{"id":2041,"date":"2011-08-13T17:53:33","date_gmt":"2011-08-13T20:53:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.worldbiking.info\/wordpress\/?p=2041"},"modified":"2011-08-13T23:36:17","modified_gmt":"2011-08-14T02:36:17","slug":"the-alaska-highway-10-snapshots-from-the-road","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.worldbiking.info\/wordpress\/2011\/08\/the-alaska-highway-10-snapshots-from-the-road\/","title":{"rendered":"The Alaska Highway: 10 Snapshots from the Road"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\"\"<\/a><\/h2>\n

Mile zero<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

The Alaska Highway greets us with a determined headwind.\u00a0\u00a0 Rather than let it shake our determination, we hunker down and vow to push the pedals those 1,390 miles to Fairbanks.<\/p>\n

The entire length of the highway connecting Alaska to the lower 48 was completed in 1942 in just 8 months\u2019 time.<\/p>\n

We hope to make it to Alaska before the snow starts tumbling from the sky.<\/p>\n

Which probably doesn\u2019t sound like much of a challenge since it\u2019s mid summer in the rest of the northern hemisphere.<\/p>\n

In northern Canada, winter is already on its way.<\/p>\n

Locals warn us that by mid-August the landscape will be awash with color as leaves turn golden.<\/p>\n

Slowly, we warm to the idea of scaling back our original plan of riding the Dalton Highway all the way to Prudhoe Bay.\u00a0 We focus on Fairbanks and resign ourselves to a trip back to Alaska one day to do the state justice.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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Desolate Roads<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

A steady stream of humungous RVs towing SUVs \u00a0lumber past, motorbikes whiz by and we\u2019re all headed to the great north in search of an Alaskan adventure.\u00a0 It seems Americans who hit retirement age are pre-programmed with an unstoppable urge to embark on a pilgrimage to the 49th<\/sup> state.<\/p>\n

Apart from gas stations and RV parks, government campgrounds and mining installations, most stretches of the Alaska Highway are pretty desolate.<\/p>\n

Sure it\u2019s remote, but with all the tourist traffic, biking the Alaska highway is about as adventurous as trekking to Machu Pichu and sharing the trail with a hundred other hikers all testing their limits on a South America adventure tour.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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Swarming with Cyclists<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

We spot the bright Ortlieb panniers far off in the distance.\u00a0 A fellow cyclist!\u00a0 Time for a chat.<\/p>\n

Where ya comin\u2019 from?\u00a0 Where ya headed?\u00a0 See any bears?\u00a0 Many hills ahead?<\/em><\/p>\n

Cyclists sizing up cyclists like two fighters in the ring.<\/p>\n

Looks like you\u2019re pretty loaded.\u00a0 Heading all the way to Ushuaia?\u00a0 How many kilometers can you crank out in a day?<\/em><\/p>\n

And so on goes the ritual.<\/p>\n

The Alaska Highway attracts all types of cyclists.\u00a0 Two-wheeled American retires \u00a0more energetic than those who rumble by in their RVs, young Europeans experiencing the vast open spaces of North America for the first time, seasoned cyclists finishing off another leg of their round the world tour.\u00a0 Everybody\u2019s got a story to share<\/p>\n

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Bears on the Road<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Our bear count is up to nine.\u00a0 For the most part these massive creatures seem intent on devouring berries and foraging for roots roadside.\u00a0 We\u2019re of little interest.\u00a0 Sometimes I\u2019m so lost in my thoughts or caught up in a podcast I\u2019m almost on top of the bear before I realize there\u2019s a potentially dangerous animal just a few feet away and I\u2019m a helpless human on a bicycle.<\/p>\n

Then I speak calmly to the bear, as the guidebooks say I should.<\/p>\n

Hello Mr. Bear.\u00a0 Just passing through Mr. Bear. Take it easy Bear. I\u2019m on my way now, no reason to get riled up.<\/em><\/p>\n

In spite of my valiant bear calming efforts, one bear appeared quite perturbed.\u00a0 I speeded up and kept a furtive eye on him.\u00a0 He was up on his hind legs, casting a glance my way.\u00a0 Looked like he was trying to catch my scent.<\/p>\n

Fortunately, three days of accumulated body odor did not particularly entice the finicky bear and eventually he turned back to his berries.\u00a0 WHEW.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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Bison: on to the really scary road encounters<\/h2>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Bears can give me a mild scare, but it\u2019s the bison that really set off my fear mechanism. These hardy animals stand up to 6 feet at the shoulders and weigh up to 2,600 pounds.\u00a0 Just south of Watson Lake, we crossed paths with a herd of around 100 animals blocking the road.<\/p>\n

We knew they were coming.\u00a0 Every driver for the last 50 kilometers had slowed down, flashed his lights and shouted out some variation of, \u201cBison ahead.\u00a0 Watch out.\u00a0 They\u2019re really dangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, thanks for the encouragement,\u201d I felt like hollering back.<\/p>\n

A long standoff ensued when finally we came upon the obstinate herd.\u00a0 Traffic started backing up.\u00a0 You know you\u2019re in trouble when some guy behind the wheel of a 7,000 pound RV is afraid to take on wild animals blocking the road.<\/p>\n

Everybody just watched and waited, hardly taking notice of the two defenseless cyclists.<\/p>\n

Eventually, it dawned on somebody that we might be in an ever so slightly dangerous situation.<\/p>\n

A middle-aged woman in an SUV teamed up with a group of brave young guys in a Toyota and they escorted us past the bison, protecting our flanks from a possible bison charge.<\/p>\n

WHEW, again.\u00a0 A quick thanks and I was cranking those pedals, flying down the road as if I were being chased by a pack of Turkish sheepdogs.<\/p>\n

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A night with the First Nations<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It\u2019s the usual story.\u00a0 The day is winding down, we\u2019ve put in our requisite 100 kilometers and now it\u2019s time to search for a camping spot. A few minutes later we\u2019ve pitched our tent on the banks of the Muskeg River thanks to hosts Wally, Jo, Leon and dog China.<\/p>\n

They spoil us with homemade bannock, a type of traditional bread made by the Cree Indians.\u00a0 Jo regales us with tales of her childhood growing up far from civilization.\u00a0 She learned to make teepees (really!) and when her father heard the sounds of one of the white man\u2019s vehicles sputtering in the distance he knew it was the authorities coming to drag off his kids to a faraway boarding school.<\/p>\n

Jo and her brothers were instructed to scurry off into the woods and lay low until it was safe to return.\u00a0 A story we\u2019ve all heard, or perhaps seen portrayed in movies, but so much more moving when it’s related first hand.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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Pancake Breakfast<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

An all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast at the senior citizens center.\u00a0 What a powerful symbol of small town life.\u00a0 We\u2019re elated to find out that, yes, even, tourists can partake.<\/p>\n

The flapjacks are smothered in thick maple syrup and slathered with creamy butter and go down like a treat.\u00a0 The locals couldn\u2019t be kinder, insisting we fill up on seconds and even tossing a few homemade blueberry muffins in our bags so we won\u2019t get hungry later.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

10 dollar showers<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It\u2019s seems there\u2019s no limit to how high prices can go along the Alaska Highway.\u00a0 Eric is outraged at the cost of staying clean, and I resort to sponge baths in the public restrooms.<\/p>\n

Cyclists we meet confess they are forking out $50 a day just for camping and meals.\u00a0 Naturally, we\u2019re not following suit.<\/p>\n

At the Tetsa River Lodge I break down and splurge on a piping hot cinnamon bun smothered in cream cheese frosting for a whopping $5.\u00a0 After days of predictable oatmeal, I pronounce it the most delicious food I\u2019ve ever encountered.\u00a0 Eric chides me for days.\u00a0 Five dollars for a cinnamon bun! In India you can get a decent hotel room plus dinner for two for that price.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

At one with nature<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Camping \u00a0along the Alaska highway can be lovely.\u00a0 We doze off to the sound of a stream gurgling in the distance and wake to the sounds of birds chirping and squirrels racing about.\u00a0 If you\u2019re lucky you\u2019ll spot a few deer wandering through camp and if you\u2019re unlucky a bear will sneak around at night and nab your food because you were unsuccessful at hanging it up in the tree.<\/p>\n

\n

The Yukon!<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The Yukon is Canada\u2019s equivalent to Alaska.\u00a0 The Last Frontier.\u00a0 A land where there\u2019s one bear for every two inhabitants, a place where crisp, cool air invigorates the mind and soul, the streams run clear and the forest almost envelops you.<\/p>\n

I can feel adventure beckoning.\u00a0 Real adventure.\u00a0 Far from the RV parks and the service stations, the cheesy souvenir shops and the overpriced tourist stops.<\/p>\n

Our plans are fluid, but winter is knocking at the door and that makes me nervous.<\/p>\n

Just 600 kilometers separate us from the Alaska border.\u00a0 Then it will be on to the Top of the World Highway, down to Dawson City, further south on the Klondike Highway back to Whitehorse and then south on the Cassiar highway as we head to Vancouver and a flight to Asia.\u00a0 Well, that\u2019s the plan for now, anyway.<\/p>\n