8/4/16 Another best day ever!

A crowned road from the 50's, another round of glaciers, spawning salmon and bear. What could make for a better day!

We finished our trek on the Alaska Highway, a road to remember, and turned onto The Stewart- Cassier highway, route 37, which began as a logging and mining dirt  road and was made passable for cars in 1975. As we began our odyssey down this "highway", I was wondering if it was ever deemed ridable for motorcycles. With 400 miles to cover, we dug in and ate it up. With no traffic, no center lines, no shoulders, and no services for miles on end, we got up close and personal with the wilderness and the mountains. This must be the loneliest road in Canada.

Tufts of white clouds girdled the mountains mysteriously as we ascended. The temperature descended by 15 degrees, pulling us over to layer on clothes. Every 60 miles or so, Indian villages with a gas pump popped up. Often there was no gas and the service center was boarded up and weeded over. Thick vegetation grew up to the road and the birm often dropped off ten feet or more.

On and on we chugged, dancing around and sometimes over potholes and gravel. Wild dogs and horses ran along with us. Miles melted into hours and we were lulled into the magic of this road. Solitary together, the other worldliness of our place in time was overwhelming. Mountains lurked in the distance, lifting their veils for fleeting glances at fields of ice. Past jade mines and logging camps, we slowly approached the cut off for Stewart.

 Then a bear! Another bear! One more! And one yet again when we turned onto 37A. We had not only taken the challenge of this road for the thrills, we had also heard rumors that we might see bears. And there they were, one black bear after the other, standing placidly at the edge of the forest. Suddenly the road to Stewart, a 40 mile dead end to the Alaskan border, lit up. Deep canyons, mountains caped in glaciers, dozens of waterfalls and overflowing glacial streams rushed us into the town. A charming little settlement, cupped in sheltering mountains, with a main street that hosts a few stores, 2 motels and friendly dogs, Stewart made us feel at home.

The real bear story came after a king crab dinner. As the sun dipped behind the mountains, we hopped on the bike and headed to Alaska! Hyder and Stewart bump into each other at the border, and we crossed without customs, perhaps because the road dead ends at the sea. Fish Creek was our destination and gave us the thrill of a lifetime.

The sound of serious splashing greeted us. Looking down at the stream we saw hundreds of salmon having their last fling. Then there were the ones belly-up, paying the price for lust! Because of this spawning bed, bears are attracted. The fish are vulnerable and an easy catch.

And then we saw a female grizzly. A larger male had just ducked around the bend, but his lady put on an extraordinary show. A true fisherwoman, she stalked the fish carefully. Many swished away as she walked toward them, but she always found one not paying attention and swooped her giant claws in and nailed him. She then walked proudly to the land with her catch, crunched it down, and was back on the prowl immediately. She worked the stream for at least half an hour, then disappeared into the woods, but never from our memories. 

Tonight we witnessed the circle of life in all its purity. Salmon come to spawn, do their job, feed the bears and die. The eagles clean most of the dead and the rest feed nutrients into the stream. The eggs hatch and the fry swim to the ocean and the cycle begins again. The beautiful yet harsh reality of nature presented a pageant for us, and we watched in awe. 

Tonight I will dream of avalanches, fish and bears, and wake up glad that I am not a salmon!

Route 37- 400 miles

Girdled mountains

Bridge shot

Wild horses

We ran with the river

Bear #1

Bear #2

Bear #3

Bear #4

The road to Stewart

Glaciers to the river

Glaciers to the road

Stewart mountains

The road to Hyder

Mrs. Grizzly 

She got one!

And another

Before

After

8/3/16 Backseat Betsy

I am a ruined woman! Dear Alleghenies, Ozarks, and Rockies - it's not you, it's me. I have been tempted by the fruit of another, and I'm not sure it will ever be the same between us.

 I actually believed that it was not going to rain again for the rest of our trip. I had my rain suit rolled so tight down in the bottom of my saddle bag that I had to pry it out this morning. So today's ride was one of listening to tunes, ducking behind Jules, looking for moose and musing about everything in the world. This is how I pass my time on a rainy day, while Jules rides tense in low visibility in the front. I've got it pretty good.

I think about the two of us traveling together. Jules studies maps, ponders routes and plots our progress daily. I wait in anticipation to see what surprises he has in store for me. It is odd that I have planned lessons and a household my whole life and now, I don't want to spoil the treat of the unforeseen by knowing about it in advance. Then, when all the marvels of the day have been exhausted, I write about them in past tense. Jules is the explorer, I the historian, both necessary in the log of our days.

I think about how far Jules has brought me, not just in miles. Afraid of heights, I have been brought to the edge of so many cliffs, that now I can look down, see the green valleys and threads of rivers thousands of feet below and rejoice in flying. A toxic worrier, I have let go of "what ifs" and exchanged them for "why nots", the latter bringing me much more joy. And, I go for miles and months with only a few changes of clothes and not styling my hair or putting on makeup. I think I like it.

I also think about my family back home and how very fortunate we are to have such competent daughters that grant us the ability to make these escapes each summer. As they keep our business, our grandchildren and our home place secure, thoughts of them all warm me through the rain and wind and travel always in the back seat with me.

As we rode along today, only the closest mountains were visible, but my imagination painted the rest of the canvas, because now I know what is everywhere in the Northwest. In all our travels, we have seen many mountains and ridden many passes, but nothing compares with the magnitude of what we have constantly witnessed on this trip. Each day I thought that we had experienced the absolute in natural wonder, but then it continued onto the next and the next. Thousands of miles of massive geological creation stole my heart and my soul.

So, you other mountains in the lower 48, I'm so sorry to write this, but I have fallen astray and you have been replaced by another. You were my first love and I will always hold a special affection for you. Do you think we can still be friends?

Our morning view

Rascal in the rain

Fill in the blanks behind the clouds

Just a peek

A gray lake

A motorcycle challenge 

Classy monument 

At the Wolf It Down restaurant

Hello kitty

I can't bear to leave

Ahhh!

8/2/16 This is What We Missed

Deja vu does not have to be a carbon copy of what went before. 

Leaving Buckshot Betty's in Beaver Creek (does the name of a restaurant with cabins get any better than that?), we headed into the stretch of road that last week gave us our first lesson in roughing it on the Alcan. But lately, Jules and Rascal have been schooled well in the art of riding gravel, rocks and mud, so they handled the 50 miles of road construction in fair weather with ease. I also have been taught the ways of these roads and leaned back and enjoyed the scenery.

Yes, there was scenery today. Unlike our northern jaunt here in the rain, when our heads were bowed to the gods of weather and road construction, wrapped in fog and mist, today, the world opened up. And the dramatic scene that played before us was worthy of any critic's praise. For most of the day, we followed the St. Elias Range.

Miles of mountainous sidelines shouldered us in. While Jules and Rascal again wrestled the worst stretch of road we have ever ridden, I ogled the landscape. What a show.

 Long stops at construction sites made us a new friend and reacquainted us with old ones. The flagmen always signal the bikes to come to the front of the line, so we don't have to eat dust. Today we ran into a couple whose paths have crossed ours several times on this trip. We also met a young Brit who sailed a boat from Japan with his friend to Homer, bought a used dual sport bike in Anchorage 6 days earlier (he had never ridden before) and was on his way to meet up with his friend in California. Ah youth! Meeting up with these folks helped to pass the 15 to 30 minute waits, but it did not help us accomplish the road work we had planned for the day.

And then the St. Elias Icefield happened. Lake Kluane, that had been a shadow in the fog on our northern route, busted out with its true colors. Sapphire water surrounded by peaks sporting glacial jewelry dazzled us. Kluane hosted our picnic today and it was a gem.

As the road curved around the lake, dust rose from the dry section of its bed, riding us into what felt like the mists of Avalon. As the mist cleared, the ice fields again came into focus, grew in magnitude and chilled us with their elegance. For miles we were encased in the magnificence of the St. Elias mountains, and they created a memory that could never be pasted in an album - pure sensuality.

Settling in Haines Junction, we watched the sun and clouds play over yet another glacier shadowing our room for the night. We had planned to travel further today, but construction bogged us down fortuitously, because just look at where we landed. 

Our ride out to Beaver Creek in the rain was a tense and long one. Today, on the return, the hours flew by, the construction was doable and we were treated to even more glory from the North. It's amazing what a little sunshine in your life can do.

Our cabin

A sunny lake

St. Elias - what we couldn't see before.

I look concerned!

Blue, blue Lake Kluane

Our picnic spot - yes we had our bear spray

On the shore

The man of the lake

The road curves into the mist

Avalon

Misty

Ice fields abound

So you know you're in Haines Junction

A room with a view

Cleaning the dirt off the running lights, so a least we can be seen. What a dirty Rascal!

Dinner with Elias

8/1/16 Out from Alaska

Leaving Alaska too soon, we headed toward the Canadian border. The day was bittersweet because even though we would be done at the end with this majestic state, a ride under warm sun and clear skies awaited.

The road to Tok, the final leg of our Alaskan loop, proved to be most interesting. An undulated, frost heaved surface tested our spines. I felt like my hang time got close to a record five seconds as my butt left the seat for an air ride. Several encounters with entrances to Wrangell-Elias Park proved the reality of its massive size as an encounter with a moose too close to the road gave validation to its enormity. 

It seems like everything in Alaska is colossal. Thousands of miles of roads wind past countless mountains unsurpassed in height and breadth. Rivers, lakes and waterfalls occur with abundance and large animals, bear, moose and caribou, roam the forests. Even the ravens are the size of small children! 

After reaching Tok, we were back on the Alaska highway, heading for the border, familiar territory with a fresh perspective. Coming into Alaska, we rode in clouds and rain. Today the sun lit up the mountains that we never knew were there. Last week we skittered carefully over wet gravel with our heads down to the road. Today we ate the gravel like candy, our eyes to the mountains and the skies.

Earlier, at a stop to stock up on picnic supplies and wine, I overheard a woman lamenting the fact that she was depressed because it was dark at 1 AM now. The portion of daylight allotted to the people of the Far North is rapidly shrinking at about 9 minutes a day. They hold onto every second of precious daylight and dread the long nights to come. We have seen changes in the few weeks we have ridden here. The sunrise is later, the fireweed is ending its bloom and we saw our first sunset tonight.

We have left the USA and Alaska behind and entered Canada and the Pacific Time Zone. In a few days we will be back in the lower 48, but it is questionable when or if we will visit the 49th again. So remote, so beautiful, so wild, this state has become our "Last Frontier". From the four points of the compass, we touched all the boundaries of this country on two wheels. But there are still many rides ahead, many unridden trails to blaze and new ventures around the bend.

 And we are still 4000 miles away from home!

Good morning Copper Center

Who lives here?

A fur cache

The embers of the fireweed

To build a fire

Our last picnic in Alaska

Yes, there are mountains

Sun blessed us today

Our first sunset in weeks