Epilogue - The people we’ve met

Oh man how could I be so lame?, and incompetent?, and forgetful?, and well just plain sorry. I have completely fallen down on my responsibilities as a correspondent by focusing exclusively on the inert: riding and sites. I have blatantly failed to mention the some of the great folks we’ve met, recording our conversations and even more importantly capturing their photos. I could just kick myself.

Next best thing is to try to capture thoughts before they fade too much – Alan, I'll need a checksum here to make sure I’m getting this right

First let me say this – we met a ton of great people. In particular people that were helpful, friendly and went out of their way to assist out a couple of wore out road warriors when they needed it. Honorable mentions include:

• The lady at the Whitecourt hotel that found us a hotel room 50 miles away, in an otherwise booked British Columbia oil patch.
• Art, at the maintenance shop in Deadhorse, who let us pressure wash our bikes to unclog our mud-sealed radiators.

That said lets move from folks to characters and some of the standouts.

Dick from Denver
First and foremost, this guy captured our imagination. Physically ~ 6’4” and maybe 180 lb., shaggy reddish hair, glasses, grubby jeans and an even grubber brown knit sack hanging off his shoulders that was probably a sweater in another life. A big friendly smiling face – a little childish looking - think the kid next door. We first become aware of Dick when we see his bike in Coldfoot, on the way up to Prudhoe, a KLR like ours and the only other one we saw on that part of the trip.

Alan notes two things immediately when observing the bike, 1) not carrying much luggage and, 2) no visible modifications – this thing look totally stock…hmmmm. How could this be? Alan and Tom, the scooter geniuses, have heavily modified, upgraded and armor plated their KLRs – but only with required, must-have stuff. Hey, if you don’t do the doohickey modification you’re sunk. But this bike seems to have made it this far unadulterated, …better keep an eye on this cat.

We actually meet the KLR rider in Deadhorse breakfast chow line the next morning. Check this bio: His name is Dick and he is from Colorado where he sold his micro-brewery ~ a year ago. He decided he needed to hike the Appalachian Trail, started in GA and got a far as New Hampshire where he decided to buy a motorcycle (the KLR) and ride all the way south and then all the way north. What does all the way south mean? It means Terria del Fuego – check it out on a map – incredibly far into a fairly hostile environment. And all the way north? Well that would be Prudhoe Bay, AK, hence our meeting.

Dick wasn’t too clear about what was next once leaving Prudhoe. I think it was back to NH to finish the AT. At this point in the conversation my mind started wandering to other minor topics like: the 500 mile dirt road we had to ride that day, the rain storm that was brewing, and the 36 degree outdoor air temp. But Alan just couldn’t get enough of this guy. Poor Dick, he was in for the Harrelson inquisition: How long you were riding? Since October. Where is your gear? This is it. Where did you sleep last night? In the parking lot. What maintenance have you done on your KLR? Maintenance, huh? These things need maintenance? You get the idea.

And that was it. Alan and I needed to get going and we never ran into Dick again. During the remainder of our trek Alan kept coming up with questions that he whished he’d asked Dick. A complete cipher; how is it that this seemingly bright, yet mechanically clueless, guy manages to navigate his pea-shooter bike to the ends of the earth? Actually the mystique of Dick is enhanced by not getting our questions answered – but what a character.

Kate the Scooter Girl
Alan and I are gassing up at a one-pump shack on a deserted Montana plain; nothing in all directions. A car pulls up and out pops Kate. When I recollect how she talked I get the visual image of a fire hydrant turned wide open – I mean it was just a torrent of words. Oh boy, I thinks to meself – some dopey chick sent here to annoy me. Usually, I only meet these people when I’m stuck on a cross country flight. Oh no, Alan’s being nice to her. Doesn’t he understand that paying attention just encourages these people?

But wait, some of this girl’s chatter is starting to penetrate and guess what, she’s making sense. She’s more then making sense - she knows her stuff - in fact she’s a real motorcycle authority. She knows all about our KLRs, and is spot-on with every detail: characteristics, trouble spots, upgrade potential, suspension issues. She’s impressive – and kind of a dish now that I take time to notice.

It turns out that Kate was raised around motorcycles – currently rides a Vulcan – and has always wanted a KLR, but they are too tall. Or is it that she’s too short. Anyway, she’s form Texas – just out of college and working with America Corps doing conservation work in the Montana Mountains. As she pulled off we noticed something odd – no gas. She hadn’t just happened to bump into us – she had deliberately pulled over when she saw the bikes. A very inspired bike-chick and a very cool and singular character.

Three Harleys from BC
Two guys and a gal all on dressed-out Harley’s. We first saw them, early morning, coming out of Whitehorse – pulled over the side of the road. We stopped to see if they were OK, turns out that were just getting some warmer clothes on. We eventually did the same ~5miles up the road. For the next two days we continually crossed paths with these three: Alaska Hwy to Watson Lake, Cassair Hwy, Dease Lake hotel, to the Yellowhead Hwy.

They’d been on the road for about a month and had just picked up their bikes in Whitehorse when they been in storage for two weeks. The three had ridden to Whitehorse and then rented and RV which they took up the Dempster Hwy to Inuvik, Canada – boondocking all the way. The Dempster is considered the Canadian version of the Dalton Hwy: a long, crappy road to a place no one wants to be. However, unlike Deadhorse, which is making money by pumping oil, I can find no economic reason for the existence of the Dempster or Inuvik – just a place to go to. I’ve got to hand it to these folks as a very smart call in not taking their Harleys up the Dempster. No doubt it could be done – but why beat the bikes up like that? Very smart.

These three fall squarely into the “good folks from western Canada” category. All of them friendly, didn’t talk too much, always smiling, good riders and just totally glad to be there. Of the three the gal was most interesting because she was clearly leading the crew – riding point and giving the orders. If I’d met her in Atlanta, I would have made an instant judgment that she batted from the other side of the plate: short haircut, stout, strong, lots of black leather gear. But things are not so simple here in the wilderness. Being butch, large and in-charge might just come with the territory. Who knows? Bottom line: good folk and I’m glad we got to ride with them.

The Dude at the Dealership
He was about thirty years old and tough looking – not tough in the weight room/athletic sense but tough as in outdoors, sinewy and weathered; suspiciously wearing wrap around sunglasses. The Dude, a label I gave him after hearing him speak (somewhere between Jeff Spicoli’s Pidgin English and the MN twang of the Sherriff from Fargo) approached me at the Fairbanks Kawasaki dealership where we were picking up parts and prepping the bikes for Prudhoe the next day.

Oh man, sweet rides….pause….Where you headed?…reply…Wish I was goin’… pause… Just got back from a trip… pause. At this point you get the idea - our new friend was not a member of the high school debate team: a limited vocabulary and a random delivery. I won’t subject you to any more real-time conversation, but it turns out the Dude had just returned from a several month ride into South America on a BMW Dakar 650. His detailed travel strategy went like this: found out he was getting laid off in two weeks so he bought a bike and punched out early. That’s it. No planning, just hooked onto some other guys headed that way.

Again a situation and character Alan just couldn’t get over, “no, wait a minute – let me get this right – you find out your loosing your job so your response is to buy a motorcycle and leave the country for a few months? “Yeah, that’s about it.” Well, after that the Dude was in for a round of 20 Questions a la Harrelson.

One thing he said really stuck with me because it painted such a great visual in my mind’s eye; Alan was inquiring about the Dude’s luggage set-up: hard/soft, mounting system, etc. The Dude explained that he had used SU Racks and mounted Pelican cases (hard camera cases) on them. Well, how did they hold up? “Pretty good I guess, I slid through a couple of Bolivian intersections on them.” Classic. Can’t you just see this cat sliding through some rain soaked, third world town intersection on a laid-down BMW? His assessment, “Yo, the cases didn’t split – righteous.”

BTW – about those wrap-around shades he was wearing? It seems he was covering up a busted nose and double black eyes. He’d gone through the windshield of his truck the day before.

The Dude sauntered off, out of the parking lot, mumbling something about, “…gotta get another bike…”

Epilogue - Random Thoughts

On Canada

• For my money the Canadian Rockies offered the best scenery on the Trek – simply breathtaking. The Icefields Parkway, between Jasper and Lake Louise, Alberta is particularly stunning, but there are lots of other highlights: Lake Mundo, the road between Ft Nelson and Destruction Bay is great and has lots of wildlife that is easily seen: mtn sheep, moose, buffalo, bear.
• Starbucks? Save your money. Canadians, on average, are served a much better cup of coffee then we are used to. Even the dumps have it figured out. Makes me wonder why Waffle House can’t seem to get close.
• What is the favorite food in the great Northwest: Salmon? Elk steaks? Grizzly bear chops? No, it’s the Cinnamon Roll: big as a cat’s head, slathered with icing and the locals are devoted to them. And like all dependencies there is a huge support network - we found bakeries in unbelievably remote places.
• Candidly, and with only one notable exception, I’ve never been much impressed with the Canadian disposition. The folks I’ve dealt with in teh past have been a little distant and aloof with a touch of euro-snobbiness. New discovery, these folks are “eastern Canadians”. However, western Canadians are great: clear eyed, direct, candid, easy to talk to and engaging without being pushy. Just really good people.
• Smithers, Yukon. Of all the little burgs we passed through this one stoodout as the cool/great place. A medium sized town framed by the Rockies it embodied the essence of being clean and squared away: town square, kid’s on the ball fields and several steak houses that smelled heavenly. If I ever go into the witness protection program, look for me in Smithers.
  

On the Ride

One thing you can be sure of when doing anything with Alan, or me, is that there will be a post mortem critique and analysis. So I thought I’d capture a couple of those thoughts. However, in the name of fairness let’s maintain some perspective: the Trek rates a 99 on a scale of 100. It was great in virtually all respects. Therefore, consider these things to be the most minor of nits that I am picking.

• The bikes: Kawasaki KLR 650 – the perfect minimum machine. These bikes did all that we asked and no-more. Both bikes required constant surveillance to replace and re-torque bolts and nuts that were shaking themselves loose. We kind of expected this and dealt with it in the parking lots of hardware stores all across the Northwest. I believe we were working on our third tube of Lock-Tight when finished.
• When coaching sports I have a favorite saying that applies to these machines, “Leave it all on the field”, and they did. Both of our bikes, got us back home safely but just barely – there is some major surgery required to get these back in fighting trim, e.g. chains, filters, tires, brakes, plugs, etc…
• It is important to understand that while we rode 11,000+ miles, is was only the 1000 miles on the Haul Road that dictated the type of machine we needed, and virtually everything else we did. The corollary is that we spent lots of time riding highways and interstates on bike more suited to the trail. I have made myself a pledge to ride many of these roads (Beartooth Pass, Big Horn Park) again on the “right” machine.
• The road to Deadhorse was a great challenge and I’m glad we did it. I have no desire to do it again (I can’t say the same for Alan). However, if I was to do this thing again I would ride a highway appropriate motorcycle to Fairbanks and then rent a dual-sport for the run to Prudhoe and back. Apologies to Kawasaki, butt I’ve had enough of that bike.
• Wildlife is a big concern when riding a motorcycle in remote areas. While it’s great fun to see and photo the critters it’s just no fun to run into them. Luckily I had “Hawkeye” Harrelson with me. I don’t know, maybe my eye surgery hasn’t settled out yet (the Doc says I’m seeing 20-15), but I totally missed a number of large quadrupeds, mostly deer, hard up against the road’s edge. But not Alan, he saw everything and would later fill me in on what I missed and how close I came to being road-kill, enmeshed with the business end of an elk, or moose or mountain goat, etc. In hindsight I’m not sure who is better off: Alan who sees all, and is in a constant state of alarm and alert, or me ensconced in my tunnel-vision, cruising down the road carefree and untroubled.
  

Schedule & Pace

• Our plan was a little too tight. Initially I thought we’d have more down time. While we took a day off at both ends of the Deadhorse run, those were not relaxing but rather recovery; lots of maintenance and getting-ready and/or recovery.
• Likewise, our pace was intense. 400 miles a day, on a motorcycle, is a lot of saddle time, especially on secondary roads where the going is slow. We took some photos and saw a couple of sights but not much and never for long. In fact, if there was one aspect of the ride that caught me by surprise it was the burden of making miles every day. In fact one evening Alan asked me if I knew what the next day’s weather was supposed to be and I replied, “Who cares, what ever is outside that door in the morning, we’ve got to ride in it”. Note the attitude issue, again. In the future, I would plan in a day to wake up late, sip beer by the pool, eat a big dinner and got to bed early. Then back in the saddle.

Addictions & Compulsions. For an entire month I had no Starbucks coffee, no gin martinis and not as much as a passing glance at a Wall Street Journal. Incredible and apparently without negative consequences; evidence of hope for all those in 12 step programs.

The Big Question, “Why?”
Everyone asks, “Why ride motorcycles to Prudhoe Bay?” I’ve worked on a number of explanations, most involving long-winded replies that are deeply nuanced and designed to make me appear deep, profound and wise. Of course that got nowhere. So, instead I’ve adopted the Alan approach. When asked, “Why?” the answer is simply, “Because that is where the road ends.” And now I know.