My Alaska Journey

Why Alaska, you ask? And why by motorcycle?
It all started sometime back in the early '90's, when Tom McIntyre, an old friend, and beemer fanatic, said: "Wouldn't it be cool to ride to the Artic Circle". Yeah, I said. Then promptly put that thought on the back burner.
In August,'06 I was up in the mountains, camping with my son and our horse's. For entertainment, I had brought the "Long Way Round", which we watched on my son's laptop every night. One night we had some friends over for a gourmet cowboy dinner, and the conversation somehow turned to my trip to Africa. In 1993, I and two other friends shipped KLR 650's to Capetown with the intention of riding them to Germany. I, however, highsided my bike in the northern Kalahari after a freak blowout. My injuries precluded further offroad riding, and I regretfully returned to the states, still having had a great time riding through South Africa and Namibia. My friends did make it to Germany three months later. Their trip is a book in itself.
When I recovered from Africa, I went hardcore on the motorcycle thing. I rode everyday, commuting, traveling by bike. I owned a Suzuki GSXR 1100F, a Honda ST 1100 and eventually a Honda Goldwing GL 1500SE. I'd taken my ladyfriend to the Grand Canyon on the back of the Suzuki in November from San Francisco. ( I wouldn't recommend that, if you want to stay in a relationship). Her tears were frozen to her face by the time we rolled into Flagstaff at 10:00PM. I was a lane splittin' fool on the Gold Wing. Had to buy that after the Grand Canyon debacle. ( although I have to say the thing was amazing on the twistys after I redid the suspension with Racetech gear). My single longest day in the saddle was a trip from Cedar City, Utah, back to San Francisco one early April. Coldest ride I've ever done. Went over Donner Summit in a whiteout just before they closed it down to vehicles only with chains.
So OK, I'm not exactly a noob to riding. Sitting in the woods that night, remembering all these things, plus, I have to admit, "The Long Way Round"effect, made me start thinking: Well, why not Alaska? The retrospective blog that follows, depicts that trip.

My old friend Duane, preparing the" last supper" er, salad, I would eat prior to hitting the road on my way to the Great White North. I stopped in Hood River, Oregon, to visit my old friends Duane and Clare, or is it Claire. Really we are friends. I'm just bad with names.

My friend Clare, who didn't want me to take this picture because "I always look goofy when my picture's taken". No shit Clare. I guess you're right. : ) Seriously though, this woman baked the best damn rhubarb pie I have EVER eaten! This is no small compliment considering my late Grandmother was a rhubarb pie making fool! Thank's again Clare.

Just north of Hope, B.C. on the Fraser Canyon Highway.

First encounter with snow on the "Gold Rush Trail". B.C. ( highway 97 )

The Not So Peaceful River Valley.

I elected to take the shortcut from Chetwynd to Fort St. John on 29 instead of going to Dawson Creek. Glad I did. No traffic. Beautiful road. Lots of wildlife. This is an overlook of the Peace River Valley, which is anything but peaceful however, as the Canadian government wants to flood it for power generation. The First Nation's people who live here, would prefer they not do that.

They are not kidding. Really.

The Alaska Highway. A long damn ride, but not so bad anymore.

Sign erected for a group of wanna-be adventure riders, on non-Bavarian bikes, who upon being passed by a group of uber riders on GS's, realized how meaningless and dull their pathetic little lives were, thereby committing Hara-Kiri with their tire irons. Wasn't a pretty sight. : ) OK just kidding. No hate mail please.

Somewhere between Fort St. John and Fort Nelson. The weather continued to be outstanding through B.C. and the Yukon.

I noticed the Canucks use a lot of symbology in their signage. Maybe that's a good thing considering the prevalence of ill-iterit-c. Take this sign for instance: translation; " This will hurt more than running over a squirrel".

Lunch stop. Day 2 on the AK highway.

Is that a good looking bike or what?

Overlook east of Stone Mountain. St Elias Range in background.

The Stone Mountain area S.E. of Muncho Lake

Stone sheep or Dall sheep depending on who you talk to. It was common to round a blind corner and find these little buggers in the middle of the road, totally oblivious to oncoming traffic. Worse was being behind some Okie in a land yacht, who, when spotting these things, would slam on his brakes in the middle of the road to grab a picture- also totally oblivious to the traffic around them.

Muncho Lake. This is the longest lake in the northern Rockies, which end near here, or begin depending on your point of view. The name Muncho is Tagish for "Big Lake". I saw the most wildlife of the whole trip around this area.

Much of the Alaska Highway looked just lke this.

I, Dances with a Screw Loose, was probably too close to this mammalian assault weapon, but he paid me no mind.

Running into one of these guys will ruin your day.

The boardwalk back to the Laird hotsprings. While this seemed like a good idea after a long days riding, I was mindful that two people were killed here by a black bear in 1997, and Charlie Boorman of "Long Way Round" fame had his wallet stolen here. The ranger at the gate offered to let me park my bike next to him and kept an eye on my gear. This brings up one of the few downsides to traveling alone- no one else to watch your back, and your stuff. I took advantage of this guys offer, and was glad I did.

The denuded right of way bordering the Alaska Highway provides some warning from animals jumping out into the road. It also creates a roadside pasture, as enjoyed by this herd of bison. There were numerous signs warning motorists of the wildlife carnage that happens along this road. The most dangerous time for intimate full body contact with these beasts by your vehicle is between the hours of 7 pm to midnight. 150lb. deer take out bikers in California all the time. I could imagine the damage that would occur if I harpooned one of these guys or a moose, which can weigh up to a ton.

Sadly, this is the only shot I got of a bear on the whole trip, despite seeing lots of black bears and a couple of grizzlys. One local I talked to in Watson Lake said "Yeah, the black bears are as thick as rats up here. But don't tell the Chinese ." I ran into some bikers in Anchorage who told a tale of being chased by an angry female bear on the Stewart Cassiar Highway. I personally had no problems. But then I was fastidious about my bear prevention camping technique. I rather prefer staying out of the food chain when I am the protein du jour.

While the Alaska Highway is better than it used to be, there are still sections that are unpaved.
The only surface that scared me, was a short section of road just outside Whitehorse, which was being resurfaced with a layer of 2 inches of sand laid over a thick, hot, coating of oil. Somehow, I managed to skate over this. But if it had been a few feet longer I'm pretty sure I'd have gone down.
I imagined the Whitehorse highway maintainence engineers coming to work that morning, and finding that no life threatening motorcycle accidents had happened in a while, set about trying to remedy that situation. If they could take out an American rider, so much the better!

The Nisultin Bay Bridge at Teslin, Yukon. At 1917 ft. long, this is the longest bridge on the Alaska Highway. I crossed over without incident, but many bikes go down here due to the uneven steel grating it is surfaced with.

A stop for lunch at Teslin, Yukon

The Kluane National Park. It took most of a day to ride through this 13,209 sq. mile park, which is dominated by the St. Elias Mountains. These are the short mountains you see here in the foreground. Farther west these peaks climb to include 20 summits over 16,000 ft., including Mt. Logan at 19,520 ft. Due to it's huge base near sea level, it is the world's largest massif.

A nice piece of Alaska Highway through the Kluane National Wilderness.

I encountered my first serious experience with the road destroying phenomena called "frost heaves" between here and the U. S. border. In fact, several kilometers of road around Kluane Lake was in the process of being rebuilt because of this. Sections of the road looked like the Royal Canadian Airforce was using them for bombing practice. Then it would become smooth sailing, I would let the bike drift up to 70mph, then "oh shit!" I caught some serious air time. I just couldn't see these dips in the road far enough out. That happening once was all it took to regain some commonsense, and slow down.

Kluane Lake.

Kluane Lake, still partially frozen. Man, what a beautiful day in the Yukon!

After murdering a couple of million Yukonese bugs with my windshield, I finally made it to the Alaska border.

That's P.M. After a bucket of coffee in Tok, and given the daylight conditions still present, I felt like riding on to Anchorage. Mind you , I had been riding since leaving Watson Lake, Yukon that morning. This was not necessarily the smartest option I had.

This is what the road between Tok and Anchorage looked like at midnight. Little did I know that I was heading for darker skies and freezing rain over the Chugash Mountains before I dropped down into Anchorage. Later this evening I dodged no less than 3 moose. One so close I had to brake hard in order to not harpoon the draft horse sized ungulate. They are hard to see at night. I also got my first taste of Alaska style road maintenance. They don't screw around trying to fill potholes. They just rip the whole road up for miles on end. You're cruising along on nice tarmack, then suddenly you find yourself on a muddy road right out of the congo (except colder). This was becoming more of a challenge than I wanted at the end of a thousand mile day. When I rolled into Anchorage at about 5:00 AM local time I was definetly done. You could stick me with a fork.
I got about 4 hours rack time then had to get my bike over to Alaska Leather for my new offroad tires they were holding for me. They said I was the first idiot ( I mean adventure rider) to come by this early in the season from the lower 48.
Later that evening, Chuck, a friend of a friend ( thanks again Aden) picked me up, bought me dinner, gave me the nickle Anchorage tour, and regaled me with stories of his GS exploits. The next day he loaned me the use of his garage so I could change my oil. Thanks again Chuck. Anytime, anywhere, man. I regret I didn't get a shot of Chuck.
Anchorage was OK, but I was gettin itchy to head north. Downtown was like downtown anywhere, except that the small green City Hall lawn was carpeted with drunk Indians. Sad.
I did enjoy seeing the floatplane base at Hood Lake. Largest assembly of floatplanes in the world.

Chad. The dude that mounted my new TKC-80's. The deal is, you dismount your own rims and Alaska Leather will mount your tires for you. For a price. It's not exactly what I would call a motorcycle service center or "shop". But they will order any tire for any bike and keep it for your arrival in Anchorage. This is WAY WAY convenient. As most riders put some serious mileage on their tires just getting to Alaska, and then you need specialized rubber for the gnarly stuff, it was mucho smart of Alaska Leather to offer this kind of service. I was impressed.

Mugging it up with shy little ole Barb at Alaska Leather.

This is Chad's offroad GS. Let me explain. Chad owns two GS's, one with knobbies, the other with street tires. He's always ready for anything. I learned a lot from Chad. He's done all the bad roads the Great White North can throw at you. You can find him as akmoto on the advrider.com.

My steed with it's new shoes on. Now I'm ready for the Dalton Highway.

This unassuming little dive is the coolest motorcycle accessory store Iv'e ever seen. When I rolled in there on Memorial Day weekend the place was a zoo. ( all the other bike shops in town were closed) Barb, the owner, nevertheless made me feel like one of the family. She offered me something to eat. Made a fresh pot of coffee for me. Arranged to have my new tires mounted. All the while, customers were milling around in there like ants on an anthill. She was moving around faster than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs and never lost her cool. The crowd was this eclectic mix of adventure riders, weekend warriors, and Harley types. Amazingly, no fist fights broke out. It was like, hey man, you got the balls to ride anything on two wheels in Alaska, you're all right by us!

Could not resist getting a shot of my beemer in Mike's exclusive parking spot.

This is Mike and his very cute granddaughter. Mike is the friend of a friend who, knowing that I was traveling to Deadhorse, introduced me to him as he is the chief pilot for a major cargo carrier in Alaska. He is a pilot's pilot. This guy has flown everything from Supercubs to 747's. He flies C-130 Herculies into Deadhorse all the time. As a pilot myself, I was fascinated by this guy. He invited me over for a chat one day. I could have stayed there all day listening to his storys. As it was, he was able to talk to somebody up in Deadhorse who had actually eyeballed the current conditions. I got realtime weather info from him. Thanks Mike.

Mike's idyllic home.

Even though I haven't been a cruiser kind of guy, I have to admit that I love all motorcycles. This is Mike's custom hand built ride. Beautiful, ain't she!

No Harley parts were used in the construction of Mike's custom bike. Hence the moniker.

Through a friend of a friend of a friend, I was introduced to Rick Horstmann, who is a pilot for K2, which is located in Talkeetna, Alaska. He's a damn nice guy. I hung out with him at the airport in Talkeetna. I was lucky enough to get on one of his flightseeing tours to Mt. McKinley. In addition to being a great pilot, he was a wealth of information regarding the geology and natural history of the area. This guy has my dream job. He retired from the navy after they decided he was too old to continue having so much fun. He's been flying for K2 ~10 years. In addition, he's also a musher. He's competed in the Iditerod Dog sled Race, among others. In the winter when he's not flying, he and his charming wife, Linda, offer clients a chance to experience dog sledding. This guy has way too much fun. He offered to put me up for the night in his guest cabin. I couldn't refuse. I'd spent enough nights in my tent.

The Susitna River, not far from Talkeetna.

A terminal glacier moraine and Susitna River as seen on the flight from Talkeetna to Mt. McKinley.

The beautiful but inhospitable view out the cockpit window.