Knowing Where Not To Go

God I’m tired

Me - in the rain.

 I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee, Jaz was making Kaladi Brew. We walked over to the main lodge for breakfast and I noted the other motorcyclists were still sleeping, tents all lined up in a row.  We met one rider the night before, a guy named Rob from Arkansas. He was on the road traveling for a month and headed to Alaska, somewhere along the way he met a few other riders... strangers that met on the road to ride together for a short time. He said one of the riders had motorbike issues; he road ahead to scout for a place to camp for the night. 

After breakfast I noted there was movement in the tent camp and walked over to ask if they got everything taken care of... if they needed any tools (recall – my bike is wobbling because I have too much weight from all the tools I am carrying)? They needed a torque wrench… ummm.. I don’t think so.

"Camp ArKansas"

We headed out of Chistochina and into Mentasa. The road was decent until after Tok, then it went into varying shades of “shitty.”

I mentioned to Jaz that the Alcan was the worst I had seen it yet, she mentioned that it was always the worst. I agreed. The road, due to permafrost and heaving, was like melted rubber with trenches that were, in some places, a foot deep. Given the wobble issue I have been fighting it made it extra difficult to ride. You really had to be diligent with your eyes… some trenches had no shadows and blended into the background like a camouflaged redneck. I followed Jaz close: This way I knew where not to go by watching her rear end rattle and bottom out from the dips she didn’t see.

Jaz recuperating from the trenches.

In some areas, there were of course the constant patches of loose gravel. In Canada, the patches of gravel got  longer and longer, with two sections of pilot cars – lots of gravel, lots of pilot cars, and lots of bugs.

The rough road conditions caused slow going, in some cases only 35 mph. It took us all day to travel 340 miles… and we didn’t stop for lunch!  We did stop at an old abandoned road stop, called Grizzly bear Flats to poke around… I took the bear spray, just in case some of those grizzlies remained.

Lack of a navigator.

Jaz thinking "Where is that pilot?"

The ghost stop was overgrown with vegetation. It looked like an old motel and RV park with a café. We peered into the windows (not all were broken). It looked like the owners just walked away, in the middle of the day. Kind of creepy like one of those sci-fi movies where the aliens take people away or the sun gets too hot and turns everyone into a white powder where they stand.  All the food was there, but the sun and the critters had gotten into it. Faded boxes of pilot bread, Betty Crocker, and French Canadian products you couldn’t understand unless you had high school French. You could smell the rot from 30 feet away. We opted not to go inside since all the wood was rotting – lest we step in the wrong place and fall through the floor.

A cafe begging to be explored. Vegetation has taken over.

Some glass still in place in the motel.

Jaz scoping it out.

Old boxes, all faded from age, many showing signs of critters.

We came across a gravel/pilot section where I thought Jaz was going down twice! 800 pound bike in soft fill, not yet smashed by rollers… she was all over the place, I had to back off so that when she went down she wouldn’t take me with her! Those Canadians were testing our skills, eh.

We got to Kluane Lake and bedded down at Kluane B and B. Simple, but clean. And even though it reminds me of staying in a shed, I still like staying here.

Comfortable in my "shed"

Cabin for the night.

We knew there would be no food here; it is too remote for even a gas station or food. We brought a couple of cans of chili. How do you choose a chili brand for the road? It’s not the fat, or sugar or even spice… it’s whether the can has a pull top (we had no can opener).