7/26/16 You Betcha!

We are anchored in Anchorage.

A delightful breakfast and some picture fun in and around our little cabin gave us an enjoyable start to the day. Weather report: cloudy with a glimpse of sun.

The Trapper Creek Trading Post disappeared in the rear views as we roared down the highway. With the mountains in the distance, we crossed rivers swollen with rain carrying huge pieces of debris. There were flash flood warnings for the back country, but we rode high and dry. 

In Willow we stopped to check out some sea planes. They floated poised to take off and provide taxi service to the many areas not serviced by roads. Ducks paddled serenely nearby, also waiting for flight. The amount of air traffic has increased tremendously as we near more populated areas and we are in awe at how easily Alaskans travel by wing.

A stop at a random gas station gave us some excellent information. An old timer (probably my age) filled us in on hunting and fishing rules in Alaska as we wondered about a huge net on the side of a van. Called a dip-net, it can be used at designated fisheries for "personal use fishing". The net is held in the rushing water until fish are felt in it, then retrieved. The head of household is allowed 25 salmon and each addition member of the family is permitted ten. A hunter may take 3 black bears a year, but only one grizzly every three years. Other game also has liberal limits for personal use. The idea is to put food on the table year round. Jules asked our "teacher" how much the black bear weigh and he told us about 500 lbs. When we inquired how much the browns  weigh, he answered, "I'd hate to have to weigh one, but they go 10' tall". This gave me chills.

As we neared Wasilla, the tempo of humanity quickened. Surrounded by snow capped mountains, the beauty of the location is marred by intense traffic and urban sprawl. A super highway connected us to Anchorage, where we crawled through traffic to the Harley dealer. Here Rascal got new oil, a tune up, and a bath, while we cooled our heels in our motel for the night. With time on my hands, I did a much needed wash. Tomorrow we all ride clean!

We are in the biggest city we have seen in weeks. Sirens wail outside our window and the constant drone of vehicles and air traffic provides the ambient noise. Countrified and rural by nature, we prefer the rustic to the urbane, so we are at sea here in Anchorage. Tomorrow we will head down the coast away from the crowds and toward the intimacy that we crave and have grown to love. 

Cabin breakfast

Rain suits and Remy

Boots and booze

Swollen rivers

Dual purpose road

Taxi service Alaska style

Waiting for flight

Dip-net

The Willow jail

Mountains surrounding Wasilla

Heading into Anchorage

The Eagle River

Just my speed

Look who Jules met - you betcha!

7/25/16 Everywhere Is Far

Maps can be deceiving and even the best of intentions can't shorten miles, especially in Alaska.

Sun and Denali were on the menu for today. Feeling svelte without our rain suits, we threw our legs over and Jules leaned the handlebars south. We were headed to one of the largest and most beautiful National Parks in the US. 

Mountains teased us for hours, as we never seemed to grow closer. I can't imagine what it might have been for the first explorers on foot and horseback because at 70 mph, it seemed to take eons. But the whole day lay ahead of us in the sun, and we rode on comfortably.

A picnic with a view saw us dawdle. Back on the road, we finally met the mountains face to face. The Alaska Range sports the highest mountain in North America, Denali, formerly known as McKinley. The 6 million acre park surrounding it is bisected by only one road. Pocketed with construction, we motored as far as private vehicles can go, craning our necks to soak in all the majesty surrounding us. Only buses provided by the park are allowed past the public road and dozens of them poured in, packed with 50 plus bodies. Do the math and you can see how human impact on this pristine environment is prevented by mass transportation into the depths of the park. We opted to take the short route and ride alone.

A lonely reindeer watched our exit from the park road that took us back to the Parks Highway. We were by no means done with Denali as we traveled past range after range of dazzling peaks. Then clouds changed the demeanor of the day to angry and once again we unrolled our rain suits and headed into weather. A quest for gas and possibly a bed for the night became formidable. Miles of lonely highway took us further into the forest. Wasilla, the closet city was hours away, and although darkness was not an issue, it was getting late and Rascal was breathing fumes. 

Then Trapper Creek Trading Post appeared like an oasis. As Jules pumped gas, I inquired about lodging. They were 50% full - one of two cabins left. We gratefully booked it. A homey dinner at the restaurant with local color gave us a taste of real Alaska. Hardworking men with mud soaked jeans, who can't find a barber or a dentist, filled us in on local lore. Then we repaired to our porch where we waited for night that never came, with feet on the railing, listening to the rain tap the roof.

Our ride took us a little longer today, but the benefits were bountiful. Warm sun, sublime scenery and safe harbor for the night created perfection. And then there was us.

Our morning treat

Lunch 

Denali seen from afar

We're going in

Mountains everywhere

Denali River

Giant toads?

Denali landscape

Rudolph!

Sun ... Done

Real Alaska

This is where we are

7/24/16 We did it!

All you need is a positive attitude!

Cautiously pulling back the curtain this morning, hoping for a brighter sky, I was again met with the gloomy clouds that have been our companions for three days. Toughened to these conditions, we swaddled and saddled up, happy to be on the road no matter what. 

Leaving Beaver Creek, the most western point in Canada, we spun wheels out of Ida's. Last year at this same time, we spent the night in the most eastern part of this country, St. John's, Newfoundland. After reaching both these destinations, almost 6,000 miles apart, I feel like a modern Colossus, riding with wheels planted firmly on both sides of the world.

So close to our home country, we flew past Canadian customs, right outside of Beaver Creek. This station used to be in the middle of town, but it was moved down the road because motorists kept blowing through, setting off sirens in the middle of the night. Only thirty more kilometers and we were at the border. Welcome to the USA and the 50th state we have ridden!

Pumped to be standing in Alaska, we posed for all the obligatory pictures, relishing this monumental moment. The rain had stopped and we ran from marker to marker like kids in a candy shop. Hugging and kissing, we sealed this instant in our memories forever.

Now into the largest state, whose area is greater than that of Texas, California, Montana and New Mexico combined. It didn't matter that we would only scratch the surface of Alaska. The fact that we made it was enough. A stop for lunch at "Fast Eddie's" dried us off a bit. Here we realized we had cell service again. Back into the future!

The roads, though still rough at points, were greatly improved from yesterday's wrestling match. The rain was small and gentle so visibility was better. I think we are becoming seasoned to the wet riding! Still seeming isolated from the rest of the world, we glided by acres of forest and hundreds of lakes and rivers. Poles carrying electricity to the few souls that live out her dipped dangerously toward the ground, sinking in the permafrost.

And "Yes, Virginia, there is " .... blue sky. Clouds parted, the sun shone and we rode with faces warmed into Delta Junction, the end of the Alaska Highway. Conquering another milestone, we congratulated ourselves and Rascal on a long, hard, but fulfilling ride. Giant mosquitos, replicas of the "state bird" greeted us and we stood by the mile marker for a photo op.

Optimistically, we peeled off our rain jackets for the first time in days, but the gold of the sun was the fool's variety. Rain fell sporadically as we whizzed past Army convoys and the Alaska Pipeline. Santa greeted us at North Pole, but we just waved as we flew by on our way to Fairbanks. A big, small town, we found beds for the night amid a riot of flowers.

Despair has never been in our vocabulary. Days ago when I checked the Alaska weather in Toad River, a giant green radar blob hovered over most of the state. I shut off my iPad, rolled over and put any worry way in the back of my brain. We journied on through it all, glued front to back for miles of road that tested us daily and we skidded to a stop  every evening with smiles, proclaiming, "Holy shit! What a ride!" And here we are in Alaska, The Last Frontier, and the last state on our list to conquer. We did it!

Yes we can!

Iconic Ida's, Beaver Creek, YT

When you hit a " chuck hole" at a high rate of speed!

Small ponds and lakes sit on permafrost

We did it!

Warning!

US Customs, mile 1221.8 on the Alcan

Waiting for winter

Sinking poles

Blue sky!

And here we are

With the giant mosquitos 

The Alaska Pipeline

North Pole, AK

A dahlia as big as my head!

7/23/16 Rock and Roll

Shit got real today.

Our options were to cower in our motel  room for who knew how long or to head out into the rain. Layered up, we waddled to the bike and heaved on, unaware that this would be the ultimate test of Jules' riding skill, Rascal's amazing maneuverability, and my endurance. 

For the first 50 miles out of Whitehorse, a misty drizzle and healthy road lulled us into thinking we were good to go. We rocked in the rain with Foreigner and Journey blasting on the radio. Then rock and roll took on a totally new meaning as we headed into one of the most challenging stretches of road imaginable. 

The Alcan makes a right turn at Haines Junction and we took advantage of a small clump of services there to fuel our bodies and the bike, and  to dry out a bit. The next hint of civilization was in Beaver Creek, 180 miles away and we geared onto the highway ready to face what the Yukon had to throw at us.

First there was the old road, heaved so many years by frost that our dragon became a bucking bronco, and Jules, the handler, rode her to victory. I hung on, the distance between my ass and the seat growing dangerously with each mogul. To add to the excitement, the clouds dropped and steady, stinging rain began to fall. Then there was the construction. Fifty miles of gravel, at times smooth but mostly rocky. Gravel is tough enough to navigate in general, but the rain made  it a whole new dance. At times we waited on one way stretches only to follow the guide truck through mud that was in words according to Jules, "slicker than eel snot". But Rascal performed well, only skidding a few times.

Then the talisman of a golden eagle appeared and flew along with us, granting safe passage. The rain slowly abated, the road became passable and some shy mountains even spied on us through the clouds. Although the distance to Beaver Creek seemed interminable, we slowly consumed the miles and arrived wet and cold, but otherwise unscathed. Buckshot Betty's, our first choice in lodging was full, so we took the only other option, Ida's Motel. Not exactly four star, we still felt like royalty as we shucked our wet clothes and warmed our hearts. These two motels, a gas station and some questionable cabins in the woods complete the demographic of Beaver Creek. So close to the border tonight, we can hear Alaska calling us. Every mile of today's rocky ride was worth the effort as tomorrow we will conquer our 50th state! 

As I drift into sleep, I sense our golden eagle watching. The mystical ancient races that walked these forests, rode with us today, enclosed us with their charm and brought us safely through. And for this I send up a grateful prayer.

Moooose!

Kluane Lake

Mystical Islands

Shy mountains

Rocky road

Fifty miles of this :/

Our talisman