Crossing the Arctic Circle by Motorbike

The amount of darkness between sunset and sunrise in Eagle Plains was a little more than an hour. We were told by the locals that if we went outside during this time (around 2 a.m.) that we would see the most amazing sky and witness both sunset and sunrise at the same time. This sounded worth exploring, so we set our alarm clocks and headed outside.  To our dismay, we noted Michael had left his tail light on for 8 hours (accidently turned the ignition too far when locking the handlebars). In addition, the sky was overcast and raining, no sunset watching going on. We went back into the hotel, knowing no sleep was coming on account that we would be thinking about the bike not starting in the morning.

Michael give a peace just outside Eagle Plains

Over breakfast, we ran into a half a dozen other dual sport riders all traveling in 2 x 2’s, some coming some going. We had run into Greg and Clay the day before and had coffee with them near Tombstone. They were traveling up from Arkansas. They also have the dubious distinction of being the only American’s we have run into on the road. Nice fellows with a 3-4 week travel schedule. Most of the folks we run into are European - German and English being the most frequent, and Australian’s the next. It is very refreshing visiting with the Europeans – I can’t help but think I was born in the wrong country. While visiting with the travelers, it was not lost on me that I seem to be the only woman riding the road… I always worry when I am the only gurl… it makes me wonder about my sanity level or lack of common sense.

One of the riders, a gentleman from Canada (can’t remember name or province), a well-seasoned Dempster traveler… knew the road like the back of his hand.  Spoke of the year the road was the worst he ever saw it (this was of course the same year I tried to ride it before). He gave everyone a crash course in how to handle the “Dempster mud”, and agreed with me that there are 5 kinds of mud. He talked about the black mud that when you hit it “acts like grease or a petroleum-based product”, and about other mud that is so slippery when wet, that if you try to put your foot down it will slip like ice.

Luckily, going up the road has been fairly dry. I asked him what he thought of the road north, and he warned up about a spot at the NWT border that could only be described as sand covered in gravel. Great, just what I wanted to here. Sand. I hate sand. He told us they had resurfaced the road, and it was dicey in that area. So of course, I spent the next few hours worrying about that section of the road. 

We loaded up the bike, and miraculously Michael’s bike started right up. Good omen. We hit the road and soon came to the Arctic Circle. The place Jazz and I called the last trip.

Standing once again at the Arctic Circle, this time with Michael.

From here on out, it was new territory for me. I couldn’t help but be nervous. This road had kicked my ass two years ago. The next 20 miles was the worst of the entire trip.

Mud and slime and slippy-slidy (is that a word?), bogs so deep that a rig was trapped deep in the mud with a tow truck trying to extract it.. blocking off most of the road.  We couldn’t lose speed going through the bog, so we passed on the left, where everyone else had passed, digging ruts and forcing us into paths where all you could do was give it gas and just keep looking forward (I am thinking in Ellen’s voice… just keep looking.. just keep looking). I felt a burst of panic and, of course I started to slow down, which makes the fight for steering harder. I shout inside my head… give it gas.. and trust that the bike will get through better if you going faster. I opened the throttle and felt the fight for the steering loosen up. I yell in my head again… don’t look down… look straight ahead. I hope like hell that Michael has no problems, because I am right on his ass.  We get through. After that, the next 20 miles of 3 inch mud sliding seems like nothing… a constant battle for steering, but no panic attacks.  It turned from a sloppy stew to a sloppy soup, which made it less scary and boggy, but your sphincter was still clamped shut.

We stop to feed the mosquitos. I know there are not enough humans or caribou above the Arctic Circle to feed all these mosquitos and wonder silently in my head just how the hell they are staying alive. Michael comments that the road was bad. I tell him it was not as bad as it was that year Jaz (on her Harley) and I rode up. He wonders aloud  “if it rains how we will ever get through, because it was bad after only one day of light rain, my front end was all over the place, white knuckle ride.” He decides to buy Jaz a beer when we get back to Anchorage.

This section from the Arctic Circle to the NWT border turns out to be the worst section on the 457 miles.We crossed into NWT. The mud goes away. The wind takes its place.

Me freezing my ass off from the arctic wind, Northwest Territories, Canada

The wind was horrible. The arctic wind had a nip and it was relentlessly pounded us for 30-40 miles of road. A 40 mph cross wind is bad enough when the pavement is dry, but when the ground beneath you is in flux (sandy and gravel), it is pretty scary. We found the sandy gravel referenced in the morning huddle. I hadn’t forgotten about it, but after the mud, I was not thinking too much about it. I felt it best to not go there. It turns out it was much easier to negotiate then the mud. But the wind…

Here is the series of thoughts that were going through my mind… I would think one thing… and then about two miles later I would adjust the thought to match the new condition.

It is bad to ride in gravel…

It is worse to ride in gravel on a corner…

It worse to ride in gravel in a cross wind…

It is bad to ride in gravel on a corner in a cross wind…

Gravel and more gravel

Peel River crossing near Fort McPherson

Finally we hit the first ferry crossing, and the gravel depth decreased. Did I mention how bad the mosquitoes were in wetlands? And the dragonflies are as big as magpies! They make a loud “thunk” when you hit them!

Wetlands

Ferry crossing

We crossed the Peel River and rolled into the town of Fort McPherson, where gas was $6.80/gallon, and the people were just strange. The road between the two ferries was very nice

Most northern ferry crossing and the town of Tsiigehtchic

We got off the last ferry and the road was “AA.”  
AA is what the local Canadian’s call the stretch between Inuvik and the most northern ferry crossing. I am told that a long while back, a couple of Americans from Arkansas came through Eagle Plains on their return trip from Inuvik. They insisted the road was paved with asphalt, because it is so hard and smooth. Of course what they were referring to is how compact the mud gets when it is pounded relentlessly by diesel trucks and sprayed with chemicals to decrease dust. Eventually it becomes an unnatural whitish color and looks a little like old pavement - easy to understand.  Even so, the Canadian’s now call it AA – Arkansas Asphalt.  About the only thing that can mess up AA, is when they decide to grate it, which decreases your 55 mph speed to about 30 mph. We hit grated AA for about 2 miles. The rest was a smooth sail into Inuvik. We got about 10 km from Inuvik, and I saw a site for sore eyes… is that tarmac?

Michael parked in front of the welcome sign

We made a b-line for our hotel and ordered a 12 inch delivery pizza for $38.

The amount of darkness between sunrise and sunset in Inuvik? Zip. The sun doesn’t set.

The Road Less Traveled

We arose from my favorite B and B in Dawson (5^th Avenue B and B), ate breakfast and hit the road. We had a long day in front of us – 257 miles. Now that doesn’t seem very long, but depending on road conditions, it can be very long.

Getting ready for the road

On a side note, we decided to top off our gas in Dawson, just in case the little Klondike Gas Station at the start of the Dempster was closed. Great call! The gas station is now boarded up and closed. If we had not filled up in Dawson, we may not have made it without running out of gas. We carry an extra gallon for each bike, but that is cutting it close.

Along the road we have seen moose, fox, marmot, and tons of rabbit and ptarmigans.

The Dempster Highway is 900 miles of dirt, round trip

The Dempster Highway is a fairly young road, opening in 1979 to accommodate oil and gas development.  It is 457 miles of dirt road, which ranges easy to almost impossible to travel, depending on rain. We were planning on riding to Eagle Plains, one of only two places you can stay along the way. We were not sure if we had a room, this place fills up early season, and although they were booked, they were going to try to honor our reservation from the night before. Getting stuck in Tok, threw off all of our reservations by 1 day. We always carry a tent and sleeping bags in case we get stuck.

I think the prettiest part of the highway is Tombstone Park, near the beginning. If you ever make it out this way, make sure you take the time. We put the Go Pro on to film this section of the highway. It is absolutely amazing. Unfortunately, the mount broke on the GoPro and we lost it. We have no idea where it went.

Tombstone is gorgeous and my favorite place on the road

The road travels broad valleys, and alongside several braided rivers, very similar to Alaska.

As you climb above the tree line, you can see for miles. Ravens fly over this valley.

The road surface was mostly dry with large sections of gravel. I had one frightening encounter were I hit a deep patch of gravel at about 45 miles an hour and the bike jigged and jagged. It is moments like this that require you to be really focused while traveling this road. Rough patches will pop out at you quickly without much visual warning. I had a firm grip and rode it through… Michael said the nice thing about following is you can see best which places to avoid. Gravel gravel gravel... the road even had mountains that looked like they were made of gravel! The dust was bad; we were covered in white. The zippers on the gear started failing from all the dirt. Large supply trucks would pass and cause total white out conditions.

Gravel roads and gravel mountains

We came across one KLR with a flat tire. It looked like they had it handled so we pressed on, tired and dirty, hoping we had a room for the night. We stopped to top off our gas with our auxiliary gas tanks just outside Eagle Plains.

Flat tire for a fellow traveler

Missing GoPro and a broken mount

Topping off my gas tank

 The road got more rugged leaving Tombstone and heading into the wetlands. 

Wetlands

Mosquitos were horrendous. You couldn’t lift your face shield up if you stopped, even for a minute. The road got bumpier.

We slipped into Eagle Plains, and the gods were smiling on us… they had a room!

Eagle Plains, YT. Canada

Barbie Does Chicken

We pulled out of Tok without breakfast. We figured a couple of protein shakes and an apple was good enough to get us to Chicken, Alaska. It was a lot smokier this morning then yesterday, enough to sting your eyes and make you cough. I tied a bandana, damp with water over my nose. It helped to block out most of the smoke. I rode that way until the smoke was minimal.

Unplanned fire print on scarf I tied around my face to block the smoke!

We passed the accident site from yesterday.

Someone died yesterday doing what they love. This makes it easier to swallow, but I wish I wouldn’t have seen his motorcycle underneath that 40 ft. motor home.
You knew. You just knew he didn’t make it.
I saw the one long dark ominous skid mark that crossed the center-line into the oncoming lane.
I averted my eyes. Lots to think about on the road.

The road is filled with corners and breaks in pavement covered with loose gravel. It is definitely a road motorcyclists should be careful on.

The road stretched across the mountains like a long ribbon; Non-existent traffic.

Road was good, except corners were extra “gravelly”. Soon we were in Chicken. Eating breakfast and watching the tourist watch us. They bought knick-knacks of chickens and selected from the smorgasbord of baked goods.. prepared for the tour buses. We loaded up, wanting to get out on the road ahead of the tour bus – the dust behind tour buses is awful!

Chicken, Alaska

The women on the tour bus gathered around my motorcycle to stare at Barbie strapped to my handle bars. It delighted them. They took pictures of Barbie. We left.

The road continued North to the Klondike. At Jack Wade intersection the road got worse. Alaska is getting ready to pave the road to the border – construction.

We crossed through the border with no problems. Running the GoPro while we traveled over the most spectacular part of Top of the World Highway, it was a gorgeous day to film. I think the best part is about 2 miles before the border and 10 miles into Canada.

We rode straight down to the Yukon River and managed to get right on to the ferry. We parked our bikes and waited to cross. Once on the other side, they emptied our row first – us bring up the rear. So here I am riding my bike across the boat decking, when the motorhome in the next lane, thinking no one is there starts taking off and coming over into my lane. I’m thinking WTF. I have nowhere to go. I lay on the horn so he at least knows we are there. He slams on the breaks. The ferry attendant notices what is going on and halts his lane. We are free to get off the boat. Welcome to Dawson!

Welcome to Dawson, Yukon Territory, Canada

Michael on the ferry crossing over the Yukon River into Dawson.

Michael had developed a leaky fuel line. We stopped at the hardware store, and try to repair with wire, it was holding, but not well. We decided a backup is needed. Michael makes it to Napa by the skin of his teeth for a new hose.

Thai massage near the waters edge.

Thai massage, dinner at Klondike Kate’s – buffalo tostada, lots of Black Death porter.

We decided the right amount of Black Death to consumer is the amount that didn’t cause you to fall off the boardwalks. We drank the right amount.

Home of Death in the Klondike... make sure you stop if you are ever here!

Trapped in Tok

We awoke to a lot more smoke in the air then the evening before. Thick enough for us to dig out bandanas in case it got bad. We figured we could dampen them up and breathe through them while getting through the area, if it was really bothersome.

We had already passed one large fire yesterday, we were going to pass 3 more today. The one by Tetlin Junction being the larger one today.

We ate breakfast at Fast Eddies, and filled up the tanks with gas. We ran into Bjoern and Sigrid, an Australian couple that have been traveling the world since last April. They flew into the US and purchased used bikes and have pretty much covered North, Central and South America. They were headed up to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska.

Sigrid and Bjoern, Michael

We spent some time chatting with them and talking about the road. They were excited because after hitting Alaska, they would have covered everything on their bucket list. Check out their blog at: Pan American Highway - http://bikers.readmyblog.org/

We drove out of Tok with excitement (and forest fire smoke) in the air. We headed towards the Tetlin Junction, smoke on the horizon. 

Smoke in the air

We were able to get though the junction without any problems and found ourselves, finally, on the Taylor Highway. We were excited that the trip was finally starting. The plan was to make it across the border into Canada and stay the night in Dawson. We turned the corner and saw emergency vehicles in the road. Road Closed.   

Taylor was a no go today.

We came to a stop and the trooper told us the road would be closed for 8-10 hours. The Canadian crossing closes at 8 pm, so we realized we were not going to be able to make it.  We got a good look at the accident. It made both of us sick.

A motorcycle was lodged under a 40 foot motorhome. It was obvious the motorhome had run over the bike and dragged it a bit. Later we learned it was a fatality. We turned back to Tok. With that kind of wait, in the smoke, it was best to seek shelter. We were hoping at the time, that we could salvage part of the day by heading over the road into Chicken when they re-opened the road. We figured if we camped in Chicken, it would be almost 80 miles less to do in the morning. The road ended up staying closed until 10 pm.

By the time we got back to the Alaska Highway, the troopers had already put up closed signs on the Taylor. We met up with 3 riders that wanted to know what was going on. We filled them in and invited them to have lunch with us. None of us were going anywhere.

Mike, Aad and Jeanette

Jeanette, Mike and Aad are a family that have been living a nomadic lifestyle for 9 years, the first part of the journey started by bus, the last 4 years they have been traveling by motorcycles. The son is now 17 years old and on his own motorcycle… do the math… The kid has been on the road for half his life. They are schooling him along the way; he recently graduated from high school. These folks had just come down from Prudhoe Bay, and were on their way back to the lower 48. We hung out with them for 4 hours listening to their Venezuela tales. They were originally from Tasmania, but are heading to Holland to settle down for a short stint. We made plans to visit them. They are traveling in simplicity… no blogs, no phones, no computers, but he is thinking about writing a book.

Our hearts are heavy tonight, for the motorcyclist that lost his life today doing what he loved. Tomorrow we will take another shot at the Top of the World.

Stuck in Tok... waiting out a road closure.

North to Inuvik - Again

Unfinished business.
You recall a couple of years ago Jazz and I made a run for Inuvik, Northwestern Territories, Canada. The rain and the dangerous conditions cause two fairly (I said.. fairly) reasonable women to call it at the Arctic Circle. The ride, 2000 miles round-trip from Anchorage, AK - nearly 900 miles of dirt, 4 days of rain can turn this into a muddy stew that makes you evaluate your goals. This was very evident by the 5 crashes and one med-vac that occurred while we were on the road last time that other unfortunate motorcyclists experienced.

Yesterday, Michael and I have started another attempt to reach this northern Inuvialuit - real people - community. We rolled out of Anchorage and we are currently in Tok, Alaska. The holiday traffic was bumper to bumper near Glennallen, and the smoke is in the air near Tok.

There are two forest fires we were watching, the Moon Lake Complex, which we passed by without too much trouble, and the Testlin Ridge fire. This fire is near the junction of the Taylor Highway, where we plan to cut through.

Locals this morning are telling us the smoke over the Taylor is pretty bad. We are a little concerned of breathing smoke for hours. We are going to press through as quickly as possible, tonight we should cross into Canada and land in Dawson.

We will have the GPS tracker on, the link is on the right side of the blogsite:
http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0QS9aMYSXoeqa10zZImLMjVlMJEvy6krY

Our goal:

2000 miles round trip from home - 800 on the dirt.

Looking For Death

I flew into Seattle for the weekend. Tickets were so cheap, couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

My good friend Marla rode the train up from Portland and met me at the airport. From there we headed north to the border.

Everyone must be going to Canada to get beer too! Canadian border crossing outside Surrey, BC.

During my travels by motorcycle in Canada the last few years, I’ve discovered a beer I absolutely love, Black Death, a porter from British Columbia. Problem is I can’t get the beer in Alaska. Russell Brewery, with several locations across Canada, produces the beer with limited distribution to the U.S. They are small, which is good! This means they care about the quality and taste. If you live in a couple of states, Idaho is one, you can get the beer from King Beverage (Distributer), or if you live near Bellingham, you might be able to get it at Elizabeth Station stores. 

Black Death and Angry Scotch awaiting their transport to Alaska.

I came across the beer when after riding across the Top of the World Highway (not really a highway, but rather a dusty road riddled with potholes) we ferried across the Yukon River into Dawson. It had been such a long day on account of the condition of the road, that when we took sips of Black Death at Klondike Kate’s it was amazing. Black Death has now become a destination for me over the years. I have bubble wrapped and carried it in my saddle bags many times. This year when I take on Inuvik, it will be in the bags.

Naturally, when I learned Russell Brewery was only 2.5 hours north of Seattle… an idea was born – beer run to British Columbia!

Marla drove north from Seattle on account that I was running on little sleep from flying the red eye out of Anchorage. We crossed the border in no time and rolled into the brewery. The idea was to figure out exactly how much I could bring back without getting into trouble at the border. Not an easy thing to figure out… on account that I was in “transit.” How many hours you are in Canada matter, how much you can bring into the country duty free is set, but also how much total you can bring in is regulated. There doesn’t seem to be Federal regulations guiding this, so – since you are in transit – it bumps to your state of residency laws. Alaska has complicated laws based on wet and dry villages; I’m from the Municipality of Anchorage, so all this means I follow regulations for the muni on the State Board website. Clear as mud? Then let’s not forget that airline rules for transporting, and also the liter to oz. metric conversion on the liquid. Suffice to say, I had a guestimate in my head, but I wasn’t entirely sure!

I didn't know how much beer I was going to be able to take back with me... barrels o' brew just awaiting for a loving home.

We walked in and Katie took care of us! We told her what we wanted, and she gathered the beer up for us. Steve the operations manager came out and chatted with us. When he found out how far we had traveled to sample their beer, he warmly offered to give us a tour and meet the staff. We wandered out and learned all about their process and operation. These guys love beer. It is very much their passion. We met Jack, who was in the process of making a batch of Angry Scotch Ale. We chatted about how he got into making beer making… he was a high school math and physics teacher turned brew master. Jack took us all around and hooked us up with a few samples. Jay, another employee, also shared how much he enjoyed the craft. The smell of beer and the sounds of rubber boots squeaking on the floor were wonderful. 

What does fishing for salmon in Alaska and beer brewing have in common? A good set o' boots!

The folks at Russell Brewery sent us out the door with complimentary tee shirts; and Katie figured out the exact amount of beer I could take back while we were touring the shop. We bought just a little bit over the limit to enjoy while touring Vancouver Island.

We spent so much time at the brewery, we lost track of time and needed to head to the ferry. Marla had forgotten to print the ferry tickets, so we asked were we could print them out. We were directed to the library. Apparently Surrey (not that big) had 3 LIBRARIES. We got there and the parking lot was packed… a ton of people were hanging out in the LIBRARY! Wow… what do the Canadians know that we don’t?

I was amazed… the library… wow… I’m still amazed even a day later… they actually use their libraries… think about that. Wow.

What's Fer Dinner?

I wanted to create film and photo stock for the website, and figured red rock country in southern Utah would be the ticket. I’m hoping to do little snippets about our adventures and have a short film intro that stayed the same, along with an end. I have heard people in the office call them “bookends”. 

I called Neal Herbert, a camera guy and friend based out of Moab, and asked if he could put together a little camping trip and do the shooting.  Jennifer Jerrett, Neil’s wife, was also going to join along on the little expedition for inspiration and technical support.  Neal corrected my terminology and called them “bumpers”. Unfortunately, Jen injured her knee the week before on her own adventure, and Shakey Jake, another film guy that spent time up in Alaska at Denali, took her place. Our little group of 4 headed out into the desert just southwest of Moab, Utah to Kane Creek.

Our little group heads up the canyon

We were going to do a technical ride, rated "Expert" from Butler Motorcycle Maps. This means if we died Neal would have captured it on film to show at our funeral.  Just kidding.  The weather was calling for snow... perfect for camping.

Hurrah Pass, southwest of Moab, Utah and the Colorado River Valley near Dead Horse Point State Park - Google Map

We started out of Moab, turned right at the Burger King and headed out to Kane Creek Boulevard. As soon as we hit the dirt we started filming. Short shots and little bits all day long, all the way up to the pass, called Hurrah (roughly 4800 ft.). No sooner did we enter the canyon when we got to admire someone else’s adventure – base jumping off the canyon walls. Pretty scary… did I mention I don’t like heights (remember this for later).

Neal and Jake shot us from different angles all day long, mostly video with some photos. It was really nice to have the undivided attention of these two really skilled guys. I also learned how much time and repeat shooting it takes to generate enough film to create a nice 30 second bookend.  Neal is the master with an eye for the perfect shot. Sometimes, (because we were not gifted or thinking in movie mode), Neal’s instructions on riding for the right shot and what we thought was the right shot, didn’t match up. Case in point… going through the water really fast is cool on the motorcycle, but it splashes muddy water all over the film guys! Whereas Neal wants slow to capture the movement with clarity… it took us a while, and I don’t think we really understood what Neal wanted until we actually saw the final 30 second finished product!

Video: The front "bumper" we created in the desert. Direct link is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7nWlen9j50

Thanks Neal for being so patient! I also learned, that no matter how many times I was told not to look at the camera and to act natural… (ya’ll ought to know by now there isn’t a natural bone in my body) I couldn’t help myself… although I didn’t go completely dorky and wave at the film guys, I certainly kept looking at them and ruining the perfect shot! I guess I was never meant to be in the movies… lol!

So we spent the whole day shooting in the desert, making our way up the canyon. It wasn’t without issues. I put my helmet on a slick rock ledge (right next to Michael’s) and the wind came through and knocked mine off the side where it landed smack on the front lower jaw piece. I have a flip-up helmet from Nolan. This impact broke the hinge and locked the helmet in place, making putting it on and taking it off a real challenge (I nearly lost my ears and nose every time I tried to squeeze my head through the small opening.  Michael ripped off his chain guard (while splashing the film boys with muddy water) and we needed to disassemble the entire thing and store it in the jeep - this all in the first hour up the canyon. We did drive back to Moab and attempt to find a brand new helmet, but really only one store sold helmets in town, and they were closed for Sunday/Monday. Even so, I didn’t want to drop $500 on a helmet I didn’t really want, so I chose to ride with the broken helmet instead.

Michael repairing the broken chain guard

We rode to the top of the mountain and took wonderful shots. Several times the boys would say things like "can you ride your motorcycle right here for the perfect shot"? It became apparent that, like we had no understanding of cameras, they had no understanding of motorcycles. My translation of that request was "can you move that 500 pound motorcycle right up to the edge of this cliff - yeah.. the one that will kill you... and where it slopes down with a mix of soft earth and loose shale and rock just before that edge I want you to ride up too"?  To keep myself focused, I would put a rock down as a marker and then, while riding out towards the edge, I would think... ride to the rock and touch it with your tire.  It was amazing how many times we needed to shoot that shot, and how the rock kept creeping closer towards the edge magically.... I'm not sure if it was Neal or Jake that would move the rock as we were turning around for another take. Even so, one of my favorite shots of the whole ride is of this exact place!

Wandering Alaskans enjoying the view near Moab, Utah.

Neal taking the shot...

If you have ever been to Dead Horse Point in southern Utah, and looked across the great valley, Hurrah Pass is on the other side of the Colorado River from your observation point in the state park. The riding was good, but right at the very top, we reached a place where my bike didn’t have the clearance to rise over the technical terrain - staircase like steps on the trail made out of rock. I took the challenge and bottomed out my bike. It is amazing that I still have my little pink demon bell hanging off the skid plate. A second section of slick rock was pretty challenging give the angle and the cracks and the soft deep sand scattered between everything. I picked a bad line and ended up not being able to ride the bike out of the place I put it; Michael rode it out for me. Over the years, I have come to look at these moments as not really me being a scaredy cat, but rather a woman that exhibits common sense and recognizes my skill may not be up to the task. I do push myself… but I just don’t want another broken bone!

Video showing occasional technical spots where clearance was an issue.

Near the top of the pass, Michael’s motorcycle started to overheat. The weather started to get ugly, and we were a little tired. We crossed over the top and went down into the valley and hit sand when it flattened out. It wasn’t deep sand, fairly pleasant to ride, but… I hate sand!

Grand place to set up a tent!

 We camped in the most wonderful and beautiful place. We got the tents up before night fall (barely)… and were ready for a nice hot meal.  I had arranged with Neal ahead of time to bring out all the camp cooking supplies and cold beer in the rental jeep. Neal was going to prepare us a wonderful stir fry with fresh veggies and cold beer.

Neal packed all the wonderful supplies for a grand meal.. he only forgot one thing…. The cook stove and fuel. (I really can't make this shit up...).

Neal realizing he forgot the stove...