|
This is Part 1 of a two part
series written by Stephan Cross, a New Zealand rider who joined
us on our Prince William Sound Camp Tour the first week of August,
2002.
He wrote the article for a
Kiwi-based motorcycle magazine call Bike Rider Magazine.
Incidentally, I do not offer
camp tours anymore. I am running the very same route this year.
It is called: *Reels
and Wheels
Part 1 appeared in the December/January
issue, 2003.
Northern Exposure
Motorcycle Touring in
Alaska
- Story/Photos
by Stephen Cross
Phew!
I breathed a silent sigh of relief as
my large, heavy suitcase and bulging
MacPac disappeared down the conveyor
belt at the Air New Zealand check-in
counter. I was expecting to be told that I
would have to pay for excess baggage.
Packing for a motorcycle tour in Alaska
had proven to be a challenge and involved
packing helmet, boots, a full set of wet
weather gear, sleeping bag, thermals,
spares for apres -riding, plus a set of
lighter weight summer gear (Draggin'
Jeans plus Draggin' denim jacket). After
six months of planning I was on my way!
Alaska is not the easiest of places to get to
from New Zealand and in my case my
travel arrangements necessitated an
overnight stay in Los Angeles, giving me a
spare afternoon to kill. It's always
interesting to visit LaLa land and see what
is going down, and this trip was no
exception. Walking from my hotel, the first
thing what struck me was the renewed
outburst of patriotism on display
everywhere. Like every store is competing
to display the Stars and Stripes. Billboards
proclaim "In God we Trust, United we
Stand" and pick-up vehicles have the Stars
and Stripes displayed on their tailgates.
Some of this appears to be a genuine
reaction to the events of 11th September-
rallying around the flag in defiance of the
unseen enemy - a kind of "don't f*** with
us" message. However, some of the flag
waving is nothing more than pure
commercialism. Supermarkets were selling
rubbish bins decorated in the Stars and
Stripes - a little tacky. The events of 9/11
were obvious in other ways. Clearing
immigration at Los Angeles took 1-1/2
hour and I was told that this was a lot
quicker than usual. The queue in the entry
hall was a shambles with luggage trolleys
snaking backwards and forwards through
the entire hall. Next day, when leaving for
Anchorage, I passed through three
different metal detectors and had to rake
my shoes off so they could be inspected by
a security guard. I also had to turn my belt
buckle over to show that there was
nothing being shielded by it.
The following day I took the flight to
Anchorage, Alaska. While I wasn't looking
forward to another five hours flying, the
flight was one of the most sce3nic I have
ever been on. The plane flies over the
states of Oregon and Washington, flying
past Mt. St. Helens before passing over
the mountains, glaciers and icefields off
Sough East Alaska. The term "rivers of
Ice, " in relation to glaciers really meant
nothing to me until I say these glaciers
pouring from the mountains. We are
talking about glaciers that can be 70 miles
or so long and three miles wide. The sight
of these for the first time is truly
awesome. I remember seeing the
mountains and thinking, "thank god I
brought all my thermals"! The flight to
Anchorage itself is even more stunning
than flying in to Queenstown, with snow
capped mountains surrounding you.
At the airport I was met by Bob Gin, who
runs the B&B where I would be staying for
the first night. I then discovered just how
friendly Alaskans are. Talk about a nice
bloke - Bob went way beyond providing
B&B and became a tour guide for me,
showing me around and giving me a low
down on Anchorage. It doesn't take long
to realize that you are now in "real man"
country. Almost everyone drives some
type of 4x4 "truck" and we are not talking
about piddling little F100's here but it's big
brother the F250XLT ( the "XL" almost
certainly meaning extra large). Hummers
are also popular. I walked past the Ford
dealer in Anchorage and there was an
advertising hoarding up saying "1,170
trucks in stock".
That evening Bob took me for a drive up to
Flattop Mountain, which is only a few miles
out of Anchorage but is part of the 5.6
million acre Chugach National Park.
Looking around, I could see several moose
grazing across the valley. Suddenly I
realized that there was also a cow and bull
moose grazing only about 200 yards
away! All this in broad daylight at 9:30 pm
in the evening! Bob told me that it was not
uncommon to see moose within Anchorage
and related the story of how one evening
his dog was barking furiously, and on
investigation Bob discovered a moose in
his neighbour's back yard, staring back at
him with a bunch of flowers in its mouth!
Being a Northern Exposure fan when it
was screening on TV, I went to Alaska
expecting a certain amount of wackiness
from the population and so was attuned to
seeking this out during my stay. Bob shoed
me a copy of a book he had titled ""Alaska
Bizarre"" The book begins with the
following: " Alaska just feels different from
anywhere else in the country. The whole
place is populated with people who are
here simply because they couldn't make it
anywhere else. They couldn't make it in LA
so they moved to San Francisco. If they
couldn't make it then they pushed on to
Seattle. Next step was obvious. If you're
failing at everything and you're on the run
you might as well go to Alaska, where
you'll fit right in."
The book also mentioned a bumper sticker
that did the rounds in Alaska some years
ago which read "Welcome to Alaska -Now
go Home". I didn't sense this attitude
during my time in Alaska but what did
become obvious was that the people who
live here strongly wish to be left alone and
have a dislike of interference from
bureaucrats or government agencies. This
manifests itself through things such as
helmet laws (there are none) and speed
cameras (again, there are none- the
residents voted NO). There is also a
strong feeling that they do not want the
place to change through tourism. The bulk
tourist operators are despised, but
independent travelers are welcome.
Alaska is so different from the rest of the
States that stories abound of how visitors
from the "lower 48" regularly ask if they
need passports to visit Alaska.
Next day I said goodbye to Bob and
caught up with Phil Freeman, who
describes himself as owner/improviser of
Alaska Rider Tours. Phil, who is a born and
bred Alaskan, speaks several languages
fluently, including Japanese, Portuguese
and Spanish. His motivation in running
Alaska Rider Tours is to show people the
country he loves in a way that he enjoys. I
got to meet the rest of Phil's crew - Chad,
who is a motorbike mechanic and who will
ride "shotgun" on the trip; Justin who will
drive the Chevy Suburban support vehicle
and Akiko, a friend of Phil's from Japan
who came along to help with camp duties
etc. Phil drove me to the starting point of
the tour- Girdwood, a pleasant little
township about 40 miles from Anchorage.
Phil dropped me off at the B&B where I
would be staying that night. The owners
were out and the door was unlocked -
something that remains common practice
in Girdwood reflecting a lack of crime and
a close-knit neighbourhood. I had an
afternoon to spare before the rest of the
tour party arrived so I rented a mountain
bike and set off exploring. There are lots
of bike trails around Girdwood and I soon
headed off into the woods down a track
which got more and more technical as I
went down it. A little voice started saying
"bears" to me and for a moment I thought
about singing. The only tune that came to
mind was "If you go down in the woods
today…". Wile blueberries and raspberries
were growing in the woods so I stopped
and ate a few. I later found wild
strawberries growing on the side of the
road and they were delicious. On returning
the bike to the rental shop I passed some
concrete flower tubs, ever on the look-out
for signs of Alaskan wackiness I noticed
that there was a cabbage growing in
amongst the flowers. I didn't bother
asking anyone what a cabbage was doing
in a flower plot.
Back at the B&B, I met the other guys who
were coming on the tour: Rick Jones from
Missouri; Bob McAnally from Alabama and
Larry Grodsky from Pittsburgh. Larry
writes for "Rider" magazine and is
checking Alaska out for a magazine article.
Next morning we were introduced to our
bikes. Phil operates BMW F650s Suzuki DR
650s and Kawasaki KLR 650s. I was
allocated one of the DR's which was fitted
with a Corbin seat and a 4.9 gallon plastic
fuel tank. Phil said he fitted the larger
tanks because once we travel out of
Anchorage all the roadhouses where we
will gas up are dependent on diesel
generators for their power and it is not
uncommon to turn up at a roadhouse and
find that their generators have broken
down. The bigger tank gave the DR a
range of about 300 miles.
Leaving Girdwood we head back towards
Anchorage along the Seward Highway - a
scenic road along the edge of Turnagain
Inlet, framed by mountains on its edge. It
is not uncommon to see Beluga whales
from this highway, we didn't see any on
our trip. We did however see some Dall
sheep, (they look more like mountain
goats ) on the side of the road and a bald
eagle flying past..We rode through
Anchorage, which proved easier than I
had feared, and then on to the Glenn
Highway, which joins with the Parks
Highway heading North to Fairbanks. We
gazed up at small town called Palmer,
where I saw an amazing set-up - a
Goldwing with a sidecar attached, towing
a small camper unit. The owner, who was
from Detroit, had traveled up to Alaska
and was heading back home.
Shortly after leaving Palmer we left the
main road and headed towards Hatcher
Pass. This involved travelling up a beautiful
valley, which has some nice twisties in it. I
was a little nervous to see a sign on this
road reading "No shooting within one mile
of road" - the brain's thinking just how far
a bullet can fly. There are bullet holes
through the sign. From this point on every
road sign had bullet holes in it. Phil offered
us $1 for every sign we pointed out that
didn't have a bullet hole, no-one collected.
This seems to be another manifestation of
you Alaskans' contempt for authority. The
signs with the most holes in them seem to
be the ones banning something or other.
The road to Hatcher Pass turned to gravel
and we started climbing. We pass through
an old gold mining area. At this stage we
were starting to sense the vastness of the
place and mountains everywhere. The
countryside is reminiscent of parts of the
South Island, with glacial carved valleys
and barren hilltops. We reached the top of
Hatcher Pass, where there is a tarn and
views over the tundra. We carried on
down the other side of the Pass, still on
gravel and dept a wary eye out for traffic
on the blind right hand corners. This road
is only open for about three months of the
year and left to snowmobiles at other
times. The road was dry and we all ended
up caked in dust by the time we got to the
end, where it joined the Parks Highway.
We were blessed with a hot, sunny day
and welcomed some shade whenever we
stopped. We proceed along Parks
Highway, sighting our first view of Mt
McKinley looming ahead of us. Mt.
McKinley, at 20,320 ft, is North America's
tallest mountain and is even more
dramatic as it's base starts at a relatively
low altitude (probably around 3000ft).
The mountain assumed almost icon status
as we continued our journey, regularly
coming into view, framed by lakes, moose
pasture and spruce trees. Each time it
came into sight is seemed a little different
but always awe-ispiring and always
dominating the landscape. We continued
on the Parks Highway until we cam e to a
small settlement known as Trapper Creek.
This is typical of wayside stops - basically a
general store that stocks pretty much
everything, with a set of gas pumps and
often an "RV park" out back.
Frost heave is a real issue for both tarmac
highways and dirt roads and welcomes
noticeable where sections of the tarmac
highway have had filler placed in cracks in
the surface. You soon learn that there can
be "lips" where longitudinal cracks have
been filled in, on the gravel roads the
effects of frost heave can be more
pronounced, creating hummocks in the
road surface.
We diverted from the main Highway at
Trapper Creed and headed off up a dirt
road to Petersville again, we were on a
read that is only open for a few months of
the year before becoming a snowmobile
track. The surface was wash boarded in
placed and gave us some fun riding. We
made many stops to take in the stunning
views of Mt McKinley and the countryside,
stopping on one bridge over a stream we
say a pool full of Red (sockeye) and King
(chinook) salmon. King salmon are a bright
red and weigh 30-40lbs although they
have been known to go well over 100lb.
These fish have spawned and are soon to
die.
We carried on to our camping spot which
was next to a river surrounded by
woodland. We had covered 207 miles for
the day. After pitching the tents and
setting up camp we we3nt to a bridge
over the river to once again watch King
salmon in the process of spawning in the
riverbed. At any time it is possible to see
10 or so large Kings in the waters below
the bridge - a magnificent sight. While they
are spawning, rainbow trout, grayling and
dolly varden are hanging about ready to
swoop in and have a feed of eggs. Rick
decides to try his hand fishing. Phil told him
"we don't call it fishing up here, we call it
catching". Rick caught a nice rainbow and
released it, and later caught grayling and
dolly varden, both trout-like fish.
Ever on the look-out for Alaskan
eccentricities, one of the guys reported
that he had just seen someone wading up
the river carrying a broken fishing rod and
saying "Yip" about every fifteen seconds.
We all marveled at this behavior until Phil
suggested that the broken rod was the
result of a hook-up with one of the King
salmon and "Yips" were calls to scare off
any bears that might be in the
neighborhood. It then dawned on us all
that we were right in bear country and
that we were camped beside a river
flowing with salmon. That evening around
the campfire our hosts thrilled us with
bear stories. I recalled the story that I
read in "Alaska Bizarre" about the visitor
to Alaska who told an old-time local, that
he wasn't worried about the possibility of
a bear attack because he carried a .44
caliber handgun with him. The local said
"son, if I were you I'd take that gun and
file the front sight off - that way it won't
hurt as much when the bear shoves it up
your arse!"
I didn't sleep much that night. The distant
thump of generators from the roadhouse
down the road became a bear huffing in
my imagination. I heard twigs cracking
around my tent site and all sorts of
unexplained noises. I calculated the odds
that my tent would be the one to be
"investigated". The beers we drank
started producing the inevitable side
effects and after crossing and uncrossing
my legs I had to escape the flimsy security
of my tent to take a leak. Talk about a
nervous pee!
Next day we went back to the Parks
Highway and headed North. A planned
rendezvous with our support vehicle
(carrying our lunch) went awry when a
tire blew out on the trailer. Justin was left
on the side of the road, holding the trailer
wheel rim and trying to hitch-hike back to
a roadhouse. With Chad's help the
situation was sorted. Meanwhile we
stopped off at Igloo City - a roadhouse
with a giant igloo-like structure alongside
it. The igloo was built to provide
bunkhouse accommodation for
snowmobilers ("slednecks"), the design
did not allow for fire escapes and
construction was from a material that was
falling off in chunks so that scuppered that
plan.
We proceeded to Cantwell, where the
Denali Highway starts. Cantwell is a small
township, apparently famous for having a
disproportionate number of its citizens
featuring on the FBI wanted list. After
gassing up we headed off down the Denali
Highway, a dirt road that is closed for all
but a few months of the year. The
Highway runs 130 miles across interior
Alaska, and the surrounding area is often
described as being the "Serengetti of
North America". All along this Highway we
were surrounded by nature in its rawest
form. The vista is one of vast expanses of
moose pasture, tundra and spruce trees
all framed by distant mountains big
enough to loom on the horizon. There are
innumerable ponds and lakes, and blazes
of wildflowers such as purple fireweed
everywhere. Just when you think you've
seen the most wonderful view imaginable
you round a corner and get wowed by
another. The road is rather lonely, hot and
dusty but fun to ride as you hit wash-outs,
wallows and corrugations. I stood on my
pegs all the way, partially for control but
also to take in the scenery. About half way
along the Highway we came across a
settlement - Gracious House - a roadhouse
with camping ground attached. The
proprietor advertises a café/service
station/bar/camping ground/air taxi
service and breakdown service amongst
other things. There are three or four light
aircraft parked near the camping area,
and snowploughs and snowmobiles
scattered around the yard. Behind the
camping are is a dumping ground for cars,
wrecked aircraft, air boats and other
machinery that hasn't survived the rigours
of the area. We explored and found a late
'50s Cadillac with big tail fins parked in the
vegetation. The doors on it still opened
and closed with a solid click. We pitched
our tents there - we covered 203 miles
that day. That night we grilled steaks over
some ashes and sat talking. We heard a
moose bellowing nearby and got up to
investigate but didn't see it. It was still
twilight when we hit the sack around
midnight. What is hard to comprehend is
that the days were shortening by six
minutes a day, or 40 minutes a week and
within a month or so the area we were in
was likely to be coated in snow. …
*To Register for any of our
motorcycle
tours or rentals,
please print, fill out,
sign and send in our
2005 Registration Form
Click
here to download Adobe Acrobat Reader to view forms.
Join our
Mailing
List!
keep
informed on Alaska Rider Tours
specials
and Alaska riding!
Alaska Rider Tours Proudly
uses
Happy Trails Products
on all of our Dual Sport Motorcycles!
Welcome to Happy Trails
Products!
Your Motorcycle Accessories store, specializing in
Dual-Sport and Adventure touring.
|
