This Water Tastes Interesting?

I woke up so sore this morning I didn’t have the strength in my hands to open up a water bottle (from death grip and throttling for hundreds of miles). Michael and I are still chuckling over the “water incident” yesterday. It was such a hot day that we were drinking a ton of water. About 20 miles short of Eagle Plains, we took note were down to only 1 bottle (of easily accessible water – we actually carry a large white PAX of water, but that is the emergency-hard-to-get-too-water). So, on account of not wanting to run out, I pour Rasta’s water back into a small empty bottle. This is the water that was in her dog dish that she didn’t drink. I figured she could have it back later. Well, later I saw Michael sipping off a small water bottle. He passed it to me, and I accepted it as well. Then afterwards I asked him where he got the water. Guess. No worries, we are roughing it. Good chuckle.

1am Eagle Plains moon

It was absolutely horrible in the morning. Rain Rain Rain. We did not want to leave Eagle Plains on account of having been here before two other times. The very worst and most dangerous part of this road is just south of the Arctic Circle and the boundary of the Northwest Territory. If the road is wet, it is black snotty mud that will take a motorcycle down faster than you can say wtf. The mud gets deep near Rock Creek and stops trucks in the middle of the road.  We reluctantly packed. I actually think I saw fear in Michael’s eyes (this is on account of him riding my KLR and not his BMW800 GSA I am sure).

Wet Road

We pulled out and headed the 18 miles to the Arctic Circle. Rasta immediately jumped out and officially pooped in the north! We plugged on through slippery snot. The side car did pretty well, I need to keep it at 30 mph, on account of once it starts slipping, it starts slipping. As expected, there were mud puddles covering the entire width of the road, and Rock Creek had recently been graded! Normally, grading is bad for a motorcycle, but in this case they probably got rid nasty deep ruts. I am sure I was kicking up rooster tails out the back with mud! I slipped and slid up the hills, but kept on moving. Rasta napped.

The Barbie doll mounted to my KLR has seen better days. I picked her up in a small whistle stop town in the Midwest when we bicycled Route 66. She has proudly accompanied on the KLR since 2009. She is losing her hair.

At one point, I noticed the tire pressure alarm was flashing I was down to 33psi. We pulled over and didn’t see anything wrong. I kept going. The tire pressure dropped to 28psi. I pulled over and we looked at tires again. Sometimes the BMW tire sensors give bad readings on account of the sidecar. The sensors were not designed for a three car vehicle. This time when we stopped Michael could hear the fan trying to cool the motor. Mud had completely caked over the air flow screens. My motorbike is air cooled. If the screens are completely blocked, then the motor will overheat. Now we are searching for a river to wash out the mud.

We found a place on the side of the road right next to a river. The mozzies were extremely bad. Michael got the system flushed enough that we didn’t have to worry about overheating. Tire psi is now 26. We decide that I would keep running until it hit 20 psi then we would stop to put more air in. I am okay with this, because it is the rear tire. On a motorcycle, the absolute worst thing in the world is a tire blowout on the front tire. If the front tire goes you lose the steering.  We pressed on.

We climb into the mountain pass and ride straight into the clouds. Visibility drops to 50 feet. Road is slick and wet, no guard rails, can’t see shit. Then the psi drops to 24. This is getting a little stressful! Finally we get out of the clouds and black grease mud appears. The psi drops to 22. More stress. The magic number of 20psi has us pulled over off the road pumping up the tire. We are about 10 miles south of Fort McPherson. This is going to be a long day.

We arrive at the first river crossing, the Peal River, cross on the ferry and roll into Fort McP in search of a garage to repair our tire. The only garage in town with the tools capable of fixing the bike is wide open, but all the mechanics went fishing. No luck.

We press on to the 2^nd ferry crossing and Inuvik.

By the time we get to the ferry crossing on the McKenzie River, my psi light is flashing again – down to 30. We load up on the ferry and all the ferry guys are loving Rasta. She is of course enjoying the attention. I confirm the mileage once we land is 70 more miles. The ferry guys offer to top off our psi while we are crossing the river. We are able to refill the air, strip down some gear, give Rasta water all before we get to the other side. They even had restrooms on the ferry! We were ready to go. We rode all the way to Inuvik without a problem. Clear skies and dry road! We arrived in Inuvik with a psi of 28.

We ordered pizza delivered to our cabin with two ice cold cokes. The Canadians might know what bacon is, but their pepperoni is in sheets (not small circles), and they were confused about why we would put black olives on a pizza. Apparently they do not do this on the top of the planet.

We washed the bikes, Rasta amused herself with sniffs of the north, and a load of laundry was accomplished. Michael said our gear is so trashed from the mud on this trip that afterwards we are going to have to get rid of our gear. Tomorrow we will tackle the tire issue.