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“Hey! No shooting from the trampoline!” Theresa didn’t
demand much from her boys.
We had a fantastic group
and superb weather
Arctic Circle Tour 2003 Photos Northern Expedition Tour - view map The Group: Richard Livermore joined us from Munster, Indiana to ride a BMW F 650 GS to the Arctic Circle. He came up a couple of days early to ride around the Kenai Peninsula before joining the tour. He loved to ride so much, that breakfast was an afterthought as he rode into the horizon every day… Bill Doppelheuer came up from Lakeland, Florida, and rented the bike he owns back home: BMW 1150 GS Adventure. After visiting with him, you realize that he has ridden all over the world including Europe, South America, and Australia. Like Richard, he came up to explore the Kenai Peninsula for a few days before the tour and was hungry to ride. Usually, both of their bikes were gone before everyone was up! Joining Bill from Lakeland were John Lafferty and his son Logan. They doubled-up on a BMW F 650 GS. It was the first time they had been on a motorcycle tour together, and they had a terrific time. John had the chance to ride some dirt highways he had been dreaming about, and Logan got to throw rocks. Sam Coletti flew in from Lake Villa, Illinois, to ride a BMW F 650. Usually a Harley rider, Sam enjoyed the BMW, which handled the dirt sections of the trip fine. Alaska definitely went well with him, as he seemed to get more into character the further remote we went. All he needed was his toothbrush and a direction, and he was ready to go. Dr. Gregory Frazier bases himself in Engelwood, Colorado, and came up to ride a Kawasaki KLR 650 and write a story for Dual Sport News. Greg is the only man to have circumvented the world four times on a motorcycle. (The last time being on a Kawasaki KLR 650). He has also written several books on motorcycle travel including Alaska by Motorcycle, and currently writes for several motorcycle magazines. It was truly a pleasure hosting him up here. Dan Patino joined me as the support car driver. He did an excellent job, especially since some of the nights were camping, and there were a lot of chores to do at the beginning and end of each day. One of the funniest men you will ever meet, Dan, once again, was a pleasure to work with.
We assembled in the town
of Wasilla, located about an hour north of Anchorage. Some riders
flew in that day, and some rode bikes up from Girdwood. I booked
the group into the Lake Lucille Inn that evening. It is a pleasant
location, and sits right on the shore of the lake with great views
of Pioneer Peak and the Chugach Range. The sky was clear and the
weather was warm as we picked up the rest of our bikes and enjoyed
the welcome dinner. 6/29/03
My friend has a farm in the area where Dan and I spent the night. In total, he and his wife have one dog, 6 cats, three parakeets, countless pigeons, 7 hens, 26 lamas, and 3 roosters. Of the roosters, “Tyson”, is the most aggressive, and will pick a fight with you, if you don’t pay attention. It was a bit embarrassing being bullied around the yard by a chicken. 9:00AM : The weather
at take-off time was still excellent. There was not a cloud in the
sky as we all pulled out onto the Parks Highway and headed north.
On the edge of Wasilla, traffic tapered off dramatically. We rode
as a group for a while. I could see in my rear-view mirror the sight
which raises the spirits: 5 motorcycles, staggered formation, no
traffic and clear skies. The highway was lined by tall Birch, Aspen,
and Sitka Spruce trees, producing a tunnel-like sensation. Concentration
turned to the hum of the engine, the whisper of fresh air through
the helmet and the pulse of hash marks slipping by.
We left Talkeetna and hit the Parks Highway, turned north, and saw Mt. McKinley in its entirety. It loomed above everything else, and peered at us for two full hours as be passed by. Though the Parks Highway is nearly 40 miles from the mountain, it seems like we were within its shadow. We stop briefly at a viewpoint, and stood in wonder in front of the giant. Massive glaciers and jagged peaks surround it, but nothing comes close to its height. By that time, the group had broken up, and we are all leap-frogging each other as we headed up the highway. Greg Frazier decided to check out some new territory up the Petersville Road, and veered off. We continued on, gaining altitude as we approached the Alaska Range. At Broad Pass, we nearly hit treeline, and there were several miles of open, winding highway which showcased 360 degrees of mountains. Stunted fir trees speckled the carpet of tundra surrounding the highway. The entire horizon was made up of mountaintops. Sharp, rocky angles cut the blue sky. There seemed no end to the mountains. After a few miles, the pass narrowed, and the road swept through the Alaska Range, carried along by the Nenana River. We passed by the entrance of Denali National Park. The road into the park is heavily regulated, but one can take their own vehicle the first 20 miles in. Even then, there is a good chance of seeing wild critters and terrific scenery. At Healy, the road straightened out and the mountains drifted into the distance behind us. We were now entering the interior of Alaska. There was some road construction for 27 miles north of Healy. They say that there are two seasons in Alaska: Winter and Road Construction. The thaw and freeze of the roadbed takes its toll on the highways. After just a few years, the “frost heaves” can become quite pronounced. So, every summer, the road crews fight the endless battle. We arrived in Tatlinika
in the evening. We set up camp in a grassy runway near the main
office. I was assured we would not be landed on, as the only pilot
that uses the strip was in Fairbanks for business. It was our first day, and everyone had a great ride. Soon after dinner, some of the riders retired to their tents while others sat around and told stories and fished around the cooler for beers. Though it was nearly 11:00 PM, the sun had just slipped behind the trees. A couple of riders on KLR’s entered the camp ground quite late that evening. They were a couple from Nova Scotia. They had ridden 14,000 miles from New Mexico to here. Tomorrow, they would start their journey home. Arctic Circle Tour 2003 Photos Northern Expedition Tour - view map 6/30/03
Mosquitoes were bad in the morning, so we broke camp, and headed down the road to search for breakfast. Richard, Bill and Sam took off early around 8:00AM. They were itchy to ride, and their body clocks were still set on Eastern Time. The sun had been up since 2:00 AM. No doubt, they were ready to ride soon after that! Our plan was to rendezvous north of Fairbanks at a little town called Fox. From there, we would take the Dalton Highway north together. I rode with John and Logan for most of the morning. We briefly stopped in Fairbanks before heading on. Fairbanks is the second largest city in Alaska. It was started at the end of the last century when gold was discovered in the area. From there, it became the main commercial hub of the interior. Set in the midst of endless rolling hills, Fairbanks stands apart from its rival Anchorage. There is a taste of greater freedom that satisfies the untamed spirit. “The Man” is not popular here. People who are attracted to Fairbanks seem to have high regard for self-reliance, and relish being out of the limelight of mainstream society. Space and freedom are sources of wealth in Fairbanks. When you head north from Fairbanks for the first time, you feel like you are saying goodbye to the civilized world. Fairbanks is a frontier town. It is surrounded on all sides by wilderness. When you leave it going north, it is almost like going out to sea. Looking back at the buildings of downtown as you head over the hill is reminiscent of watching land slip out of sight on the ocean’s horizon. From now on, it seems, you are on your own. We rendezvoused in Fox after lunch. From this point, I asked that no one travel alone. The Dalton Highway is not a dangerous ride, but it is remote. Traffic can be seldom, and there are long dirt sections. The “Haul Road” was constructed along with the Alyeska pipeline in the ‘70s. It serves as the main artery for the oil companies to service the pipeline and run supplies to the north slope oil platforms. It is nearly 400 miles long, and parallels the pipeline the entire way. Some sections of the road are paved, and there is a long-term plan to pave the entire thing. Now, most of the highway is dirt and well maintained, in order to handle the big truck traffic. The road bed is solid, and can withstand a great amount of rain. However, there are sections north of the Brooks Range which are sloppy, and take one or two motorcyclists per year. Street bikes can make it all the way to Prudhoe Bay, but they have the highest casualty rate. The consistency of the dirt surface is clay-like in nature, and has been known to cake-up a front tire to the point of smoking. And, it will cling to your engine, bake, and there you have it: a pottery encrusted engine. The problem with this is that it is hard to clean off, and it can help over-heat air-cooled engines. On the sunny day we pulled out of Fox, we did not have these problems. Rather, we were greeted by 50 miles of fresh black asphalt. It was a wonderful ride: a two-laned winding rollercoaster paradise with no traffic. When coming over a rise, all one could see is a vast landscape in front of them. No buildings or other human markers could be seen, save for the unwavering serpine-like form of the oil pipeline. Stunted spruce trees grew in the shadows of the north slopes of each hill, dwarfed by the hardships of long, dark winters. Aspen lined the road at the bottom of the valleys. Just south of Livingood we could see the smoke billowing upwards. There had been report of a fire in the area and this one was close! As we crested one hill, we came upon a scene both terrifying and exciting. Man verses Nature: A forest fire was smoldering its way toward the pipeline. Helicopters and road crew waited and watched. They seemed casually unconcerned. Either the fire was in control, or they didn’t realize the danger yet. We paused for a while to watch, entranced, then pressed on. After a short while, there was a hand-painted sign off the side of the road. It read: “Caution, smoke across roadway.” This was no joke! The fire was still smoldering along the road. At times, you passed through trees burning on both sides of you! Riding through the smoke was like a fantasy. Sam and I stopped for a minute to check out a newly burned section of forest. It was eerily silent as I walked out onto a soft bed of ashes, surrounded by blackened dead stands. There was not a soul around. No bugs and no sign of animals. We rode cautiously through the smoke and by burning embers. Finally, we distanced ourselves from the fire. The last 40 miles of the day were dusty. We met a rider headed south. He told us that he had made the trip from his home in California to Deadhorse in 5 Days. One of the days, he figured he had made around 1,000 miles on his BMW. He said that when he went to bed that evening, all he could see was the horizon through his eyelids…. We finally crossed the Yukon River and pressed on 5 more miles to our “Oasis” the Hot Spot Café. It was a long day of riding and adventure, and it was nice to have hot showers and clean rooms for the night. Theresa, our host, prepared the biggest hamburger you have ever seen. Theresa’s boys were busy fixing one of our flat tires on the support vehicle. Dan was lucky enough to cut his hand trying to change the tire on the support vehicle, and received some stitches from Dr. John. When I retired that evening, it was clear and 80 degrees at 10:21PM. Direct sunlight at such an hour turns your body clock up-side-down. Welcome to the north country! 7/1/03 274 miles. One squished squirrel. Hotspot - Arctic Circle - Coldfoot –Wiseman - Hotspot Once again, Bill and
Richard were on the road and headed north early. Everyone seemed
to be at their own pace today. For the first 30 miles, the road
was classic Dalton: hard-packed clay, no traffic. Then, a long section
of chip-sealed road eased us to the Arctic Circle, all the way to
Coldfoot. Greg and I caught up with Sam just south of the Circle,
and we continued riding together for the rest of the day. John,
Logan, and Dan followed up the group at a leisurely pace. It seems we were meeting a disproportionate amount of motorcycle riders, the further north we went. We met a BMW rider from Michigan, and rode with him for a while at undisclosed speeds. When you are riding the Dalton, you go for miles and miles without seeing anything remotely civilized. It is a liberating feeling seeing so much open, untouched country. No one is around. You peer into the horizon, and the ribbon of road beckons you further. We stopped briefly at the Arctic Circle and took some ceremonial pictures. The mosquitoes were happy we stopped by too, so we soon mounted up and headed to Coldfoot. The scenery improved as we entered the foothills and smaller mountains of the Brooks Range. Ah, the Brooks Range, the gate keeper of the Arctic. This mountain Range stands out as the most remote in Alaska. Cross it, and you have nothing but rolling tundra to the Arctic Ocean. Before we hit the range, we passed a guy on a push-scooter. No kidding. He started in Deadhorse, and was headed to Fairbanks and beyond. We first saw him on a long straightaway. You really couldn’t tell what he was. He looked awkward, because of his movements. I thought at first that it was a wounded Caribou. As we closed in, you could tell he was human, but what was with the herky-jerky limp? Then, it finally came to us as we passed him. He was smiling like Stevie Wonder when we throttled by. He had no gear, no backpack, shorts, mono-colored euro-hat, and a big pie-eating grin. Dr. G. couldn’t stand it, and circled around to get the story. It turns out he was from Germany, and had a friend driving ahead of him with all their gear. He was on a long-distance trip, and headed south….way south. Dr. G shook his head later and said, "I’ve seen everything but juggling clowns along this highway….and now this!!” (interior dialog: “what hungry bear wouldn’t want a piece of that guy?”) We stopped briefly to gas up and catch a standing lunch in Coldfoot. Save for an ATCO trailer hotel, and a few odds and ends, not much is there. Greg said it hasn’t changed much since the mid 70’s. What a place: record extreme temperatures from - 89 degrees F to 97 degrees F. Coldfoot got its name as far back as 1899 when a group of green stampeders searching for gold up the Koyukuk River made it this far before getting “cold feet” and turning back. We then pushed on a few more miles north to the settlement of Wiseman before heading back south. Wiseman, too, was a gold town, and was started around 1908 when goldminers transplanted from Coldfoot. To this day, active claims are being worked in the area. When we passed through, it felt like a ghost town; old cabins, closed-down buildings, and no one around. As we stood in front of a dilapidated log cabin, which used to serve as the post office, a feeling of nostalgia swept over me. In this remote country there have been booms and busts. The efforts of those men are slowly, quietly, reclaimed by nature. Those dreams of men long ago lay mute, underneath the tundra moss. It was time to turn back south to the Hotspot Café and we had a ways to go. Luckily, it rained almost the whole time. Theresa made a great dinner for our crew when we returned to the Hotspot. All in all, a great day. 7/2/03 Hotspot – Delta
Junction It rained most of the day. So, we put our heads down, and ran through it. The Dalton was still in good condition. Though, once we hit the pavement, it was a relief, as the mud started to get a bit slick. We passed through Fairbanks without incident, and grouped up at North Pole. The large plastic form of Santa ominously peered down at us as we put on the wet helmets, and blasted the last hour and a half to Delta Junction. Finally, at the end of the day, the rain stopped as we set up camp at Green Acres in Delta Junction. We had dinner under the tarps, and exchanged stories around the campfire. 7/3/03 Delta Junction –
Gracious House, Denali Highway The weather was in and out all day, persistently threatening rain, but always slipping around the next corner before we got there. The Alaska Range, like any mountain range, is a lambrynth of peaks and valleys. The weather is almost impossible to forecast, as every valley is a different microclimate. The ride through the Alaska Range at Isabel Pass is one of the best stretches of scenic highway riding in the state. You follow the winding two-laned Richardson Highway up the Delta River Valley, to its roots deep in the mountains. It is a classic glacial river: dark brown with glacial silt, fast, with hundreds of small channels surging downhill. It forms a broad valley with a backdrop of 12 to 15 thousand foot peaks. At the highest part of the pass, you are greeted by a striking view of the Isabel Glacier. At this point, you are above treeline, and there are mountains, lakes and open country in all directions. It is difficult to take in all the scenery at once! We pulled into Paxson for a quick gas-up before we hit the gravel stretches of the Denali Highway. Paxson is a classic Alaskan “town”. On the map, it is written in big block letters. In reality, it is a gas station/mediocre restaurant/hotel. Bullet holes decorate the main sign on top of the building. There are no other structures visible in town save for a few trailers; used by the state and telecommunications companies. Of course, the landing strip is across the road, and a friend of mine once told me that he landed his plane there, taxied across the road, and gassed up…to the gaulking stares of disbelief of some out-of-state RVers. Sometimes, the gas is not working. So, you have to hit the pipes below the pump with a monkey wrench to get it started. More than once, they have run out of gas, and that means an extra 20 miles of travel to the next station. When in Paxson, one must remember that you are still in the first world. Just keep saying it over and over again….(to the sound of bango music) Once again on the Denali Highway the weather cleared, and broad views of the Alaska Range delighted us as we paralleled it for almost 80 miles. The Denali is still not paved, but every year there is a debate to make it so. The dirt is hard-packed, the traffic is scarce, and the scenery is great. Because it is still unpaved, many motorists do not explore this area. When riding the Denali, one gets the feeling of the remoteness and scale of Alaska. You cross many clear water streams…all of which are excellent fishing. Many times, moose and caribou can be seen along the roadway. For the most part, the highway is above treeline, so you may see for miles in all directions. On a clear day, you may see the Alaska Range, Mt. McKinley, the Wrangell Mountains, and the Chugach Range…all in one panorama. Some of the mountains you can see are over 200 miles away. We pulled into the Gracious House for the night. After dinner, I took Logan fishing while John and Bill lounged around, taking in the scenery. Logan cast into a clear-water stream, and right away caught an Arctic Grayling! For the next hour, he caught several more. It was the most excited I had seen him, since the big pile of rocks he discovered in Tatlinika. That evening, the weather was like a dream. Calm. Pinks to violets smear the sky above 14 thousand-foot peaks. All is quiet. 7/4/03 We woke to arguably the
best weather of the summer. The days of rain had cleaned the air,
and the sun was heating up in the early morning. No clouds in any
directions, as we checked our oil, chain tension, and put on our
riding gear. 14 and 15 thousand foot peaks of the Alaska Range greeted
us as we turned onto the Denali Highway. Everyone rode to their own pace back to Anchorage today. When the group finally reassembled for dinner that evening, all faces were sun-marked, and smiles abounded. Many of the group headed up and over Hatcher Pass on the way back. It is a great side-trip which features a dirt road, with steep switch-backs. The riders loved it! I took the group a fantastic restaurant in Anchorage, where we enjoyed great food and a terrific view overlooking Cook Inlet. Each person recounted their favorite part of the trip. Everyone was happy and content: We had ridden 1,456 miles to the Arctic Circle and back!
This trip itinerary is winner, but I will make the next trips’ itinerary a little longer. (please check: http://www.akrider.com/0412daytour.html) The timing was perfect: we were there very close to summer solstice, making for long, long days (the sun almost never went down!). The roads up north of Fairbanks were great condition, with some new stretches of paved highway, which are a joy to ride. I will not make a camp trip of it next year, however. There are plenty of great places to stay along the way, not to mention the particularly great hospitality we received at the Hotspot Café. Thanks Theresa! It was like an Oasis, in the vast expanses of interior Alaska. Arctic Circle Tour 2003 Photos
Northern Expedition Tour - view map Other Photos:
Photo Gallery ....choose a gallery! Riders Gallery (from all over the world) 2003 Arctic Circle Tour Photos 2003 Prince William Sound Tour
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