too much heat is almost as bad as too much cold) I really didn't want to do this bit by myself for a ton of reasons. Not the least of which was the reputation of the road, and my inexperience in dirt. How many stories had I heard about experienced dirt / off road riders that had been airlifted off the road with serious injuries?
Regardless, I seemed to be on my own. Just me, Chris and our satellite tracker.
A couple of words on it - I used a Delorme InReach SE.
One of the conditions of the support of my family for this trip was some sort of satellite tracking, and the incumbent device seems to be the Spot. After doing some research, I decided to go with the Delorme, as it had a couple of key advantages over the Spot.
The price of the unlimited plan of the Delorme device seemed to work better for me as there was no annual fee, and there was the two-way texting capability and bluetooth syncing to my iPad.
This meant that no matter where I was, I could fire up the iPad, tether to the Delorme and have pretty-much real-time conversations back home. A couple times I was able to get a weather report for the next day from a campsite with no cell service, and that along was worth it's weight in gold.
I also liked the form factor of the Delorme - easier to slip into a pocket. One of the things that was concerned with was getting separated from my bike in the event of a crash and not being able to call for help. Having the device on my body rather than on the bike seemed like the right thing to do... *insert foreshadowing here*
Sunday's a quiet day. I had a wristband for the festival today, but I'm a bit burnt out, so I didn't go. I suppose I could have tried to sell the wristband, but I didn't. I just wasn't into the music scene, and after having spent a couple of days with a pack of people, I was kind of missing the camaraderie. Knowing that I was leaving for Inuvik tomorrow, I decided to spend the day catching up on writing, managing my photos and focussing on getting a good night's sleep.
My original plan was to meet up with fellow riders in Dawson City. You know, I'd just stumble on a group of like minded riders that I could just tag along with for safety and company. And we'd like each other and become great friends and someone would buy the rights to the movie.
Except while I was in Dawson, it seemed to be devoid of riders. On the Sunday there were a couple of ADV bikes parked outside the Downtowner, but their owners weren't obvious. I didn't want to be that dork poking around the town looking for other riders like I needed friends...I honestly don't know what I was thinking, except that I'd figure it out later.
I wasn't super psyched about riding the Dempster solo. I had read all the reports and was well aware how dependant success was on the weather, and at the same time how quickly the weather could change. While I had been truly blessed by great weather so far (perhaps too much so, as too much heat is almost as bad as too much cold) I really didn't want to do this bit by myself for a ton of reasons. Not the least of which was the reputation of the road, and my inexperience in dirt. How many stories had I heard about experienced dirt / off road riders that had been airlifted off the road with serious injuries?
Regardless, I seemed to be on my own. Just me, Chris and our satellite tracker.
A couple of words on it - I used a Delorme InReach SE.
One of the conditions of the support of my family for this trip was some sort of satellite tracking, and the incumbent device seems to be the Spot. After doing some research, I decided to go with the Delorme, as it had a couple of key advantages over the Spot.
The price of the unlimited plan of the Delorme device seemed to work better for me as there was no annual fee, and there was the two-way texting capability and bluetooth syncing to my iPad.
This meant that no matter where I was, I could fire up the iPad, tether to the Delorme and have pretty-much real-time conversations back home. A couple times I was able to get a weather report for the next day from a campsite with no cell service, and that along was worth it's weight in gold.
I also liked the form factor of the Delorme - easier to slip into a pocket. One of the things that was concerned with was getting separated from my bike in the event of a crash and not being able to call for help. Having the device on my body rather than on the bike seemed like the right thing to do... *insert foreshadowing here*
I very humbly disagree.
http://www.gtamotorcycle.com/vbforu...-Bike-Mechanics-101-With-Pegassus-(For-Noobs)
C'mon now...two things, 1 I wouldn't call her vain. She was a just used to doing things her own way. She was on her own bucket list trip and was used to not compromising. Ultimately I get it, and it was all good.
Secondly, for the sake of keeping the ride report interesting and to pander to everyone's basest sense of humour, all I'll say is...
Dresden
Well-known member
So, you didn't get it in then.C'mon now...two things, 1 I wouldn't call her vain. She was a just used to doing things her own way. She was on her own bucket list trip and was used to not compromising. Ultimately I get it, and it was all good.
Secondly, for the sake of keeping the ride report interesting and to pander to everyone's basest sense of humour, all I'll say is...
Only kidding ya. Have fun
Not sure if I ever commented on this thread in the past but my road trip through the Yukon was one of my favorite trips. Was doing an install in Mayo (well we call the site Mayo and that's where we spend the night but the site is on top of Gelena Hill near the Elsa mining camp). So I did Whitehorse up to Mayo, up to the mountain to show my gf the site at the top of the mountain, back down through Elsa to Keno, from Keno to Dawson, Top of the World Highway (crazy road) over to Chicken, AK, back down to Haines Junction, then back across to Whitehorse again with a stop at a dog sled camp for a tour.
Whole trip took about 5 days. Nothing prebooked. Great adventure. Then extended the stop over on the way back that went through Vancouver for another 5 days there with some friends that had moved there recently.
Highly recommend Yukon and Vancouver area as places to visit. Gf and I travel fairly often to a lot of places and so far Yukon is both of our favorites to the point of considering moving there. If it weren't for the winters we probably would have.
Whole trip took about 5 days. Nothing prebooked. Great adventure. Then extended the stop over on the way back that went through Vancouver for another 5 days there with some friends that had moved there recently.
Highly recommend Yukon and Vancouver area as places to visit. Gf and I travel fairly often to a lot of places and so far Yukon is both of our favorites to the point of considering moving there. If it weren't for the winters we probably would have.
The Dempster. The reason I'm here.
I was honestly intimidated. That doesn't seem like the right word, but I was about to be firmly in new unfamiliar territory. This would be my first time on real dirt with real knobbies. I'd be the most alone I'd ever have been, on a road with a terrible reputation.
For the sake of those less familiar with the Dempster, here's what I had gleaned about it in the reading that I had done prior to the trip.
- The road is dirt, the conditions of the road change rapidly, and if it rains you're screwed.
- Calcium chloride is used to harden the road, and it turns into what everyone calls "pig snot" when it gets damp. It's a slippery surface that's hellish on 2 wheels. But as awful as it is, it dries quickly.
- There is the gas only in two spots. Eagle Plains is 369 kms north of Dawson City, and Fort MacPherson is 181 kms north of Eagle Plains (550 kms from Dawson City). Inuvik is 184 kms past Fort MacPherson, a total of 734 kms north of Dawson City.
- from the Dempster Wikipedia entry "The design of the highway is unique, primarily due to the intense physical conditions it is put through. The highway itself sits on top of a gravel berm to insulate the permafrost in the soil underneath. The thickness of the gravel pad ranges from 1.2 m (3 ft 11 in) up to 2.4 m (7 ft 10 in) in some places. Without the pad, the permafrost would thaw and the road would sink into the ground."
- If one were to crash and require repairs, the shop at Eagle Plains was used to working miracles, but they'd be your only hope.
- There are just as many stories of middle-aged guys riding Harleys up the Dempster as there are of pro motocrossers having to be airlifted after a crash
Intimidation is the wrong word. Trepidation is the right one . I knew the despite all the research in the world, given that I was by myself the success of the trip depended on 2 things - good weather and staying upright.
But before we go there, the obligatory setting-off photos!
The first part of the Dempster was in great shape. Great hard-pack that gave me confidence.
Not having taken many pictures in Dawson, and realizing that I'll be lucky to every come back this way again, I resolved myself that weather notwithstanding, I'd take as many pictures as I possibly could on the Dempster. And if I ever felt like stopping to shoot, I would.
What I ended up getting was a ton of pictures that all kinda look the same. Which is ok for be because the Dempster has got to be some of the most breathtaking scenery I have every had the fortune to lay my eyes on.
I'll confess, I'm a mountain guy. My favourite stomping grounds for riding are the Appalachians, and the Rockies are amazing as well, but the Dempster has this remoteness to it, coupled with amazing vistas that seem to go on for every and ever. We're well north of the tree line, and so it just doesn't seem to end. There's a similar remoteness associated with the James Bay Road, which I've ridden twice, but I'm alone here.
Ah, the great James Bay Road adventure #1. So many stores...like this one!
I see those guys on advrider doing water crossings all the time. I should get my tires wet. What could go wrong?
So far so good!
Things are less good very suddenly...
Crap. High tide is coming in, isn't it...
All's well that ends well. Sorry about the mud on your boots, boys...
Crap, don't forget those!
But I digress...
As I said, great weather for riding the Dempster, but one consequence of the dryness is the dust. Really, the only other traffic on the road that I saw was truckers, and they kicked up this amazing dust storm as they went by. The dust trail went on for about a kilometre every time.
This meant that if a truck was oncoming, you kind of had memorize the road, because you'd be in whiteout conditions for easily 20 seconds.
"Jackass," you're thinking, "why don't you just slow right down?" Well, aside from using common sense and slowing down some, here's the problem. If I were to slow down appreciably I'm going to be stuck in this hanging cloud of dust for much longer than 30 seconds. Because the Dempster isn't wide enough in most spots to safely pull over and stop, I was worried about being run over from behind. Trucks were often doing over 80 kph, and if one was coming up behind me, well, it'd end likely poorly for Chris.
And if I got stuck behind a slower-moving truck, as happened a couple of times, that was more of an issue. The trail they left behind stretched on for ages even at sub-sonic speeds, and since riding in that cloud behind the truck wasn't an option, I had to hang back far enough and kind of anticipate where the dust trail might settle down, or be blown away on gusts of wind. I then had to close the gap and pass, and I'll reference my inexperience on dirt here. It made for some interesting times.
Not that I fault the truckers one bit. Every one that saw me was courteous, gave me space and tried to help me out, so when they saw me making a pass (from way back there) they'd move over or slow down a touch.
I got used the bike on dirt, moving around underneath me. On pavement, everything is tight, connected, immediate - on dirt it's more like steering a boat, with continuous corrections. It was fun - I practiced breaking the rear loose a bit around a sweeper, learning to trust the bike, but I never lost track of the fact that I was on an overloaded bike in a very isolated area. One mistake - just one - would be disastrous, compounded by the fact that I was all alone.
"Jackass," you're thinking, "you have the satellite tracker. You just reviewed it. It has a frickin' SOS button on it. You're not alone." So let me tell you how this all works.
While it's true that the device leaves breadcrumbs that tells everyone back home that I'm in the middle of the tundra like I said I was going to be and not in tahiti with a hula girl, and it's true that with the press of a button I can call for help, that help probably doesn't arrive for hours. Hours and hours, and possibly days. Not only that, but for the most part the direction that one crashes on the Dempster, if one goes down, IS DOWN and off the berm. Into the scrub and the brush, and out of sight unless someone is looking for you. A passing trucker may not see me. And so there our hero would lie, bleeding and broken, being eaten by bears and wolves, until someone at some point comes to fend off the vultures with a stick and haul my goretex-clad body out of the ditch.
The plan was to get to Eagle Plains and evaluate what my options might be. There's a restaurant and a hotel there, along with gas and a mechanic, so if the weather had turned that's home for a bit.
I made great time, and hit Eagle Plains in time for lunch.
I paid a billion dollars for gas, but was pleased that I had rolled into Eagles Plains on fumes - my gas reserve was unused.
So when I say the road was dusty, how dusty was it?
Chris says hello
So Eagle Plains is a decision point - do I hole up here? Do I head just up the road to the Arctic Circle and then head home? Do I continue north from there to Inuvik, and continue to roll the dice on the weather?
Damn the torpedoes, I haven't run out of north yet...
I was honestly intimidated. That doesn't seem like the right word, but I was about to be firmly in new unfamiliar territory. This would be my first time on real dirt with real knobbies. I'd be the most alone I'd ever have been, on a road with a terrible reputation.
For the sake of those less familiar with the Dempster, here's what I had gleaned about it in the reading that I had done prior to the trip.
- The road is dirt, the conditions of the road change rapidly, and if it rains you're screwed.
- Calcium chloride is used to harden the road, and it turns into what everyone calls "pig snot" when it gets damp. It's a slippery surface that's hellish on 2 wheels. But as awful as it is, it dries quickly.
- There is the gas only in two spots. Eagle Plains is 369 kms north of Dawson City, and Fort MacPherson is 181 kms north of Eagle Plains (550 kms from Dawson City). Inuvik is 184 kms past Fort MacPherson, a total of 734 kms north of Dawson City.
- from the Dempster Wikipedia entry "The design of the highway is unique, primarily due to the intense physical conditions it is put through. The highway itself sits on top of a gravel berm to insulate the permafrost in the soil underneath. The thickness of the gravel pad ranges from 1.2 m (3 ft 11 in) up to 2.4 m (7 ft 10 in) in some places. Without the pad, the permafrost would thaw and the road would sink into the ground."
- If one were to crash and require repairs, the shop at Eagle Plains was used to working miracles, but they'd be your only hope.
- There are just as many stories of middle-aged guys riding Harleys up the Dempster as there are of pro motocrossers having to be airlifted after a crash
Intimidation is the wrong word. Trepidation is the right one . I knew the despite all the research in the world, given that I was by myself the success of the trip depended on 2 things - good weather and staying upright.
But before we go there, the obligatory setting-off photos!
The first part of the Dempster was in great shape. Great hard-pack that gave me confidence.
Not having taken many pictures in Dawson, and realizing that I'll be lucky to every come back this way again, I resolved myself that weather notwithstanding, I'd take as many pictures as I possibly could on the Dempster. And if I ever felt like stopping to shoot, I would.
What I ended up getting was a ton of pictures that all kinda look the same. Which is ok for be because the Dempster has got to be some of the most breathtaking scenery I have every had the fortune to lay my eyes on.
I'll confess, I'm a mountain guy. My favourite stomping grounds for riding are the Appalachians, and the Rockies are amazing as well, but the Dempster has this remoteness to it, coupled with amazing vistas that seem to go on for every and ever. We're well north of the tree line, and so it just doesn't seem to end. There's a similar remoteness associated with the James Bay Road, which I've ridden twice, but I'm alone here.
Ah, the great James Bay Road adventure #1. So many stores...like this one!
I see those guys on advrider doing water crossings all the time. I should get my tires wet. What could go wrong?
So far so good!
Things are less good very suddenly...
Crap. High tide is coming in, isn't it...
All's well that ends well. Sorry about the mud on your boots, boys...
Crap, don't forget those!
But I digress...
As I said, great weather for riding the Dempster, but one consequence of the dryness is the dust. Really, the only other traffic on the road that I saw was truckers, and they kicked up this amazing dust storm as they went by. The dust trail went on for about a kilometre every time.
This meant that if a truck was oncoming, you kind of had memorize the road, because you'd be in whiteout conditions for easily 20 seconds.
"Jackass," you're thinking, "why don't you just slow right down?" Well, aside from using common sense and slowing down some, here's the problem. If I were to slow down appreciably I'm going to be stuck in this hanging cloud of dust for much longer than 30 seconds. Because the Dempster isn't wide enough in most spots to safely pull over and stop, I was worried about being run over from behind. Trucks were often doing over 80 kph, and if one was coming up behind me, well, it'd end likely poorly for Chris.
And if I got stuck behind a slower-moving truck, as happened a couple of times, that was more of an issue. The trail they left behind stretched on for ages even at sub-sonic speeds, and since riding in that cloud behind the truck wasn't an option, I had to hang back far enough and kind of anticipate where the dust trail might settle down, or be blown away on gusts of wind. I then had to close the gap and pass, and I'll reference my inexperience on dirt here. It made for some interesting times.
Not that I fault the truckers one bit. Every one that saw me was courteous, gave me space and tried to help me out, so when they saw me making a pass (from way back there) they'd move over or slow down a touch.
I got used the bike on dirt, moving around underneath me. On pavement, everything is tight, connected, immediate - on dirt it's more like steering a boat, with continuous corrections. It was fun - I practiced breaking the rear loose a bit around a sweeper, learning to trust the bike, but I never lost track of the fact that I was on an overloaded bike in a very isolated area. One mistake - just one - would be disastrous, compounded by the fact that I was all alone.
"Jackass," you're thinking, "you have the satellite tracker. You just reviewed it. It has a frickin' SOS button on it. You're not alone." So let me tell you how this all works.
While it's true that the device leaves breadcrumbs that tells everyone back home that I'm in the middle of the tundra like I said I was going to be and not in tahiti with a hula girl, and it's true that with the press of a button I can call for help, that help probably doesn't arrive for hours. Hours and hours, and possibly days. Not only that, but for the most part the direction that one crashes on the Dempster, if one goes down, IS DOWN and off the berm. Into the scrub and the brush, and out of sight unless someone is looking for you. A passing trucker may not see me. And so there our hero would lie, bleeding and broken, being eaten by bears and wolves, until someone at some point comes to fend off the vultures with a stick and haul my goretex-clad body out of the ditch.
The plan was to get to Eagle Plains and evaluate what my options might be. There's a restaurant and a hotel there, along with gas and a mechanic, so if the weather had turned that's home for a bit.
I made great time, and hit Eagle Plains in time for lunch.
I paid a billion dollars for gas, but was pleased that I had rolled into Eagles Plains on fumes - my gas reserve was unused.
So when I say the road was dusty, how dusty was it?
Chris says hello
So Eagle Plains is a decision point - do I hole up here? Do I head just up the road to the Arctic Circle and then head home? Do I continue north from there to Inuvik, and continue to roll the dice on the weather?
Damn the torpedoes, I haven't run out of north yet...
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Interestingly, this is where my journal stops. Seriously, Eagle Plains was my last entry, and I can't remember why. I think it was a function of how exhausted I was, and how my near-death experience that I'm going to tell you about affected me.
How's that for a set-up.
Not to terribly far from Eagle Plains is the marker for the Arctic Circle, as I mentioned, this was my real goal. I always thought it would be amazing to ride all the way up to Inuvik, but I knew that I'd be sad if for some reason I didn't make there.
The weather was still great - albeit dusty - so after about an hour's rest at Eagle Plains, I continued.
I really like the picture below. I'm not really sure why...
Ah, there it is...
At the signpost there's one other guy there in a camper van. He and I chat briefly, and I'm grateful that he's not the type to disturb the quiet that's inherent in a place like this. I mean, it's a bit arbitrary, this particular spot, but nonetheless. We humans seem to benefit from marking a spot, like that makes it more special (specialer?) than any other, but meaning comes in many different ways.
Yeah, Chris got in there as well
From the Circle, I had decided to keep going. The next major stop was going to the the Yukon / Northwest Territories border.
*Placeholder for video*
At the border marker, the wind had picked up.
I mean really picked up...
It was blowing so hard that I had to reposition the bike so it didn't get blown over. Soft ground and a kajillion pound bike plus complete solitude meant taking some caution.
The wind really was howling, as you can see by the selfie I tried to take.
Ah, this is better...
Goddamn, are you still here?
The upside to the hurricane is no bugs.
Now the wind - it wasn't letting up. In fact, as I got back on and headed North again, it was just getting stronger. And in short order, I found myself in a bit of a situation.
I was riding more or less in the middle of the road, soft patches notwithstanding, and the wind got to the point where I had to start canting the bike over to compensate. I was having fun with it at first - "hey look at me, I'm riding a supermoto!" - but quickly I found that I was less and less able to correct for the wind. It was hitting my left side, broadside, and then my rear broke loose.
On the Enduro setting on the R1200GSW, a certain amount of wheelspin is allowed on the rear. You know, for the funz. I was going about 60 kph, I'd say...alright, I have no idea how fast I was going, because at this point it stopped being fun and I didn't have the luxury of looking at my gauges. I had the bike leaned over - ALL the way over - panniers and knees very close to the ground. So much so that had their been a break in the wind, I'm sure I would have crashed.
On the subject of crashing, let's go back to the construction of the Dempster. Built on a berm, remember? Elevated up off the permafrost, no guardrails and on this particular spot, it had to have been 10 feet up, which is a long way down. Laying her down was not an option, considering how close I had been pushed over to the edge, because the bike was pretty much guaranteed to go over.
I wasn't sure how close I was to the edge, because honestly I was leaned over so far that I couldn't see over my right shoulder to check where the drop off was. What I could see, on my right hand side, was almost the entire road.
Doing the math after the fact, I figure that my rear was within 12 inches of the drop-off.
For 15 minutes straight.
"Jackass," you're thinking, "why wouldn't you just pull over. Stop and wait it out a bit? Why in the name of every 8-armed lion god would you ever let yourself get into this spot in the first place?"
Well, to be honest, it snuck up on me. And when it did, I was already moving at such a clip, that were I to lose any momentum, either I would have low-sided or I would have been blown off the edge. I had to keep the throttle on, keep all the power I could to the rear, to keep from going over.
For 15 minutes I battled the wind, riding this out. 15 minutes is a long, long time to have your adrenaline pumping, and I can distinctly remember going through all of the Kubler-Ross phases of grief (hey, I have a psych degree)
Denial and Isolation: "The wind'll let up soon, I just have to ride this out, and I'll be ok. It's kind of fun, actually. Look at me, I'm backing it in!"
Anger: "&^%$ this ********. More throttle is the answer"
Bargaining: "Man, I'm kinda screwed. If only I had stopped earlier, or I had less momentum to maintain, I might be in a better spot. Dear 8 armed lion god, I know that I've never prayed to you before, mostly because I made you up just a little while ago, but if you get me out of this, I'll...I'll...do that thing you like..."
Depression: "*&^%. I'm going to die. Oh, and my fancy satellite tracker with the SOS button that I was supposed to keep on my body in case of stuff like this? It's in my tank bag. When I crash I'm going to be so far down there that I'll starve to death before anyone notices my mangled corpse."
Acceptance: "I'm pretty sure my life insurance covers this. I'm worth more dead than alive - so that'll be nice for my family. What a way to go, though - better to be shot out of a cannon than squeezed out of a tube, right?"
And so I rode it out. When the wind died down a bit as I pulled into the lee of a mountain range, I pulled over and sat down on the ground to catch my breath. I was so tired, so exhausted, but I had to keep going. What choice did I have - I certainly wasn't in a position to turn around and go through it again.
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