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.