Alaska Highway, First 940 Miles

This report based on the 940 mile stretch of the Alaska Highway between Dawson Creek and Whitehorse. But first, some thoughts on common perceptions of the Alaska Highway and my recollections from traveling it five years ago.

When I first set out in 2002 to drive to Alaska, I was warned about terrible road conditions, unpredictable weather, dangerous wildlife and hostile logging trucks. I was told that I had better fortify my vehicle with items to protect against rocks that have taken flight to escape truck tires and to carry additional fuel as gas stations are far apart and sometimes closed.

When Griffin and I set out in our semi-reliable four-wheel drive motorhome, we did indeed encounter an Alaska Highway that was unique vs. other roads. There were stretches under construction or damaged by winter’s frost heaves. Some of these stretches involved dirt, mud, gravel, ruts and potholes. But I had no sense that the road was impassable. We found it to be a complete misnomer that the weather was unpredictable, since rain and fog were constants during our entire ride. Logging trucks were present, but the RVs were far more menacing, and we never encountered flying gravel. I was not cocky that I beat the road, I was thankful that it was easy on me. I did actually run out of gas at one point and I reacted by putting on my running shoes and grabbing my (empty – duh!) gas can – but that was due to my own stupidity and it’s a story for another day.

Although I believe that currently there is considerable construction further up the road, so far I have encountered very good road conditions. There have been a few 10-mile sections of gravel but they have been entirely manageable and actually pretty fun. For those sections, I stop and disengage the ABS, then stand on the footpegs and look straight ahead while motoring forward in low gear. Just like I learned at Jim Hyde’s class. No problem!

On this trip, the predictability of the weather has been a bit less reliable. But when compared to the all-rain condition of my previous visit, that is a good thing. I’ve stopped deliberating in the morning as to if I should start off with my rain gear. The answer is “yes, it will rain at some point.” While I’ve had my share of rain over the last few days, I’ve also had the clouds lift to reveal entire landscapes flooded with sunlight. And since the weather limited my view back in 2002 (and since my work-only-on-certain-days windshield wipers didn’t help matters), I’m truly seeing much of this land for the first time.

In my mind, there is an odd balance in this area between rain and sunlight. Although I’d prefer to remain dry, the rain surely must be responsible for the lush and life-full land. For that, I am grateful for the rain.

Speaking of the life in this land, I should report that while I’ve seen very little wildlife most days, I saw very many animals on the day I rode from Fort Nelson to Watson Lake. On that single day I saw no fewer than five moose, four buffalo, eight sheep and four thousand mosquitoes, each the size of a ham (okay, so the ham part was for fun). One moose encounter is worth further description. I had stopped along side of the road to take some photos (I haven’t been getting off the bike as much now that I’m all wired in with my heated clothing and audio system). And when I looked forward and prepared to start the bike, along came a moose. It was probably about 50 feet away but it was huge! My heart raced for a moment, then I noted that the moose wasn’t particularly anxious, so I didn’t feel that I should be either. I started the bike and edged forward. Looking straight at me, the moose took a few steps in my direction. I found this interesting, since I figured he (like most, since I am in need of clean clothes) would prefer to walk away. I pulled forward slightly, but ready to turn and speed off if needed. The moose took a few steps closer. Sort of neat in a way, but what would happen when we reached each other? At ten feet in height (seemingly), this guy was way bigger than me and my moose of a bike combined. In another moment, he crossed the road and headed into the woods.

I’ll end this post by describing how my bike (but not my wallet) had some very good luck in Whitehorse. You might recall that I put knobby tires on my bike in Spokane. And you might recall me saying that while knobbies are great for off-road and semi-off-road riding, they are good for far fewer miles than other “street” tires. Back in Spokane I calculated my expected mileage to Anchorage. I planned that a 3,000-4,000 mile tire would get me there easily with quite a few miles to spare. But when the roads in western British Columbia washed out and I needed to double back instead of take a ferry part way, my expected mileage increased significantly. I hadn’t thought too much about it until I was in Watson Lake, about 300 miles east of Whitehorse. In Watson Lake, I looked at the tires and realized for myself that I could make it to Fairbanks if I went there directly. But I really wanted to take a northern detour up the Klondike highway up to Dawson City. Out of sheer luck, the first bike shop I called in Whitehorse (no BMW dealership in town) had the exact tire I wanted, and they were able to install it exactly when I wanted. Guess how much that cost. . .

So from Whitehorse, I’ve headed north to Dawson City, a town that I really love. But more on that in my next post – now it’s time to find a bite to eat.

But wait! Just two more items:

1) When I told her I was in the Yukon’s big town (Whitehorse) my mom asked, “how big is a big town in he Yukon?” A web search gives 2003 data of about 22,000 people, 70% of the province’s population.

2) I have recently established a new policy that I will definitely wash my bike after each ride. I have also officially noted that this three-month ride is half over.