pedalpanam

I’m back in Fairbanks for the third time this month (if you count my overnight layover in the airport).

The gravel and washboard on the Denali Highway was not nice to my bike.  At some point as we were cruising down a hill I hit a rock and remember thinking the sound it made against the metal rim was not too good.  Things seemed OK after that and I thought nothing of it.

At some point yesterday (Saturday) I noticed my rim was a little out of whack, not too much, just noticeable when braking.  Then it got to the point where it was hitting the break pad everytime around.

I finally decided to look at the rim…

Yikes!  The tailwinds and mostly flat and downhill headed north from Paxson meant we got to a campsite only 30 miles away from Delta Junction, where we had a place to stay via couchsurfing.org.  We may have pushed the last 30 miles, but thought rain was coming and didn’t want to roll into town too late.

I decided to risk the 30 miles today on the damaged rim as opposed to looking for a ride, after all, I had gotten just as far on it the day before.

Flying with a great tailwind

With some more incredible tailwinds (I didn’t pedal more than 10 of the 30 miles today), which had me braking as to not go to fast and risk my rim blowing out at a high speed, we got to Delta Junction at about 2:30.  We found our host’s place a few miles north of Delta, and after a shower, packed a bag with some overnight stuff and headed south back into town on foot.

I held my thumb out to cars going to Fairbanks, wondering if it would help my cause or not to be carrying to bicycle wheels.  A guy that saw me on his way north picked me up on his way back south and dropped me off at the visitors center.  I hung out there for a while, but no one was stopping there.

I wrote a sign saying “Friendly cyclist headed to South America needs to get to Fairbanks to replace broken rim” and hung out in front of the gas station for a while.  Several people approached me and said “Would give you a ride but headed the other way”  This was encouraging.

I got hungry so I headed to the drive in for some curly fries.  A kind lady who hadn’t even read my sign approached me and asked what the sign said.  Later on she would tell me that she found it odd for someone to be carrying around two bicycle rims.

She said she would be able to give me a ride, so I enjoyed the two hour ride into Fairbanks getting to know her and her son.  It turns out that at one point she had worked at the sports store I’ll be looking for new rims at tomorrow.

I hope to get to the sports store first thing, and see if they can replace my rim during the day.  In the meantime I’ll do some grocery shopping and research for the next leg of the trip.  Then I’ll have to try my luck at hitchhiking back to Delta to meet up with Baptiste.

Since last checking in at Healy, we rode south past Denali National Park (but didn’t actually go into the park) to Cantwell, and have been going east on the Denali Highway (not actually in the Denali NP) for over 100 miles.

I was a little unsure about taking this detour on our way down into Whitehorse from Fairbanks, but am very glad we did it.  Like the Dalton, the road is mostly gravel and sometimes with awful washboard.  But unlike the Dalton, there is no trucking traffic, we’ve only passed one maintenance crew, the mosquitoes are tolerable (haven’t worn my net yet), and there is no pipeline following us every step of the way.

The riding has consisted of a gravel road through valleys carved out by glaciers and all sorts of geological phenomena I am not familiar with (I’ll send you the brochure if you’d like), but amazing nonetheless.  There have been mountains to the south and north, even a glimpse of the Maclaren glacier.  Now that I knew what gravel roads were like, I am actually enjoying them.  A little more wear and tear on the bike and my bones, but well worth it.

The Maclaren pass was a blast.  Long way uphill, yes, but not so steep that I was able to actually bike up this time.  The second highest highway pass in Alaska at about 4,100 feet (I can’t even imagine what biking in the Andes will be like).  Views of the valley below, with rain clouds everywhere except on us.

We then coasted most of the way down to Tangle Lakes, where we ran into the Berling brothers (pebblepedalers.com) before setting up our tents on a clearing next to one of the Tangle Lakes (not sure which).  After dinner I took a dip in the lake, and slept in this morning.

I already knew I wanted to take a day off and explore the area, maybe take some hikes or fly the kite, but woke up to on and off drizzle.  I’ve spent the whole day in the Tangle Inn, consuming a carafe of coffee and watching out the window for signs of the weather to clear up.

Pictures to come when I have a better internet connection.

We left Fairbanks yesterday, and it has been two rather un-noteworthy days.  Only just today in the afternoon have we gotten close enough to Denali National Park to encounter some interesting terrain and scenery.  It has been really hazy from nearby forest fires.  It has also be really hot, so even two short 55 mile days has been exhausting.  The heat makes me drowsy, I’d much rather biking in chilly weather.  My highlight today was climbing into the ice freezer outside the Tesoro gas station.

We pitched our tents last night behind the quaint log church in Nenana, the town known for its Ice Classic.  Every year people throughout Alaska place bets on when a wooden structure placed on the river ice will cross a certain point as it moves downstream as the river melts.  It seems as though lots of the good things of Alaska can only be enjoyed in the winter.

I am writing this from the air conditioned library in Healy.  This will probably be it for internet for me for at least 4 or 5 days.

Baptiste got his bike fixed and has patiently been waiting here in Fairbanks for me to finish up the Dalton.  I’ve rested up for two days and we’ll be leaving sometime this Sunday south on the Parks Highway.  I had originally thought we’d head directly southeast to Delta Junction, and then Tok, but we decided to do a little detour.  I guess the last week of gravel roads and mountain passes didn’t teach me a lesson!

We plan on heading south on the (George) Parks Highway, which goes by Denali National Park (maybe we’ll venture in on bike or foot for a little), as far as Cantwell, then east on the Denali Highway (unpaved, with the 2nd highest mountain pass in Alaska) to Paxson, then north on the Richardson to Delta Junction, for a total of about 350 miles, maybe a week.

Sorry, its too late at night to come up with a map (the sun is now actually rising).  Google maps doesn’t show half the roads in Alaska, so it is not helpful either.  For now, your best bet may be to pull ouut an atlas to see where I’ll be.

I have no idea of internet availability for the next week, but I’ll check in with my sister Karen via telephone when I can and she can pass on my whereabouts here on the blog.

I’ve inserted many pictures from my Flickr set in the blog post below, but if you want to browse pictures seperately, click here.

The night at the tiny, tidy Fairbanks airport was rather restless; unfortunately they don’t turn the lights or the easy listening music off (Pure Shores by All Saints!!!), and I think my body was a little thrown off by how light it was outside.  After flying to Prudhoe Bay, the sun wouldn’t set for several days, and the first four days of the journey seemed like one long drawn out encounter with gravel roads and mosquitoes.

I sat in the terminal waiting for the incoming flight from Anchorage to let some of its passengers off, and then a bunch of huge freight containers were loaded to the front half of the plane, a Boeing 737-400 Combi.  I then boarded the plane and greeted Baptiste for the first time.  I ended up with a seat behind him, so we weren’t able to converse too much.  The plane was mostly full of tough looking guys in hats with oil company logos, and a few tourists.

I dozed in and out during the flight, and woke up as we were going over the pipeline as  we approached Deadhorse.  About half the passengers stayed on the plane, they were headed toward the end of the line, Barrow.

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Pipeline near Prudhoe Bay (Photo: Baptiste Poncet)

After getting our bags and bikes, Baptiste and I sat around for about half an hour until the airport emptied out.  Then began the task of putting out bikes back together.  We had been given the OK to turn the baggage claim area into our workshop.  The airport employee mentioned a few other bikers that had come through in the past weeks.

Deadhorse Baggage Claim (Photo: Baptiste Poncet)

I was anything but enthusiastic at this point;  hungry and tired, without coffee, and wondering what I was doing here.  It took almost 5 hours to get everything put together and packed up.

I donned my insulated calf-length biking shorts, expecting to be cold, but would soon realize they would be unnecessary for this part of the trip.  We rolled out of the airport and saw a bit of the town, mostly warehouses, a lot of trucks, and headed to the general store to buy a few things.  Everything there is super expensive, I’m glad I had bought all my food in Seattle.

The post office is in the same building, we went by and saw the billboard that has Polaroid shots of travellers, including lots of bicyclists I had read about before.  The friendly postal worker there documents folks at the start or the finish of their trip.

Post Office worker and documenter of travellers (Photo: Bapstiste Poncet)

Berling brothers from pebblepedalers.com and Baptiste and I

(Side note:  If you are starting your bike trip in Deadhorse, talk to the post office worker in the picture, she has become the keeper of partially full gallon containers of white camping gas.  The general store does not sell a smaller size, so we had to leave the remainder of ours there)

We ate some lunch outside the store, and were on our way out of Deadhorse, passing some caribou.  It was not long before the mosquitoes descended on us.  This and the lack of sleep had me wanting to call it a day as soon as possible.  I knew some sleep would mean a better attitude.  After 20 miles, we pulled of to the side of the road and set up tent.

It is not easy eating through these headnets (Photo: Baptiste Poncet)

How many do you see? (Photo: Baptiste Poncet)

I would wake up rather rested, despite the sun being out the whole night.  The first day was getting familiar with mosquitoes, the second I became familiar with riding on gravel.

Riding on gravel is really OK, you just go a couple miles an hour slower than you are used to.  We had a nice tailwind, this meant that the mosquitoes had no problem keeping up with us.  I tried wearing my rain jacket to prevent bites, but got way to hot.  I resorted to the 99% DEET on my arms, back and hands, this seemed to work OK.

We came upon Joseph headed north on bicycle with his dog Star.  He’s from Oregon and was riding from Fairbanks to Deadhorse.  He warned us about the hills to come…

We met Frana, a young lady standing at the side of the road, asked her what she was doing there.  Her dad and her had driven up from Fairbanks, parked the car, and were trying to get a ride 30 miles south to Happy Valley to launch their raft and make it back to their car in a few days.  Later that day we made it to Happy Valley, an old workers camp, and saw that they had found a ride.  We had gone 60 miles, and decided to call it a day, and camped by the river too.

As we ate dinner, we noticed another tent being set up, and realized it was another cyclist.  We went over and met Thomas from Germany, who is not only biking the length of the Americas, but also climbing the highest peak of every country he visits.  He had already climbed McKinley and Logan in Canada, and had started out in Deadhorse that day on a recumbent bike.

Another night with sun, but I rested just fine again.  We would chat with Thomas again in the morning, but he got going a little while before we did.

We met Kenta sometime that day, he’s from Japan, studying in Washington.  He’s biking around Alaska and is headed to Montana before taking the Amtrak back to Washington in the fall.  Maybe I’ll run into him down the road.

Soon after meeting Kenta, I noticed a cyclist approaching from the north, and realized it was Thomas, somehow we had passed him, even though we hadn’t expected to see him again.  He had pulled over at a pump station earlier and slept for a while as he was feeling under the weather.

On our way up a hill, Baptiste’s back derailleur snapped off the frame… something that can’t be repaired on the road.  The reality of the situation set in, and it was clear he would have to hitch a ride to Fairbanks and look for a repair.  We said goodbye, and I was on my way.

I got to the top of the hill and found Thomas relaxing and taking in the amazing view.  As we took in the scenery, we heard a honk and saw Baptiste waving from the cab of a truck with his bike strapped to the back, he had found a ride within half an hour.  I would not see him till Fairbanks a week later.

Thomas and I would stick together the rest of the day, and I probably biked a little further that I would if I was alone.  I knew they next day was Atigun pass, and was happy to have gotten as close to it was we did.  We were now encountering some serious hills, and could see the Brooks Range across the horizon.

We made the decision to camp on the side of a big hill with a great view, it also happened that the pipeline was right there.  We read the rather ambiguous warning sign and decided it didn’t really apply to people without vehicles.  We enjoyed dinner and talked a little about the day ahead.  He wanted to get all the way to Coldfoot, 100 miles, I would be happy to just get over the mountain pass.

Thomas said goodbye on his way out early the next morning and I decided to sleep in another few hours.  When I was packing up, an Alyeska security truck aproached and they asked me if I had spent the night there or not.  They told me that there was no camping on the right-of-way, which apparently includes everything in the vicinity of the pipeline, not just the access road that runs along the pipeline, which we had made sure not to block.  They mentioned something about getting a permit at the pump station (paperwork!?!?), but I didn’t quite understand what that would allow me to do.  At any rate, I made sure not to camp under the pipeline again, and am posting the pictures in good faith that I won’t be prosecuted, and to serve as a notice to other travellers of what not to do.

The next day brought longer slopes upward as I started to enter the narrow valley into the Brooks Range.  All this by the way was incredibly beautiful.

Up until then I had only had walk my bike up a few short steep hills, but then I arrived at the bottom of the pass and realized that this would take me a while.  Photos can’t really capture the road as it wound steeply around the side of the mountain.

I started to walk the bike up, and it took a grueling hour to make it to the top.  This was my first mountain pass and it was rather underwhelming (not even a sign to take a picture in front of!), I wasn’t quite sure all the effort was worth it. I ate a celebratory meal, thinking the hard part was over.  I hung around for a little, trying to rest a little.

I pedaled slowly downhill and soon had the feeling in my gut when you are at the top of a rollercoaster and have no control of the descent.  I started to gain speed and knew I would have to brake most of the way down.  The smell of my brakes became strong and I got a little worried.  The road started to look much more dangerous;  blind curves, steep slopes just beyond the guardrail, gravel, and trucks barreling up and down the hill.  I clenched the brakes as hard as I could and finally came to a stop.

Let me tell you, the only thing worse than walking your bike up a mountain is having to walk it down the other side.  It took me another hour to walk down.  By now I was sick of walking the bike.  I got to a yellow sign with a truck on a downhill slope, which are quite frequent, but this one said for the next two miles (which I would later read in the guidebook is a 9% grade).  Nice, I thought, I’ll just coast down the whole way.  I rationalized my decision to do this, thinking, I’m out of the mountain pass so it can’t be too dangerous.  This has probably been the poorest decision of the trip, and fortunately I made it down the hill OK, but it was a tense, harrowing experience flying down the gravel road at 40 miles an hour with no way to stop, with traffic coming uphill the other way.  There are so many things that can go wrong on a bike at the speed, but thankfully Juniper (my bike) held up just fine.

I got off the bike at the furthest north spruce tree and breathed deeply until my legs stopped shaking.  The lanscape was new, there were trees!  The sign would say that it is not the cold or the soil further north that preventrs trees from growing, but rather the lack of sunlight.

About 15 miles more and I would find a campsite on the side of a creek.

Though the sun didn’t set that night, the 100 hour day was over. I celebrated with a wash in the creek, which was very difficult with the hordes of mosquitoes.  Thus ends the first chapter.  Come back for the next installment which will get me to Fairbanks.