The alarm went off too early, as they always seem to do, and having gotten so used to hotels by now I felt confused by my surroundings at first. I sat in bed listening for life outside the door. We had a short day to Liard River Hot Springs and I question why we had gotten up so early.
This also appears to be the first time on the trip where my clothes seemed to be smelling sketchy. We were camping tonight so I can only imagine how I'll smell in a couple days. It seems relevant but I guess we only have ourselves to deal with.
I slowly... and reluctantly... made it out of the bedroom and had breakfast while we chatted about roads in BC, Yukon, and Alaska. We mapped out some roads for our return trip from Alaska, including 99 thru Whistler. It seemed strange to plan for the return trip so early on in the ride, but having only thought about the marathon ride up to Alaska and the bit in Alaska itself, I hadn't really spent any time about the return trip so it had to be done.
I wonder it is was just the lack of planning that kept me from seeing the whole picture to plan the return trip home. Maybe it was an act of defiance, or simply the inner troll in my subconscious that had devised some evil plot to keep me stuck up here forever. Maybe I didn't want to come back?
I peeked outside and only then realized how wet everything was. It looked to have been raining all night without any signs it would be stopping any time soon. Could be a wet day. I hope the gear works well, today will be the real test of it all.
After a shower, we packed bikes back up yet again and said goodbye to Carl.
I was really glad we used TentSpace instead of finding another hotel. I won't lie, I am a cheap bastard so it was nice for the wallets to get a break for the night. But it felt much more personal then staying in a lifeless hotel room. We had great food and conversations that we surely wouldn't have had otherwise. I make a mental note to sign up for the TentSpace thread when we return back home. We'll also treat our first guests to dinner since Carl was nice enough to cover our meals last night.
A bit wet start to the day. Saying goodbye to our host for the night:
The weather made for an awkward start of the day. We had just gotten used to getting the morning ritual of packing the bikes up but the rain had made it graceless again.
We gassed up in Grande Prairie before getting on the highway. The station attendant there mentioned something about it not being a good day for riding. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying with my earplugs still in but did manage to hear the words "pretty wet" with a short laugh that seemed self imposed with our one sided conversation.
Up until now I hadn't been looking forward to riding in the wet, but somehow my opinion quickly changed. Everything still felt right being on the bike, and despite the weather I would rather be nowhere else. I knew the sun was out there somewhere, we just needed to find it.
Fortunately things dried up about an hour later, just in time to reach the British Columbia province line.
Another province down:
We soon came upon Dawson Creek, which is a significant checkpoint when heading to Alaska. It marks the start of the Alaska Highway. I put all we had been through behind us... after all this time and all these miles, only now does it seem like our journey has started. It feels so special to continue on now, knowing we've made it here. All those adventures of all those souls who have come before us, they are all a part of our odyssey here now too.
The weather from here loomed over us, almost as if a higher power was keeping a reminder close by that at any given moment our luck could change at their will. The sun that we were searching for earlier today had hidden itself again, letting the temperatures stay cool. Fortunately these warnings had worn thin and we soon ignored the clouds as if they had cried wolf.
We gassed up again in Pink Mountain, and I couldn't help but get a strange feeling of deja vu as we came up on the store there. We rounded the corner and caught the generic "Gas" sign by the road but I already knew it was there. It seemed recognizable and I felt comfort in that familiarity. I had obviously stalked this location on Google StreetView during my planning and the memory still held on. My curiosity controls me and I head inside to see if the shopkeeper will feel familiar too. She doesn't, but becomes so after we chatted with her about the summer weather they had been experiencing.
Quick stop at Pink Mountain:
Absolutely no pooping:
After another gas stop in Fort Nelson, we take a quick moment to call back home again. This may be our last chance to get decent cell phone reception.
While grabbing a snack by the bikes we realize that the bugs have started to get pretty bad over the past couple days. Not the mosquitoes or black flies, but the random bees that swarm over the bikes when we are parked. They seem to be interested in the bugs splattered all over the front of the bikes. No interest in us at all.
The gas pump at Fort Nelson, apparently the Americans have a bad reputation with Canadian gas pumps:
Shortly after Fort Nelson we wind back into the mountains for more spectacular scenery. We had been climbing up the mountains on some very nice roads. The roads were bordered by thick forest for much of the way and our senses were on high alert watching for wildlife. So much so that we welcomed any mental breaks we could find.
Some were short lived.
As we got into a rhythm through the twists and turns of BC, we were met with a moose on the side of the road. Before we had a chance to even slow down, it jumped across the road and into the woods. This was the closest I've ever been to a moose and even knowing about their size, it was still surprising how large it was. And how quick.
Not even a mile further up the road and we see a bear jump a roadside concrete barrier and run across the road too. Just a black bear but it was a decent size and enough for us to slow down and let him by. He too ran into the woods where we couldn't follow him. As we passed I got the impression I was being watched and I can only imagine a black bear looking back at us from the security of the woods. I can't see him there but I acknowledge his existence and slowly pass by. My mind makes a mental connection between black bears and concrete barriers and I begin to feel that riding next to these will never be the same for me.
While riding through these mountains we keep a watchful eye on the clouds up ahead, which seemed to be getting darker and darker but never seemed to come close enough to be a threat. But the smell of rain was in the air and we eventually felt those random taps of raindrops. As the rain got heavier, we pulled off and decided to turn around to where it was still dry to change into the rain gear.
Just before turning around. Hard to tell in the pic but you can see the wall of rain from here. Not sure why we just didn't turn around here, I guess we are a little stubborn:
Clear skies behind us:
Sadly the few minutes we were pulled over was all it took to get completely soaked. Even though we had turned around, we passed the pulloff we were aiming for but had to continue on, as I guess the rain cloud was heading fast! We got to another spot another mile back and rushed to get changed. I decided that since my leather gloves were already wet that I would just keep them on... a decision I would surely regret later.
Before getting back on the bike I take a look at my saddlebag luggage which had the rain covers on since Fort Nelson, when we first saw the rain clouds in the distance. It looked like they had shifted. I take a closer look and push up at the bottom, and muddy water starts pouring out. I lift the whole right side bag and a good quart of dirty water hits the ground. I see Eddie is watching and I think about all the things packed in those side bags just soaked in water now. Shit.
I was already soaked and now I suspect the clothes and gear I'm not wearing are soaked too now. I get back on the bike and try to not think about it, but it proves difficult to think about much else.
We head back down the road to make it to the camp site but we are still over an hour away. Maybe two hours at this pace. The gravel construction zones we pass through aren't helping our pace.
The first one was the worst. In a heavy rain I didn't quite see it coming and I feel the front end go loose.
The bike has no problem, but mentally I'm not really wanting this, not now. We pass through more short gravel sections and I can only hope they don't get any worse. I wanted this ride to be difficult but I had thought we would be in Alaska by the time it got tough. I think about how I expected the Dalton Highway and can't help that I might have bitten off more than I can chew, if I'm having problems now. I shake these negative feelings and realize that this is the first heavy gravel we've seen so far, and confide in the fact that by the time I'm in Deadhorse this stuff won't bother me at all.
The unmanned and seemingly abandoned construction areas were constantly popping up, most of which were filled with a bed of loose gravel. They were awkward but doable, just mostly frustrating due to the rain and the limited visibility. I guess when I imagine tough roads I rarely consider that the weather would be a contributing factor. The roads are always shit in my mind but the weather always nice. Wishful thinking, apparently.
I put my head down and ride through it, knowing I'm concentrating on the road itself and not my surroundings. I think back about the bear and moose we saw only an hour ago and get that uneasy feeling one can do nothing about.
We stop at Toad River, at a small gas station and shop there. It was nice to get a mental break. We talked with the lady there and tried to get a good feel for the weather, but everyone here in this area just seems to expect the worse, and tell it that way too. We've made slow progress and I'm beginning to think we may not be able to camp at all tonight, not in this rain. She mentions they have rooms but I balk on the price.
The bikes were looking a little rough:
We soon chat with a fellow who was in the car next to us at the gas pumps. He asks what we're up to and probably sees we're feeling a bit worn down from the day. He makes some weird comment that sticks with me, giving inspiration so that everything seems okay. He says, "Just make it through this next bit, after today all the work will be worth it. It's amazing out there." Which felt pretty inspirational after being so drained.
It turns out he is staying at the hot springs camp too, and recommended that we should check out the hot springs, no matter how late we got there. I begin to think that we were fortunate we were getting so far north as we were going to need as much sunlight as possible. We were really behind schedule by now due to all the stopping as were not progressing very quickly. We just hoped the rain would stop by the time we'd reach camp, but this was wishful thinking by this point.
Back on the bike, we rode through a bit more rain and construction areas, getting more than our fix of gravel and dirt for the day. I felt pretty rejuvenated after talking with the guy at the gas station, and gave him a quick wave as we passed him further up the road.
We came upon a nice stretch of road at Muncho Lake which winds its way by the shore. Really wish I had my GoPro on as we really cooked it through this part, a really nice stretch of road despite some gravel kicked up on the road surface.
Just a bit further up the road we come up on some bison just hanging out by the road. Starting to lose count of the wildlife:
We eventually got to camp and got right to setting up. The rain was still coming down but now much lighter than before. A break in the clouds nearby gave us some hope that drier weather was soon coming. It was getting dark quick but we had enough light to setup camp, which was nice as I hadn't set up camp with Eddie's tent before so I was a bit unsure how it all went together.
A few camp spots down was a pair of motorcycles, a VFR800 and a KLR650. They looked much like us. We wished we could chat with them but it looked like they had already called it a night.
Despite being so late, we still managed to head to the hot springs, albeit in the dark. Aside from the few people we saw coming back to camp, we were pretty much by ourselves except for a few random stragglers.
We asked about the temperature to the one person who was still there. It was incredibly hot, surely too hot, and we hoped there was a spot a bit cooler. He pointed near the woods and said it was much nicer back there, but he was too afraid of bears to stay there long enough to enjoy it. We figured we'd have better luck with the temperature than with the wildlife, so we stayed put until we could take the heat no longer, and made our way back to camp.
Too dark for pics, so here's a random Wiki pic:
Day five was supposed to be the shorter, easier day but it turned out to really wear us down too. The roads and scenery were nice but the weather made it hard to appreciate our surroundings, leaving us to just keep our head down for our destination and make it there or bust.
I had planned on putting the earplugs in but left them in the bike, and was too lazy to get them now. I had made a somewhat apathetic attempt to cover my bike's luggage. With no cell phone reception, I wasn't sure if the rain would kick back up. At this point I didn't care much and slowly drifted off to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment