The primary motivation of my 5th
trip to Alaska, just a year later, was to take a long solo ride on several remote
gravel roads in the Yukon and Northwest Territories that I had never seen; but mainly
the North and South Canol Roads in the Yukon. In spite of the Alaska Highway
being paved for its entire length for its 50th anniversary, I rode on more than
2,000 miles of gravel roads during this trip with the same 1987 4-cylinder Gold
Wing I rode on the 1991 trip with the group. I was most interested in beautiful
places where few people have ever traveled. The Dempster Highway and the
Prudhoe Bay Haul Road had already lost much of their luster for me because so
many have already been there.
I began the trip with a few uncongested back roads through Amish country
in Pennsylvania, the Appalachians in West Virginia and Kentucky, the Piedmont
area of western Virginia, and the tobacco farms in Tennessee. I continued west through
the Ozark Mountains of northern Arkansas into Oklahoma before eventually turning
due north through hundreds of miles of grasslands Kansas, Nebraska and North
Dakota to the border at North Portal. I kept heading north through Saskatchewan
all the way to Great Slave Lake in the Northwest Territories. From there I rode
south for several hundred miles of lonely gravel in the NWT to reach Fort
Nelson, BC on the Alaska Highway. I stopped a few miles west of Teslin where I had
dinner at Mukluk Annie's Salmon Bake and rented a cabin for the night. It's about
a half-hour ride from there to the start of the South Canol Road at Johnson's
Crossing.
Day 1 - My investment in a
radar detector paid for itself in the first hour of the first day when I was
thinking more about my upcoming adventure than anything else, and I sailed out
of Harriman State Park into a 20 mph speed trap in Sloatsburg. I was far above
any allowed tolerance. The gadget let out a single loud squawk on the K band as
I went for both brakes just before spotting the shiny new state police cruiser
tucked in behind some bushes about 500 feet up the road. It served as a warning
that I had better pay closer attention to sudden changes in speed limits. I passed many quaint Amish buggies in the lush farmland near Parkesburg,
PA while searching in vain for a photo-op along the banks of the Susquehanna
River. I had good weather all day, and I spent the first night at Donna's home in
Hanover, PA where Asia and Robyn were getting ready to leave on their annual visit
to Alaska where I would see them again at their dad's in 2 weeks.
Day 2 - One of the highlights
of the day was Catoctin Mountain Park in Maryland, near the presidential
retreat at Camp David, where the roads are twisty and the traffic was light.
Later I rode through Sharpsburg, site of the Battle of Antietam Creek where thousands
of young men lost their lives in a single horrible day of the Civil War not
long before the next slaughter at Gettysburg. Later I explored a few twisty and
scarcely-traveled roads in West Virginia and western Virginia that I had never used.
When I realized I had planned far too many miles of "exploring" for a
single day, I got onto US 19 around 5:00 and rode directly into Tazewell, VA where
I had planned to stop for the day.
Day 3 - I had planned even
more miles of seldom-used byways for my third day, so I got up earlier and left
at the first faint light. It was hazy and barely daylight as I felt my way out
of Tazewell on the Trail of the Lonesome Pine. A few other roads that I chose
were difficult to find because my maps were not very clear for those tiny
country roads in the tristate area around Cumberland Gap. TN Rte 63 out of
Sneedsville was one of the day’s highlights, as was KY Rte 74 out of
Middleboro. Both were twisty and narrow through beautiful countryside. I had packed my tank bag with snacks and emergency rations before leaving
home, which I used for lunch whenever I was tight on time. I could reach into
my bag and snack while I was riding. It worked out so well that I rarely stopped
for lunch during the entire trip. I ran into a few brief showers that morning,
although the temperature rose to around 90° later in the day as it got hot and
humid. I stopped at a small roadside stand in mid-afternoon for a huge soft ice
cream cone for only 53 cents. I checked into a small motel that night in
northwestern Tennessee.
Day 4 - It was drizzling and
overcast when I left after a Hardee breakfast. I wore my rain suit all day. It
poured around 1:00 and continued to rain fairly hard through the Ozarks. Thank
goodness for the Gold Wing's weather protection. I used scenic Rte 16 most of
the way across Arkansas. I especially liked the sweeping turns of one 175-mile stretch
where I rarely saw another vehicle. By the time I descended into Fayetteville,
AR late that afternoon, the sky had cleared and the temperature was back up into
the 90s.
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Along Tennessee Rte 63 near Sneedsville, TN
|
Day 5 - It was clear and
already 70° when I left at 6:15. By 11:00 it was 90° and humid. I had to panic
brake a few times in northeastern Oklahoma because I went into a few of the
turns far too fast. I wasn’t paying enough attention, and the road wasn’t
marked on some of the curves. Around that time I was also getting a little
groggy. I was sore between my shoulder blades, in my lower back, my rear and my
throttle hand; and I was beginning to burn from the sun. I was also fighting
strong crosswinds out of the south that kept throwing me around. All in all it
was a strenuous 600-mile day, but a good one. My radar detector sounded off a
few times in Kansas and I had to watch for that too. On the open prairie I
could detect radar more than a mile away, which gave me plenty of time to slow
down if I was a little too fast. I stayed overnight in Norton, KS where I found
a nice room for only $18.
Day 6 - It was 52° and cloudy
when I left without breakfast. I stopped about an hour later in McCook, NE
where I spotted a McDonald’s. It began to rain around Ogallala, and continued intermittently
for most of the day. I rode through mostly grasslands with green rolling hills
in sparsely-populated cattle country. I almost ran out of gas twice before
reaching the motel in Hettinger, ND. Once was when I counted on the next town
being only seven miles away, but I got detoured for 25 miles just before
reaching it. Entering the Mountain Time Zone gave me a little extra time at the
motel to wash out a few things.
Day 7 - Anticipating a long
day, I was on the road at first light. The temperature was only 42° when I
started. It didn't get above 60° until around 2:00. I wore double-force high-tech
underwear and a jacket, along with my rain suit top as a windbreaker most of
the day. I enjoyed the grasslands of Nebraska and the Dakotas where I had
practically no traffic all day. I rode on six miles of soft dirt through an Indian
reservation in North Dakota. After crossing the border into Saskatchewan, the
terrain got flat as a tabletop and the wind increased, although most were
tailwinds.
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North Dakota grasslands
|
Day 8 - I had breakfast at 8
AM in Vermilion, Alberta. It was an easier day than I figured. My route
bypassed North Brattleford, Edmonton and a few other cities where I would have lost
time. I was able to maintain a good average most of the day. The Alberta
scenery is much nicer than Saskatchewan with its rolling hills and trees, which
are mostly Canadian spruce, balsam and poplar. I had good weather all day and
got into Valleyview before 3:00, which allowed time to replace the spark plugs,
oil, and oil filter. I used two 5-liter plastic containers that I got from the
motel owner. I cut one into a drain pan to catch the oil, and I used the other
to dispose of it. Later I went downtown to eat. There was a local celebration
going on with traditional Native American dancing. A big fire truck with a
musical band aboard rode around town that evening, and they passed the motel. A
few showers also passed through during the evening. At 3 AM a party outside my
room got pretty noisy. It woke me from a sound sleep.
Day 9 - I had breakfast at
the motel restaurant, which opened at 6:00. It was a beautiful clear, cool
morning. The highway was straight and smooth with very few cars. I was able to
maintain a 65 mph average through most of the sparsely-populated areas. I saw
three deer near Peace River, a town in northwestern Alberta. I also saw a
ruffed grouse with two baby chicks when I stopped for a nature break. The
mother was fearless and kept charging at me in a show of force to protect her young,
which were about the size of ping-pong balls. It was 80° in the Northwest
Territories, so I peeled off a few layers of clothes. Not far from there, it
clouded over and got quite dark. The wind changed to the north, the temperature
dropped 25° in less than 20 miles, and it began to rain.
I stopped for photos at Alexandra Falls and Louise Falls before riding
into Hay River to look for a restaurant and check on motel prices. It turned
out to be somewhat of a frontier town with dirt roads and very high prices. I
didn't see any inviting cafés either, so I returned to Enterprise,
a small hamlet in the South Slave Region of the NWT. I already had courtesy reservations,
and there was a diner. It was quite rustic there too, but clean and comfortable.
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Liard Trail in the Northwest Territories
|
I had already gotten into bed when I thought I should check on the
status of the native-run gas station at the intersection with the Liard Trail
that was 205 dirt-road miles from there. I learned that they had gone out of
business, making my next gas 350 miles in Fort Liard. Even by filling my two plastic
Prestone containers, I would have to average about 46 mpg, which I thought was unlikely with the
muddy construction and other factors. A trucker I spoke with at the café said I could leave the McKenzie Highway
about 65 miles from there. He said I'd find gas at Dory Point, just 14 miles
off my planned route. So then I could easily make the 300 miles from there to
Fort Liard with the two extra gallons I was carrying.
Day 10 - I was up at 4:45,
ready and anxious to take on the first long, lonely dirt road. It was a chilly
43° and cloudy, and it looked like rain. I wore my full rain suit. The rain
during the night made the 30 miles of construction very slippery. I was able to
get through before the construction crews arrived, which was in my favor. Some of
the work areas had deep ruts, some had standing water, and others were just
plain slick. I had to skid both feet on the ground a few times to keep from
losing it. I saw only one vehicle in the first 65 miles, which was a provincial
work truck.
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Alexandra Falls, Northwest Territories
|
When I didn't spot a place to eat at Dory Point, I had lunch from my
tank bag. Back on the McKenzie, I saw a vehicle about once an hour. It was
actually in good shape for a gravel road. I stayed in the firm tire tracks
because there was a lot of thick, loose gravel everywhere else. Much of it was
relatively straight. I stopped for a photo at Alexandra Falls, which I thought
was pretty wild. I transferred the spare gas into the tank about 110 miles out,
and realized I was getting better than 46 mpg,
which was unusually high. It sprinkled a few times on the McKenzie and began to
rain as I turned onto the Liard Trail. The surface got messy with thousands of
tiny puddles of water and occasional patches of mud. I refueled at Fort Liard
and pressed on, thinking the road surface might deteriorate even more. I saw a
few deer on the McKenzie, and two red foxes and four bison on the Liard, but no
vehicles.
The rain stopped as I approached the British Columbia border, and it got
a little warmer. As soon as the surface dried up, it got very dusty. The 60° temperature felt good after 40s and
50s most of the day, with rain. I was tired by the time I reached the long
narrow, single-lane bridge across the Fort Nelson River onto the Alaska
Highway. I had ridden 470 miles of gravel that day. The road was mostly
straight and level. It certainly didn’t offer the type of riding that I came
for, but I enjoyed the adventure. There was very little spectacular scenery either,
except an occasional waterfall. It was hundreds of miles of straight gravel
with dust, and sometimes mud. I ate Chinese that evening in Fort Nelson and
tried to clean up some of my things from the dust.
Day 11 - It was overcast with
fog in the valleys when I started up the Alaska Highway. The fog was especially
thick around Steamboat where the nicest scenery begins. I saw four caribou near
Summit Lake and a young Bighorn Sheep just west of there. I ran into some early
morning rain between Steamboat and Summit, although the sun was out by the time
I reached Muncho Lake. A huge forest fire was raging just west of there. Smoke
covered more than a thousand square miles. I hit one huge pothole that threw me
a few inches off the seat. I thought for a moment I might lose it. The Alaska
Highway was not as crowded as I thought it would be on its 50th anniversary
year (1942 - 1992).
While waiting for the pilot car at some road construction 55 miles from
Watson Lake, I learned from a motorist that the South Canol Road was closed a
week earlier due to a landslide. If it was still closed, I would have to skip
it and detour north out of Watson Lake on the Campbell Highway to get to the
North Canol Road. If so, I would miss much of what I came for. My plan called
for riding both sections of the Canol Road the following day. I stopped at the
maintenance camp in Watson Lake to inquire about the latest status. They called
and learned that it had just been reopened.
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| Young Bighorn Sheep along the Alaska Highway |
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Cabin at Mukluk Annie's Salmon Bake
|
I reached Teslin at 4:30 after going through another major construction
area 80 miles west of Watson Lake, which delayed me for about 30 minutes. I
decided to bypass my reserved motel in Teslin and try Mukluk Annie's Salmon
Bake for a cabin since I planned to eat there anyway, and it would save time in
the morning. I got a nice cabin for $35 and later a grilled salmon dinner for
only $12, which included a great salad bar. The deal that night included all
the salmon you could eat. I ate salmon like a bear going into hibernation. It
was grilled just the way I like it.
After dinner I walked down to the lakeshore where I met other cyclists
making camp. Three guys and a girl were on two 1000cc Moto Guzzis and a BMW
R1000GS, all with European plates. The oldest of the three guys was removing
the rear wheel from the Guzzi, which was attached to a stripped-down sidecar that
they used only for their luggage. I noticed a travel sticker on one of the tanks
that read, “Cape Horn, Chile.” I asked if they had just come from Cape Horn,
and the answer was yes. They had already been on the road for more than two
months. What a trip! My own upcoming adventure suddenly seemed like a trip
around the block.
Day 12 - The name Canol Road
was derived from Canadian Oil. The Canol
Project was undertaken in 1942 during WWII, following discovery of oil in the
Northwest Territories. When the US Army Corps of Engineers was nearing
completion of the 1,520-mile Alcan Highway with more than 20,000 men, they were
redirected by the War Department to divert some of that manpower to building a
513-mile pipeline system from Norman Wells to Whitehorse. The oil was badly
needed to fuel Alaska and protect it from a possible Japanese invasion. The
project included a 4" oil pipeline with several pumping stations along its
length and a refinery in Whitehorse, including airfields and other support
facilities. The project was abandoned four years later after only about a
million barrels of oil had been pumped through the line.
The entire Yukon section of the Canol Road has been reopened to summer
traffic and is being maintained to minimum standards, which means there would
be very little vehicular traffic on it, and no RVs. The 138-mile southern end
from Johnson's Crossing on the Alaska Highway to Ross River on the Campbell
Highway has been designated the South Canol Road. The North Canol Road is a
144-mile continuation from Ross River to the NWT border. An additional 231
miles of the original pipeline road from there to Norman Wells is now known as
the Canol Heritage Trail, which is unsuitable for most motor vehicles and used
primarily as a hiking trail; although occasionally a few adventurous dirt
bikers will try it, but some of the river crossings are deep and hazardous, and
complete washouts are common. The Canol Heritage Trail also passes through
prime grizzly bear and caribou habitat. It is said to have some great scenery.
I assumed that day would be the toughest and probably the riskiest of my
14,000-mile tour, with more than 450 miles of narrow, rough dirt roads. The
fact that the entire Canol Road is maintained to minimum standards meant that I
had to be prepared for anything. I expected to eat both breakfast and lunch
from my tank bag. I considered shortening the day, which would mean making camp
somewhere along the North Canol Road, but I was not prepared for that. I wasn't
even carrying a sleeping bag.
Johnson's Crossing was 25 miles from Mukluk Annie's. It was 46° and
overcast when I turned up the narrow, twisty South Canol Road at 5:30 AM,
having left the cabin at 5:00. None of it appeared to be much more than a
single lane. I cautiously guided the big Gold Wing through several tight turns
and sharp up-and-down hills before climbing quickly to 4,000 feet. It began to
rain less than 30 minutes after I got onto the road, and the surface
immediately got very slick. Occasionally it would rain heavy, which raised
concern for landslides and washouts. The road had just been reopened after
having been closed for a week due to a slide. I noticed one spot where a
washout had been recently repaired, which looked temporary at best, and I
wouldn't be surprised if it washed out again later that day.
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| Recently washed out and partially repaired |
 |
| I saw no one during my first 4 hrs |
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| Man-made embankment along the Lapie River |
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| Cable Ferry across the river |
I saw no vehicles or people during the first 100 miles. I saw a
beautiful lynx dart across the road only twenty feet in front of me near Quiet
Lake. He stood about 3 feet tall to his back. A short while later I saw a huge
bull moose, and then a chocolate-colored fox with silver hair on his neck,
which I think is called a cross fox. I saw a female moose with twins that were only
days old. I was excited during most of my ride on the South Canol Road. It was exactly
what I came for, so it didn't disappoint. I saw beautiful lakes and streams
with the Pelly Mountains and the Big Salmon Range in the background. The
narrow, twisty road rose to more than 500 feet above the Lapie River. It seemed
as though there was nothing holding the road from falling away into the valley
below. I went near the edge at one spot and saw a fracture in the dirt under me,
like it was about to break away, so I tiptoed back to the bike. Just before
reaching the Campbell Highway, I crossed a one-lane Bailey bridge that spanned
the rocky gorge over the Lapie River Canyon. I spent about four hours on the
South Canol Road alone and saw no one during the entire time, driving or
walking.
It was 10:30 when I filled my tank with gas and filled two extra
one-gallon containers in Ross River prior to boarding a small cable ferry to
cross the river. The ferry operator asked how far I was going, and if I
expected to return that day. I said I was headed for the NWT border and yes, I
did hope to be back that day. He smiled and shook his head as he looked at his
watch. He then gave me directions to where he lived. He said when I get back,
assuming it would be after 5:00, I could walk across the footbridge and find
him at home. He was quite sure I wouldn't be able to make it back by 5:00. Two
European youths waiting at the ferry crossing for a lift asked if I would tell
their friends at the first Macmillan River bridge that they would be there as
soon as they could find a car or truck that was going that far, which was about
120 miles. Their wait would be long if traffic on the North Canol was no
heavier than it was for me earlier on the South Canol.
The river crossing took only a few minutes with the cable ferry, and I
was on my way. The North Canol Road was straighter than its southern
counterpart, but I realized soon after leaving the ferry that I would never be
back by five in spite of stepping lively. The surface of the first ten miles
was damp and slick. After that, I rode mostly on loose gravel with larger
stones. Almost all of the turns were unmarked and some were deceiving. A few
times I went into a turn much too fast and skittered precariously on the
shoulder as I struggled to regain control. The thought of ending the trip right
there flashed through my mind, which made me ease up a bit. It was also rough
in places, with potholes, and sometimes baseball-size stones. I came around one
turn and had to panic brake for a caribou that turned and faced me down less
than ten feet away. I thought at first he would charge, but I sat still and
blipped the throttle a few times. Eventually he turned and ran.
Another time I rounded a bend and hit the brakes for a strange-looking
animal in the road that stood more than 3 feet tall to his back. It was
completely black with a long slim tail like a mountain lion but it had longer
legs with padded feet. When it took a few easy strides into the bush I thought
it ran like a tall slim canine. I didn’t get a good look at its head but the
head was short and looked most like a black long-tailed lynx. It was a
beautiful animal.
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| A relatively straight section of the North Canol Road |
About a hundred miles from Ross River, just before transferring extra
gas into the tank, I came across the first of several groups of abandoned World
War II vehicles, including several trucks and an old road grader, all of which
were probably used when the road was being built. I also saw a few abandoned buildings
that were used as living quarters by construction workers, and I saw the remains
of a maintenance depot for repairing heavy equipment. Later I saw several
sections of four-inch-diameter pipe lying loose.
I stopped to talk with a few hikers on foot to see if they were the
friends I was supposed to relate the message to. They spoke only French but I
was able to conclude that they weren’t the right group. They looked exhausted
from walking. They both wore head nets for protection from the insects that
were very thick in the area. Whenever I stopped, even for only a minute or so, all
of the bare areas of my skin would be immediately covered with swarms of
mosquitoes, flies and other small insects. Just before reaching the first of
several Macmillan River bridges I was approached by two young guys, one
carrying a rifle. I learned after a few anxious moments that they were the ones
I was supposed to relay the message to. I stopped and talked for a minute but
the insects were very thick, I was on short time, and I was also nervous about
their strange behavior. I took off as soon as I could, and pressed on for the
NWT border.
The final fifty miles had the nicest scenery. Thick underbrush gave way
to green, hilly tundra with spectacular snow-covered mountains all around me. I
saw an airstrip and a few accesses to mining areas for barite, zinc, lead and
silver. I saw very few maintenance trucks. The few I did see were usually
traveling at a high rate of speed. They were a lot more familiar with the road
than I was. I hoped that I wouldn't meet one on a turn while I was struggling for
control on loose gravel. About 8 miles from the NWT border, I came upon a stream
with no bridge. The water was less than a foot deep. I could see vehicle tracks
entering and leaving the water, but there were many large boulders in the
swift-running stream. I studied the situation and looked for a clear path
between the rocks. While I was contemplating my next move a crusty-looking guy
in a four-wheel-drive pickup drove through it from the other side. I watched
his wheels splash and bounce as he came across, and I decided that even though
it was only about 10' across, it would be very risky at best to cross with the
Gold Wing.
I was concerned I could break the water pump or the oil filter because both
hang quite low and unprotected in front of the engine. I might also stall it in
the middle and have quite a job getting it out with the rocks plus the weight
of the bike. So I decided to turn around there. A few more miles wasn't worth
the risk with spare parts and/or mechanical help so far away.
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| The big rocks made it risky for the Wing |
The guy in the pickup stopped for a moment, shook his head and smiled,
and he said, "You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din." I learned
from our brief conversation that he's retired and lives alone all summer in a
small cabin in the area. He said the road is actually passable for another 28
miles. The Tsichu River, inside the Northwest Territories, is the first really major
obstacle of the Canol Heritage Trail to Norman Wells, NWT. A bridge is out
there too, and the water is much deeper and swifter, which would present a
formidable barrier to most vehicles, especially Gold Wings. It was 2:30 when I
turned the bike around to head back. It had taken four hours to get to that
point and I was sure it would take at least three-and-a-half to get back, which
meant I would definitely be using the footbridge to get the ferry operator at
home.
I got to Ross River just as a maintenance truck was also arriving. I
asked him if he had made arrangements with the ferry operator to get across. He
said "No one is getting across on that ferry tonight." He went on to
explain that the ferry's fan blade had gone through the radiator about
mid-afternoon, and he was called to work on it. I asked how long he thought it
would take to fix it and he said it depended on how long it would take to get a
radiator, a fan and a water pump for an obsolete diesel. If they happen to have
all of the parts in Whitehorse, it should only be a day or two. If he has
trouble finding the parts, there is no telling how long it might take. My heart
dropped as I visualized spending a week or more in Ross River with my bike on
the wrong side of the river.
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Footbridge across the river
|
I walked across the single-span suspension footbridge with the mechanic.
The bridge was about 400 feet long and it swayed slightly in spite of its heavy
stay cables. The walkway tilted to the left at one end of the bridge and tilted
to the right at the other end. I carried most of my gear across because I
didn't expect to get back to the bike that night. I walked directly to the home
of the ferry operator while the mechanic went to call his boss. When I spoke
with the operator, to my surprise, he smiled and said, "Come on, I can get
you across." I told him about the mechanic being there too, so we went to
find him first.
The operator said it happened while he was taking a car across. He spent
hours working on the ferry's diesel engine in the middle of the river with the
anxious passenger aboard. It's a lucky thing the ferry was attached to a cable,
or he would have been swept down the river in the swift current. He said that he
jury-rigged the engine so that he could get me across. I was the only one
stranded with a vehicle on the wrong side. After he started the engine, the
crossing took only a few minutes, after which he immediately shut it down. As
soon as the mechanic and I loaded our vehicles aboard, the operator restarted
the diesel and took us across the river. I’m sure the engine didn’t overheat in
that short period.
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View of Dawson City from the "Dome", showing the confluence of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers on the upper left and the famous Top-of-the-World Road on the upper right.
|
I had reservations at Sooley's Bed and Breakfast, a café with a small separate building in the
rear with four rooms and a common bath. After a quick shower, I tried to clean
up some of my things before turning in. My face shield was badly scratched. The
zipper on my tank bag had stopped working from the dust, which was in
everything, including most of my clothes that were covered with dust. It was
too late to wash everything because it wouldn't have had time to dry. I was
exhausted from a long day. It was after 10 PM when I finally got squared away
enough to get into bed.
Day 13 - It was 46° and
partly cloudy when I got up at 5:30. When I learned that breakfast wouldn't be
served until 7:00, I went for a walk along the river. I also couldn't buy gas
until 8:00, so I killed more time at breakfast talking with Sooley, the owner.
I asked if he knew about any motorcyclists traveling on the Canol Heritage
Trail. He said he heard that three had come through the previous year, two
Europeans and a Canadian, all on competition dirt bikes with knobby tires. He
said it was during a dry spell when the rivers were very shallow. I thought it
sounded like a great candidate for a future adventure, but that kind of trip
would need a lot of planning and a special motorcycle. After breakfast I found
the gas station attendant having coffee at a small café.
I got on the road at 8:20, which was the latest start of my tour. I
spotted a lynx on the Campbell Highway, and I visited Dome Mountain before
checking into the bed and breakfast in Dawson City. The "Dome" offers
great panoramic views of the confluence of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers, the
Ogilvie Mountains, Bonanza Creek, and the start of the Top-of-the-World Road.
I stayed at the same bed and breakfast where our group stayed the
previous year, a beautiful and spotless home, run by a friendly guy named Jon
and his pretty Filipino wife. I ate Chinese at a downtown restaurant that
evening. I didn't sleep too well, possibly because my anxiety was high. I
dreamed about my dirt bike that night. I kept trying to start it but it
wouldn't start. Next it was my camera that wouldn't work. As I kept trying to
take a picture, it exploded in my face, starting little fires all around. I
wondered what the strange dreams meant. It was probably the Chinese food.
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Road to Clinton Creek
|
Day 14 - Jon's breakfast was
great as usual with strawberry-rhubarb tarts, sausage croissants, muffins and
assorted Danish pastries. I talked with him while eating, and I learned a
little about Clinton Creek where he was once a supervisor at the now-abandoned
asbestos mine. I decided to visit Clinton Creek that day, which was about 30
miles off the Top-of-the-World Road.
I got to the Yukon River ferry at 7:00. There was a line of more than 30
large RVs waiting to cross, most of them in a huge convoy from Oregon. Only two
large units can fit on the small ferry at one time, so it could be several
hours before everyone got across. I went to the head of the line to see if I
could squeeze in where a car or RV couldn't. I was immediately waved aboard,
just as they were about to raise the boarding ramp and leave. The
Top-of-the-World Road was beautiful that morning. The sky was clear and the
early morning sun glistened on the mist that settled in the valleys.
I located the road to Clinton Creek easily. There were many tent campers
along the first 20 miles, but I saw no one after the steep descent to the
Forty-Mile River. The road is not maintained beyond there because drivers are
probably wary about crossing the bridge. The planking is deteriorated, although
the main structure appears to be sturdy. After crossing, I learned that the
road that I thought would lead into the town had a bridge totally out. The
water was far too deep to cross, so I didn't get into the town. I followed a
different road to the asbestos mine and explored the mining area. There was a
lot of abandoned equipment lying around, and a small airstrip that was used
extensively during the 1991 forest fires. I followed another road that led me to
the confluence of the Yukon and Forty-Mile Rivers where I finally turned
around. I saw no one.
 |
| Searching for the asbestos mine |
 |
Abandoned bridge on the way to Clinton Creek
|
 |
Road to Eagle, AK
|
When I got back to the Top-of-the-World Road, it was crowded with RVs. I
passed several before reaching the US customs station. The customs agent said
he had already checked 69 RVs through that morning. I turned north from the
Taylor Highway in Alaska for a side trip to Eagle. It was inevitable that I
would have to face the RVs eventually. The road to Eagle was in pretty good
shape considering it clings to the sides of the hills and canyons in some places,
and is prone to slides. There was a lot of loose gravel, but I enjoyed the
ride. It's a typical small Alaskan town, very rustic and unorganized with lots of
junk lying around. The riverfront area looked neater than the rest. I gassed up
there before heading for Tok. On the way out, I met a huge tour bus coming the
other way, very fast. Luckily I had advance warning from a leading car with
flags and banners and a big sign saying a bus was following.
The tail end of the huge convoy was going by when I got back to the
Taylor Highway. I passed no less than 30 RVs on the extremely dusty, narrow,
badly-worn gravel road. Several of the drivers showed resentment by blowing
their horns. It was just about the worst hundred miles of dirt I ever rode. One
of my rain deflectors snapped off the windshield from the constant vibration.
The zipper on my tank bag stopped working from dust the day before and
everything inside was a mess, not to mention how much got into my lungs and the
bike's air filter. I cussed the RVs, I cussed the road, and I cussed the State
of Alaska for the terrible condition of the road. I went by three Gold Wings
from Ontario while moving quite fast. They must have thought I wasn't wired
right. I got to Tok about 4:30 and checked into the same Quonset-hut lodge
where our group refused to stay the previous year due to its run-down condition.
It hadn't improved at all - maybe got worse.
After checking in, I had to admit, at least to myself, that it was in
pretty bad shape. My room was on the sunny side, which made it very hot. I
opened the window but the screen was ripped out. So I couldn't leave it open
because it would let in too many mosquitoes. The community toilet smelled
strong of mildew and urine. I didn't hear anyone else in the building, and my
room was about halfway down a long, almost-pitch dark hallway. My only consolation
aside from the price was that although the sheets were tissue thin from wear,
they looked and smelled clean. There was no dead-bolt or safety chain on the
door, so I piled my heaviest bags against it before I took a Sominex and got
into bed - an old steel Army cot.
I was asleep for about 3 hours when jiggling in my door lock woke me. I
yelled, "Who's there?" The jiggling continued, so I yelled louder,
"Who's there? What do you want?" The jiggling seemed to quicken and
suddenly the door began to open in spite of my heavy bags behind it. I wasn't
sure if I was having a nightmare or if it was actually happening. I presumed whoever
it was had a weapon, and I got pretty shook up. I thought my best defense at
that point was noise, as much as I could make, so I yelled at the top of my
lungs, "Hey, what are you doing breaking into my room?" The guy
mumbled in a heavy foreign accent something like, "I'm looking for my rope."
Thoughts of what he planned to do with the rope raced through my mind, and I
yelled even louder, "Get out of my room!" He finally left, and I got
up and re-locked the door. This time I moved my entire bed against it. My heart
was beating so hard it took me a long time to get back to sleep.
Day 15 - I got up at 4:15 and
got ready to leave. I ate a little in the room before carrying my gear out. I
was relieved to find that the bike was still there. As I was pulling out, I
noticed a state police barracks diagonally across the highway, so I stopped to
report the incident. There was only an office worker on duty, but I filled out
a form and signed it. The girl asked if I was returning that way; and if so,
would I please stop by on my return trip. She said a trooper would investigate the
incident, and he may have questions. I told her I would be back in three days.
I left Tok a little after 5 AM. I saw a large female moose on the Glenn
Highway about an hour later. It got very overcast and began to rain, so I
suited up. It rained harder when I was about 50 miles from Valdez, and it
poured the rest of the way. The side trip to Valdez was spectacular in spite of
the rain and fog. It took me over Thompson Pass and through Keystone Canyon,
and I saw several big glaciers near the road at the highest pass. I stopped
there, and also at Bridal Veil Falls and Horsetail Falls for photos.
While getting gas in Valdez, I asked the attendant if it has been raining
long. He said it had been raining steady, and sometimes heavy, for four days.
By the time I got back to the Glenn Highway it was clear again. It was probably
raining only along the coast.
 |
Bridal Veil Falls on the road to Valdez in the rain
|
I had always enjoyed the ride from Glennallen to Palmer, although it
rained most of the way this time. I got to Palmer early and proceeded to wash
some clothes, including my jeans and jacket, and I hung them around the room to
dry. I was able to make temporary repairs to the tank bag zipper, and I cleaned
the inside of the bag. I stayed at the same motel that our group used the previous
year, and I walked to the same hotel where I ordered the same really good
dinner. On the way back, I got caught in the rain the same way we did last year.
It was all like déjà vu.
Day 16 - I rode into Anchorage after a hearty
breakfast at the hotel, and I stopped to buy a few T-shirts at the bike shop. I
called Rey, who said he expected me on the 16th, which is what I had told Asia
two weeks earlier in Hanover. I must have glanced at my route sheet at the time
and saw a 16, which was actually the 16th day of my trip and not the 16th of
July. It was only the 12th when I arrived, which was four days earlier than
they expected me. I was lucky they hadn't gone somewhere for the day. We had a
nice visit. Rey cooked chicken soup and barbecue ribs for lunch, after which
Asia and Robyn gave my bike a much-needed wash.
 |
| L to R: Asia, Robin, Rey, Rebecca and Grandma |
 |
Giving the bike a well-deserved cleaning
|
We enjoyed a long walk in Kincaid Park where we saw a couple of bald eagles
perched in a tree. Becky and the kids ran ahead and exercised the dog while Rey
and I followed at a more leisurely pace and talked. Rey's dinner consisted of a
Chinese-style dish, giant shrimp and smoked haddock. His mom was there all day.
I left around 7:30 that evening and had a little trouble with a wet spark plug
on my return to Palmer. I had to take the cap off the plug and clear mud out of
the drain hole to let the water out.
Day 17 - I stopped at the
state police barracks in Tok to check with the troopers about the problem I had
at the motel a few days earlier. A different girl took a few minutes to find
the complaint and said, "Oh yes, here it is. That case was resolved. The
woman who rented the room to you apparently misplaced the registration. At
midnight her husband, not realizing the room was rented, rented it again. They
think what the guy was probably trying to say was that he was looking for his room,
not his rope.”
I reached White River Lodge on the Alaska Highway about 4:30, intending
to rent a cabin, which turned out to be very run down. One of the cabins had an
old pullout couch for a bed and a long outside walk to a bathroom in the lodge.
The other cabin was next to a noisy diesel-powered generator that provided
power for the entire site. Both cabins were filthy with bare wood floors. There
was no furniture except for the bed, and no locks on the doors. The doors
opened out, so they couldn't even be blocked. I decided to rent a room inside
the lodge instead, which cost about twice as much, but it was much cleaner and
the bed was more comfortable.
Day 18 - It was 45° and cloudy at 4:15. The
restaurant was open 24 hours, so I had a full breakfast before leaving at 5:30.
I saw the third lynx of my trip in Kluane National Park. It was only 43° and
raining at Bear Creek Summit. I gassed up at Haines Junction before turning
south for Haines. The Haines Road was very scenic but it was so cold, rainy and
foggy that I didn't get much pleasure from it. It was only 41° at Chilkat Pass,
BC. It was completely treeless at the pass with snow patches alongside the road
for about 20 miles. I met a guy at the ferry dock from San Jose riding a Gold
Wing. He complained a lot about the poor condition of the Alaska Highway,
especially between Lake Kluane and the Alaska border, which is the Beaver Creek
area. He swore he would never ride it again. He came via ferry from Seattle to
Haines and was returning the same way, stopping for a day or two at each
port-of-call along the ferry route. He certainly wouldn't have liked some of
the roads I traveled during the previous week.
I enjoyed the brief ferry ride to Skagway, but I didn't care for having
to "stage" for two hours before sailing. The scenery along the
Skagway channel is very nice, although I'm sure it would have been a lot nicer
on a clear, sunny day. The wind was so strong it was difficult to stand or walk
on the deck. During the one-hour sea-going ferry ride, I saw a cruise ship
coming from Skagway and another tied up at the dock. A girl from the National
Park Service spoke to the passengers in the forward lounge about the history of
Skagway with entertaining anecdotes. I had a barbecue rib dinner in Skagway,
and I walked around town in spite of a steady drizzle. My motel was first
class, as were the prices in Skagway.
 |
| Klondike Highway after leaving Skagway |
Day 19 - I left Skagway at
5:30, without breakfast. It was 48°. The scenery along the Klondike Highway was
beautiful, especially through the canyon and over White Pass into Canada's
Yukon Territory. About five miles north of Tagish, YT, I saw a female moose
with twins, only a few months old. The weather was clear on the Alaska Highway
with temperatures in the 50's. I got a pretty good break through the
construction area with only a 15-minute wait for the pilot car. I used the time
to inspect the bike. Later I saw a 22-wheel truck overturned near one of the
rest areas. I figured someone must have pulled out in front of the guy. He was
standing there with fresh lacerations on his face, waiting for someone to come
and get his rig back on its wheels.
There was a brief shower at the Cassiar Junction while I gassed up. There
were only 18 miles of dirt left on the Cassiar between the Alaska Highway and
Dease Lake where I stayed. I washed out a few things and replaced a paper-thin
front brake pad with a used one I was carrying. I replenished my food supply at
the local grocery store, including enough for breakfast. When I asked at the
gas station about the condition of the road to Telegraph Creek he laughed and
said, "That's a road?" He said it was narrow, rough and dangerous
with sheer drops of several hundred feet, and he would never go up it. It was
what I had expected.
Day 20 - I was up at 4 AM,
the earliest of any day of the trip. Breakfast in my room consisted of baked
beans, sardines, and a cup of hot tea. It was barely first light when I got on
the road to Telegraph Creek. The first fifty miles was twisty and narrow, and it
looked a lot like hard-packed topsoil. It had rained during the night, which
made the dark brown surface slippery in spots. It would certainly be a lot
worse in heavy rain. I heard that it gets very muddy and slippery with deep, soft
ruts. I rode through a brief shower about 25 miles out of Dease Lake, and the surface
became very slick, and water quickly accumulated in the tire tracks. I saw a
large bull moose about 30 miles out of Dease Lake.
About halfway to Telegraph Creek, I could see the snowy peak of Mount
Edziza in the southwest. The road began a sharp descent with 20 percent grades
and switchback curves for about ten miles into a small canyon and through some
strange lava beds. It then climbed sharply to a narrow ridge of the same type
terrain with 400-foot drops to the Tahltan River on one side of the ridge, and a
similar drop to the Stikine River on the other side. The road then descended
steeply through another series of switchbacks to a bridge across the Tahltan
River into a small Tahltan First Nation village. I saw a few old smokehouses
and a sign that advertised fresh-smoked salmon. Another steep grade then climbed
alongside the edge of the Stikine River canyon with no side rails, which
offered beautiful views of the river valley far below.
I passed through another Tahltan village near the top of a 3-mile climb.
A sign identified it as the former home of the Tahltan bear dog, "a small
animal, almost extinct, that would bark persistently, holding the bear at bay
until the hunter arrived." Telegraph Creek, ten miles farther, was another
Tahltan Indian community. Services like gas, food and lodging were available. I
also saw a small general store and a public school. The town was an important
center during gold-rush days. Since then it has been a communications terminal,
the head of navigation on the Stikine River, and a commercial salmon-fishing
area. Guide services are available for hunting, fishing and river trips. A
12-mile road continues west to Glenora, the site of an attempted, but
abandoned, railroad route from southern British Columbia to the Yukon
Territory.
After a few photos in Telegraph Creek, I headed back to Dease Lake. Only
110 miles of dirt remains on the Cassiar Highway south of Dease Lake. Most of
it was treated with calcium chloride to keep the dust down. From the original
480 miles of spectacular dirt that I rode in 1977, a total of 130 remains, half
of which may be paved by year-end. Many RVs and campers now use the Cassiar as
an alternate route to Alaska, including many from our west coast. I saw a black
bear and a brown bear a few miles apart, and several eagles. I ran through a
few rain showers before reaching Stewart Junction. The gas station was closed
due to a recent fire, in which someone died. I reached Stewart on the fumes, 254
miles from my previous fill-up. My next side-trip from the Cassiar Highway to
Stewart, BC went through a picturesque canyon and past glaciers, rushing
streams and snow-covered peaks. I got to Stewart about 3:30 and decided to go
into Hyder, AK for some exploring before checking into the motel. Hyder is a
small town with a single short main street and no customs check between the two
communities. The only access is by that single road from Stewart. The road led
me quickly through town and out the north end, and continued uphill along a
glacier-fed river. I followed it for about ten miles and was about to turn
around when I saw a sign: "All vehicles beyond this point must have
chains.” That made it look much more interesting to me, so I kept going and
climbed gradually for three or four more miles to where I was again about to
turn around when I noticed another sign saying that Salmon Glacier was straight
ahead, so I continued.
 |
| Stikine River Canyon |
 |
| A home, or possibly a church, in Telegraph Creek. |
The road soon began an even steeper climb into the mountains to a vantage
point where I could see a spectacular S-shaped river of ice winding down
through the canyon below me. As I continued to climb, I realized that the road was
far above the glacier. At one point I stood looking down at the confluence of
two glaciers, one coming from the north and the other from the northwest. It
was a mind-boggling panorama. There were huge piles of snow along one side of
the road, and a 300-foot drop to the glacier on the other side. The dirt road that
I had been following was carved out of the side of the mountain. I learned
later that it continues to the Premier Mine, a few miles beyond where I finally
turned around.
During the summer, the water from melting snow builds up high in the
canyon behind the toe of the glacier. Once a year the broken-up toe of the
glacier rises very high, and the huge ice dam eventually breaks. The water,
along with tons of ice, logs and other debris comes cascading down through the
canyon, flooding the entire valley below. It must be an awesome and terrifying
sight. Local people told me that when it breaks, it sounds like thunder, and it
actually makes the earth tremble. I spent more than an hour exploring above the
glacier before heading back to secure my room, for which I had a 6:00 courtesy
hold. At $74.50 (Canadian) it was the highest price I paid for a room on the
trip. I removed, cleaned and lubricated the speedometer cable that night
because it had been groaning for about a week. I also did other minor bike
service. The 1200cc Gold Wing proved to be a great dual sport bike. I rode
thousands of miles of gravel with it on this trip, some of which was quite
rough. I enjoyed every mile, and rarely worried about the bike. I used a
special custom seat that was made by Mike Corbin not long after he opened his
business. I used that seat on four different Gold Wings for almost a
half-million miles.
 |
| Salmon Glacier |
 |
| I eventually returned to Stewart. |
Day 21 - It was clear and 48° at 5:15 AM. It
was to be my first full day on improved roads in almost two weeks. Upon
reaching normal civilization, I stopped at a do-it-yourself car wash to clean
away the calcium chloride that had accumulated from the Cassiar Highway. I saw
two large deer near Burns Lake and two black bears between Prince George and Tête Jaune
Cache (pronounced "Tee John Cash"). The temperature rose to 80°. I
felt warm for the first time in two weeks. I had beautiful scenery all day. My
motel at Tête Jaune Cache was on the banks of the Fraser
River with the Canadian Rockies as a backdrop. I took one of the most beautiful
photos of the trip from right outside my room. While checking on my course for
the next day, I realized I had made several errors with miles vs. kilometers,
so I revised it slightly, including a few extra side trips to fill-in the days.
Day 22 - It was an
outstanding day of scenery in spite of the cloudy skies and brief showers. It
began crystal clear and 48°, although after turning south onto the Icefields
Parkway it clouded over and began to drizzle. I saw several mountain sheep in
Jasper Park. It was cold and rainy around the Columbia Icefields, which is one
of the highest points on the parkway. It cleared up some in the southern areas
of Banff Park near Lake Louise. I came upon Lake Moraine while exploring on a
side trip. It is one of the most beautiful spots I had ever been, although I
couldn't even find a reference to it in the Alberta brochures.
I took off my rain suit at Lake Moraine, but as soon as I got to Trans-Canada
One, the temperature dropped 20°, and by the time I got to the Kananaskis Trail
it was raining and 50°. The first 68 miles of the Kananaskis was paved with
excellent scenery. It started to rain very hard as I turned off onto a forestry
trunk road that was gravel. It rained for the next 67 miles into Coleman, AB.
The road got very slippery in a few places. The only areas where it
wasn't slick on the surface, it was rough with a lot of loose gravel. I saw a
beautiful young elk along the Kananaskis Trail. I spotted several competition
dirt bikes parked in a field alongside the road on one of the muddiest sections
with about a dozen pickup campers and some makeshift rain shelters with guys sitting
underneath, drinking beer. I saw a sign saying, "Over the Bars X-Country Club."
They might have been on a weekend dirt-bike outing when the heavy rain and cold
temperatures turned them off to riding. I wondered what they thought when they
saw a big Wing splashing by, through all of the mess. I beeped my horn a few
times, turned up the wick a little and waved.
 |
| Tête Jaune Cache in the Canadian Rockies |
 |
| Along the Icefields Parkway in Jasper Park |
 |
Along the Kananaskis Trail
|
My reservations were in Blairmore, AB, which was once a coal-mining town.
It was cold and raining when I got there. My room was near the center of town in
an old hotel. I was concerned about the parking. I thought about looking for
something else, but I had guaranteed reservations. It turned out to be a really
nice place with good food and friendly people. I asked what time they served
breakfast, and the answer was, "Our normal time is 7:00, but what time
would you like to have breakfast? We will have someone in the kitchen to
prepare it for you."
Day 23 - It rained most of
the night, and was still overcast in the morning. An older gent was up and
waiting for me when I got to the restaurant about 5:45. He prepared a hearty
breakfast of sausage and eggs, and we talked for a while. I finally got up and
left for Spokane. I saw a young elk as I approached Kootenai Pass. I entered
Washington at a small customs station at Nelway, and rode through a dense
forest of huge evergreens. Later I took a wrong turn and found myself on a
remote forestry road in the mountains. The gravel went for 30 miles and came
out in Chewela. I saw two young deer feeding in a guy's home garden there. Ralph
Spencer was waiting at the Motel 6 in Spokane when I arrived at 2:30. He had
driven his Mazda Miata from Sun City, AZ.
 |
| A forestry road in Washington State |
After my shower, we went together
to find Roy Bodnar, another friend, and we visited with him for a while. Ralph
and I had dinner at the Holiday Inn, after which I serviced the bike. The cap
on the radiator expansion tank had come loose, and the tank was empty, which
could explain why the fan had been coming on more than usual that day. I filled
it, added the last of my spare engine oil and added water to the battery. I
noticed that mud on the Kananaskis had taken its toll on my left-front fork seal.
Oil was trickling down the fork leg. I also saw a trace of oil on the
right-rear shock. I had two trips to Alaska on the bike by that time, and a lot
in between.
Day 24 - A strong
thunderstorm passed through during the night with a lot of thunder and
lightning, which went on for almost an hour. In spite of having only 450 miles
on my route sheet for the day, I felt anxious about it. I had a feeling I
needed extra time, so I was up and on the road by 5:45. I didn't stay for
breakfast. Ralph and I talked as I packed. It was 60° when I left, but it got
considerably cooler an hour later in Idaho.
 |
| St. Joe River Road, Idaho |
It was a nice ride along Coeur D'Alene Lake. I saw two deer and a young
elk. I had a close call with one when he crossed my path. I rode along the St.
Joe River Rd, a dirt road, with 16 miles of fresh construction. I made a wrong
turn onto a logging road, thinking it would lead over St. Joe Pass into
Montana. I climbed the steep grade for 10 miles through switchback curves to
reach the top of the mountain where the road simply ended. I retraced my route back
down the mountain, which cost me about 45 minutes total, but I eventually found
the right forestry road into Montana. It was almost lunchtime when I stopped for
a late breakfast in St. Regis. I was stopped later by 40 miles of construction
east of there, which cost me another 45 minutes. In Missoula, I learned that I
had made yet another 60-mile error on my route sheet. The three problems and
the time change from Pacific to Mountain Time brought me into Lewistown around
7:45 PM, which was four hours later than I planned. I had been on the road for
13 hours. I remembered having somehow predicted it when I got up that morning. When
I arrived at the motel in Lewistown, it was 56° and raining. The temperature while
crossing the Continental Divide at Rogers Pass was in the 40s. I noticed during
my nightly check of the bike that the rear tire was wearing quite thin. I had doubts
that it would make the last 2700 miles to home.
Day 25 - I had breakfast in a
small café and left in my rain suit. As soon as I
got through the Judith Mountains it began to clear up. By 10:00 it was sunny. I
had a strong headwind most of the day. The speedometer cable that caused
problems earlier, finally snapped around midmorning. Consequently, I had to
plan my fuel differently and use the tachometer to figure my speed. I spent the
entire day on Route 200 through the gently rolling grasslands of Montana and
North Dakota with very little traffic. I saw cattle and a few sheep grazing,
and I saw a lot of barley and wheat. I saw a car about every 20 to 30 minutes.
I reached my motel in Washburn, ND about two hours earlier than planned due to
another route sheet error. I used the time to wash out a few things, and to sightsee
around the town.
Day 26 - The terrain in eastern North Dakota
and western Minnesota is generally flat with mostly barley, alfalfa and sugar
beets, as well as corn and beans. I continued on Route 200 most of the day, some
of which was called the Lewis and Clark Route. I rode through a few showers in
northern Minnesota, and I crossed the Mississippi where I could almost jump
across. Around midday I realized that the front fork was losing quite a bit of
oil, which was getting onto my right trouser leg. I even got some on my
glasses. I stopped to let air out of the front suspension in an effort to
relieve the pressure, and I wrapped a rag around it to contain the spread of
the oil. I was preoccupied with the fork when I forgot about my saddlebag cover
sitting there loose. As I started to pull away it flew off and went skittering down
the road, which scratched it up. With the speedometer cable broken, my front
suspension losing oil, my rear tire getting close to the cords and my saddlebag
cover getting scraped up, I began to wonder if the good fortune that had been
with me for so long had finally run its course, although things do wear out,
and I often procrastinate on the maintenance.
I saw a lot of marshlands in eastern Minnesota near where I crossed the
St. Croix River into Wisconsin. It started to rain lightly and continued to
come down for the rest of the day. Wisconsin seemed a lot greener than most
places I had been for the past several days, and the forests were thicker. I
found riding without the speedometer to be tricky. Four separate police cars
put their radar on me while I was using the tachometer to judge my speed. For
my gas stops I kept track of the mileposts, especially after going on reserve.
I got a nice room in Hayward, Wisconsin that was almost the last room in town.
I learned that they were having logrolling competition that weekend. I noticed
a bald spot on the rear tire and figured it would last another full day at
best. I called the Honda Riders Club and got the name of a shop on my route
that might have the tire.
Day 27 - The motel was supposed to have a
continental breakfast at 6:00, but I waited until 6:10 and saw no one around,
so I left to find breakfast on the road. The temperature was in the thirties,
and there was quite a bit of frost around. Good weather was with me all day. I
bought a tire in Escanaba, Michigan that was the only Dunlop K491 they had in
my size. It was a "blem", which I assumed meant it had a cosmetic
defect. I tied it onto the back seat for later.
I saw four deer that morning, all young. One was a tiny fawn. I followed
the scenic Circle Route along the north and east shores of Lake Michigan. The
beaches on the north shore are almost always empty. Towns on the east shore are
mostly picturesque vacation areas. One town had flowers planted along both
sides of the streets all the way through town. There was a lot more traffic
than I had seen in several weeks. I stayed at a Days Inn on the shores of Lake
Cadillac and mounted the new tire close to an air machine at a nearby gas
station. It took me an hour and a half, as I took my time. I also swapped a
rear brake pad with a used one that I was carrying, which I found in the bottom
of the saddlebag. The muddy roads certainly take their toll on brake pads.
Day 28 - I had breakfast at a small café nearby and was on the road by 6:30. It
started to rain a half hour later and drizzled for about two hours. I saw
mainly small towns and rural farm country in southern Michigan and Ohio. I got
to Westerville, OH and the AMA Headquarters at 2:00 and attended the Life
Members Dinner that evening. I had timed my trip so I could attend.
Day 29 - I rode home from Westerville via
interstate highways. My total mileage for the trip was just over 14,000. I
estimated about 2,100 miles of it was on unpaved roads. My longest day was 610
miles. My daily average was 480 for the days that I rode. It was my favorite,
and one of my most satisfying, adventure tours. I saw a great deal that few
have ever seen, and I did it alone. I enjoyed myself a great deal.
The next chapter is: 11 Maya Ruins in the Yucatan
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