The alarm was set early... and early it came. It was still dark and I think a few of our roommates had crawled into bed just a few hours before. To keep the alarm (my cell phone) close by in order to turn it off quickly, I somehow had managed to fall asleep with it right next to my ear, so I was treated to an explosion of alarm tones and vibrations in my ear when it went off. I tried desperately to stay quiet but the silence was broken when I hit my head on the ceiling with a dull thud. There really wasn't any room between it and the bed and I begin to think of the night before our first day.
We had already packed the night before so there wasn't much we had to do other than put the luggage on the bikes. I had to check to make sure my shirt was dry... I brought everything I needed into the shower last night... except for a towel. That feeling you get, when you're already in the shower and you've forgotten your towel, sucks. Had to use the shirt in a pinch. But the shirt was dry so all's well that ends well, despite the smell of course.
While getting the bikes loaded up, one of the backpackers is awake with us. He's gotten ready in half the time, and we meet in the doorway as he heads out. He says "have a great day" and nothing else, with the biggest grin he could fit on his face, and heads out down the sidewalk. I'm not sure who he is or where his journey is taking him, but I can't help but be curious about it.
Our buddies, who were staying in Whitehorse for a couple days before heading into Alaska themselves:
All loaded up, frickin' cold here:
We gas up at what seems like the only station open at the time, just before 6am, and roll out of Whitehorse. The temperatures were cold and I had the heated gear cranked up. We pass by a few cars on the road, all hunters. I think about what life must be like up here. I think about how distant we are from Georgia and how unreal is seems. I think about how fucking cold it is for a summer morning, holy shit!
Our first stop had us at Haines Junction. Either the temperatures were getting colder or the cold was seeping in deeper through our gear. I had the heated gear on full blast but still got the occasional shivers. The sun had slowly risen up, but it was no help. At our gas stop we layered up even further and I made a quick call to Tiff, with fingers crossed she hadn't gotten on the plane yet. I had lost all understanding of time back home and made no effort to do the math anymore.
I was able to get a hold of her, which was nice for me for selfish reasons because I wanted her to bring my second jacket liner just in case... If it was this cold in Yukon I couldn't begin to imagine what Deadhorse must feel like. Of course it was nice to speak with her anyways. *Ahem*
She seemed excited. She was on her way to the airport, and felt both excited and anxious to be at that point-of-no-return where things start feeling real. It felt a little strange to think she hasn't started her journey yet but would meet with us later tonight in Alaska, like some sort of time warp. Her excitement built on my excitement and I was looking forward to us sharing this adventure with each other.
In a distant place and time, Tiffany was busy getting ready for her entry into the adventure:
Putting more layers on in Haines Junction:
Mountains were looming ahead of us, with peaks blocked by menacing clouds:
We gas us again in Destruction Bay. The attendant there is quiet and says nothing. I get a magnet, to add to my small collection I've acquired so far on this trip to add to our refrigerator back home. I pick up a magnet for every place I've traveled for work, and it is ridiculously full. I started doing that because it was an easy and colorful way for me to keep track of all my work travel, but all it's done is remind me of how much I hate it. I thought it would be neat to have it full of various places, but it turns out I was wrong and it only serves as a poignant reminder of time lost from my life I will never get back.
So far we were making good time and fortunately the construction was minimal so far today. We take a few minutes for a snack while still in Destruction Bay. I had started getting a little anxious by now as I knew some nasty construction was ahead of us, and I was still unsure of what to expect.
Destruction Bay:
Just past Destruction Bay we were met with the frost heaved pavement that we had been constantly warned about. So far up to this point the frost heaves hadn't been too bad, more annoying than anything. But through the Yukon it got pretty unbelievable. It was a full time job watching the road ahead, and even that wasn't enough as both Eddie and I bottomed out a few times with a loud BANG under us. If we were going slower, like all those cars and RV's we passed, it may have been a bit more bearable... but there is no fun in that. Nobody gets on a roller coaster and asks to go slower.
Another concern I had was the amount of chip seal we were seeing today. I occasionally put my foot down to feel the surface texture and the stuff grips like hell. It was also hard to distinguish loose rocks and whoever was in the back had to watch the distance to keep from getting hit from random loose rocks. I see now how tires can wear down so fast out here.
Some of the chip seal looked pretty suspicious and was hard to distinguish it from full gravel:
Of course there was plenty of gravel too:
Another stop in Beaver Creek, we were getting really close to the border and so far had not seen any abnormal construction. But while gassing up I kept an eye on the traffic coming from the north and some of the vehicles looked pretty rough. My concerns also helped me keep my mind off of the crazy high gas prices I realized we were paying.
The construction started just past Beaver Creek, and it was pretty bad. I had gotten used to construction from all the previous stuff I had seen already but this just didn't seem to end. There were a few hard-packed sections found sporadically but most of it was pretty loose stuff. I kept the speed slow at first but soon got used to the floating front end and just kept the pace up to keep everything more stable.
The guys we met earlier were right, there were some deep ruts wandering on the road and it was pretty difficult to get out of them on street tires, so I was forced at times to just follow them and hope they kept out of oncoming traffic which gladly was minimal. It did feel weird to pass right next to Cat front end loaders and bulldozers. Unlike more populated areas out East, there were no concrete barriers, cones, or safe distances to separate the traffic from many of the active construction zones.
With a wet face shield and a rejuvenated confidence in riding through gravel, we see the Alaska sign I had been dreaming of for who knows how long. Finally, all fifty states are completed, and I can breathe a sigh of relief that anything that happens after now will just be icing on the cake.
So far we were able to stay pretty dry despite the overcast skies looming over us most of the day, but this changes once we get into Alaska. The only thing staying consistent about the weather was its unpredictable and frustrating nature. The moment we would change into the rain gear it all would stop. It got incredibly unpredictable and the more expectations I made about it the more wrong I became. Sometimes I think if I were to have any superpower ability, it would be the ability to predict the weather.
We roll into Tok during a break in the rain, although with dark clouds in our mirrors I knew we were being chased and our time in clear weather was limited. After gassing up we ride around and look for some food. The only restaurant we see is one attached to a motel & RV park. After getting off the bikes and out of our wet gear, we head inside only to be treated to a ghost town of a diner. The places are all set, but there are no customers, no staff. Just an elephant in the room. We broke the awkward moment of silence with the only person there, an older lady at the register who seemed unmoved by our arrival.
She says they are closed for the time being, while I stare at their chalkboard specials sign, worn down by time and the irony of its existence there. The cheesesteak special sounded good but wasn't meant to be, and I feel a little tormented.
The lady there talks about Fast Eddie's and it sounds like it is the only place to eat in town. We head over there and the place is packed, which confirms it may literally be the only good place to eat at. A good sign for us and fortunately there was no wait. The food was great too, although yet again I ate too much and the following hour on the bike seemed like penance for doing so.
We continue on and hit more sporadic rain mixed in with patches of sunshine. We became worn from the constantly changing weather and just keep the rain gear on all the time, no matter what, while shaking our proverbial fist at the clouds above us. We work our way through Alaska all while keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings, not just for the amazing views but also to watch out for the wildlife which surprisingly had thinned out since coming into Alaska.
At the next stop in Glennallen we get some gas and take a much needed break. In the parking lot is the Tok Thai food truck which seemed pretty well busy despite the store at the gas station having a decent amount of food there. I was still way too stuffed from our stop in Tok earlier to even think about eating again, but the place looked pretty good. It was then that I realized that we had seen an abnormal amount of Thai restaurants in the past couple days. In fact, just about every town we had ridden through since then, which admittedly had not been terribly too many but still quite a few, had Thai food available.
Along with the Thai food there, I had noticed that the gas station we had stopped in, located at the intersection of AK 4 and AK 1 where the Glenn Highway begins, was abnormally packed. It had been a long while since we needed to wait to gas up, if at all. It was one aspect of home I was reminded of, and it ironically felt out of place here as we see so many others on their various paths through Alaska.
Just past Glennallen we get into some construction, which coupled with the rain we were riding through again made it a little unnerving. It seemed to take us forever to make it through, and we couldn't get much of a pace behind all of the traffic ahead of us. I just couldn't comprehend the distance of these construction zones, 15 miles of slow going mess was becoming common now. We lost a bit of time but fortunately we had plenty to spare, having gained an hour earlier. We made up some time after we built up the nerve to pass the slow moving traffic who were taking their time making their way through the mud.
We finally break free of the traffic but not the rain, and ride through Glenn Highway towards Palmer. The roads were really fun through here, winding their twisty way through various textures and atmospheres, but sadly between the rain and the traffic we weren't able to pick up the pace into hooligan territory. I had spun the rear on a couple instances in the rain which served as a reminder to keep the pace reasonable.
We were treated with some great sights, including getting a few peeks at some ice-blue glaciers in the far distance, but many appeared blocked due to the rain and clouds. These barriers only fed my imagination and the wet roads only fed my passion to ride faster, leaving me salivating for more. This endurance ride through Alaska was giving me the taste I needed to rest assured the trip would be no less than an amazing journey for my body and soul.
We get into Palmer and once again, much like in Whitehorse, we're met with a populated area and it almost takes time to adjust and acclimatize ourselves to it. We make a quick gas stop and opt for the gas-n-go approach as we are on the home stretch. I had been worried for the past couple days that my plans for a long day through Alaska would backfire and have us in Palmer pretty late on a Sunday night, putting our last gas stop in jeopardy, but it turns out the concern was for naught as this was no middle-of-nowhere town, gas stations seemed plenty here.
Back on the road, we aim the bikes towards Anchorage, no stopping now.
Continuing on further towards Anchorage the highway turns to a divided and limited access road. For the first time in the past three or four days we get a glimpse of a busy atmosphere and it seems more foreign to me now, and part of me already misses the beautiful wilderness and delicate desolation we had come to know and embrace.
However, when we reached Anchorage, it certainly did feel like an accomplishment as we made it to the hotel. A big sigh of relief was in order, looking back at seven days straight on the road, with about 4,500 miles now behind us. We get to the hotel but Tiff was not there, still at dinner with my cousin who was ending her stay in Anchorage and soon moving to New Mexico. The timing was near perfect as an arrival a couple weeks later meant we would have missed her completely.
We get into the hotel room and shortly after I'm reunited with Tiffany. After a grueling past week getting to Alaska, the real adventure can now begin.
Me, Tiffany, and my cousin Britt:
The day's total:
Not too bad for 7 days of work:
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