{"id":2134,"date":"2011-09-08T19:18:59","date_gmt":"2011-09-08T22:18:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.worldbiking.info\/wordpress\/?p=2134"},"modified":"2016-05-29T11:12:13","modified_gmt":"2016-05-29T15:12:13","slug":"cycling-to-the-top-of-the-world","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.worldbiking.info\/wordpress\/2011\/09\/cycling-to-the-top-of-the-world\/","title":{"rendered":"Cycling to the Top of the World"},"content":{"rendered":"

Some roads are legendary amongst long-distance cyclists:\u00a0 Asia\u2019s Pamir Highway, the Carreterra Austral in South America, Sani Pass in Southern Africa and–straddling the border between Alaska and the Canadian Yukon–The Top of the World Highway.<\/p>\n

Sure, we were excited to take on the challenge of riding a stretch of rough and desolate road. A road reputed to be one of the most stunning in the Great North.\u00a0 One whose winding curves culminate in a 360 degree vista of the valleys below.<\/p>\n

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The great north, just one vast wilderness inhabited by whole lot of moose caribou and bears.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Settling for second<\/h3>\n

But to be honest, The Top of the World Highway was something of a consolation prize.<\/p>\n

Although the calendar proclaimed it was late summer, weather conditions told us otherwise. The morning chill and changing foliage–flaming yellows and vibrant oranges– suggested winter was just around the corner.\u00a0 It was time to don my thick gloves on the steep descents and wrap myself up in my thick down sleeping bag once the sun eased its way below the horizon.<\/p>\n

So, with winter taunting us, we\u2019d axed our plans for biking the more northerly Dalton Highway and a ride up to the Arctic Ocean.<\/p>\n

We\u2019d settle for The Top of the World Highway, which\u2014you had to admit– had a very adventurous ring to it.<\/p>\n

As the weeks along the Alaska Highway slid by, we crossed paths with fewer and fewer cyclists.\u00a0 Wise bikers were already further south, keeping a pedal stroke ahead of the arctic chill which was sure to envelope the Great North within a matter of weeks.<\/p>\n

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Autumn has already arrived in our neck of the woods.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The trick is in the timing<\/h3>\n

I\u2019m fairly certain we were the only fools heading north<\/em> into freezing temperatures.<\/p>\n

It was time to turn around and we knew it.<\/p>\n

We\u2019d hit 64 degrees north, and that would be it.\u00a0\u00a0 Pedaling all the way up to the Arctic Ocean would elude us, meaning, one day, we\u2019d have to return to do justice to the great state of Alaska.<\/p>\n

So we set off for the Top of The World.<\/p>\n

A favorite past-time<\/h3>\n

Like so many travelers, I\u2019m fond of striking up conversations with locals.\u00a0 \u00a0Random locals.\u00a0 I\u2019ll chat with the guy sporting a feed store baseball cap and a big belt buckle who\u2019s out pumping gas, the gum-popping clerk with big hair who\u2019s manning the cash register at the general store, and the frumpy middle-aged lady in a track suit out walking her dog.<\/p>\n

As a cyclist, talk eventually turns to road conditions. Everybody had an opinion about the Top of the World Highway, or to be more exact, the Taylor Highway which is the partially gravel road in the US which leads up to the actual Top of the World Highway which lies over the border in Canada.<\/p>\n

Full of chuck-holes.\u00a0 Just a big muddy mess last time I passed that way. Wouldn\u2019t wanna head up there after all this rain we\u2019ve been having.<\/em> You can give it a try I suppose.<\/em><\/p>\n

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Road conditions on the taylor highway really aren’t all that bad.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

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Get real!<\/h3>\n

Not very encouraging, to be sure, but I wasn\u2019t particularly worried.<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s face it.\u00a0 Here in the developed world, we\u2019re pretty spoiled when it comes to road conditions.\u00a0 Once a cyclist\u2019s has suffered through what goes for a \u201croad\u201d in the Congo, Kenya or Cameroon, little can faze her.<\/p>\n

Stocking up on sufficient provisions is the main concern in the far north.\u00a0 Sleepy settlements are few and far between, and you can be sure price-gouging is as prolific as pine trees.<\/p>\n

Honestly, in five years on the road, we have never, ever carried so much food.\u00a0 Not across the remote deserts of Africa, not through sparsely inhabited Patagonia or over remote roads in the Andes.<\/p>\n

Stocking up<\/h3>\n

In the Alaskan town of Tok, we load the bikes with a family-sized package of pancake mix, enough ramen noodles to sustain us for a week, a big bag of rice, plenty of porridge, cookies galore to keep my sweet-tooth satisfied, a huge hunk of cheddar cheese, two bags of cinnamon-raisin bagels, a couple of tins of tuna, an over-priced loaf of bread and a 32-ounce bucket of potato salad whose expiration date has long passed.\u00a0 It\u2019s half price and a great deal, reasons Eric.\u00a0 Botulism is a high price to pay for a bargain is my only thought.<\/p>\n

On our way out of town, I roll up on to a truck scale and the officer in charge holds up a sign reading 300 pounds.\u00a0\u00a0 300 POUNDS!\u00a0 Can it really be possible?\u00a0 No wonder the bikes are so sluggish.<\/p>\n

And we’re off!<\/h3>\n

Day one of our Top of the World trek drags on and on.\u00a0 The hills are steep and unrelenting. One after another they come at us like the waves of rancid-potato-salad-induced nausea which are sure to overtake me the following day. Up and down, up and down, up and down till we curse the heavy bikes and our uncontrolled buying spree in the supermarket.<\/p>\n

Late in the evening we pull into a campsite just as a Japanese biker arrives from the opposite direction.\u00a0 His round the world tour is coming to an end and he appears to have achieved a sense of perfect touring tranquility.\u00a0 In the morning, we stop by to chat as he whips up a breakfast of authentic Japanese noodles over an open fire.<\/p>\n

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A fellow cyclist from Japan, check out the authentic noodles.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

A place called Chicken<\/h3>\n

After our farewells, we set off in the direction of Chicken, Alaska– the only real pit stop along the way.<\/p>\n

Now, there\u2019s no electricity in Chicken.\u00a0 No indoor plumbing either.\u00a0 But there is a whole lot of kitsch.\u00a0 T-shirts and knick-knacks all gently poking fun at the oddly-named town plunked down in the middle of no-where.\u00a0 \u00a0The whole place is designed to part the tourist with a little of his hard-earned cash and I am no exception.\u00a0 The homemade pies are irresistible and I spring for a treat, plop down at a picnic table and contemplate the kilometers ahead.<\/p>\n

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Friendly Chicken, Alaska.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
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A hot cup of coffee was tempting, but I went for a slice of homemade cherry pie.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

No, not another rainstorm<\/h3>\n

After Chicken, the road morphs into a river of mud as the heavens open and bombard us with a fierce afternoon shower.\u00a0 One of the worst summers on record, we\u2019re told.\u00a0 Rain, day after day, after bloody day and my patience with such uncomfortable climatic conditions is wearing thin<\/p>\n

The soggy riding conditions are exhausting, and when a campsite appears at the end of a long downhill, we call it quits.<\/p>\n

Now, I\u2019m all for abiding the law, doing the right thing and all that.\u00a0 But when it\u2019s pouring rain, I\u2019m\u00a0 on a bicycle and there\u2019s a nice covered picnic area under which it\u2019s strictly forbidden to pitch a tent, you can bet I\u2019m going to engage in a bit of mild rule-breaking.<\/p>\n

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Alright, technically not a campsite, but not the most serious rule one can break.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

With a roof over our heads, we enjoy the vastness of Alaska far more.\u00a0 I have a hard time getting my mind around just how big and empty the land really is.\u00a0 Once you venture off the main road you\u2019re swallowed up into a virtual wilderness.<\/p>\n

We go to sleep with the rain, we wake up with the rain and we keep on riding with the rain.<\/p>\n

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A dreary day on the Taylor Highway.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
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A little sunshine poking out from behind the clouds.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Bearanoia<\/h3>\n

In the morning I spot grizzly tracks.\u00a0 I know they are grizzly tracks because I\u2019m obsessed with bear attacks and have been studying ever possible piece of literature concerning black bears and grizzlies.\u00a0 I know when to play dead and when to fight for my life.\u00a0 I\u2019ve read all about bears\u2019 non-verbal cues, how to differentiate from a curious bear and one who\u2019s about to charge.<\/p>\n

The toe imprints I observe are close together and long claws are clearly visible in the tracks.\u00a0 They\u2019re clearly from a grizzly on the prowl.<\/p>\n

Eric tries to convince me they\u2019re moose tracks.\u00a0 Moose tracks!\u00a0 Does he think I\u2019ve been hibernating in a snow cave for the last 44 years?<\/p>\n

We slog on all morning, climbing higher and higher.\u00a0 I\u2019m constantly on the lookout for the grizzly, practically jumping out of the saddle every time a bird rustles some leaves.\u00a0 I never spot the elusive grizzly, but I am treated to a family of 8 majestic caribou darting across the road.\u00a0 A couple of the animals are curious and stop and stare.<\/p>\n

It throws my off balance and I stare back stupidly not knowing if I should retreat or perhaps talk to them in a low, soothing voice as you\u2019re supposed to do with bears.<\/p>\n

The promised land<\/h3>\n

Finally we reach the frontier:\u00a0 Poker Creek: \u00a0population 2\u2014the most northerly border post in the USA.<\/p>\n

We snap the obligatory photo and I track down an immigration official and enquire about filling up our water bottles.<\/p>\n

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\u201cWater\u2019s no good here.\u00a0 We get all ours shipped in bottles.\u00a0 Get some down in Dawson City, I suspect.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dawson City is a hundred kilometers ahead, there are no creeks in these parts and we\u2019re in dire need of water. I persist.<\/p>\n

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Dawson City, still a day’s ride away.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got a filter, can you just give us some regular tap water?\u00a0 We\u2019ll purify it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The official frowns.\u00a0 \u201cI told you, the water\u2019s no good round here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I can’t believe it<\/h3>\n

At this point I\u2019m feeling a mix of utter surprise, shock and mild rage.<\/p>\n

Even in the poorest African country we\u2019ve never been denied water.\u00a0 Would it really bankrupt the US government to hand out a few bottles of water to passing cyclists at a remote and little-used border crossing? \u00a0\u00a0I mean, the U.S. military spends around $20.2 billion annually just on air conditioning in Iraq and Afghanistan.<\/p>\n

Is this guy afraid I might slap him with a lawsuit if he dares to fill my bottles with non-potable water?<\/p>\n

Can he not imagine that I\u2019m riding a bicycle and might get thirsty during those 100 grueling kilometers that separate me from Dawson City and the world of public water fountains?<\/p>\n

The whole situation makes absolutely no sense to me.<\/p>\n

Finally a female officer intervenes and agrees to part with a little of their precious water–not the bottled stuff mind you, just the regular old tap water.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m miffed and the spectacular view from The Top of the World feels a lot less spectacular than it should.<\/p>\n

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View from the Top of the World Highway.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

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Sunset on the Top of the World Highway.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Spinning southward<\/h3>\n

We\u2019re back in Canada\u2019s Yukon now.\u00a0\u00a0 Having biked all the way up to 64 degrees north, we turn the bikes around and start spinning our wheels southward.\u00a0 There\u2019s no time to waste.\u00a0 Winter\u2019s hovering on my back wheel and I\u2019m determined to out-ride it.<\/p>\n