Day 12

July 31. The only thing to say about this day is that it was just plain strange. You can guess the weather when I left this morning, cold (30s), rain, and fog. After 2 1/2 hours of riding, I stopped to get gas and they had a thermometer and the temperature was all the way up to 41! This was in Tok, the town where that monster 8 miles of bad road started. It goes north from the very edge of town, but because I had taken the Anchorage circle route, I came in from the east and missed it. Turning south, I saw that "Construction next 47 miles" sign and said to myself, Clear sailing now. That long stretch, if you remember, had varying lengths of graded down temporary dirt and gravel roads, as work crews prepared to repave those sections.

But here's the thing--four days of rain turns temporary dirt into permanent slime. And oh boy, is it hard to ride on. There add to be 20 or more of these quagmires and two that were 3 and 4 miles long. I was stopped right by a flagger who told me that even the construction gang's pickup trucks were having trouble getting through. On the second one I could see the oncoming vehicles with a motorcycle right up front. When they started to move that bike started fishtailing within two seconds and down he went. They got him up and he managed to get himself down the road. When I could see him, he was on a Goldwing, with a passenger and a trailer. Pretty dumb, huh?

The pilot car driver waved me to the front of the line. They were putting bikes up front, not to be nice (though it was) but to keep an eye on them so they could get them back upright when they fell over and not hold up the line. He told me to follow him and he'd show me where to go. But hey, I made it through no trouble, except I just about shit myself every 30 seconds or so.

But I made it through the whole 47 miles with no incidents. And on into Canada. (BTW: There is a declared state of emergency in Alaska because of the flooding!)

Here's what your bike looks like after 47 miles of bad road.



So things are moving along now and then I run into this long line of vehicles, stopped with a cop car up front. After a long wait, we started moving, the cop leading the column. When I get up to where he had had the line stopped, there was another line of pickups on the right shoulder and across from then a hundred yards or so of young men (and not so young men) all holding rifles and shotguns. Later I met up with another biker who had asked the cop what was going on. Turns out it was some kind of native American funeral ritual. Some young man had got killed along that stretch of road (how I don't know) and they were shooting off the guns as tribute or something.

I had gone through this section on Sunday, when there were no construction workers present. Now, there was about 5 major project underway along the route.

Then I saw a grizzly bear. I did not even slow down for that guy, a glimpse of one of the beasts in the wild is enough for me.

Now try this on. I needed to take a behind-the-tree pee break. When that happens I look for a sideroad or pulloff so I can get the bike off the road. I found this little dirt road that led back into the woods and through an open gate. Perfect! I went up to the gate, but not through, and found a tree. There was a sign on the gate saying that this property was protected 24 hours a day by camera surveliance. I'm fine, I say, I'm not going in. So I finish up and am adjusting my clothes, when here comes some guy on a miniature skiploader, scaled about the size of a lawn tractor. I don't pay him no mind, but just start walking back to the bike. He drives right up to the gate and stops the machine and just stares at me. I look back a couple times and he just sat there glaring. I must have been some kind of big threat, but how he knew I was there is beyond me. There wasn't any camera out there, so there must have been some kind of motion sensor.

Now, he isn't making any moves, so I figure I can piss him off a little by taking as long as I can to get my gloves and helmet on. And then I slowly get on the bike and sit there for a bit. Then I wave to him, but he don't wave back. He just sat there looking madder and madder. What did he think I was going to do, pack up his farm and bungee it to my fender rack?

In spite of all this delay, I made it to Whitehorse, Yukon, after 520 miles.

Finally, it is going to be cold here again tomorrow, but after that back to the 70s, just as I leave the area. And the long-range forecast calls for 70s and 80s here for the next week.

Day 11

July 30. So far there have been rainy days, cold days, rainy and cold days, and foggy days, with a little wind every once in a while. This day started out cold, foggy, rainy, and windy. I thought you couldn't have fog and wind at the same time, but I'm telling you, you can. At least in Alaska. But the fog lifted pretty quick and the wind died down and I got to Denali, with only light rain. I didn't go for the bus to the mountain, because it would take the entire day and you wouldn't be able to see it anyway, because of the low clouds. So I rode the part of the park road that you are allowed without a permit (about 15 miles in and back). And it was fantastic. Denali is an amazing place. Mountains, tundra, rivers. Saw another moose, a bull this time.

So said goodbye to Denali and headed down toward Anchorage. And what to you know? The sun came out and it warmed up, into the high 60s. Not the 70s or 80s they're supposed to get up here this time of year, but I'll take it. Even had to put my sunglasses on, something that hasn't happened for several days.

Just above Anchorage, the Glenn Highway branches off the Park Highway and heads back to Canada. The lower Glenn Highway has got to be in the top ten motorcycle roads in the country. More mountains, a glacier, and just perfect winding roads.

I stopped at a little pull off to fix a tuna fish sandwich and take a break. Where I had to pull out, the exit was up hill, the road down hill and sharp to the right and then there was that sandy gravel, and well, down went the bike. Pretty embarrassing. A couple of guys stopped to help me get it back up and I was on my way. But now I can't make fun of friends who've dropped their bikes. Oh well....

So I'm chugging along figuring I'll make about 650 miles, what with all this sun, but then the sky blackened and there I was, right back in the rain. This road is circling back to the North, and it ran right back into the rain I'd just got out of. So I found a room, sort of. It's in a "lodge." Bathroom down the hall. No heat. (If you want heat, leave your door open, there's a register in the hallway.) No TV, but there is a common TV room. Sounds like it sucks, but it's actually kind of neat. As long as nobody else books in, that is.

But I did manage to get to about 100 miles south of Tok, Alaska (where I'm at doesn't have a name) and got in 529 miles.

Day 10

July 29. Taking a down day. Went to the HD dealer and got the oil changed. Took an hour and a half and then they offered to wash it for free, so I said OK. Turns out it's some kid getting practice. Took another hour and a half, and was dirtier that it usually is before I clean it. But the kid was so proud of himself, all I could say was good job. Plus it was a lot cleaner than when I took it in and the price was pretty good.

I met a couple of guys there who had brought in their Beamers for emergency repair. (This shop is a combo HD/Victory/BMW/Honda/Polaris dealer.) One guy was from Michigan. He had some kind of electrical problem. The other was from Daytona Beach and his bike wouldn't even start. Cost him $600 to get towed about 100 miles. While we were all sitting around telling lies, in comes a woman on another Beamer. Hers wouldn't shift.

Even given the high ratio of BMWs to Harleys you see on the Highway (we cool guys just say "The Highway" instead of "Alaska Highway), isn't it odd that all of the bikes coming in for repair were Beamers? And odder that those guys were shocked that I'd crossed that nasty stretch yesterday on a Harley. Yeah, but aren't your Beamers being the bikes repaired?

Saw something I'd never seen before in the service area: A Hell Angels full dresser. You could tell whoever owned it was a real badass though, because he had a rack for a radar detector attached to the handlebar.

I'm to the point where I'm making up itinerary on a day-by-day basis. Yesteday I had decided to bag Denali because of the weather, but now I think I'll give it a shot. One benefit would be that getting back from there avoids that 8 miles of bad road I talked about yesterday. It's going to rain the next four days no matter which way I go, so why not?

Day 9

July 28. Whew! What a day! After a cold, cold start (30s), I made it:



But after that... Well.

That gnarly piece of road that young fellow said lay up ahead wasn't really that bad, just some patches of asphalt and chip seal. And the Yukon side wasn't bad at all. Then there was the Alaska side. Not bad, until the fog hit. I mean fog like cotton candy. But by now there were stretches of road that they call "Pavement Breaks," as in "Pavement Break Ahead" on a day-glo orange sign. What that means is that they've ripped up the pavement to get rid of the frost heaves and either laid down gravel or just not, which means you got dirt. Now, these really aren't bad, except when you can't see them coming because of the fog! But that passed and the road got pretty nice, until there appeared another kind of sign: "Road construction next 47 miles." This was just more and longer stretches of "Pavement breaks." But kind of wore me down, especially when it started to rain! But then, again, this wasn't really all that bad.

Here's what was bad. After an hour of hard rain, comes another sign: "Road Construction next 8 miles." Shit, I say, I just did 47 miles of bad road, how bad can 8 more be? Wrong question.

On this stretch, they'd skimmed off one layer of old surface and left an even older one exposed. For the whole fucking 8 miles! Think 8 miles of potholes, one after the other and stretching across the lane. The bike was bucking and bouncing around like an epilectic with his shorts full of hornets. And every once in a while, there would be a sign that said "Road Construction Ahead." Like what the fuck are we in now if there's construction up there. But that only indicated actual work being done, like backhoes swinging in front of you and graders and pointer cars.

Worst stretch of road I have ever been on, or ever hope to be on. But I got to ride every fucking inch of it back the other way!

So after that (it did pass), the rain really started coming down, all the way to Fairbanks (where I somehow landed after 448 miles). At one point, trying to look on the bright side, I thought to myself, At least there isn't any wind. You guessed it. About 15 minutes later, there comes the wind. As a test I thought, At least it isn't snowing. It didn't snow, so I'm pretty sure the wind was a coincidence.

I was planning to check into a hotel and get to the HD dealer in the morning for an oil change, but as I was looking for a hotel, shazamm, there was the HD building, so I stopped there first. And they wouldn't do it. Booked, they said. I tried to convince them otherwise, but no go. Have to go back in the morning. So of course I was all pissed off that I'm going to get what I wanted in the first place. Funny how 55 miles of bad road and a day in the rain makes you cranky.

Day 8

July 27. Up until today, I've had cold days and rainy days, but today was the first cold and rainy day. Low 40's, clouds, and rain in the first part of the morning. Then it cleared up and I was just cold. But I made it 448 miles to Destruction Bay, Yukon. It was worth every shiver and every drop of rain to see mile after mile of this:




Not that the day was all gutting-it-out. A couple of other cyclists (1 coming back and the other going north) landed at the same gas station as me. We compared notes on road and weather and where we'd been and where we were going. Anybody up here is serious. Bikes of all kinds, mostly Japanese tourers and BMWs, but a Harley here and there. We make up a kind of fraternity of old guys who should know better.

Then there was the little Chinese girl who waited on me at a "Western/Chinese" restaurant. (I had a hamburger, because anytime a Chinese establishment books its hometown cuisine second, you pretty much want to shy away from that side of the menu.) Anyway, when she was taking my money, she said, "You smell like Fruit Loops." I almost snapped back, "Oh yeah? Well, you smell like fish guts!", when I realized she was probably smelling my lip balm and didn't mean anything by it.

Then there is here, the motel in Destruction Bay. When I was checking in there was a very old, very drunk lady trying to buy some groceries, but had trouble either remembering or actually punching in her debit card pin. She asked me a bunch of times where I had ridden that motorcycle from and couldn't remember New Jersey. She finally settled on Ohio, so I said "Yepper, that's where I'm from." Then she asked if later on tonight I wouldn't mind stopping down to her room at the end of the hall and take a look at her acrylics. Hey man! I still got it!

Day 7

July 26. This has to be up there as one of the best half-dozen days of motorcycling I've had in my life. The Canadian Rockies rule!


Pretty nice roads for the first part of the day, even in the mountains. And good enough roads after that. Big sweeping turns, not too many tight curves around hills. Some construction. (And that pesky gravel, again.) A shorter ride because of the sightseeing and the lower speed: 329 miles to West Haven, Yukon.

I talked to a young fellow on his way back with a crew, all on off-road BMWs (very strange), who said that the road the rest of the way was pretty good except for some "gnarly" stretches 50 miles both ways from the Alaska border. I'm not sure whether that is encouraging or not.

The bike is holding up well. On some days it's been burning a little oil, and I think it has to do with running regular gas. There are long stretches here where that's all there is, so it is what it is.

Lots of wildlife along the side of the road. Saw elk, buffalo, a bear, and some mountain sheep, all just moseying along, not a bit skittered by the bike. I stopped for some, but only slowed down for the bear. I didn't want him getting amorous with my motorcycle.



And a final photo, just to rub it in.

Day 6

July 25. Unbelievable day! I left really early, so I could start looking for a room after getting some decent miles in. It was in the low 40's at 5:30, and took until mid-afternoon to warm up, but I had enough clothes and was comfortable. Finally ended up in Fort Nelson, BC, after 557 miles, where almost every room is vacant. Go figure!

This whole country up here is beautiful. The day started in farmland, went through bigger and bigger hills, until you could finally see mountains off in the distance. I'm in the northern wilderness at last. There are long stretches where there is road and sky and forest, and that's it!

I ran into some construction, mostly chip-seal patching. It looks like those headlight guards will be useful, after all. Every now and again, there is a sign that says Loose Gravel. They should change all of those signs to say, Loose Gravel, Right Fucking Now! Because that's where the gravel is. But after a while, you just treat all orange road signs as the enemy, and slow down for them all.

And here's the 1,000 words:

Day 5

July 24. I'm actually posting this on Day 6, since I had trouble with the hotel's Internet connection last night.

But Day 5 was amazing! From Saskatoon to Whitecourt, Alberta (447 miles). Alberta is a beautiful--rolling farmland with miles on miles of canola fields. I tried to capture the scene (see below), but it's a bit washed out. What you can't show in a picture is the smell of the canola and the miles of wildflowers. It filled the air, so the ride was not only scenic, but fragrant, a long, long way from the sensory attack that is the Ohio Turnpike!



I finally found out why it's so hard to get rooms up here. It's not the tourists, it's the work crews. The clerk at last night's hotel clued me in to that and sure enough, when I left this morning, every hotel in town had contractors' trucks and all kinds if heavy equipment parked outside.

So about that scarcity of rooms. This was supposed to be a "budget" hotel, but they only had two rooms left, one with bunk beds and the other with a jacuzzi, same price. Hmmm, let me think about that for a while, I said. OK, the jacuzzi. Here's what 99 bucks gets you in Whitecourt:

Day 4

July 23. Where do I begin?

I'm writing this from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan (which sounds like a line from a Daffy Duck cartoon) after 655 pretty interesting miles (interesting, not necessary all pleasant, miles).

The weirdest part of the day: I planned to stop at the HD dealer in Winnipeg to pick up a quart of oil. As I was approaching the city, this very pretty girl pulled up beside me in her beat up old car and gave me a big wave and smile. Not that weird. Chicks dig big Harleys. But when I got up to the service road for the dealer, there she was again, with her 4-ways on, just sitting on the shoulder. She followed me into the parking lot and got out to tell me that she'd seen my NJ tags and figured I was headed for the dealer and she wanted to make sure I didn't miss it.

Then she told me about how she used to have a Honda, but it got stolen, and she hasn't gotten a new bike because she broke her neck on her way through the windshield of her boyfriend's car after he ran into something while he was driving drunk, and now when she sits a bike for more that an hour or so, her head feels heavy. Funny, mine too. But in hindsight, she wishes she'd taken the money from the settlement and bought a Harley. Bet her boyfriend is pissed off.

After all this talk, she offered to go get coffee for me and another fellow who was waiting for the place to open so he could get an oil change. A very nice thing to offer.

Now, this girl had on a Hooters halter top, but she didn't fill it out very well. I could tell she was trying to get me to ask if she worked there, but I just couldn't, because there was no way, given her particular gifts. I suspect she is a Hooters aspirant and was afraid the conversation would get around to whether she had a shot at landing the job and I just wouldn't have had the heart to tell her that if she could get past the physical handicap, the fact remained that she just wasn't smart enough to be even marginally qualified. I just couldn't hurt her feelings--she was just too kind and sweet.

So the ride: From rolling hills in Ontario, all the way through Manitoba, which is flatter that that girl is up top. Manitoba is kind of like Kansas, except instead of being brown and hot, it's green and cool. Pretty neat place actually. Then more than halfway through Saskatchewan where we're starting to see a hill here and there.

What about the weather, you ask. After late morning, rain on and off all freakin' day. Every once in a while the sun would come out and I'd get tricked in to doffing some piece of garb that I would have to put back on again, like 25 miles down the road. Finally, the sun came out altogether, the road was completely dry, and so I stopped for dinner and got out of all that gear. When I left the restaurant, the rain was coming down the hardest of the day. Oh well....

The next three days are supposed to be clear. I should be pretty close to AK by then.

Day 3

July 22. Great day! Got a late start because of all the cleanup I had to do from yesterday. Everything (almost everything) was dry, but I had to refold and repack it all, this time in a way less likely to result in soggy underwear in the event of a hard rain.

While I was loading up the bike, a whole bus load of Chinese tourists were getting ready to saddle up. They were chattering away like a flock of grackles. One guy was doing his Tai Chai exercises in the parking lot. All in all the whole thing made me think of what the public ward room in an asylum for the convivially insane must be like.

What a ride! 503 miles finally landing me in Kenora, Ontario. Again with the last room at the inn. This is getting a little nerve wracking.

Canada route 17 (King's Highway 17) is now one of my favorite roads. Beautiful views off the highway of Lake Superior, deep blue as can be. Here's what you guys are missing:




It was cold when I left this morning (long underwear and chaps cold). The chaps stayed on until early afternoon, the underwear all day, and it was late afternoon before it was comfortable without a jacket.

Some construction, including a long stretch of temporary gravel. The headlights were intact afterwards, so either the guards worked or didn't get hit.

Tips and tricks. When they say take bug spray to the North, take it! I wouldn't have been able to get these pictures without (gnats big as house flies, I swear to god). And take a helmet with a face shield. I did by accident (a funny story I'll tell you all when I get back). And I'm glad I did. Big things keep hitting me in the face, big ugly things.

Once last neat thing. Saw a big dead moose along the side of the road, biggest mess of road kill I ever saw. I was going to stop and get a picture but when I started thinking about the size of whatever scavenger would take to that size meal, I decided to pass.

Day 2

July 21: The good news is that the sandpaper-grip rubber gloves I picked up at Tractor Supply work really well. The bad news is that this afternoon I really needed them to work really well. While I was waiting in line to get through Canadian customs, it started to come down hard. Fortunately I had my rain gear on because it had been sprinkling off and on all day. By the time I got into Sault Ste Marie, it was raining so hard the streets were flooding (just about up to the floorboards), so being a smart guy I pulled over. And then being not so smart, went back on my way. When the sun finally came out, I shed the gear and of course ran into more deluge. Just about all my stuff is wet, but drying nicely in the last hotel room in Marathon, Ontario.

But what a ride! 597 miles altogether. Rode US 23 along Lake Huron. I75 was like a country road, I pretty much had it to myself. Then CA 17 along Lake Superior. Just really nice scenery. And then there was the bear that ran across the road in front of me. And then the bears in the back behind the hotel. (The clerk suggested no one go out back.)

Even the Ontario cops that made sure to pull in to the gas station across the street to remind me that Ontario has a helmet law were very nice. And yeah, I saw them--I was just too tired to walk back up to the room for my helmet. Oh well...

BTW: That last tank of gas was $6.63 a gallon! America is next!

Day 1

July 20. Left at 7:00, made it to Flint, MI (695 miles). Would have made it farther but rain held me up early in the day and it started in again as I made it to the Flint exit, so I just got off the freeway and found a hotel.

This was a get-the-fuck-out-of-Dodge day, all interstates and freeways and not very interesting, but US 23 in Michigan doesn't totally suck.

Gas today totaled $100.00, more than my room plus all of my meals!