DAY 50: 7/12/02 WALKER FORK to WEST FORK/ 34mi / 3200' Elev gain / N63:52.2 W142:14.6'

We woke up to the sounds of heavy road equipment. The road grader was repairing the road heading west. The campground hostess mentioned that there had been a motorhome accident last night. An elderly gentleman drove his vehicle too close to the edge of the road and couldn't keep it from going down a steep enbamkment. He survived the crash with just a bump on his head, but his RV did not fare as well. As we road past the accident site we were thankful he was able to walk away from this accident with only a bump on his head. In 16 miles we arrived at Beautiful Downtown Chicken. The Lost Chicken Hill Mine was established in 1895 and this area is still being mined using hydraulic operations. Downtown Chicken consists of a cafe, saloon, and gift shop. The outhouses are brand new and called "chicken poop". This entire rustic complex is owned by a woman who runs a tight ship. While we ate our hamburger and rhubarb dessert, she told us when she hires her summer staff she tries to talk them out of wanting to work in Chicken. She makes sure her employees can provide excellent customer service for the many tour groups who stop in. These hires also must understand the isolation of Chicken. There are no phones and Tok Alaska, the nearest town, is small and 80 miles away. We loitered a little too long in Chicken, because we spent the next 18 miles trying to stay ahead of lightning, thunder, and rain. We weren't entirely successful but we arrived at West Fork dry. We were the only ones in camp. Even Don Marshall, the well known campground host, was gone. We enjoyed a long quiet afternoon.

DAY 51: 7/13/02 WEST FORK to TOK / 62mi / 4760' Elev gain / N63:20.1' W142:58'

It was very foggy in camp along the West Fork this morning. The cool, damp air made us shiver while we tried not to spill our hot oatmeal and cocoa. We knew we'd warm up as our first 14 miles skirted around the summit of 5541 foot Mount Fairplay. When we reached the high point we hoped the hardest part of the day would be over. Much to our ever-increasing heart break, the next 25 miles were long, winding 7% uphill and downhill grades. We began to understand how Lewis and Clark felt when they arrived in the Bitterroot Mountains. We learned there was no easy way to reach the delta of the Tannana River, just as there is no easy way through the Bitterroots. We rested our butts and ate our many lunches at the interpretive signs about the Taylor Highway, The Fortymile River, the caribou herd, and the scrubby trees of the boreal forest. We questioned ourselves many times, "What were we thinking?" Why did we think think this would be an interesting way to see Alaska? We finally coasted the last 2 miles down to Tetlin Junction on the Alaska Highway, and lo and behold the road was flat for the 12 miles to Tok. We crossed the road to meet an oncoming cyclist. Kazokito, a Japanese student, was headed toward Dawson over the Top of the World. Ken tried not to sound too discouraging, since his bike was so heavily laden with gear. He was carrying his laptop computer, two solar panels to power his electronics, two cameras, and who knows what else. He was even carrying an extra sack of groceries wrapped around his handlebars because his panniers were full. We wished him all the blessings we could and enthusiastically sent him on his way. There was a long line at the RV wash at the Tok RV Campground, so we headed for the showers instead.
 

DAY 52: 7/14/02 TOK to DOT LAKE / 39 mi / 870' Elev gain / N63:39.7' W144:4'

Our pace was very leisurely this morning after yesterday's tough but spectacular day. It was amazing how a shower, dinner and clean laundry provided a fresh outlook. Ken cooked up a couple steaks to have with our cashew teriyaki rice. The final attitude adjustment came in the form of a pound of Oreos with chocolate milk.
Thankfully the northbound road from Tok was flat since our legs were dog-tired. The hills we did encounter were easily managed. Many of the streams we crossed were dry as the spring run-off from the Mountains of the Alaska Range was long since over. The long bridge over the impressive silt-filled Robertson River, which begins at the Robertson Glacier in the Alaska Range, was the only water we saw. It is 100 miles from Tok to Delta Junction and the only services in between are at Dot Lake, but when we arrived, Dot Lake was closed. The owners close their business on Sunday. We inquired at a home next door if it would be okay to pitch our tent and use the water tap in the camping area of the lodge. She said she though it would be fine and we could pay in the morning. Well, we planned to leave very early for the 60 miles to Delta Junction in the morning but we had no other choice. We pitched the tent and checked the washrooms and they were unlocked and had hot showers. After cleaning up, taking a nap and cooking dinner we went to the outside phone booth to send our email and there was a car parked in front of the lodge. Ken knocked on the door to the lodge and a woman came to the door. We asked if we could pay for our tent site since we would be leaving early. She said, "Sunday is a free day," and added that if we needed anything to be sure to ask. Dot Lake is a mosquito-infested bog, but once was an important Athabascan hunting camp and stopping point on the Indian freight trail to the Yukon River. During construction of the Alaska Highway, there was a work camp here, called Sears City. One of the out buildings on the site appears to be a remnant of that camp.

DAY 53: 7/15/02 DOT LAKE to DELTA JUNCTION / 64mi / 890' Elev gain / N64:6.2' W145:46.3'

We were surprised that the mosquitoes didn't overwhelm us during breakfast. The air was still and the skies cloudy. It seems we have done a lot of complaining lately about how difficult and challenging this ride has been. But Ken was so astonished while waiting in line to use the phone a few days ago. A woman, whose husband was waiting in a motorhome, was complaining to whomever was on the other end of the line about how miserable her entire trip to Alaska has been. She was tired of sitting in the RV, the roads were bumpy, the showers were dirty, the laundry took too much money, the restaurants were expensive. She hated camping and the only thing keeping her going was that she had her dogs with her. Now, that is complaining! Ken says, "Give me a shoulder on the road and I'll never complain again." Rita has always enjoyed the challenge of cycling hills, but after the Top of the World Highway she exclaimed, "I will never think a flat road is boring again!" Today the Alaska Highway between Dot Lake and Delta Junction was flat as a pancake. Seven miles from the Junction Rita saw a sign for Delta Meat and Sausage, said she was hungry and wheeled up to the door. As soon as we entered the building, a lady came to the counter with a tray of assorted smoked meat sticks and jerky. We sampled one of everything and bought a small package of smoked buffalo sticks. The owner saw we were on bikes and gave us 2 additional packages of jerky. Delta Junction dubs itself the "Buffalo Center" because of the American Bison that were transplanted here in the 1920's. We could recognize that the Delta Junction area is the agricultural region of Alaska. We saw hay bales, pastures of beef cattle and granaries. Upon arriving at the visitor center/museum we learned about the "pigs" used in cleaning the Alaska Pipeline, the end of the Alaska Highway, and the many historic roadhouses along the old Valdez to Fairbanks Trail. Mabel, a very tiny 90 year old woman, was the guide in the restored Sullivan Roadhouse. We learned how Florence Sullivan, in 1905, snow shoed 1500 miles from Nome to Fairbanks breaking trail for the dog mushers who were hauling her supplies. She and her husband built the roadhouse for miners and trappers who were traveling the old trail. When our tour was over, Rita asked if Mabel would mind having her picture taken in the vegetable garden in front of the roadhouse. Mabel said the potatoes were too spindly, the rabbits were eating the cabbage and there were too many weeds, so she directed the photographer to some tiger lilies that she thought were prettier. After a stop at the grocery store, we headed to Smith's RV Park. Just as we finished dinner, we met a cycling couple from London. They had just come from Denali National Park and had some helpful tips on how to maneuver through the many rules and regulations for cyclists in the park. Steve and Norico had been resting in Delta Junction for three days, because Norico's knee joint was inflamed. They had hoped to cycle the hilly "Top of the World Highway" to Dawson but were changing their route so Norico could hopefully complete their planned trip to the Baja.

DAY 54: 7/16/02 DELTA JUNCTION to SALCHA RIVER / 56 mi / 1890' Elev gain / N64:28.7' W146:58.8'

Our first spectacular sight was the cow and calf moose in the front yard of a house along the highway. Just a bit further down the road was another moose so close to the road we wondered if she might decide to take a step toward us. We have not attempted to get any photos of our wild animal sightings. Since we don't have the protection of a car around us, our attitude is, "We will get out of your way if you get out of ours." The next event was crossing the Big Delta Bridge. The Tanana River is an expansive gravel delta with fast moving silty water. Not only is there a bridge for automobile traffic but a bridge for the Pipeline. The pipeline is under ground through Delta Junction, but comes out of the ground to be suspended high on bridge to cross the delta. Across the Tanana River delta we had beautiful views of 12,000 peaks of the Alaska Range: Mount Hayes, Mount Deborah and Hess Mountain. We stopped along the beach of Birch Lake to have lunch and take a nap. After the nap the reason for riding our bikes to Alaska seemed more clear - to relax and enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of the great north. Stopping to read the interpretive signs about Felix Pedro and the gold strikes in the Tanana Valley was worthwhile. While we don't intend to take sides in a political discussion about the use of guns in the United States, we have become aware of a significant number of bullet holes in road signs and interpretive signs since we entered Alaska from the Yukon. In Canada, we never saw any road signs used for target practice.
At Midway Lodge, it felt like it was pie time, so Ken had coconut cream and Rita had blackberry -ala mode of course. This stopping place halfway between Delta Junction and Fairbanks was a hangout for the locals. There were no tourists here, except us. At the village of Salcha we stopped to replenish our mosquito spray before we headed to an early camp at a popular fishing spot along the Salcha River. Ken says next time we are bringing our fishing poles.

DAY 55: 7/17/02 SALCHA RIVER to FAIRBANKS / 44mi / 170' Elev gain / N64:50' W147:47'

We really enjoyed the flat terrain into Fairbanks. We left the campground at 6:30 and by 9 we were at the North Pole. That is North Pole, Alaska which is 15 miles south of Fairbanks. Some developers purchased land in the 1950's and hoped to attract industry, especially a major toy manufacturer. They would call their enterprise Santa's Toy Shop at the North Pole. The toy deal never worked out, but they did get an oil refinery and a pump station for the Alaska Pipeline. The city then decided to make its emphasis on tourism and capitalized on year-round Christmas marketing.
Rita's mother will be celebrating her 84th birthday soon, so she mailed a card from the North Pole after wandering through a few shops. Ken was patient even though the McDonald's just down the street was calling him. We haven't been to McDonald's since Cranbrook, BC - nearly a month and a half - so breakfast burritos and milkshakes seemed like a perfect meal. Being well fed, we hopped on the bikes and zoomed past Eielson Air Force Base and the Army's Fort Wainwright. A few days ago, the Air Force was practicing maneuvers in the beautiful blue skies near Delta Junction. We saw the interesting contrails and not being able to look at the sky and the road at the same time, we stopped our bikes to watch 5 planes perform some spectacular moves. Eielson has a full complement of military planes and pilots come to practice at Eielson because of the immense airspace. In no time at all we arrived at the very friendly Norlite Campground in Fairbanks. We were ready to finalize our plans to ride the Dalton Highway Express to Prudhoe Bay. The Express Van Service transports cargo and passengers to destinations along the 500 mile, mostly gravel, Dalton Highway to Deadhorse, Alaska on Prudhoe Bay. Originally built to haul equipment to construct oil drilling stations and to build the Alaska Pipeline in the early 70's, it was dubbed the "haul road." Restrictions on the Dalton Highway were lifted in 1995 and the road was open to anyone who dared drive it. The Express is a delivery service, not a guided tour, so we carry our own food and stop where it stops. The hosts at the Norlite have a locked storage building where we can store our bikes for 2 days and we stocked up on groceries for the road trip. We are to meet at Alaskaland Park, which is across the street, at 6 AM.
Our camp is next to a man from Japan with a two wheel cart. He has walked from Anchorage to Fairbanks pulling this rickshaw. He hopes to spend the next 6 months walking through Alaska and the Yukon. And people think we're nuts!

DAY 56: 7/18/02 FAIRBANKS to PRUDHOE BAY / 500mi by van / N70:12.2' W148:27.3'

Before we hit the sack last night we wandered across the street to Alaskaland Pioneer Park to see where we should meet the shuttle. We entered what appeared to be a mine shaft and wandered through a tunnel with mining artifacts and old photos. The exit to the mine was next to a sluice box, waterfall, and the Alaska Salmon Bake Eatery. It was too bad we had already eaten. We wandered through displays of old heavy equipment used in mining. Soon we were in a village of some original old build buildings from Fairbanks. Some were restored and converted to gift shops and eateries.
Ken was able to sniff out an ice cream shop. We strolled back to the campground and got a good nights sleep so we were able to get up at 4:30 this morning. We were very quiet as we packed everything we needed for our trip to Prudhoe Bay. At precisely 5:45 Paul arrived in the Dalton Highway Express Van. We were his only passengers, but his cargo consisted of 2 new tires, 10 gallons of water, a roll of newspapers, and 8 cases of beer. We left Fairbanks on the Steese Highway paralleling the Alaska Pipeline. Immediately we were glad we weren't riding our bikes. The hills were steep and plentiful. In an hour we arrived at Joy, Alaska for our first pit stop. Paul delivered the water, Ken bought a muffin, and Rita used the outhouse. Up and down over and over and finally a big down to cross the Yukon River. There were two bridges - one for vehicles and one for the pipeline. We were getting to know more about our driver, Paul, as we continued north. Paul was a doctoral student in music at the University of Alaska - Fairbanks. so much of the conversation focused on his band and his compositions as we listened to some of his band's CD's. Soon we came upon a stalled water truck, with the driver waving us down to hitch a ride. The trucker hopped in and he taught us how the road engineers try to pave the permafrost with a material known as float seal. The trees were getting stubbier and the terrain more like tundra by the time we stopped at the Arctic Circle for photos. Paul dropped off the trucker at his construction camp and we were making very good time on this 500 mile stretch of bad road, when we came upon more construction. It would be a 4 hour wait while the crew replaced a culvert. Paul was a little disgruntled by the long delay on an already long day, but Rita suggested putting on his favorite CD and Ken suggested taking a nap. Paul put on some Pink Floyd and we all took naps. We arrived in Coldfoot, the halfway point, where Paul delivered the rest of his cargo, including the beer. Rita suggested drinking it during the delay, but Paul and Ken said no. North of Coldfoot we said goodbye to the last spruce tree as we began the climb over Atigun Pass in the spectaular Brooks Range. Rita read about the geological collisions of oceanic plates limestone, granite, schist, and conglomerate as Paul sped along trying to make up time. We descended the north side of the pass quickly to the long sweeping views of tundra and small lakes of the "North Slope". Thump! Thump! Thump! By the time Paul got the van to the side of the road the right rear tire was shredded. We all hopped out. Ken loosened the lug nuts, Paul got the jack and spare and Rita swatted mosqitoes. We were as fast and efficient as any Indy 500 Team. After the muffler broke loose we sounded like a race car too. About 2 hours from our destination Paul spotted a herd of 17 musk ox grazing on the tundra. He even stopped the van so we could get a good look. About 1 hour from our destination we saw a cyclist pedaling northward into the headwind. Paul stopped again. The cyclist was our Danish friend, Hans, on the very last leg of his 16 month ride from the southern tip of South America to Prudhoe Bay. Ken handed the ragged looking but strong Hans a soda and Pop Tart. He was determined to complete the 500 mile grueling Dalton Highway in 5 days. Leaving Hans to complete his quest, we continued on and arrived in Deadhorse, Alaska at 9:30. It took 15 1/2 hours. The sun was still high in the sky as we pitched our tent on the cold ground above the permafrost. Ken's GPS told us our latitude and longitude, but it is totally confused about sunrise and sunset. There is no sunset at 70 degrees North on July 18.