watch our.....
DVD!
see the DVD
Teaser!
(download QuickTime)
see scenes from 2004!
see the DVD
Teaser!
(download QuickTime)
Tragically, Christen Neuhauser, the author of this article, was killed in a motorcycle accident in 2005. Our hearts go out to him and his family.
If you are interested if finding out more about this tour from the participants, you may check their remarks in the references section)
View Pictures from the 2004 Northern Expedition
ALASKA:
THE NORTHERN EXPEDITION TOUR
by Christen Neuhauser
An account of a grizzly, some caribou, the arctic circle, and power naps…
Tired, I stumbled into the airplane. Heading for Seattle on a BMW K 1200 GT, I had left Spokane at five o'clock in the morning. Four hours later, I spotted the city skyline, made for the airport and eventually fell into my seat totally worn out. Only a buzz of excitement about seeing Alaska could keep me awake. Our Boeings Takes off. Seattle, the ocean and the many islands disappear behind a white curtain of cloud. And in a sense, so did I. The next thing I know, a flight attendant announces our landing in Anchorage. I had slept the entire flight.
"What's going on in the lower forty-eight?"
Phil Freeman asks, as he welcomes me to his Alaskan Rider Tour. "I
don't know," I say. "I've been scouring the roads in Oregon
and Washington for the last 3 weeks, so I wouldn't have a clue about the
other 46."
This first night I'm on my own. The other tour attendees arrive tomorrow.
But I don't have to look very far for company and a good time. Gwennie's,
a nice restaurant and bar, is right across for the Days Inn, and it's
just the spot for the locals and lonesome tourists like me to meet. At
the bar, Joe, a local Harley rider, tells me about his three years in
Australia and New Zealand and how much he'd like to return. He's definitely
a character and I enjoyed exterminating a few tankards of beer with him
before walking back to the hotel. No problem finding the way it is still
light out at 2:30 A.M.
The next day I picked up my boon companion for the days that follow, a
Kawasaki KLR 650. Phil tells me a bit about the surrounding areas and
gives me directions to Girdwood where we're scheduled to meet the other
riders in the evening. Then, I'm off to familiarize myself with the Kawi
while exploring Anchorage and nearby back roads. The weather is dreary,
overcast. Now and then, sprinkles fall from the deep gray folds of hanging
clouds. Discovering some gravel roads, I soon gained experience with Alaskan
drivers and had to hone my avoidance techniques when a number of cars
and trucks, wildly careening and spraying grit along the route, attempted
to cut me off, it didn't take long for me to get my fill of their rude
behavior- and the rocks, dirt and mud- before turning and burning my way
to Girdwood.
There, that evening at the Winner Creek B&B, I met up with my riding
buddies, the other members of our northern expedition. Bill and Ed, from
Broomfield, Michigan, are all about Harleys back home, a fact that I might
have deduced from Bill's footwear. He's wearing Timberland boots and white
socks. All in good fun, breaking the ice, I asked him when highly visible,
"whiter than white" socks had become mandatory safety gear for
riders in Michigan. He laughed. Dave from Maryville, TN, and Johnny from
Abingdon, VA, live closer to my base in Clemmons, NC, and being so far
away, it sounded good, like home, whenever they drawled a y'all ( as in
"how y'all doing?") in conversations. Last on the list, not
least, the international rep in the group took the form of Nigel, from
England. But he was quick to correct that territorial impression. "I'm
from Wales and I live in Scotland. I only work in England," he emphasized.
Our base for the next two nights, the Winner Creek B&B in Girdwood
is a beautiful lodge-style log home designed and built in 1997 by our
hosts Victor and Kim Duncan. A terrific spot, and you couldn't ask for
better breakfasts.
View Pictures from the 2004 Northern Expedition
TOUR DIARY
Monday, July 19- We start out with what Phil calls a little warm-up loop
to Seward and back. The scenery would be magnificent, but we see only
cloud-covered mountains. At least it isn't raining. From time to time,
the clouds disappear and we spot the Chugach Range. The outlook improves
in the center of the Kenai Peninsula and it makes sense for us to branch
off on a side trip to Hope, a little fisherman's village on Cook Inlet.
The itinerary called for us to have lunch in Seward, but we only made
it as far as Hope. For some reason I don't understand we're taking breaks
every 40 miles. Phil, I find out, is using that time in the parking lots
to squeeze out some "power naps." Either he's a narcoleptic,
I thought, or the demands of his job as a tour guide are too tough to
handle. Overall, the first day is very disappointing. Counting four power
naps and the lunch stop, it took us eight hours to travel 180 miles, which
works out to a measly 22.5 mph! I know the KLRs can do better. Would Phil
be able to surprise us the next day with a better ride?
Tuesday, July 20- We leave our lovely, cozy
place in Girdwood. The sky is gray-on-gray and sometimes raindrops hit
my visor. We stop in Anchorage at the Alaskan Rider office to meet and
talk with David, our support-car driver for the tour. The engines are
running and we head towards Palmer on Glenn Highway. Just north of Palmer,
the ride jogs west for a wilderness detour to Hatcher Pass. About 10 miles
up Palmer-Fishhook Road, where the pavement gives way to gravel, the road
enters a gorge. The Brownish ribbon of pavement sneaks smoothly through
the stands of willow, spruce and birch that border the Little Susitna
River. It once yielded gold, but now it is prized for silver - silver
salmon, that is.
After a pleasant, more challenging ride, we arrive at the Hatcher Pass
Lodge. Nestled above the heart of the Mat-Su and Susitna Valleys, the
lodge serves as a springboard for travelers who come to explore a world
of stunning mountain vistas. From time to time, when the gray veil lightens
and almost parts, I imagine how breathtaking this high tundra of alpine
lakes and meadows with wildflowers in bloom can be in bright sunlight.
The spot is an outdoor Mecca for mountain bikers and hikers, and even
a dual sport rider could find his bliss here. I did.
After a delicious lunch, I swing through three big sweepers and stop to
stand on top of Hatcher Pass (elevation 3,886ft.) My timing is perfect.
The sky clears briefly to afford a view of the Talkeetna Mountains as
clouds boil over the crest and drift into the valley. The sun blinks through
and disappears again. This play of gathering light, then darkness, goes
on and on.
Unfortunately, Phil neglected to follow the announced itinerary and guide
the group into the picturesque village of Talkeetna. This colorful town
is the base for expeditions to Mt. McKinley, North America's loftiest
pinnacle (20,320ft). Tonight, we shelter at Gate Creek Cabins in Trapper
Creek where David and Phil surprise us by grilling steaks.
Wednesday, July 21- We explore Petersville Road before stopping for breakfast
at The Forks Roadhouse. This road is the first real challenging ride of
our trip. A tight, potholed stretch of back road, it's got some real hairy
turns, too. The afternoon is a boring ride to Nenana. A little side trip
meanders in and out of Denali National Park. Visitors wishing to explore
further and see specimens of the stunning varieties of wildlife living
in the heart of the park must travel there by bus. But since it's too
late in the day for any of us to go, we continue to our overnight stop
at the Roughwoods Inn. The name speaks for itself. Trust me, you don't
want to sleep between those sheets! Nigel, David and I hit the one and
only bar in town, and wound up considering who the best musicians in the
world are until five o'clock in the morning.
Thursday, July 22- The short night wasn't too bad. The little sleep I got came with a thick enough layer of clothing between me and the bedding. Up and about, in short order, we arrive in Fairbanks where Dave and I stroll around and find a good place for some coffee and pastry. This is the last glimpse of real civilization we'll see for a while. In the afternoon, the Dalton highway becomes our home for the next five days. The pavement ends at the intersection with the Elliot Highway, but there's a paved part between Fox and Livengood that presents a chance for me to spur the KLR through a series of wide sweepers. Soon my companions have vanished in the rear-view. Only Nigel follows me later. Phil is still maintaining his 40 miles per power-nap rhythm. The unpaved section is a hell of a lot of fun: great sweepers and nice, tighter turns combined with a high-speed stretch. The KLR isn't the only one loving this terrain. I'm a full hour ahead of the others when reaching our rendezvous at the Hot Spot Café north of the Yukon River.
Friday, July 23 to Monday, July 26- We stay on the Dalton Highway. Like a crystal-clear tent, blue arches across the sky when we arrive at the landmark 66 33": The Arctic Circle. Cameras come out to preserve for all posterity the images of another brave band of explorers standing beside the big wooden sign that marks the spot. Everyone is taking shots and changing places to pose for their family albums. Meanwhile, the mosquitoes are eating us up. And we have to stay put, waiting for David and the escort car to deliver suspect sandwiches from the Hot Spot Café. I return to the road earlier than the rest to take advantage of the perfect light for photography. I'm having a blast- everything is going right today and I'm in the best of moods. Elated, I fly toward Coldfoot. The next day we explore Atigun Valley and Atigun Pass. The weather shows its best side and we have a great time. The road is a smooth run through the valley before it climbs 4,739 feet to Atigun Pass. Back near Coldfoot, Dave, Johnny, Nigel and I stage a little private race. Opening the throttles, we zip back to our rooms as though we're competing in the Paris-Dakar Rally. Changing plans for the day, Phil suggests a ride to Prudhoe Bay. Even though it means doing the Atigun Pass again, the idea is a very welcome surprise. It also means 240 miles of dust and economical riding. There isn't one gas station between Coldfoot and Prudhoe Bay. Plenty of oil but no gas. We leave Coldfoot at 8:30 on the dot for the big journey to the northernmost place anyone can reach in the USA on a public road and we spot our first bear right before Atigun Pass. A grizzly sits close to the road, enjoying some quiet time in the morning sun. Of course, we stop, motors running, and try to take pictures, but the bear isn't having anything to do with that: he stands, turns, and shows us his great behind. Later, on Atigun Pass, a handful of Dall sheep cross the road. A nice experience: Days have gone by without any wildlife sightings and now they're coming out of the woods in the space of an hour like our tires are baited. Crossing over the Brooks Range and riding toward Prudhoe Bay is enough to demonstrate for me how big Alaska is. It seems I ride forever without making miles. I pass Galbraith Lake and Toolik Lake, two sapphire-blue relics from the glacial ages. At the Coastal Plain Overlook, I stop to admire the view over the tundra, which is so expansive, so panoramic, I'm convinced I can see the curvature of the earth. Honestly, I cannot describe the feeling I have here. Once again, planet earth has shown me very clearly how small we humans are. Awesome! Thirty-seven miles later, I arrive in Deadhorse at the Caribou Inn. A short excursion to the Arctic Sea ends the day. Same road, another day: You might think that's boring and you'd be so wrong. Coming at these spectacular vistas from the other side, I'm just as interested and inspired. Nigel and I take off earlier to take advantage of the morning light and the small fog banks crawling by. The rest of the crew catches up eventually and we all ride back to Coldfoot together.
Tuesday, July 27- Back on the Dalton Highway towards Hot Springs Café. Much like yesterday: the same road and flip-side scenery that's just as beautiful.
Wednesday, July 28- Still on the Dalton Highway for 57 miles. There, we have a chance to veer from semifamiliar terrain and satisfy our curiosity about the Elliot Highway, the road to our next overnight, the Manley Roadhouse. Manley contains only 72 people and still maintains the gritty charm of the last frontier. But before we arrive, Phil shows us a challenging off-road passage toward the Yukon River. Unfortunately, the last couple of miles aren't doable-deep mud- and dangerous without the right tires. So, Phil turns us back to Elliot Highway. This side trip is exhausting, and Michigan Ed knows it, yelling out when he finally opens his visor, "Oh, yeah! I'm the enduro man!" Our dinner is rich, and wanting to get it properly settled, David, our reliable support driver, and I decide we need a few good mugs of hop juice before we listen to our pillows. Bob shows up and tells us his life story. He has owned the Manley Roadhouse for 33 years and also serves and the township's full-time postmaster. All his other tales could fill a fat space on a library shelf. A long night, again.
Thursday, July 29-After a few great days, we have a real dreary time of it heading toward Delta Junction. The one highlight today is the moose I spot.
Friday, July 30- Promises to be a gorgeous ride on the Denali Highway. We take Hwy 4 toward Paxson in the morning. After passing a pretty palette of wildflowers, grazing caribou, a peak called Donnelly Dome, and a retreating glacier that once nearly engulfed the road, the Richarson Highway reaches its highest point, 3,000 feet, at Isabel Pass. The route skirts scenic wild land, lakes and free-flowing rivers. I take a right on the Denali Highway, open the throttle and goad the KLR through the wide sweepers towards lake summit. Later, I cross MacLaren Summit (4,085ft.), the second highest highway pass on the Alaskan road system. Today's destination is Gracious House, but before our arrival, Phil shows us another great road that peters out and ends in the middle of the wilderness. River crossings, deep potholes, mud, gravel, and dirt are all arrayed to challenge riders and bikes. Tomorrow there are a few miles of gravel before we head back to Anchorage, the end of the tour. Usually the guide and not the guest, it was quite an experience for me and I enjoyed the camaraderie and the fun in the group.
Many thanks are due David, our escort driver,
waiter, mechanic, and especially for being a hangout buddy for me. Phil
is a funny guy, but his tours would surely proceed more smoothly if he
learned to differentiate, keeping his business and personal needs separate.
Taking power naps in an uninteresting parking lot shouldn't be necessary
when only five miles down the road there's a nice warm coffee shop. He
could sleep there, alone in a booth, while his guests are otherwise employed-
served and entertained.
I enjoyed Phil's company very much, but I also have to be honest with
our readers. In general, the riding was good and the scenery unsurpassed,
but the amount the Phil's company, Alaskan Rider Tours, charges ( starting
at $5,200 per person) for this Northern Expedition package would have
been way too rich for my blood. Fortunately, my trip was comped.
View Pictures from the 2004 Northern Expedition
*To Register for any of our motorcycle tours or rentals,
please print, fill out, sign and send in our
Click
here to download Adobe Acrobat Reader to view forms.
Join our
Mailing List!
keep informed on Alaska Rider Tours
specials and Alaska riding!
 |
|
|
|
|
