• Welcome, Guest! We hope you enjoy the excellent technical knowledge, event information and discussions that the BMW MOA forum provides. Some forum content will be hidden from you if you remain logged out. If you want to view all content, please click the 'Log in' button above and enter your BMW MOA username and password.

    If you are not an MOA member, why not take the time to join the club, so you can enjoy posting on the forum, the BMW Owners News magazine, and all of the discounts and benefits the BMW MOA offers?

Chasing Winter and the Midnight Sun 2009

Dave's version of the 'Blood on the highway' segment...

.....'blood on the highway'. excerpt from my trip notes...it's not like adventure won't find you out there.

"The road was in pretty good shape, although there were the usual gravel construction zones including some on long grades. No real difficulty if you stayed alert. We had maintained good speed and were running 75 on chipseal when I raised my visor to push my sunglasses back up. Before I closed the visor, something hit me on the right side of my nose, a bull’s eye. I have no idea what hit me, but it opened me up like I’d been cut with a straight razor. By the time I hit the brakes and got to the shoulder I was already covered with blood. I had blood all over my face and neck, helmet, riding jacket, pants, boots, bike…everywhere. I had a hand up to my face to try to keep it under control and was afraid to let go long enough to get my helmet off.

P5250084.jpg


The bike was still running, and blood was just pouring out of me. Freakin’ A, I think I have a little problem here. I fumbled around in my cargo pockets for some paper towels I keep to clean the visor. They get used up one after the other and now there was a growing pile of blood soaked paper towels beside the bike. I see Beemer coming back and he turns around and parks in front of me, walks back and says “What the hells going on, you look like you’ve been shot”.

I’m not sure what’s going on, but the only thing I can do is to wait it out. I can’t ride right now anyway, and there’s no help for miles in either direction.

After 45 minutes the bleeding had slowed to a drip and after an hour I was able to get cleaned up enough to ride. We took it easy to the next fuel stop and when I pulled up to the pump a smiling young gal came out to fuel the bike. I was looking her direction when I raised my visor and when she got a look at my face she jumped back about five feet.

I said “I need to get cleaned up.” She pointed in the direction of the restrooms, turned on her heels, and took off in the other direction. Never said a word, I must have scared her. I locked myself in the restroom and tried to get some of the blood off me. Every time I touched my nose it would start bleeding again.

A half hour of work and it was as good as I could get it. Unfortunately, the restroom looked like there had been a chainsaw murder in there. Sorry about that. This whole thing was real old at this point and I was starting to get a little twitch in my left eye. I didn’t feel like thinking about it anymore.

Maybe I could get Beemer to ride ahead and find some bar with a wet T-shirt contest.

Let’s hit the road, things can only get better."
 
Last edited:
Day 7. Watson Lake to Mayo - 15 hours May 25

The Campbell Highway is a stunning road, and a great introduction to the dirt roads of the far North. Graded - kinda, and sometimes treated with a calcium chloride solution (Maintenance crews mix bags of calcium chloride with tankers of water and flood the dirt roads - the solution sets up, binding the dirt and rocks into a harder road surface which is largely dust free. However when it is still wet, it's like riding in wet concrete - and when it rains it gets as slick as owl **** - what fun!)

P5260127-1.jpg

P5260124-1.jpg



Fantastic views, but travel speeds on any road like this are far slower than paved roads - we encountered rain, squalls of hail, mud, deep gravel, freshly graded sections and deep windrows of dirt and gravel that had to be navigated with great care.

P5260118.jpg

Dempster.jpg


The TCK-80 tires worked very well, traction was good…. and often needed. Note - if you go to Google maps, the Campbell Highway isn't even shown out of Watson Lake YT - switch to the satellite view and you can see it as a trace through the forests and mountains.

P5270128.jpg

P5270135.jpg


We made it to Ross River, and were grateful to find gas…. we'd burned our primary tanks and emptied our gas cans many, many, many miles back.

P5270139.jpg


We found a 'restaurant' in a hotel that was under reconstruction and they fed us. Then it started to rain in earnest, sheets of water and hail, further converting the dirt roads around the town to slop. We shrugged, remounted our bikes and headed out.

BTW, the solution to nearly all problems in riding in slop is to power on - that's exactly what we did.

We wound up in Carmacks - another mining town of yore where we stopped to try and wash off some of the Campbell Highway dust, mud and grime. A Dutch tourist - who incredibly keeps his personal RV in Anchorage and comes over for extended vacations in the spring and fall every year - came over to practice his English.

If I hadn't mentioned this, Dave is amazingly outgoing and seems to attract people. He was soon swapping stories with our new friend. Our visitor went on to tell us that Black bears were the most dangerous - he wasn't worried about Grizzlies.

Dave and I grew up in Minnesota and both have more than a bit of bear experience - I think we collectively gasped.

Dave explained the Bear hierarchy - Polar Bears are probably the most dangerous - Grizzlies are close behind and black bears generally the least threat. All can be lethal, but we've both chased a lot of black bears out of camps and lived to tell the tale. We were just concerned that the Grizzlies that he loves to watch catching fall salmon, might develop a taste for Dutch tourists.

We made Mayo and the Provincial campground…. which was completely empty. We paid our fees to the envelope box and decided to set up our tents in the pavilion on the smooth level wooden floors. I started a fire in the fire box, opened my whisky and kicked back to relax in relative comfort.

P5270147.jpg
 
Last edited:
Day 8. Mayo to Eagle Plain Lodge on the Dempster. May 26

We packed and left the campground and decided to head further up the Sliver Trail Highway to Keno City - a very old and completely authentic Silver Mining Town at the end of the road. No 'Disney treatment' here - a few people actually do live here, but we saw not a soul.

P5270150.jpg


No gas, no breakfast, no coffee (gasp).

There is a very rough 'path/road' graded out of the mountain to let scientists and tourists go up the mountain to view indigenous Arctic Butterflies in season. Evidently the season starts a bit later, for though we rode miles and miles up this winding 'trail' - I didn't see a single butterfly.

P5270152.jpg


I did however see a whole lot of snow and mud…. and the deeply rutted rocky muddy road often with ice water rushing down in the ruts. Several times I was forced to stop, and plot my strategy and route up the next section - here a loaded 550 pound bike can be a bit of a liability. We finally stopped when this fading path vanished into melting snow drifts.

P5270153.jpg


We rode down the grade without incident and headed onto the paved Klondike Highway and then North to the start of the legendary Dempster Highway.

On my GPS, I set up sunrise and sundown times, as we relentlessly made our way North these times got closer and closer together.. and then suddenly blanked out. We'd reached the land of the Midnight sun.

The Dempster Highway was built to reach the Canadian Arctic's oil and mining regions - like the Campbell it’s a graded dirt road, sometimes treated with calcium chloride, often not …. to paraphrase Dickens - it's the best of roads and the worst of roads - sometimes the same section.

And all within 24 hours.

The Dempster terminates at Inuvik hard on the Arctic Ocean- but we couldn't going to make it that far this May - the two ferries that cross the rivers weren't operating yet, something about ice chunks the size of suburban houses still floating downstream to the Arctic Ocean.

There were two signs at the foot of the Dempster, one for tourist snapshots and the other - well, the other was a warning that I don't see too often.

P5280155.jpg

P5280156.jpg


The vistas were stunning - and the road seemed endless, constantly stretching across valleys and disappearing over still another hill. The weather is constantly and sometimes violently shifting driven by winds, eerie mountains of the Nahoni Range and the not too distant Arctic Ocean.

300px-Dempsterhighway-1.jpg


The Dempster seemed endless - I could sometimes see the road stretching across valleys ten or more miles in the distance.
P5280172.jpg


P5240066.jpg

P5280163.jpg

P5280158.jpg

P5280159-1.jpg

P5280164.jpg

P5290192-2.jpg

P5290195-1.jpg

683906886_BMRnm-M.jpg



We rode 14 hours this day, crossing more mountain passes, riding along ridges with endless views to either side, and finding the usual mix of seasonal weather, arriving at long anticipated Eagle Plain Lodge… just after the restaurant closed. The manager was good enough to call the cook back to work - he fixed us some very expensive sandwiches. Rooms at this empty dusty 'lodge' started.. and ended.. at $140 a night, we opted for the free camping on the edge of the dusty parking lot…. but you couldn't beat our view.....As long as you didn't look at the ramshackle collection of fading prefab buildings that constituted the Eagle Plain Lodge.

P5280174.jpg


Since there would be no night, I slept with my baseball cap over my eyes - dead to the world.
 
Last edited:
Facinating story the way you are telling it. I have spent lots of time hunting the Yukon, BC and AK and am reliving all of those trips. I have my Yukon map in front of the computer and am really living it.

Have made it as far as Hyder , AK on two wheels but hope to change that if the body holds up for a few more years. The years are piling up.;)

Keep it coming and "Thanks" for the memories.

Tioga John

R1200RT
 
We packed and left the campground and decided to head further up the Sliver Trail Highway to Keno City - a very old and completely authentic Silver Mining Town at the end of the road. No 'Disney treatment' here - a few people actually do live here, but we saw not a soul.

P5270150.jpg


No gas, no breakfast, no coffee (gasp).

There is a very rough 'path/road' graded out of the mountain to let scientists and tourists go up the mountain to view indigenous Arctic Butterflies in season. Evidently the season starts a bit later, for though we rode miles and miles up this winding 'trail' - I didn't see a single butterfly.

P5270152.jpg


I did however see a whole lot of snow and mud. and the deeply rutted rocky muddy road often with ice water rushing down in the ruts. Several times I was forced to stop, and plot my strategy and route up the next section - here a loaded 550 pound bike can be a bit of a liability. We finally stopped when this fading path vanished into melting snow drifts.

P5270153.jpg


We rode down the grade without incident and headed onto the paved Klondike Highway and then North to the start of the legendary Dempster Highway.

On my GPS, I set up sunrise and sundown times, as we relentlessly made our way North these times got closer and closer together.. and then suddenly blanked out. We'd reached the land of the Midnight sun.

The Dempster Highway was built to reach the Canadian Arctic's oil and mining regions - like the Campbell its a graded dirt road, sometimes treated with calcium chloride, often not . to paraphrase Dickens - it's the best of roads and the worst of roads - sometimes the same section.

And all within 24 hours.

The Dempster terminates at Inuvik hard on the Arctic Ocean- but we couldn't going to make it that far this May - the two ferries that cross the rivers weren't operating yet, something about ice chunks the size of suburban houses still floating downstream to the Arctic Ocean.

There were two signs at the foot of the Dempster, one for tourist snapshots and the other - well, the other was a warning that I don't see too often.

P5280155.jpg

P5280156.jpg


The vistas were stunning - and the road seemed endless, constantly stretching across valleys and disappearing over still another hill. The weather is constantly and sometimes violently shifting driven by winds, eerie mountains of the Nahoni Range and the not too distant Arctic Ocean.

300px-Dempsterhighway-1.jpg


The Dempster seemed endless - I could sometimes see the road stretching across valleys ten or more miles in the distance.

P5240066.jpg

P5280163.jpg

P5280158.jpg

P5280159-1.jpg

P5280164.jpg

P5290192-2.jpg

P5290195-1.jpg


We rode 14 hours this day, crossing more mountain passes, riding along ridges with endless views to either side, and finding the usual mix of seasonal weather, arriving at long anticipated Eagle Plain Lodge just after the restaurant closed. The manager was good enough to call the cook back to work - he fixed us some very expensive sandwiches. Rooms at this empty dusty 'lodge' started.. and ended.. at $140 a night, we opted for the free camping on the edge of the dusty parking lot. but you couldn't beat our view.....As long as you didn't look at the ramshackle collection of fading prefab buildings that constituted the Eagle Plain Lodge.

P5280174.jpg


Since there would be no night, I slept with my baseball cap over my eyes - dead to the world.
Great stuff,glad to see you didn't become BEAR BAIT.Best of luck,keep it coming !!!!:thumb:thumb:thumb
 
Day 9 - Eagle Plain Lodge to Dawson City. May 27


I'd say that we awoke at dawn, but since there was no dawn, it was probably 5:00AM. I was also starting to lose track of what time zone we were in.

We knocked down camp in a matter of minutes and returned to the Lodge (really the usual bunch of prefab structures so common up here - architecture and aesthetics take a back seat to quick construction and insulation)

I arrived a few minutes after Dave and found him completely engaged in conversation with everyone in the dining room - OK there were only 3 other people, but still..

One of the people was a young First Nations guy. Dave had taught himself quite a bit about the various tribes indigenous to this region, and knew them by name. There are darn few tourists up here and even fewer who know the various tribes names. At the end of the conversation, the young man gave Dave two enameled Tribal pins as a gift. Very neat and a very memorable moment.

Breakfast was - well whatever they had. Substitutions on the menu due to unavailable ingredients are a standard part of the ordering process.

Dave and I headed North again to reach the Arctic Circle… for the first time this trip.

P5280187.jpg


P5280179.jpg



Note - the local ground squirrel resident under the display may have been on vacation - perhaps relaxing in Florida.

We returned through Eagle Plain and topped off the tanks and cans - Dave noticed the center of an alloy wheel off of a car nailed to the wall and asked the story behind it. The attendant said that a Chinese guy had driven his rental car - against every possible written clause in the rental contract - up the Dempster, probably business related since the Chinese have reportedly invested in mining activities up there.

They think he blew a tire 80 miles or more from Eagle Plain Lodge …. and rather than stopping to change the tire he kept driving. And driving. Someone back in China had told him that if you stopped on the Dempster packs of wolves would kill and eat you. Terrified, he kept driving, through what was left of the rubber tire, wore off the rim, the brake disc and half of the control arm. And I would imagine significant parts of the car body. All that was left when he ground into the station was a 6" cross section of the alloy wheel bolted to what was left of the assembly.

OK, don't believe us - the wheel is nailed to the wall of the station and that's the story we got…. honest.

P5280175.jpg


The return trip was just as trying as the trip up, both ways were made easier by the general absence of the eighteen wheelers that ply this route heading up to Inuvik - they'd shut down their trips due to the closed ferries.

Note - drivers of the heavy trucks on these roads on all these transport roads are on a mission - they do not slow down for bikers heading the opposite direction. Golf ball sized stones are routinely hurled in your direction at high speed - the few drivers we did encounter gave me useful practice in dodging these incoming missiles.

We got back to the Klondike Highway after 300 more miles of the Dempster and wound up in Dawson City where we washed down the road dust with a couple of beers and dinner.

P5290199-1.jpg

P5290204.jpg


Dawson City is ringed by a fantastic number of stone piles, remnants of the town's gold mining past. Dave and I rode to the top of the Dome, a high point overlooking Dawson and the Yukon River. Jack London would have been pround of us.

P5290209-1.jpg


We queued up to take the ferry across the rampaging Yukon River - really this river must flow past at 20 or more KPH. The access ramps for the ferry consistent of gravel dumped into the river to form a temporary ramp to shore - they have a Cat dozer on both sides of the river with gigantic piles of sacrificial gravel - they rebuild each 'ramp' several times a day. (These soft gravel ramps are great fun to ride on with loaded bikes.)

P5290212.jpg


We camped in the Provincial Campground across the river. Tomorrow we were to cross the 'Top of the World' mountain pass.

I noted that there were no vehicles of any type coming down the mountain from that pass. Hmmm.
 
Last edited:
Day 10 - Dawson City to Fairbanks via Chicken, Alaska May 29

We started off bright and early - as per usual - and headed up to the Top of the World Highway. I'm sure the views are fantastic - except I could see absolutely nothing. Blowing clouds, rain, fog and a varied road surface (mud, gravel, paved sections) all conspired to make this a bit of a harrowing run.

P5290220.jpg

P5290218-1.jpg


Naturally there are absolutely no barriers on the sides of this treacherous road - Dave tells me that there were very steep drop offs hiding in the clouds, fog and snow.

P5290223.jpg


Eventually we wound down to lower altitudes and crossed into Alaska at Poker Creek, the Northernmost and certainly one of the more isolated boarder crossings on this continent. The customs agent was dutiful and cheerful as he stamped our passports and waved us through.

P5290224.jpg


We wound down to Chicken Alaska - a truly motley and cheerful collection of three rather vintage buildings. With an outhouse at the end. The lovely proprietor of the restaurant was baking up a storm - pies, cinnamon rolls, and muffins were lined up on the counter while the short order cook fixed us our delayed breakfast - ummmm!

P5300229.jpg


P5300226.jpg


I looked askance at the baked goods, I mean how many people could possibly find, much less visit Chicken? She told us that the tour busses - full of Asian and European Tourists were enroute up from Fairbanks - this outpost was a fixed stop on their 'wilderness tour' of Alaska.

http://www.chickenalaska.com/chicken/index.html

P5300227.jpg


We gassed up and headed down to Fairbanks. Returning to civilization was jarring - paved roads - access ramps, even paved areas around the fuel pumps! As we rode into urban Fairbanks, I noticed a young woman on a Harley riding down an access ramp and pulling in front of us. 30ish, and cute with the usual jeans, chaps, sunglasses and a shorty helmet over her brunette ponytail. At the first stop light she leaned over and invited us for a drink… and a chance to see all her tattoos.

Obviously ATGATT (All the gear, all the time), works well, she couldn't possibly have known she was propositioning two guys who would never see 50 again!

I was probably in my full BMW curmudgeon mode… we declined and rode on.

Dave had wisely booked ahead availing the generosity of the University of Alaska Fairbanks - they will rent to summer travelers. Soft beds, free showers and a free laundry make for a great deal.

I hit the hay early, grateful for not having to inflate my mattress - dimly aware that we were aiming for the Haul Road tomorrow - Dave assured me that it was easier than the Dempster.

That was not to be the case.
 
Last edited:
Day 11. Fairbanks to Deadhorse (Prudhoe Bay) on the Arctic Ocean. May 30

This was the day to tackle the Haul Road - the James Dalton Highway currently featured on Ice road Truckers. The Haul road was built to support the construction of the Alaskan Pipeline in 1974 - parallel engineering feats of the highest order.

We fueled up bikes, gas cans and bellies and headed North. Early reports were that the distant Atigun Pass - the highest and Northernmost mountain pass in Alaska - was closed due to a late season blizzard.

My gut told me that it takes a lot for them to close this pass.

P5310236.jpg

Dalton.jpg


We headed in - the pavement vanishing just a few yards onto the Dalton. Riding conditions were… interesting. Road crews were grading and flooding the roadway with calcium chloride and water. As they are doing this, they are creating a road of deep slippery mud and gravel with deep windrows that must be crossed at acute angles at road speed. Great fun when you add in oncoming trucks and graders working the road.

P5310240.jpg


Rule #1. Never put your feet down when you feel the wheels break traction. Nothing good will come from this.
Rule #2. More power solves most problems most of the time.

P5310262.jpg


The Haul Road was initially far worse than the Dempster - scary bad some moments. Steep grades and the abovementioned road conditions made me despair. Then suddenly we were on pavement. Speeds increased and life was good, until it suddenly vanished as quickly as it began. This pattern would repeat at seemingly random intervals for the next 500 miles - I occasionally wonder how they select which sections get the asphalt.

P5310276.jpg


Unlike the Canadians, Americans are not so good at marking when the pavement ends and the gravel and muck resume. I was more than occasionally caught off guard - launching onto treacherous gravel and mud at 60 MPH.

On the side of the road we could see the pipeline snaking its way South - sometimes above ground, sometimes buried, always a presence.

We got to Coldfoot - the halfway point and read the eighteen hours old road closure report on the pass. The waitress said that she'd heard that some people had gotten through - but her information was sketchy and second hand. The Brooks Range to the North was draped in clouds. We gassed up and twisted throttles. I was apprehensive as I turned up my grips and electric vest and turned up the Dalton pointing North.

P5310280.jpg

P5310281.jpg


The altitude got steadily higher - I crested a rise and saw white as the road began to snake up switchbacks to the pass. A semi truck was headed down the grade on to refined slop that passes for a roadbed on this part of the Dalton. I braked, let him pass and followed Dave up the grade - snow getting deeper on the sides of the road, freezing 6" deep mud getting even deeper under my tires.

P5310283.jpg


Visibility dropped to perhaps 100 feet as occasionally snowflakes mixed in with the blowing clouds and fog….. and still upward we ground on grades that got steep - 8-12 degrees with switchbacks.

Atigun pass tops out at 4800 feet, I'm sorry to say that while I'm sure the views are breathtaking, I saw none of them - I focused on maintaining traction, staying upright and navigating ruts, not using the front brake and trying to see the road.

Whilst I was thinking of myself as the noble adventurer, I did note another set of motorcycle tracks that had preceded us - some other lunatic had our front door.

Eventually we began to lose altitude and rolled out of the Brooks Range onto the high Tundra. The views just got more and more fantastic - the camera cannot do justice to what we saw that day.

P5310289.jpg

P5310290.jpg

P5310303-1.jpg

P5310304.jpg


An Arctic Fox ran across the road, his coat almost finished changing from snow white to red and brown - herds of Caribou grazed along the road, some grazing almost beneath the pipeline.

P5310300.jpg


A dot appeared on the distant road ahead - OMG. It was a bicyclist. Riding up grade, loaded with panniers, bumping on the dodgy gravel surface and managing 4.0 MPH against the wind.

P5310293.jpg


Naturally he was British.

A cheerful chap, he'd hatched this adventure by checking maps and had flown into Deadhorse with his bike and kit all packed up. Thinking back 80 miles or so, I wondered if he'd anticipated Atigun Pass.

P5310294.jpg


We wished him luck and continued our quest for Deadhorse. Gradually the high Tundra gave way to vast unending wetlands - as the snow and ice receded, this region is converted into pools of water and brush. Hundreds of thousands of Ross Geese had paired off and were making nests - everywhere… and as far as the eye could see.

We eventually made Prudhoe Bay - you can see the equipment 20 miles away… it's that flat. Deadhorse is essentially a series of corporate compounds with muddy roads weaving between them. Since we were there in the early Spring - we saw billions of dollars worth of oilfield equipment parked for the season - entire rigs were sitting in the fenced yards. Deadhorse is also completely manufactured - the entire compound sits on millions of truckloads of compacted gravel and dirt - thus creating and raising Deadhorse above the swampy tundra.

P5310318.jpg


At the Arctic Caribou Inn we discovered the bike ridden by the guy who preceded us up this 500 mile road…. He'd ridden this sloppy, snowy, muddy road on a BMW R1200 RT…with street tires. We were impressed.

P5310314.jpg


We rented a room - $190 per night - there are no choices, there is no camping. The First Nations lady, Isabelle, who ran the place was friendly and showed us around. These places live and die by their food - the Inn had an executive chef and a full complement of food to select from 7/24/365. No alcohol.

The men (and a few women) who work the Arctic oilfields do so for a good paycheck - looked like a pretty focused bunch to us.

We looked around for the rider of the RT - he was nowhere to be seen. We grabbed some food and I hit the hay - the midnight sun blocked by heavy curtains and my baseball cap.

P5310305.jpg


Little did I know that the mechanical demons that lurk in our machines would manifest themselves the next day…
 
Last edited:
Dave's version of the Yukon River crossing - he's right - I forgot her..

Crossing the Yukon

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

from Dave's trip notes-

"When we get to the other side of the river there aren't any cars waiting for the trip back to Dawson. Just a lone walk on passenger was waiting for the ferry and the whole thing started a slight list to port when all the deck hands came over to get a look.

A statuesque blond, she was wearing about 40% of her entire body weight up high on her chest. Not only that, but she was making some casual adjustments to her night-on-the-town attire, oblivious to her audience.

I'm betting that as a child she left the underwear off her Barbie doll. Good Lordy! Hey Beemer, maybe we should go back to Dawson and see what happens. That girl could find herself the object of a couple good fist fights wherever she went, maybe even gunfire if she set her mind to it.

Nah, we gotta go camping˜. Damn, we were going to miss out for sure. "


She looked even better in person-words don't do her justice.

I do remember this Lass - I don't remember suggesting that camping would be better than following her back to the local watering holes. I do recall that Dave - for once - called it a night before I did. North of 50 tends to reduce my late nights.
 
Last edited:
Day 12 Deadhorse (Prudhoe Bay) on the Arctic Ocean to Fairbanks May 31

We rolled early eating breakfast with some of the oilfield crews cafeteria style.

P5310310.jpg


Dave suggested we grab some treats for our British bicyclist friend - he wouldn't be too hard to find - two bags of Crackerjacks found their way into my tankbag.

Topping off our tanks and gas cans we headed South again.

P5310297.jpg

P5310272.jpg


Interesting note - on the way up my Garmin didn't show the Haul road - I was just blazing a path across an electronic void on the screen. When I turned on the Garmin in the morning, it now identified the Haul Road and showed Deadhorse as a town at the apex. Strange.

We rolled South slowly gaining altitude off the swampy Tundra, reaching the high Tundra and Caribou herds. A couple sprinted across the road in front of Dave's bike, but a quick grab of the brakes averted disaster. A pair of Musk Oxen watched us ride past - dusty clouds behind our bikes.

Just before a small bridge, I saw the our British biker, just breaking camp down by the stream.. We pulled off the road, gave him our 'gifts' and chatted for a while more - I think he was happy for the conversation and break from his routine. ' Not sure if he knew what Crackerjacks were.

We warned him about Atigun, riding a bicycle over this pass - even if it weren't snowing and blowing - stuck me as nearly impossible. The muck and steep grades would probably stop even Lance Armstrong. I've since checked - he pedaled over the range. He proved everyone wrong.

We parted company - I looked to the South - the Brooks Range was again shrouded in low clouds?”?‡ª and a front was blowing in hard.

P5310259.jpg


Once again we crossed the Pass, and once again I could see nothing. Flashing lights on a sign told us to check channel 19 on our CB for current road conditions - not very helpful since we were not so equipped. I cranked up the heated grips and gear and headed back up the grade.

'Don't use the front brake, Don't use the front brake' I kept repeating to myself as my rear tire slipped and slid on the slick, mucky road surface. The snow started in earnest at about 2000', and started to accumulate on my windscreen and helmet, slicing visibility to a few yards.

I dropped down a gear and bumped the revs and we ground up the pass. An eighteen wheeler appeared and vanished in the blowing snow ahead of me setting my pace - passing is certainly not an option here, regardless of the weather. I would wind up standing on my pegs for extended stretches to negotiate the muddy ruts.

What can I say - we made it through without incident - no pictures - too tense.

We stopped for fuel at Coldfoot, and were happy to be able to tell the waitress that for the moment, all was passable on the pass.

P6010327-1.jpg


The rest of the ride back actually improved dramatically - the slick calcium chloride roads had hardened up perfectly, to almost paved quality. I bumped my speed making sure that I saw Dave in my review mirror at every rise - he was hanging back a bit.

I got to the start/end of the Dalton and waited about ten minutes for Dave - puzzled that he hadn't showed up.

P6010334.jpg


I turned the Beemer around and started back - and Dave appeared. It turns out that the radiator of his Kawasaki had completely clogged with the mud of the Haul Road, leaving his bike to overheat. The on-board computer, sensing the temperature rising cleverly shifted the bike to a limp home mode. This is actually a neat feature, you are slowed down to where a chasing wolf could catch you, but you keep sputtering and moving. And we hoped that the temps were contained to a point where the engine would sustain no damage.

The grades on the South end of the Dalton are steep - even when pavement is reached - for the run into Fairbanks, there are a lot of grade changes.

I let Dave ride ahead - but he was moving slowly - I trailed with my flashers on. We eventually reached a restaurant and I was able to wheedle some buckets and access to their outside faucet - Dave tossed 6 or so buckets of water into the radiator trying to flush out some of the baked in mud, but this was really a job for a high pressure washer. And a stack of quarters. The water did however cool the bike sufficiently so regular riding speeds were regained. We reached Fairbanks, found a car wash and he blew his clogged radiator clean.

The BMW was a bit dirty and benefited from being hosed down as well.

Dinner that evening was eaten out of a gas station - it's always fun to people watch at a BP mini mart at 11:00PM - kinda like living in an episode of Cops as we ate our chips, sodas and sandwiches of uncertain vintage.
 
Last edited:
Day 13 Fairbanks to the Denali Highway to Valdez June 1

Rolled out early and rolled on the throttle and headed South on 3 to Cantwell to take the Denali Highway East.

We gassed up in Cantwell and saw things we'd been able to avoid to this point. Tour busses discharged throngs of soft, plump tourists (mostly Asian and European) at trinket shops selling authentic Denali Park Tee shirts (bright signs screaming 50% OFF!) (and presumably rubber tomahawks made in China) and dreck. Dave observed that few seemed to be buying - I just couldn't wait to escape so I could breathe again. Must be suppressed memories.

The Denali Highway is a 135 mile gravel and dirt road - mislabeled a highway. (You'd have thought I'd have learned that by now…) The vistas were stunning - this dusty and occasionally snowy, pot holed road was classic Alaska - stunted pine trees, distant snowy mountains, crystal clear rivers - did I say pot holed? The Denali has pot holes that could swallow a KIA. No people, few vehicles, almost no man made structures.
Denali2.jpg



P6020344.jpg

P6020346.jpg

P6020352.jpg

P6020353.jpg


Ahead I saw something on the road - a mother Moose and her calf were walking along the road - they kindly waited for me to get some maternal pictures.

P6020350.jpg


We stopped for gas after the Denali and met a German couple who had taken many months off to ride their Dual Sport machines in Alaska and Canada. They seemed to be having a great time and were in no hurry. How do young couples get 6 months off? I need to study the European systems more.

P6020354.jpg


We, on the other hand, had to make Valdez, the end of this amazing pipeline.

As we rode South the temperatures got warmer… until we reached the range of mountains, hard against the coast, that surrounded Valdez. Up and up we went, cresting the top of the pass amidst snow fields, and then down, down down through scenery that looked more like Switzerland than the USA. Fantastic grades, tight corners and dramatic scenery at every turn - plunging waterfalls seemed almost commonplace after a while.



We camped at an RV park in Valdez, had dinner and I headed off to my sleeping bag.

P6020361.jpg

P6020362.jpg

P6020363.jpg
 
Last edited:
Day 14 - Valdez to Burwash Landing - Burwash YT. June 2

Up, up and out we left Valdez, and onto the Alaska Highway again. This stretch was littered with closed and for sale resorts and gas stations - fuel was scarce for long stretches. There were extensive sections of road which were gravel covered and dusty - when you seen a sign warning of extreme dusty conditions - believe it.

In some respects these sections were more difficult to ride than the Haul road had been - lots of rear tire squirming and sliding - oncoming trucks created dusty zero visibility for hundreds of meters after they passed.

709775645_YwcZQ-M.jpg


We reached Burwash Landing and Lodge and were grateful to see a log cabin gas station, we pulled off and up to the pumps.

The owner, Paddy, came out kvetching good naturedly about everything - he helped us refuel. I asked about the Provincial campground on the map a ways down the road - "Closed" Paddy said.. "Damn bears were ripping it up last week". "You can camp down by the lodge" he motioned towards the still frozen lake - "No charge for tents in the meadow - not so many bears either" he chuckled.

P6030366.jpg


We rode down the grade, found the meadow and pitched our tents.

P6030369.jpg


The Lodge had a restaurant! We were all set - we went in and found a nice dining room.... with a single occupant - a burly guy in coveralls with a beer in front of him. "Come on - join me" he said motioning to the empty table.

P6030367.jpg


What followed was a very strange conversation.

The gentleman told us he had a towing business in the summer months - he and Dave swapped technical pointers on GM transmissions - but in the winter months…. he travelled to Africa and performed arms training to support his employer in their sales of AK-47s to various governments, agencies and dictators across the continent. He seemed to know his manufacturers - the best AKs are being made in China, some are now chambered to accommodate .223 US Military rounds.(why?) He knew the good dictators and the bad dictators by name. He had two business cards - one for the towing business and the other for the arms business. If you look at Dave's hand you'll see the arms dealer business card.

I glanced at Dave and shrugged. The gentleman then went on to say that he'd been diagnosed as mentally ill and saw a shrink once a month. Just when we'd confirmed that we were talking to an amiable 'end of the road' crackpot, he reached into his pocket and produced 20 rounds of live NATO ammunition.

At the end, he offered to sell us individual AK-47s - "There are militias starting up all over America" he encouraged. We declined - our bikes were pretty heavily loaded as it was, and I'm not sure how I'd explain an automatic Chinese rifle strapped to my back.

I wandered out to the frozen lake as the sun was setting - an amazing county.

P6030378.jpg
 
Last edited:
Day 15 Burwash Landing to Haines, AK to Skagway AK. June 3

P6040383-1.jpg

P6040388.jpg


A short day, perhaps 300 miles, we lost a lot of elevation as we went down to the fishing village of Haines, arriving around midday.

P6040400.jpg

P6040406.jpg


The ferry schedules had changed, rather than departing at 1:00PM, it was leaving at 10:00PM - which was fine by me. I washed the bike, washed my clothes, had a few beers and wandered the harbor area and picture book town ringed by towering mountains.

Unfortunately I spent too much of the day tethered to my Blackberry - trying to solve client problems back in Chicago by phone and email. This was not good - we had teams working 60 and 70 hours a week on a sudden crisis.

By 9:00 we were down by the ferry landing where we met with two brothers riding BMWs, one on a 1150GS and the other on a 650GS.

P6040410.jpg

P6040411.jpg

P6040415.jpg

P6040417.jpg


All of us were Skagway bound - a short ferry ride, but one not to be missed.

P6040427.jpg


Eventually the ferry discharged the departing passengers and vehicles and we were the first to load. The expanded metal ramp sloped steeply down into the hold of the ship - we were soon all aboard with the bikes backed up and chocked against the wall. (Note - they expect you to have your own tie down straps - none of us did, but the water was glassy smooth that evening as there was little worry).

We wandered the ship for the several hour ride, getting into Skagway after dark. The brothers had gotten the location of a campground near the terminal - we rode up and off the ship - took two hard rights and into a dark sleeping campground. Tents were quickly set up and lights out.
 
Day 16 Skagway AK to Watson Lake and a change in plans, Bryan to Liard Hot Springs

Up and out at dawn, we rode up, up and up out of Skagway heading to Watson Lake to swap out our tires. A long ride before coffee and a muffin we arrived in Watson Lake around 2:00 in the afternoon.

I'd decided that due to work related issues that I had to cut my end of the trip short here. Dave had crafted an intricate and incredible trip agenda - one that I would never ever have attempted or ever tried without his urging - but the realities of the accounting and consulting world made it important for me to 'jump ship' at Watson Lake and program my GPS for Chicago.

I had to be back pronto.

I assisted in Dave changing his worn out TCK-80s for the Tourances, aimed East and headed for home.

Dave - one of the most capable guys I know - would finish his agenda solo, sorry, Dave. This was a trip of a lifetime for me.

As my sons have said - I'll have great stories to tell in the nursing home.

I rode to Liard Hot Springs that evening, and camped in the Provincial campground - soaking off some road dust in the steaming forest springs.

P6050451.jpg
 
Last edited:
Day 17, 18 and 19 Liard Hot Springs to Chicago - essentially Yukon Territory to Chic

Solo riding is liberating in its own way - I covered a lot of miles (kilometers) in a hurry.

The Alaska Highway was intermittently closed due to raging forest fires - they had just been reopened when I passed thru. Ash fell from the sky like snow at times.

P6050447.jpg


Interestingly, the Woods Bison were utterly unaffected by the fires that were burning just a few hundred feet from where they were grazing. I had feared that they'd be panicked - nope. Just another day in paradise for them.

I discovered the Northern prairies of Alberta, Saskatchewan, Montana and North Dakota- flat - utterly flat.

P6070455.jpg


I met some wonderful people refueling and at night. I traversed these endless prairies, crossed the border at an entry that sees very few people and even fewer bikers. I faced blowing 42 degree rain virtually all of one day and the final day rode 925 miles from Minot, ND to Chicago. (almost Iron Butt!)

Lessons learned -

XM Radio is a godsend for bikers, until you get above British Columbia. Once past that point there is no coverage. I listened to a lot of Jazz, Public Radio and even an occasional Baseball game.

Padded spandex biking shorts make a huge difference. I had the stock GS seat augmented with a bead rider, but the biking shorts make routine 15 hour days possible and comfortable.

TCK-80s are a great tire - with predictably short tread life. I wore out a rear tire in a week of riding on Canadian and Alaskan 'highways'.

The 1150-GS is an outstanding purpose built machine for a trip like this. Durable with solid torque, able to run effortlessly for days at 85 MPH, and then run onto dreadful roads without a whimper. I doubt I could have done this trip as easily on my street bike. The GS also has dozens of small design elements that make it literally bombproof in adverse environments - of course the Germans have had decades to perfect this boxer design. Overall I got around 45 MPG, fully loaded.
Used not a drop of oil in 11,000 miles.

Heated vests work great, but my arms got cold. I have since bought an Aerostich heated jacket liner.

The Aerostich Roadcrafter was a solid choice for this trip. I never once got wet and we saw every type of weather.

The Cee Bailey windscreen was a big help, much quieter and warmer behind its protection, I could still easily see over the top.

Dave will finish this trip report in time - he was headed off down the Cassair Highway for even more beautiful country. :drink
 
Last edited:
Super Ride Report

A very nice ride report. You should become a writer and travel journalist. That windshield on the GS sure looks familiar! How about a presentation of this at the monthly Chicago region meeting? Thanks for taking the time to put this together, Bryan.
 
Happy to present -

September 10 meeting right? Who do I coodinate with?

Yep, great windscreen - Saw you briefly at Da Moon the other Sunday, your GS seems to be wearing it well!
 
A very nice ride report. You should become a writer and travel journalist. That windshield on the GS sure looks familiar! How about a presentation of this at the monthly Chicago region meeting? Thanks for taking the time to put this together, Bryan.

Meeting place and time?
 
Back
Top