Well, took a side trip from Tok the other night and rode down to Chicken, Alaska.
http://www.chickenalaska.com/chicken/index.html
It's bout 80 miles off the Alaska Highway, down the Taylor "Top Of The World" Highway. What a ride, and what an awesome place! When I pulled up, sitting on the porch was the owner, who fixed me with a cautious stare and said, "Where ya from?" "New Hope, PA. Near Philly," I replied. "Me, too," she said, (altough she's been in Alaska for 20 years) and then offered me the a place to sleep in her unused trailer for the night! I told her I already had a room in Tok, but I'll have a drink and some chillie. She is 50 (looks 25), beautiful, friendly and funny, and gave me a ChickenBiker Pin after we sat at the bar shooting the breeze for a while. The handful of folks hanging around the bar or sitting on the porch were friendly and fun, and it was quite an experience. The population here is about 15. No running water, no electricity (except for the generator) and no phone, TV or internet (the website is maintained elsewhere). Oh yes, and don't let me forget the outouse. I think most of the folks who live there are gold miners, and as far as I can tell these folks are real Alaskans. If you ever get to Alaska, get to Chicken!
Left Tok Monday morning and rode to Fairbanks. It was a quick 200 mile ride and I planned an easy day in Fairbanks in preparation of riding to the Arctic Circle on Tuesday. But, since they were calling for rain the rest of the week, and it was 70 and sunny on Monday, I said the heck with it and headed up to the Arctic circle that afternoon. I figured I'd make it up and back in about seven or eight hours, after all, it's only 180 miles each way. Ten and a half hours later, at 4:30 in the morning eastern time I made it back! And believe me when I tell ya I was riding almost the whole time.
The Dalton Highway! Gravel, dust, washboard ruts, huge tractor-trailers (it's THEIR road) squeezing past at 50 miles an hour! Did I mention the gravel? What an adventure. 110 miles of brutal, punishing gravel road for three minutes snapping photos of my Nomad in front of the Arctic Circle sign! Why only three minutes? The mosquitoes there were about the same size as my nomad, that's why.
The Dalton is one long, lonely road. The last road in North America. Follows the route of the Alaskan Pipeline, which is visible along side the road most of the way. Barely two lanes wide; no shoulder; sheer drop-offs at times; sharp curves with steep, soft gravel banks. I started out at 30 MPH, scared to death of getting a flat or laying her down--heard too many horror stories about The Dalton. (Towing back to Fairbanks from The Dalton Highway starts at $1,500.00!) Soon was riding at about 60 MPH, whipping the back end of my Nomad around in that gravel like an ice-track racer! I think I got her airborne a few times, and though she must be wondering what she did to deserve such punishment, the bike performed flawlessly. (Althugh I noticed the next day that one of the nuts on the exhaust header had fallen off and was laying on the motor. I put it back on and tightened 'em up)
At 120 miles on the trip meter, I finally reached the first gas stop, at the Yukon River, still 60 miles from the Circle. Ten dollars for three gallons of gas, and I realized that I wouldn't be back there on my return trip until after they closed for the night. Without this gas stop there was no way I was making it back to Fairbanks. The fella said there was another gas stop 5 miles down the road, but he didn't know if "Theresa" would stay open that night or not, so he filled up a jerry-can with four gallons of fuel and left it behind the building! What a guy.
On the way back from the Arctic Cirlce, along side the road, was a big, brown grizzly! I took some photos, and me and the grizzly exchanged a few glances indicating our mutual respect. At least that's what I tell myself that big bear was doing. I kept my distance, and didn't pull over and stop until I had PASSED the bear. I wanted my front tire pointed away from him.
Had an incredilbe ride back, didn't see another soul for hours, except for the grizzly (I'll be mentioning the grizzly sighting every few sentences for the remainder of my post. Please forgive me.) and the odd tractor-trailer hauling ***, delivering supplies up to the Arctic Ocean. The rule there is to pull over and stop and let them pass. They do NOT slow down, nor do they have to. It is truly thier road. By now the sun had gone down as far as it goes in those parts this time of year, and there was a blue, soft-light haze. Magic hour. Permanant twilight. It was too cool to even describe. That pinkish, blue light illuminaiting the mountain ranges; a golden glow over it all--what a sight.
Got back to Fairbanks and was so delirious that I thought I heard on CNN that Deepthroat's identity had been confirmed by The Washington Post. Ha! I must have really been out of it.
Dropped the bike off today at the dealer in Fairbanks for a complete service and to have those new parts installed on the cooling system. We'll see if that solves the high-idle problem.
Ride safe.
Dep