Day 24 - Home

Home. June 16, 2010, 9:30 PM. Over 14 hours in the saddle today but, only about 722 miles. The East is crowded and there are lots of needlessly slow roads. Oppression on the highways is everywhere. It is a unique phenomenon.

Absent Bruce's wheel bearing difficulties, which could be expected with over 100,000 miles on his bike before we began, there have been no mishaps. But, also as expected, a grueling ride to a place I wanted to go just to say I had. Last year I threatened to go alone if need be. Bruce stepped up and offered to join me. Looking back at my concerns and mindset before leaving, I doubt I would have gone without him. Many thinks for his willingness to join a foolhardy expedition.

My odometer shows I traveled 12,991 miles. Less than expected. It cost less and did not take as long, even with the added side trips to Yellowstone and Devil's Tower. The weather conditions where unexpected. The temperature variation was the surprise. We went from a day at 92F to several days at 36-38F. Rain is always expected but the snow and hail caught us by surprise. Also a surprise was the sheer size of things. The plains are huge. The mountains are huge. The distances are long.

We covered over 750 miles of dirt. Most of it pretty good dirt when compared to other wilderness adventures we have enjoyed. But, the Goldwing is not built for dirt and it's work to sling a 900 pound (plus) two wheeler around switchbacks and s-curves with guard rails, when they existed, just high enough to act as kickers to catapult the hapless rider into big space and a hard landing often between 3000 to 9000 feet below. Who knew such places existed?

Of note, we "rode" The Dempster Highway, we "did" The Top of the World Highway, we "drove" the The Alaska Highway and the Klondike Highway. We visited Jasper, Banff and Yellowstone Parks plus a hundred smaller national and state/provincial parks/forests. We met, without exception - well there was the proprietress at Chicken, Alaska - good and interesting people including the owner of Turple Honda, Glenn Turple, in Red Dear near Calgary, who showed us all the racing awards won by his departed brother and business partner, Rex, plus his pictures of the dealership he and his brother started in 1946 in the family barn. His shop is huge, he carries almost everything, and he has many pictures and memories that he loves to share. At 82, he rides to work every day on either a trike, which he was riding the snowy day we were there but, the snow does not stop him from taking the two wheeler we were told, a Goldwing. Young and old women even flirted with us sometimes; out of habit if not out of interest but, I'm grateful for anything I can get these days. Often, we'd just sit down at a gas stop and talk to whomever was there. Learn things and teach things. We crossed the north/south continental divide at least twice but, perhaps, more. It's, not marked that much. We crossed the east/west continental divide at least 8 times but that's only marked in Yellowstone or, sometimes, by 'The Divide Diner".

Although we saw the occasional "rice burner" sport bike, on the black top, the selection was limited almost exclusively to Harley's, either Electra or Road Glides (mostly rentals, I think from Alberta), Goldwings, and the sporadic, over prepared and heavily laden BMW off road. We saw many retirees bicycling singly, in couples and in moderate to large groups. Often they we blue in the face but determined to go where Bruce and I went only with trepidation on our motorized vehicles. I was humbled and felt a certain shame for having taken the easy way out. A bicycle doesn't fit a knee bend that works for me; the "stride" is too short. Walking would be easier for me and we saw a few of those ... but, not many. One sinewy old fellow was pushing a two seater stroller, one of those with the zippered front entry with clear plastic so the kids can see out, packed with gear. He was in the Yukon headed to Alaska. We saw him twice both coming and going.

There was not the wildlife I expected but, we saw black and grizzly bears - highlighted by the black that took a fancy to Bruce - elk, antelope, bison, huge ravens, vultures, big horn sheep, mountain goats, moose, marmots, some raccoon sized creature with a "golden", foot wide ring around its torso that I haven't identified, wolves, deer, golden and bald eagles, black squirrels and other forest and plains rodents, a black bird with a white ring around each wing and white in its tail when it flew - very pretty, huge flocks of doves, small ones of pigeons, cows - lots and lots of cows - and horses, lots of horses, mostly, quarter but some thoroughbred, and a few light work horses. And, pigs, a few pigs. Of course, the occasional dog and cat.

And, yes, we saw a movie being filmed starring Steve Martin, Jack Black and some pretty thing. It's a comedy, with bird watching in the wilds of Alaska as a vehicle, being filmed in the Yukon on The Dempster because the sun never sets, there is nobody there and Dawson City is only 40 miles away.

There were bugs on the windshield, black flies and butterflies, but I was bitten only twice. I'd credit Bruce's timing for that but I'd also credit his timing for the snow, hail, and my frozen fingers. Sometime they would remain white for hours after we had secured our room and the thumb, index, middle and ring fingers of my right hand are still numb at the tips. Regardless, on the whole, the weather was clear, dry and sunny and that is certainly the case for every critical destination point we set and visited. That is consistent with Bruce's input, as well.

Three of the most challenging roads I've encountered on a heavy bike were met on this trip: The Dempster, at least to the circle (a real workout) - extra points for reaching Inuvik in the first days of the spring open - even the BMW off roads couldn't make that; The Top of the World Highway (scary but ho! god ...), Route 97 along the Alaska Highway from Tetsa Lake to Fireside (gorgeous and challenging; full of wildlife) and Route 14 through the Big Horn Mountains (Expert level and terrifying). The fourth, and most difficult, would be the haul road in The Labrador. All four road should be on every adventure bikers list and should be accomplished at maximum drive and machine capability. I tried to do that. Of all the beautiful, breathtaking rides, the trip through Jasper and Banff was, perhaps, the most impressive. And, a stop at Radium Hot Springs should be on the list - we didn't stop.

A beautiful, really fun run on a well domesticated road is from Anchorage to Homer in Alaska. It's the weekend jaunt for the Anchorage riders. Off-season, it's very affordable; in-season, it's The Cape.

I often road with the helmet shield open to smell the air. Some places, like the poplar and birch forests, were so sweet. Other places were just crisp fresh air. The fresh air of the true wilderness is an intoxicant. East of Chicago, even on a good day, the air is tainted. I notice and miss that much more that I expected.

Room rates ranged from $151 to $53 for essentially the same quality of 2 bed accommodations. We stayed at Super 8 motels often. After 10-14 hours a day, they were easy to see and we knew what to expect. That goes a long way in the decision making process.

And, finally, for Goldwing riders in Alaska with mechanical trouble, Jerry Russel, in Soldatna, is the only man to see. He has more parts than the dealer and years more experience. He's 79 years old and his very good.

The End.

Day 23

We cruise. 760 miles. Mostly through spring fields of corn and wheat, huge cattle ranches, and the occasional town. I-90 misses most of the towns but I remember the names fro,m years ago. My mom and the kids must have travelled much of the same route I follow now only then it was on Route 14, portions of which still exist and portions are merged with I-90 and marked - I-90/US 14. It brings back such fond memories. It is a reward I did not expect.

Today we saw three dead deer, the Sears Building, The John Hancock Tower (impressive), two Cyrstler factories - with people actually working at them!! - the Hormel Chili plant, and, my favorite, the Hormel Spam plant.

The disappointing things is that for the most part we are the only people on the roads. There are a few trucks but, here, in the rust belt, I'd have expected more. Nothing like Toronto. We were through Chicago and surrounds in 45 minutes. There were two slowdowns and no stops. That, with parts of the road under construction. "Drivers", as they now call themselves, are getting 2100 miles a week in jobs. Not enough to live on in that business. Go too, by the way, is the colorful CB lingo of the past. People call each other by there name and say what they want. A typical conversation might be, "Anybody going west? "Yes". "How,s it look back there?" "There's a patrol (sometimes they still say "bear" but a trucker ... oops, sorry, driver had to ask me where the word came from!!!) at 44 and 155."" Thank you driver." "I just got on so I can't help you. Have a save trip." "You, too." Times cxhange.

We should be home tomorrow. The end of The Last Great Adventure. A whimper, not a bang.

Day 22

We are now on the return leg. To spice things up this morning, despite cloudy skies, light rain, and the early hour, we detour to Devil's Tower. Movie fans will remember it as the location of the final scenes from “Strange Encounters of the Third Kind”. The Devil's Tower was America's first National Monument. It was created by Teddy Roosevelt. Was it a good precident to set? Who knows.

The Devil's Tower is the remains of an ancient volcano. The hole that ran up the middle and spewed lava and destruction around the area. Oddly, the molten lava in the core of the volcanic cone, hardened and was much harder than the cone itself. Over the millennia, the cone eroded away (don't tell Al Gore, he'll be taxing us to replace it) and all that remains, now, is the hardened core. It looks like a giant tree stump.

We are on I-90 and have, after much debate and consideration, decided to stay on it to Troy, NY when we will cut straight across Vermont and New Hampshire to Seabrook. From where we are, and despite warnings of construction and the ever odious tolls, it seems the shortest and cheapest route back. The only hurdle is Chicago and, depending on when we hit it, it won't be that bad.

Of course, things change and stuff happens.

Today we gobbled up 760 miles.

Most of the pains with which I started the trip are gone. My yoga continues to ease my back pain. My knee gets a little stiff but is obviously healing. And, finally, my left rotator cuff appears to have strengthened under the constant but gentle demands of piloting my steel horse.

In two days, all that will be left is the clean up. The bikes look irrecoverably beat up though they were washed once, already. But, amazingly, they will return to their former glory with just a little soap, water, and polish. It looks like the decay of ages but, in fact, it's just a little dirt. Same for the riders. In a few days, nobody will recognize the look of the adventurer.

So it goes ...

Day 21

It was the best of days. It was the worst of days.

Beautiful clear morning as we enter Yellowstone. Our old person park passes get us in free. First stop: the paint pot fields. I was there once with my mum. It's a strange steaming and bubbling place. Next stop Old Faithful. Still old but far from faithful. The last time I saw her there was a “clock” by the boardwalk with the time of the next geyser. Now, if you ask around, and you have to because there are no park rangers talking up the biggest draw of Yellowstone – go figure, you'll learn that Old Faithful erupts, in our case, sometime between 9:10 and 9:23. She's late. Old Faithful doesn't erupt until 9:36. If you're nearby, Yellowstone is an intersting geological diversion. After all, it's a freeking huge volcano that you ride around inside. If you have a week to hike and visit the harder to get to places, it could be really fun. But, as a vacation destination from some distance away, I'd invest the time and money elsewhere.

Out of Yellowstone and into Buffalo Bill Cody National Park. It's like the badlands in all the old TV westerns. A pretty drive. Some animals. Few photos. We have them all. I did get a dot photo of an eagle. I guess there's just so much I can expect from my camera.

Then into Wyoming farm land. It's very pastoral. Lots oif big ranches with beef cattle roaming around. We pass an airplane dump. Later, we pass a tow trailer dump. Why strange dumps in Wyoming? Who knows. Who cares, the sun is shining and the temperature is just right.

We stop for gas in Cody and learn that there is a deluge ahead that may be dropping 2 feet of snow on the Big Horn mountains and we have to go through them. A kind local gives us directions to a shortcut but it won't save any pain. I stick with Rhonda, who chooses the northern route. The sky is graying but the road is promising. It begins, almost immediately, by descending into a very tight canyon with some nice s-curves and a couple of switchbacks. The rock walls are old and crumbling. They look like lizard skin. In time we begin our assent. This is a tough road. Very tight turns, rough surface, and countless switchbacks. It makes the famous Deal's Gap look like a training school for beginner riders. It's 80 miles of demand. The rain begins and the temperature drops 25 degrees to 36F. Fresh snow is visible but the rain holds. I'm not on my game, today. The rule is, if god says don't ride, don't. But, we have places to go so I try to take it easy and be very attentive. I'm relieved when I reach the top and find 8 miles of straightaway. I can catch up on lost time and I know that a decent into warmer, if not dryer weather must be ahead. Sure enough, the twisties and the switchbacks begin but almost immediately the darkness of night descends like a wet stage curtain and suddenly I rush into fog so thick I can't see beyond my windshield. Oncoming cars loom out of the charcoal air visible only when they are within 15 feet and then only as a pair of headlights. I cut my speed to 5 mph and watch the white line – thank god it's there – to the right of my windshield. I pray that the traffic I meet can see their line. Occasionally, I catch a sign that says, “Open range. Watch for cattle.” This provides little comfort. How long I'm trapped in this twilight zone I don't know but rounding a tight left hand turn, I'm popped out of the fog and greeted with a sunlit vista of an emerald green valley that extends for what seems like a hundred miles. I must be thousands of feet in the air. It's breath taking but a long way down. I know the end must be near and the darkness is behind and above me. I move on taking each turn carefully until finally I'm on level ground, with clear sky. I boot it. It's a joy to be free of the grip of the Big Horns and the farther back they are the better I feel. When I reach I-90, I pull over to wait for Bruce. He's about 10 minutes back. When he pulls up, he asks, “How'd you like that fog?” What a kidder.

We motor on, the most demanding part behind us but, the rain returns and intensifies. The last 38 miles to Gillette, were we decide to gas up and hold up, is in a torrential down pour. For me a cold one. My hands turn white getting a beer from the fridge. The cold rains, without heated grips, have been painful from the start. I have good ones in the garage. I just didn't install them. Regradless, the bike smells the barn and we bolt for first, fresh gas, and second, a familiar motel.

Tomorrow, Devil's Tower if the weather permits. It is not supposed to. But, sometimes god loves me.

Day 20

There are no pictures today. The ride was great but not of photographic interest.

We saw only one example of wild life and that was a black moose. I'd never seen a coal black moose before but I still did not take a picture of the young cow. The temperatures were dropping, we'd been riding for 7 hours and rain threatened – but never came. I just figured of the hundreds of moose pictures I have , one more would just get lost in the pile.

I forgot to mention, yesterday, that coming out of Banff on the ranger road, which happens to be Route 93, the main thoroughfare, is a town called Radium Hot Springs. The ranger road is closed when snow makes it impassable and is below Route 1, which is used by most tourists and sightseers, who come out of Calgary. It was closed when we left home but, I was glad to see that it was open when we got to the parks. It's been an early spring all around despite being one of the coldest winters on record. Climatic extremes persist! Anyway, Radium, apparently, has an hot spring grotto under, what is probably, a posh hotel. However, passes are advertised at other surrounding motels and inns and, I believe the public can buy a pass from vendors or the hotel. The hot spring spills out of the hillside below the hotel and is called Steam Stream. But, the most intriguing part of this enclave, which comprises the hillside directly associated with the grotto, the town becomes “normal” in its lower reaches, is its Alpine theme. It looks just like Baden-Baden or a village out of the Tyrol. I'll bet there was some good eating there but, we don't do lunch (so no pictures either) and just passed through. A place to come back to, perhaps.

(I just asked Bruce if I could have a peanut. He was in the bathroom and told me are “none in here, there's toilet paper”. I wonder if I should begin to worry.)

Couer d'Alene, where we stayed last night, looked like a normal western ranch town when we pulled in but on the eastern side of town we found, as we were leaving, that it's all amusement and water parks. It's the fun center of the Idaho Panhandle. Who knew? A family could spend a week there and I'll bet some do. Another place to go back to, perhaps.

I-90, yes, our I-90, out of Couer d'Alene is a lovely road, with overhanging shade trees, tight “s” curves, and the occasional switchback. Speeds are 75 so one can have fun if they want. It traces beautiful rivers, cuts through canyons, and darts through passes. Not at all the cookie cutter Interstate of the new order. I wondered why and realized that I-90 is one of the older Interstates built when there was less federal meddling. It's really a beautiful high speed boulevard that took us all the way to Boseman, some 389 miles away, where we turned south to West Yellowstone. Alas, there is construction, some of it proudly proclaiming the application of stimulus money, all along the way making the necessary changes to destroy its charm and bring it squarely into the expectations of Simpson's watching Americans.

At Boseman, we meet cold mountain air and overcast. There were two “short cuts” that I tried to convince Bruce we could take and maybe save some time. Rhonda and Bruce insisted – go to Boseman. Without seeing the other roads, I would still say, I'm glad. 191 follows the Gallatin River. It's been in the news because of the rains and flooding and it's raging. That makes it quite dramatic to watch. Any more rain, which looks likely but is not in the forecast, and there could be trouble. For now, it's a big payday for the many rafting, white water kayaking, and pontoon boats that make there living off the rapids. Those that made reservations for this weekend, lucked out. We could catch portions of their “fun” from the road as we drove up past them coming down.

We arrive in West Yellowstone a little early for a normal stop but do so anyway. Better weather is predicted for tomorrow and we want an early start on the park in the morning to get all we can out of it. West Yellowstone is very touristy but that's not a bad thing. It means lots of funky and standard eateries, shops and people. All a nice change from the wilderness.

Day 19

Again we leave early with clear bright skies. Soon clouds develop over the mountains and we are doing, successfully, the occasional shower. Our main objective is to tour Jasper and Banff parks and then burn as many miles to Yellowstone as we can. Although, I stop to take a few meaningless mountain pictures, some shots of a huge elk, some big horn sheep, I miss the deer, they are too skittish and a beautiful small herd of mountain goats containing a big old fella with a fluffy mane as big as a lion's. What I had thought were mountain goats before turn out to be baby big horns. I capture some adults with adolescence today to prove the point. The small mountain goats look similar but have black spiky horns and, of course the adults, who can be quite large, have the big manes and longer more menacing horns. It is raining just a bit to hard and I'm on a down hill curve. So, I don't dare to get the shot hoping to come across some others later. I don't and that's too bad. I enjoy shooting the mountains but there are just so many. But, I really like getting different views of the animals for some reason.

So, today's samples include a less than meaningless mountain because it has a glacier in the middle and a grizzly old goat who has real character.

The ride down 97 through the two parks is an intimate and up close condensed version of everything we have seen to date. It would be a great hiking, sightseeing, camping destination – like if you had a truck camper. Of course, it's a haul for a weekend from the coast.

Once out of the park we head south, west (into Pacific Time) and then south again into Idaho- landing in Couer d'Alene, a big town to us old mountain men. Idaho is nice. Nice people. Big cattle and horse ranches with the cows and horses wandering around unfenced. Maybe not every ranch and every cow/horse but, some. There are organic farms, and produce stands, and guys dressed in black wearing black cowboy hats – and guys dressed in white wearing, you guessed it, white hats. We get a lot of conversation at the gas stop. Everyone admiring the bikes and giving advise on how to get where we are trying to get to. It's nice but very crowed down here in the lower 48. No doubt, soon, we'll be back in the prairie wishing we could find someone to talk to, again.

Day 18

Another mile burner today. 614 miles. Just covering distance to get set up for the run home. Not bad considering that we frittered away at least an hour chatting it up with several biker couples we ran into at a gas stop. We were directed to some secret short cuts to Hinton, just outside the park (Banff), and they were lovely farm and oil roads on which we saw very few other bikes. Real secrets indeed. We will spend the night outside the park as one couple told us lunch of 2 chili bowls, a pull pork sandwich, a chocolate milk and a coffee was $44 inside the park. Lucky we don't stop for lunch!!

We did see, today, a black bear, 2 elk, and many deer, one so close I could smell its breath before it leapt off the road. I saw its little friend in the ditch and had slowed, fortunately. But, I missed the one right in front of me. Bruce, too, didn't see it until it jumped out of my way; not that it would have helped me much if he had. Maybe, it would have provided some closure for the family, I guess. The close calls are becoming commonplace. Well, that's what adventure is all about. Oh! There were two dead moose, too. Hit by trucks last night, I expect. Too bad. They were within a mile or so from each other and were probably acquainted.

There's lot of time to think on these long days. I figured out what distinguishes intelligent life from non-intelligent life and from each other. I have, finally, figured out what DNA is up to and I have a good idea why but, the latter is a stretch and I'll have to fill in a “proof” before I'm comfortable with it. I, also, figured out why some clouds rain on you while others don't and why one part of a cloud will rain on you when another part stays white and fluffy. Yes, there is a lot of time to think.

A special thank you to Coatesy and Sandy for the doo-rag. It is especially appreciated high in the snowy mountains since it keeps me warm as well as helmet head free.

Day 17

Today started sunny and dry. It is just an “eat the miles” day to get us out of the frozen north and down to Banff, which we missed because of the blizzard on the way up. After clouding up a bit, we spend the day dodging the occasional shower and working our way to Fort Nelson. This does take us through the only section of the trip that has offered any glimpse of wildlife and the best road so far. No exception. The road (BC Route 97) from Fireside to Tetsa Lake is one of the most fun and challenging I have ever ridden. Concentration must be at 100% because not only is the road often cut with decreasing turns that are a particular challenge at double or triple speed but, there is always the likelihood that around the next corner is a big fuzzy animal like a moose (saw six, nearly bagged a nice bull but the music in my headset scared him away – same with a mother and baby - darn), big horned sheep (again scared by the radio – turned it off and you could walk right up an pat them), bears (6-7), grizzlies (1 small) and several herds of goat. Oh! And about 30 buffalo with little baby! It makes for an interesting 120 miles of white knuckle riding. My legs were all cramped up by the end but, when will I ever do it again??!

Before I put on the music, I did get some more wildlife pictures. Perhaps the most interesting are those of the running bear. Even more interesting is that it is chasing Bruce. Apparently, he was intent on crossing the road and a bike to his left (Bruce) and a bike to his right (me) had him convinced that his bigger brethren were challenging him. He chose Bruce to face down first. I was snapping pictures when I heard Bruce's bike talk off. At that point the bear stopped and looked in my direction. I was off the bike, without helmet and shooting pictured and he must have thought, Ah, another bike! So he headed towards me. I ran for the bike, threw the camera in the trunk, popped my helmet on, tried to pull my gloves on while trying to start the bike at the same time. As soon as the engine kicked over, the bear must have felt it had won and it galloped across the road and into the bush, where it seemed to settle right down and start sniffing around for stuff to eat. Nevertheless, it was a little exciting there for a few moments!

Tomorrow we should make the north edge of Banff. We have changed our itinerary and will probably swing through Yellowstone instead of doing the pass in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Note: Alaska was dry and relatively bug free despite the carnage on our windshields. Walking about was not a problem. Same is true for Alberta, the Yukon and BC. We have had reasonably dry days for the important parts of our trip and no bugs. Bruce's research proved dead on.

Day 16

Another bright sunny day. High cumulus clouds pepper the sky. There are a few showers but they are avoided by speeding up or slowing down.

More dirt as we approach the border. It appears to be part of the Homeland Defense system. You can't drive into or out of Alaska without enduring several hours of bad road.

Nonetheless, it's beautiful ride scenery-wise. More of the same different mountains.

I notice a beautiful magenta flower that often borders both sides of the road in the Yukon. They tell me it is called a Crocus and is the first to bloom when winter is fading. That sounds like our Crocus but, this is a short shrub. More research is needed. I took a picture to try to track it down. Sometimes a carpet of dandelions is spotted with five or six “crocuses”. It's impressive. The dandelions are not like those in my lawn in that one plant will produce 6 or 7 flowers. The color is the same and it stikes me that they would make an excellent ground cover on the hill around my driveway, especilly if I could get some Yukon crocuses to throw in the mix. More research there too.

The road after customs is atrocious!! There are huge dips and bumps for the next two hours. Not nice easy ones but something similar to speed bumps and roller coaster dips. I had to ride thyem as if in a steeple chase – all in the stirrups. My legs are still pretty strong but it was a workout. Speaking of which, my left shoulder is getting stronger every day. I can wave to other bikers without stabbing pain. I can even reach back a little. However, a sudden change from warm to cold, as often happens riding the mountains in the spring, nearly paralyzes my entire left arm until it acclimates. Weird.

Of note today, we see four moose, four swans, and a geological puzzle.

The highlight of the moose was that two were a mother and a new baby. The calf could hardly stand and walk to keep up with mom. Mom became nervous when I stopped even though I must have been a 2000 yards away. She hustled junior into a bush patch on the “plain” and he either collapsed from exhaustion and on signal from mom. After a bit, she decided I was OK and followed him into the bush and laid down, too. The next car passed would never know that there was a mother moose with a baby there. I wondered how many hundreds, or thousands, of moose I have passed in this same way.

The interesting thing about the swans was that their necks were yellow. I believe there are three kinds, Mutes, Trumpeters, and another, but, I don't recall this feature. I think there was some black on their face, too. More research to do and I did not get a picture. I was in travel mindset and I missed it. Well, it's first a bike adventure, then a photo documentation. I'm going to miss some good ones and get some bad ones --- like today's “mountain of the day”. Or for that matter, the moose. Even with my 270mm lens all the way out, the picture is little more than evidence of the veracity of my observations.

The puzzle of the mountains was that, heading south, the mountains on the left side of the road were worn down domes while the ones on the right were tall, sharp, and pointy. Maybe the last glacier stopped at the road or maybe the pointy mountains grew after the last glacier receded. Whatever, it's a bit curious to be riding down the road with old beat up mountains on one side and sharp new ones on the other.

Tomorrow we head to Watson Lake and beyond to cruise Banff and then Glacier parks. We'll ride Rocky Mountain National Park to add crossing the highest pass to our checklist and then point ourselves east.

Note: On a past day we traveled through a poplar forest. Who knew they existed. But the entire area was nothing but poplar trees. Such uniformity was rather pretty. It was a warm day with now breeze and the air was filled with that sweet poplar smell. I was reminded of learning to make a wooden whistle from a poplar branch one spring when I was in grade school. I was so thrilled to learn the “secret”. On another day we passed through a white birch forest. On both sides of the road, as far as the eye could see, birches. Lovely. They are sweet smelling too when they warm up, only a little muskier that poplar.

The food all trip has been nothing but trucker food and not very good. So, I've stopped eating it. I had nothing yesterday and a sandwich today. I do like the shot of protein or fiber, or both, in the morning but most is too greased up and loaded with potato. It's not worth paying for. A bag a cheese curls would be as healthy and taste a lot better. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow if I can raise an appetite.

Day 15

We are blessed with another beautiful sunny day to go find Jerry, the 78 year old top Goldwing mechanic. We flounder around in Sterling and Soldotna until we find the shop we had seen from the road day before yesterday. The area has changed the house numbering but the phone book I check still has to old number, a peat moss distributor. After some prodding, a phone call is made and directions obtained. Although we get the street number, it is not remembered long enough to take advantage of out technology. I do my best and Bruce uses dead reckoning to get is on spot without trouble.

Jerry is a nice fellow with a well equipped shop and years of experience. A lucky find. But, the bad news is that the wheel bearings are gone. So much for the word from on high – now she laaaaughs!! But, it get worse. After pulling the tire off and removing the dust seals, it's obvious that the left (I think) side has completely deteriorated. It IS amazing he didn't go hurtling off the cliffs on The Top of the World Highway!!. It is so bad, that what is left can not be knocked out and it must be cut out. A Honda dealer would not have been authorized or cared enough to do this work despite that it would add 2 hours to their bill. They would want to sell Bruce a new wheel, bigger bucks, but I doubt they would have had it in stock. So, we would have been stranded for 3-5 days waiting for a shipment. Thank god for Jerry. What a guy. Within 3 hours he has the old bearings out and new ones in and we are back on the road. His fee? $154. I helped with the work – holding the tire steady and stuff and Bruce provided a substantial tip with both surprised and gratified Jerry. Even so, it was cheap at twice the price.

The ride back to Anchorage provide another mountain shot that I had been waiting for. The light had left me a little but it was now or never so, I pulled over to my pre-selected spot and shot. Certainly good enough for what I need to share with friends and family. It is posted here.

We move on toward Tok (pronounced “toke”) which has us backtracking north on I A1 to where it joins I A3 to Fairbanks where we came down. We are on new highway that begins as a beautiful little country road with overhanging poplars and firs and begins to wind up into the mountains. It goes quickly, the temperature drops and we find ourselves maneuvering tight switchbacks and twisties higher and higher into sharp, craggy peaks … big ones. We go up and up and the view is simply indescribable. And then, right in front of us … a dieing glacier. She's a bit pitiful but her past rage and determination are in evidence all around the valley walls. And, she is still beautiful in her last days. I have a feeling she will return, stronger than ever and maybe in the not so distant future is the cooling continues.

Since we have lost time with repairs, we decide to push on to Glennallen, where we will pick up the I A2 to Tok. It will mean an 8:30 arrival to a location that may not have any facilities. Somehow, we make it by 7:30 and there is a lovely lodge that has a room. Some times she loves me and sometimes she just laaaaughs. The last 10 miles are dominate by a straight road aimed at a huge mountain that seams to raise alone from the plain. I am transfixed and it's very lucky a moose didn't want onto the road. I couldn't take my eyes off that miles long allee of trees bordering the tarmac rifling us at this behemoth. Incredible!

Note: We saw many Bald Eagles and a moose I n addition to the glacier.
Note: Because the wheels are wider on the new Wings, there are two bearings on each side.
Note: Increasing the darkside tire pressure to 32 psi makes devouring the twisties impossible and part of the fun of our final road is lost. I'll drop it to 30 or 28 and then back to 26 if the reliable and consistent “grab” does not return.
Note: It surprises me what a small change in tire pressure can do to your competitive edge. I'll bet Joel knew this, but probably doesn't care, from his NASCAR involvement.
Note: Except for the depressing run from Tok to Fairbanks, Alaska is awe inspiring. The north is a big disappointment but the south is incredible almost without exception.

Day 14

It's a beautiful, bright, sunny day. After a hearty breakfast at the Sunrise Motel, a real old fashioned road side motel with nice rooms, good food, gas pumps, and fun staff/owner, we head to Homer. Immediately, the scenery becomes more sedate but it's an enjoyable ride with many fine sights. Closer to Homer, the mountains across the bay really shine.

We stop at the end of the road and Bruce notices that he has front end trouble (on the bike). He's been complaining of break issues for a few days but won't let me drop the pads and check them. Now he thinks it's hid front wheel bearings. So, we head slowly back to Anchorage where Bruce things the Honda dealer may have some experience with Goldwings. We stop at the Sunrise to top off the tanks since we now know the next gas is 89 miles away!!

As we enter the city limits, it occurs to me that it might be wise to call. They may be open on Sunday and be able to help AND they may be closed on Monday, as so many dealers are. The machine tells us they are closed both Sunday and Monday. So, we turn to the Gold Book, a listing of Goldwing riders who are willing to help stranded travelers. Our Anchorage contacts points us in the direction of the best shade tree Goldwing man in the state – just about 10 miles south of the Sunrise Motel – we passed him and noticed two trikes and a Wing on the lawn. I figured he was a used bike dealer. Guess we should have stopped.

Route I-A1 out of Anchorage to Coopers Crossing, where the Sunrise is, is caller Trooper Ally by the locals. We have skipped by 5 today and take, I wish I could say, took it easy on our return. But, we made record time as I we like a horse that smelled the barn. My day was done. Bruce kept up even though he was worried about his front end. A little pay back – I had bearing trouble after our Labrador 400 miles of horrible sand and loose stone and he told me not to worry and we pushed on for 1500 miles. Although he was ready to have a tow truck haul his baby out of the Walmart parking lot I had discovered from which to make calls, he was more anxious to get her to a trusted mechanic so he wouldn't have to do 1500 more miles to get it repaired.

I finally convinced him to let me take a look. He held down the back as I spun and twisted the front wheel. There is a definite drag coming from somewhere but I don't think it's bearings. It's breaks. One of the calipers has stuck because of the dust of The Dempster and The Top of the World. A little compressed air and some “dry slide” and it will be fine. Could have done it all at Walmart. Well, we'll see if god will make a fool of me again and produce some dire failure that we were lucky to get this far with tomorrow.

Until then, we'll have a nice meal, maybe a beer and a good night's sleep again!!

Day 13

We meet a gray morning. We decide to head south toward Homer and the day quickly turned wet with cold rain. But, by 10:30 the clouds were lifting and, eventually, the sun came out and we shed our winter gear. By 3:30 it is back on and we were in rain again.

Regardless, the entire trip from Fairbanks to Anchorage is beautiful, if you like mountains. The road runs a valley between two ranges of mountains. So, we have rugged snowy peaks on both our right and left. We stop for a view and pictures of Denali but he/she is cloaked in clouds. I'm told she, I will say, is fully visible only about 30 days out of the year. We catch only the occasional glimpse through the heavy clouds. She lies in a notch cut within a closer mountain range that act like her guardians. They ARE visible and very striking. She is 20370 feet, although recent GPS/satellite readings have placed her a tad higher. (A diversion – the same methods used to calculate her hight are being used to calculate the universe's size, expansion rate and the distance to stars. If Denali is off by even a foot or two, and we thing it might be 7, how much confidence can one have in the measurements of space and time? As I've often pondered, there is a lot of faith in science. And, accepting that, as most serious scientists do, one cannot rule out the existence of the almighty – as, of course, those who know my story, I can not do despite my devotion to physics.)

We are headed to Homer. We'll return the way we went in and then drop down to Seward returning on the same road. Both destinations are end of the road destinations and a little backtracking cannot be avoided.

Leaving Anchorage, a very large town with a Nordstrum and a Westin, we are delivered to long bay with mountains that just drop into the water. It's an impressive sight and the road is a blast. It's flat as it hugs the shore line but it is filled with twisties that, given the number of other bikers we meet, is the primary Saturday putt. I don't blame them. If there is so much as an ice cream stand at the end of either the Seward or Homer runs, that would be all the excuse needed, assuming any is needed at all.

Here my mother would have found her paradise with the mountains at her back and the sea before her.

Reindeer kielbasi for supper tonight. Tastes just like kielbasi!

Day 12 - Top of the World

We were early for breakfast and waited a few minutes. Then, with a goodbye to the Belle of The Yukon, we hit the road to Fairbanks. We were warned at a tourist info booth in Watson Lake and then heard the grumbling from the locals that the road from the US customs was 46 miles of dirt. More dirt we didn't want but it's the best way to get from Dawson City to Fairbanks. What they failed to mention was that the 80 miles in the Yukon to get to the border are also dirt. We've done over 700 miles of dirt.

I was sorry we stayed at Zero Mile, at The Junction, and not Dawson City because Dawson City is a mining town that promotes itself as such and has a casion with Can-Can dancers and lots of fun pubs/bars. Also, thats where the movie crew, Steve Martin and Jack Black were partying. Maybe we could have bought them a drink! When we pulled into town, I wasn't sorry any more. It's a real tourist trap. All the above opportunities are there but it all fake. It would have been fun to rub shoulders with the movie types but I've got a bad rotator cuff, so … It was nice to get to know our people and the Zero Mile is handy to The Dempster, which was the point in our being there.

Three other riders that we passed heading out to Eagle Plains and maybe Inuvik all came back after crossing the circle. The wind and pea stones were not only a problem for our big bikes and small courage but for the small bikes and their reckless youth. I felt vindicated as I was beginning to doubt that I still had the adventurous spirit and was too willing to easily give up. I guess not.

I must say that the seniors bicycling through our hail storm on The Dempster and on their way to Inuvik put all us macho bikers to shame. I'm sure they have a chase or lead vehicle and some were working hard to slug it out to the first camp, probably Tombstone, but hail, rain, mud, slick clay surfaces were not stopping any of them. I was humbles. What guts and determination showed on their faces.

We crossed the Yukon River on a free ferry provided by Dawson City and suddenly I am experiencing one of my other wanna do rides, The Top of The World Highway. Who knew it was there? I had the idea, mistakenly apparently, that it was in central Canada.

It was threatening rain and the clouds hung low. It's dirt, yes. And, that's not fun on our machines. But what incredible views. It makes the Blue Ridge Mountains look like just so many hills. The Top of The World takes you HIGH. It's above the tree line where you look down on frozen rivers and snowy peaks. Despite the poor weather, or maybe because of it, it was spellbinding. I almost missed more than one turn as I tried to gather it all in. There were no guard rails and the drop in some places was easily over 3000 feet!! There were numerous switchbacks, especially on the US side. I would have loved to have devoured it but it just wasn't one of those days.

I was not in a Drive Like Hell mode – odd. So I just cruised it and if an opportunity justified a picture, that is, something really representative or different, I stopped and shot it.

We saw a moose, some rabbits and a coyote. Plus the VIEWS!!

We stopped at Chicken at the technical end of The Top of The World Highway and had a beer in the Chicken Saloon. It's a bit of a local “must see”. It's a small, only about 15 x10 foot room, with two tables and 5 stools. And, of course, the obligatory brass foot rail. I don't know if it goes back to the mining days but it's made to look old even if it isn't. Inside is bedecked with thousands of business cards, hundreds of ball caps, tee shirts, and police/fire/military patches from around the world. Oh yes, and, mostly, ladies underwear that has been shot out of a canon, I assume after a good party night and some coaxing. Unfortunately, Susan, the proprietrix appears to be an ass. If there was any competition, I fear she would be put out of business. And, I think the young and very nice couple in the 'other' gas station, who have build a very appealing gift shop … from which we did not buy … are putting together a little log house that will be a restaurant. If they get a liquor license, the saloon may be in trouble. I wish them luck and her no good.

The town got its name when the original minors wanted a post office and needed an original name. They all wanted the name Ptarmigan after the local prized bird. But, no one could agree on the spelling. However, everybody knew how to spell chicken … so there you have it. That my story and I'm sticking to it.

Within a mile of Chicken, we are back on tar and the rest of the trip to Fairbanks is like riding through any one of the 57 states in which Obama campaigned.

Funny, all the states reflect the same homogeneous impression. The crown of the road, the hight of the electric poles, the spacing and color of the dots on the road, the size of the shoulder, the setback of the houses, the entrance to gas stations, placement of street lights, the size/shape/color of street/route/and highway signs, etc. From state to state, it's all the same. Even the guard rails scream USA. Maybe this is good but, it depressed me as I saw it. We are all slowly being cookie cutter-ed.

Day 11

We leave Eagle Plains at 8:00. Back to our old schedule. The road, it turns out is very easy to navigate at 45 gmph. The dragon powder pots don't phase the darkside tires. Higher speeds are, of course, still exciting. I take a few pictures. We see rabbits something we have heard have not been seen much this year. The Lynx eat them. Maybe they have been hiding but there were plenty out today.

We hit rain and hail. The hail hurts. The rain makes the road a bit slick though Bruce, now quite a bit ahead of me because I have stopped to take some pictures of more mountains, is not bothered. He is bothered that he cannot get phone service of any kind, either by card or cell, up here and he is undesirably incommunicado. Tomorrow, back in the states (Alaska), he should be able to touch base.

I have too many mountain pictures. But, they are quite impressive and each turn brings into view another range. These mountains are the dieing end of the Rockies. They are the McKenzie Range, I believe. As you move north, you can actually see them age into balding mounds and eventually peter out at the plain. It says a lot that I won't bore you with.

The 494 Goldwing miles we have ridden the Dempster have left our bikes a mess. My camera was around my neck for most of yesterday and took a real dust bath. I'll ask Stony id some professional cleaning is needed. I wiped it down with a damp cloth and double wrapped it from the return. It is working beautifully with no gritty feeling to the “action” so maybe it's a tough bird. I have my doubts that the T2i that I was also interested in would have survived the California crash and the two days around my neck, one through Alberta for the wild life shoots and one up The Dempster. But, I have no way of knowing. Inside, I feel I made the right choice.

We have sprayed the heavy dirt from the bikes but they still look like they have been uncared for too long. That's how bad they were. My key often won't turn to firer up the ignition and that is a worry. I may have to start leaving the key in there not that I am sure that would help. The high pressure wash helped this time. It just needs some “dry” lube which I have at home. I'll try to fiddle with it and keep it functioning or buy (god forbid) another can of dry lube on the road. I am out of windshield polish also. But, Bruce need to have his front break checked (I think his just being dramatic since we could drop the pads in 2 seconds and check them ourselves) so I'll be in a bike shop soon and will get some polish there.

We saw more of the shooting of Steve Martins new movie, out next year, today. They were doing scenes with the plane. I have pictures of it. It was flown in from a charter company in Fairbanks and has been sitting on the tundra for several weeks. Big bucks. The main “sound stage” is a converted sand pit that I though was real and commented on the expertise of the location scout for finding it only to be told that it is all fabricated in this old sand pit. It looks so real! It's supposed to be a replica of an Alaskan camp or town or something and people wonder why they didn't find one in Alaska. Money I bet. The Yukon probably did change them much and there isn't a Mounty in site. They take care of their own security and everything. Money comes to the hotels and merchants and the movie gets made without a lot of BS. Even socialist Canada knows how to do things smarter than we do. But they are closer to a Republic than we are. The Provinces have immense power. Don't forget, if you are mad you can leave like Quebec has threatened so often. When the South tried they were crushed by an illegal government in Washington. Not that I like socialism but, I do like Republics. Enough with the lessons from the road for now.

Tomorrow Alaska!!

Day 10 - Crossing The Arctic Circle

We cross the Arctic Circle at about 3:00 PM our time. We are spending the “night” 24 miles south at the Eagle Lodge in Eagle Plains, Yukon. Today began ...

A late start. 9:00 AM. Breakfast isn't ready until after 8:00 since the cook is late. We are anxious to get going but figure a good breakfast will help us “ride The Dempster”. That's what it's called even by the truckers. Funny. Make it kind of “romantic”. It's an ice road although, now the ice is out. But the mystery and allure of an historic highway lingers through out the year.

We take extra gas but don't need it, as it turns out, to make the only service stop, Eagle Plains. The Wing has the range others don't.

The Dempster is hard pack clay with a single coat is loose stones. An easy ride with the darkside tires. But, there be dragons. The first is powder pots, as I call them. These are places where heavy trucks have broken through the packed clay and subsequent traffic has extended to collapse and crushed the clay to a fine powder. It acts like heavy water. It really throws the front wheel but with a little gas and some dirt track moves a crash can be avoided. Soon I learned to distinguish between powder pots and hard pack. The color is the same but there is a difference in the continuity of the surface. The powder pots look smoother, flatter, calmer. The second dragon is trucks. Most are fine but some run fast and the dust created is blinding. For several seconds you just have to pray the road is under your wheels. If it happens on a corner, it's a heart thumper.

Nonetheless, we made it. And, in good time. The road can be driven at about 55 but sections will easily handle 70-80 Gmph (Goldwing miles per hour – the speedometers are notoriously optimistic)

Tomorrow, we run The Dempster back to The Junction and turn west to Alaska.

Day 9

Did I miss Rabbit, Rabbit? Sorry if so - Rabbit, Rabbit! We awake early again and are on the road by 7:00. it will be a long haul made longer by my failing to recognize a planned gas stop until we are passed it by 47 miles. We have just enough gas to return and fill up, much relieved. Little did we know, again because I forgot my mental map, that only 30 miles ahead was a general store, at “The Junction” of The Dempster and Route 2 that sells gas. They used to rent gas cans, too, since the first stop on The Dempster is just out of our comfort range. They don't now but we have salvaged anti-freeze jugs from our missed gas stop and will take an extra gallon just in case. With the debacle we cover about 710 miles today. We can now begin the adventure we set out to experience.

Note: During the ride in the snow, two truckers, apparently unaware that we have CBs and that we were on their channel, said, “ Did you just see those two bikers? What ta hell are they doing out here? Crazy kids.” They were half right so we didn't say a thing.

Note: The Mountain Goats we saw are really Big Horn Sheep called Stone Goats here. We also saw prong horned goats called goats here. There are grizzlies but we haven't seen one or, if we did, it was a small one. It was sitting down eating grass, ants or whatever. I'd seen so many bears by then, I didn't stop. Should have.

Note: It didn't get dark last night. Just that colorless dusk. We are further north today and it won't get dark tonight, either. It is 11:00 Pm and I am typing by the light from the window. There is the beginnings of a beautiful pink sunset. It might get a little darker but not much.

Today, we spent half the day in the high mountains and half of it in the foot hills. Nice challenging roads that we took at speed, dicey at times, but we were on a mission … until the gas fiasco and the mission became more urgent. The mountains and v allies are are gorgeous but really cannot be captured well with my camera. I missed some shots I might have liked to share but most are just so BIG that the camera does not do them justice. I miss the ocean, however. And, no matter how reminiscent of Newfoundland this is (only much much bigger), it's not as dramatic without the angry sea. And, Newfoundland is a lot closer. i suppose you could drive up and down the Northern Peninsula to make up for differences in miles. The wildlife is the clincher. But today, it was like an end of the world movie. No living animal except a few humans and a dog.But, lots of bugs. I guess they count. They are so thick on the windshield, you that you can't see through it. Honest! Other than that, hardly a bird. No creatures at all. Miles of trees, a forest fire, there are several - one that threatens to cut us off if we get into Inuvik but I'm certain we can drive right through it. I've done it before but not with exposed jugs of extra gas!!! I guess Quebec is ablaze also!

Regardless, we reach The Dempster and instead of going into Dawson City decide to test it out. It starts as tar for about a mile but then becomes gravel. Seems to be easy traveling as dirt goes. On the way out we stop at the general store and find it is under new management. The have rooms and it looks like we can sneak some gas into our “questionable” spare containers. The manager tells us the Steve Martin ans some other biggies that I know but can't remember are in Dawson and all the hotel are pretty much full. We take a room here. I love a party and I guess Dawson, a border town, is certainly doing that now. But, why drive there just to come back tomorrow? We have booked a room at Eagle Plain for tomorrow and then will decide if we are up for the run to Inuvik or just cross the Arctic Circle. I'd like to go on to Inuvik and get some pics. But, the Circle is the real goal and that is just 20-30 miles beyond Eagle Plains.

Bruce is feeling more comfortable on the dirt, especially since it's only a light dusting of loose gravel and not 10 inches of sand and stones that we (Joel, Tor, Don, I and Bruce) encountered in Labrador on Bruce's first trip with the “Tour Division”.

We are close. If I see a grizzly, I'll have to try to get a picture. That's why Bruce has my medical proxy and living will!! After all, how many chances does one get?

Day 8

We start early today, 7:00. We cover about 630 miles. Most of this was through the Canadian Rockies. But, 100 of those miles were some of the most exhilarating and beautiful I've ever experienced. This is Newfoundland's Northern Peninsula only longer and you're inside instead of running along the edge. Pushing it to the limit on the twisties, I lost sight of Bruce a few times while exercising my "youthful exuberance" - that is, for most of the “good parts”. This road begs to be ridden at full throttle. Probably clogged with campers and trailers later in the season, today, we had it mostly to ourselves. It's a simple two lane highway, a little rough, but beautifully laid out along a series of lakes and rivers. It was difficult to decide whether to cruise along and drink in the views or crank it on and devourer the road. I chose the latter most of the time. But, at devour speeds, there is little time to look anywhere but at the road ahead and the next turn. That would be wrong. So, I dropped it down for pics and just to take it in. It is a fantastic place and a fantastic ride! It was the “perfect storm” of rides, at least, for our kind of heavy tourers. If there was ever any question about the performance of the darkside tires, I don't have any. There was more stop, more go, and more carve than with any conventional motorcycle tire.

On the stops, we saw mountains, eagles, ravens, bears, caribou, moose, marmot (big squirrels) and buffalo. Yup, buffalo! We saw 4 but there are about 1200 of thyem wandering about in the mountains. Go figure! Wild buffalo ... in the woods ... on mountains. Doesn't seem natural! But, the buffalo don't care. They like it.

But, no picture or sequence of pictures can do this road (Route 97 – The Alaska Highway) between Testa River Campground and Laird River Hot Springs justice. You have to see and be it. (BTW: Gas in BC is $1.599/liter. That's like ... per quart!! In the Yukon ... $1.099 looks like a bargain!!)

Hopefully, with fewer distractions tomorrow, we can burn the final 610 miles and spend the tomorrow night in Dawson City, the staging point for the assault on the dirt to Inuvik. The schedule would work out to be: arrive in Dawson City on June 1st, run to Eagle Plains on the 2nd. And, then, on the 3rd, the day the final ferry to Inuvik is put into service, make the final run across the Arctic Circle and the end of the road. Of course, stuff happens. So, once again, the Arctic Circle may elude me.

We'll see ...

Day 7

We are in Fort St. John, BC tonight, stopping at 5:00 our time but learning that we had crossed into another time zone and it was only 4:00 here. We've covered an additional 508 miles north. We could have pushed on but I still think we are ahead of the clock a little. But, we were ready to call it a day. And, an interesting one it was. Not the views, which were non-existent but, again, the weather.

It occurred to me that from Calgary to about 60 miles north of Edmonton must be the high chaparral, north is the low plains. So, we awoke to a gray, cold (32F) morning but no snow. The bike covers were frozen to the bikes and had to be pealed off, wrapped, ice and all, and stowed. I scooped a motel laundry bag to wrap mine to keep it from soaking everything else in the trunk. I packed up and headed for the breakfast room. Same bowl of cereal and a juice. They are not loosing money on me/us.

After suiting up, we headed out to hit the road and the snow had started again. Onward. A mix of snow and rain greeted every mile to just beyond Edmonton when the clouds hung low all around us but we were assaulted by only the occasional brief downpour. The temperature remained between 32-34. I had solved the wet hands problem in Shelby with the darling blue gloves. I solved the cold by inserting brown garden gloves as liners with a chemical hand warmer in each. By keeping the warmer in my palm, I could pull my fingers and thumb out of their "glove fingers" and hold the warmer to bring feeling back. It worked great! But, of course, I was driving one handed and couldn't possibly get to the clutch or front break lever in a hurry depending on which hand I was warming. But, heck, the roads a incredibly straight, there are very few people on them, especially on a Sunday mid-day and, any towns, construction, or stop lights are forewarned well in advance. So, I could slip my fingers back and work the leavers. The only real risk revolved around the possibility of an errant wolf or caribou/elk leaping out in front of me. Since the occasional road kill is seen, I suspect the chance was there but I felt the reward outweighed the small risk. Bruce had his heated grips and that solved his problem but his back gets cold. He solved that with numerous layers, which seems to have worked. We've figured out how to cope with the cold but don't look forward to repeating the last three days if we can avoid it.

I also learned that an enjoyable ride does not depend on the weather, the road, or the destination but, the absence of discomfort/pain. The ride takes care of the rest. So, with my continued yoga stretches, which minimize back and neck pain, the heaters and blue gloves to eliminate the pain of the cold on my hands and Bruce's many layers, we had a great day.

Adding to the comfort was an dramatic change in the temperature about 130 miles north of Edmonton, when we dropped out of the high chaparral and back to the plains. Here the temps went as high as 66, the clouds lifted and eventually dissipated and the sun came out. The rest was easy riding but the plains are the plains, no views, really. One photo op that was gone before it was caught and that was it. The camera has not seen much action. Maybe some scenery will present itself as we approach Dawson City.

Day 6

The morning routine was our usual. After breakfast we head to the bikes for a diversion to Edmonton since bad weather makes touring Banff pointless. Hopefully, we can come back that way.

During the night it has snowed again and the bike covers are covered in a layer of wet heavy snow. Light snows continues but we are advised that further north, toward Edmonton, there is not even rain. We take to the road.

Within 30 miles the snow is heavy and we stop to ask the locals what the prognosis might be. A kindly plowman advises that just a bit further, there is both clearing and lodging should we feel it safer to hold up. The bikes can handle the weather fine, especially with the darkside all-season rear tire but people are afraid of the “crazies” on the road knocking us off and it becomes apparent that they are out there. The snow fall increases, though the temp has risen from 32 to 36. Cars, from the crazies, are off in the ditch everywhere. Three inches has now accumulated and the only steady going is to find a truck and ride tire tracks. Our plowman, offers to plow us a clear path out of our pull off and we continue towards Edmonton based on his radar readout on the iPhone. After Red Deer, it looks like the storm lets up.

By the time we get to Red Deer, only 80 plus miles north of Calgary, the snow is now 5 inches deep and the crazies in vans and SUV roar by sending up 10 foot waves of slush and grit, which not only contributes to the wet and cold but, renders us effectively blind until we can clear our shields of the slush. This begins to undermine even my crazy disregard for reason. Tomorrow is supposed to be a better day but, of course, today wasn't supposed to be a bad one. Only one inch of snow was predicted. So, tomorrow comes with no guarantee. I want to push on but Bruce has is not the risk taker I am and I am beginning to see his point of view. I ask a nice lady if she knows the weather forecast. She is heading north, too, and can give us no help as to how far before the snow turns to the expected rain. But, she is on her way to visit her sister in Edmonton and offers to call and see how things look there. The new is good, it's only light rain. But, before the conversation ends, the sister corrects herself and advises us that the rain has begun to switch to slush. Another 80 miles in worsening road conditions is not worth Bruce's life even if it is mine. Also, I am still to aware of the California incident to want to risk damage my bike in a mishap. We elect to check in to a local motel. It's 12:30; an embarrassingly short day but, fortunately, I had banked hours by pushing harder in the good weather and we are dangerously ahead of schedule. Dangerously, I say, because, if we arrive even a day early, there is “dead” time to be used in Dawson City because the last of the three ferry crossings to Inuvik does not start running until June 3rd. I'm afraid, we won't want to wait and will push on to Alaska promising to return on our way back … that is not always the way things work out.

Day 5

We saw Montana. We saw an Antelope play. We saw fallow fields, untended fences, and house upon house in squalid disrepair surrounded by generations of dead and rusting vehicles – right up to their front door. The clouds were dark and low when we departed at 7:50. It began to rain and the temperature dropped to 46. Our gloves failed and we road for 200 miles in the cold and wet. The rest of the gear held, mostly.

We stopped in a small byway for gas and there was a sign suggesting you count to 20 if the gas pumps slowly. I tried it but the pump speed was the same. I felt calmer though and praised the proprietress on her ingenuity and creativity. A little Zen goes a long way!!

In Shelby, we bought fleece lined polyurethane covered blue gloves. Where my expensive Joe Rocket “water proof” gloves failed to keep me dry or warm, these blue $12 darlings did the trick.

We crossed into Canada and instantly the look of health had returned, despite the weather. The fields were tended, the fences were repaired, farms were neat and painted. Admittedly, I saw two shanties surrounded with “Maine” lawn art. But, by and large, the Provence of Alberta looks tidy and prosperous. 80 miles from the border, the mountains to the west were snow covered. It should not be there. But, it's cold. Unusually cold. And, it's wet. Unusually wet.

60 miles later we saw in the distance huge fields of 350 acres covered on plastic. This seemed a major expense to prevent weeds, or birds from eating the seed or for whatever purpose was intended. But, when there is wealth, it is often worth extra investment to get the advantage. As we drew along side the fields we noticed it was not plastic but SNOW! Right down to the highway and a few inches thick!

Tomorrows weather calls for a low of below freezing and a high of about 39.

The good news? Bruce was right. There are no bugs!

Day 4

A spectacular day. As usual we were on the road but 7:45 under bright blue, clear skies. This changed by noon with the arrival of overcast and occasional showers. The temperature plunged from 80 to 52. However, none of this could suppress the grandeur of North Dakota. It must be experienced. In the east are plains and as far as the eye can see, 15-20 miles, is agriculture. Ever inch of arable land is being utilized. This is good and bad. On the one hand, it suggest prosperity and growth. On the other, it suggest peak production. As demand for produce increases, as it must over the next 5 years, where will it come from? Nonetheless, it was uplifting to see America at work as it used to be. Activity and expansion everywhere.

In the west, the Black Hills, are show surprising oil and gas production activity. From Rt 2, I counted no less than 20 new wells being drilled. This was exciting as we have heard nothing on this activity at home. Each site consumes about 100 yards square. Picture two football fields “side by each”. The farming goes right up to this boundary. Within the site area, the topsoil has been removed, which has stored at a central site, and replaced with a red “clay , which either soaks up oil or repels it. Regardless of the actual process, the result is to permit quick, inexpensive and safe clean up of any spills. Wgen the bobbing bird head pump is finally installed, the clay is removed, the top soil replaced and the farmer works the field right up to the edge of the pump. No waste. Win-win. And, they haven't incurred the risk of pushing through 5000 feet of water to start drilling. It was inspiring and really uplifting just to see the activity and know that something is being no matter how small.

So, despite the flat straight road in the east, it was a wonderful site to see the many new grain silos and some of our old friends. I say that because as we drove through Duluth, Grand Rapids and Grand Forks to get to North Dakota, I remembered it all from 1957, when my mother drove my sister, my brother and I “out west”. The road is much improved and has been moved. The “upside” down bridge that was so fascinating in Duluth, because the steel “arch” had been cut in half and flipped over to form a peak in the middle of the span instead of the usual crescent, is still there but unused and seen only from a grand new, and quite attractive, conventional, steel bridge that dodges down town. Grand Rapids, which I remember as so large is smaller than Waterville, Maine but the paper mill is new and at least as big as all of the old Scott plant. I don't know if it is just that I was smaller and a farm boy or if parts of Grand Rapids have just been taken away.

Who would have though that 53 years later I would retrace the route to the only summer vacation we ever had and one I so fondly remember. More important, now I can appreciate what my mother tried to get a 13 year old to understand about this country. This may be your only chance to see it, she would say. Then, I remember, much of Route 2 was still dirt and poorly marked. More than once we ended up in somebody's tractor road running their corn field until we could be redirected to the “highway”. It is a tough ride today! Think of it with a thirty something mother and three young children. But it worked and I'm glad to be retracing some of that summer again.

Back in North Dakota, we stumbled upon the geographic center of North Ameriica, which figured prominently in a quirky but good book about how all the “gods” of the immigrants to America, like the pixies, gargoyles, faeries, Thor, the banshee, etc. were all dieing because nobody believed in them any more. The new gods of computers, X-Boxes, cell phones, etc. were drawing the people away. A great, last stand battle between the old and the new was staged at the geographic center of North America. And, what do you know, there it was. I took Bruce's picture there and he mine and then we beat the crap out of each other just for the sake of the story!!!

One can't help but be impressed with North Dakota. The speed limit on Route 2 is 70, which doens't hurt and there are few traffic lights but, lots or really funny looking vehicles for farm, oil or gas production.

We should make Shelby or further tomorrow!

Oh! we did have one delay but it was short, my key would not go in the bike. I used some Shaklee anti-aging face cream on the tip of the key and whacked the handlebars a couple of times, and it was as good as new. That stuff really works.

An update or two. My health is good. I do leak and have had to rely on Maxi pads. But they work. It's just too much for the AMS 800 (look it up) to handle all the seat shifting to keep my butt from getting too sore. The yoga has nearly eliminated all back and shoulder blade pain. Yahoo! But, the California incident has taken a greater toll on my left knee and shoulder that I thought. The knee cap has been damaged and lets me know about it if I hold it in one position too long. With luck, it is just a bruise under the cap and it will pass. My left collar bone was dislocated in the fall. But, during my high speed yoga, it generates a great deal of pain and snapping noises at the arm end and maybe I broke something. The temperature changes of today were excruciating!! I try to keep it stable and maybe that is all it needs.

The minimalist high tech “fitness” shirts and pants I got work great. They stay clean, can be rinsed out at night and keep me warm or cool depending on need. A good gamble that has paid off in saved gas and may pay for itself before the end of the trip. I get slightly better mileage, despite my greater person weight, because of the lightness of my “pack”.

Day 3

Just the facts, as very little of note happened today. Route 2 is like and Interstate with a town about every 30 miles containing 3-8 stop lights and a primary speed limit of 55 mph. Maddening. But, I did the research. There are three way to get to Inuvik. Two through Canada and one through the States. The States route offers many more services, IS less expensive (gas is $2.54), and our cell phones work. To give Route 2 it's due, the first 100 miles along Lake Michigan are very scenic. The lakes are big and look like the ocean.

After that, it's back to miles of woods and the occasional hill.

Two things of note for today though. We crossed the Mississippi River. I was about 25 yards wide and very clean. It had not yet acquired the great muddy Mississippi character, yet. That comes after the farm and industrial states. And, a dog, looking like a small deer but, in fact a Husky mutt with very long legs dashed across the road oblivious to the traffic, which mimics that of an Interstate, too. It came across two cars ahead of me and the driver was forced onto the shoulder to avoid it, where he continued to drive for several miles as his portly passenger urged him on not wanting to miss Wheel of Fortune, I suppose. I expect he was having a coronary but one must have their priorities.

No pics today, there is nothing here. Well, here's Bruce just so you know what he looks like. A little ocular filler.