A sensation of having wet feet woke me up the next morning. The dorm roof was installed in an old greenhouse, and obviously the roof has been leaking for hours, the water dropping on the mattress of my bunk bed. No time to be lazy anyway, it is 8am and we have work to do.
Our equipment was stored the day before in the garage and required attention. Juan took care of preparing our bikes while I checked on our bags. They were all soaked and covered in mud, but the waterproof fabric had kept everything dry. Juan’s big blue bag though didn’t resist the torrential rain. I also discovered a hole the size of a coin. His sleeping back and mattresses were completely wet, as well as the tent. It was pretty bad!
We managed to hang everything in various shelves, and using nails and cables that we found in the garage, putting all our stinking clothes in the washing machine.
After these first 4 difficult days on the Dalton Highway, returning to Fairbanks was like a sweet parenthesis. We geared up at the camping store and returned to spend two nights at Ephy and Ryan’s place again. We also shared a nice evening with our ‘brothers in arms’ of the Dalton Highway: Jake and Linden, a great American couple who travels with their dog Mabel (http://3boondogglers.com/), also heading to Ushuaia; Alan, an inspiring cyclist, heading to Colorado and Tetsu, an adventurous japanese bike touring, without a fixed destination. Around a cold beer, we shared our memories of this stretch of road on which we all six cycled, laughed and suffered.
We were perfectly rested and dry when we finally hit the road again on August 6th, in direction of the border. We would have liked to make a detour to Denali National Park, but the bad weather made us change our plans.
The first day, the road was mostly flat. We rode quickly under a clear sky, enjoying a smooth road, a pleasure to pedal after the potholes of the Dalton. We passed by the city of North Pole. Of course, this town has nothing to do with the “real” North Pole, but the city was so named to attract toy companies in the area. The theme of Christmas was everywhere in the city candy-candle-shaped street lights illuminated the streets with funny names like “Santa Clause Lane”, “Snowman Lane” or “Miseltoe Drive”. Wooden elves indicated the entrance to many “gift shops”. Santa’s house, which was originally the first post office, receives thousands of children’s letters every year, to which she makes a point of answering.
We stopped after 80km at the town of Salcha, and pitched our tent on a camp at the edge of the river.
The next morning, the rain was back. In the shelter under the porch of a small cabin, we enjoyed our breakfast while watching the water pouring. It was out of question we wouldn’t be going back on the bikes under this water!
Little by little, the rain stopped, the sky cleared out. Around 3pm, we left. We cycled quite fast along the river. Suddenly, I felt my handlebar wobbling. I stabilized it and kept pedaling. Second shock. Something was wrong. A glance at my front wheel was enough to realize I had a flat tire. Great! Juan already a bit farther away, turned back to help me. Together, we unsettled my panniers and after I watched him pull out a small box and managing the repair of my damaged tube. We found without much trouble the cause of the puncture: a huge staple was fixed in my tire and punched the tube. 1H later, we were back on the road. It was already late though. We rode a little more and decided to stop for the night on the banks of the beautiful Birch lake.
Pleasant surprise: we found there our friends Linden and Jake (and Mabel), who had left like us from Fairbanks. They invited us to have diner all together around a warm fire and we shared a delicious soup prepared by Linden.
The view from our tent was idyllic and the sunset was quiet a nice spectacle.
We all started pedaling the next day under a cloudy sky. Very quickly though, Linden and Jake overtook us and disappeared from our sight. They were obviously much more fitter!
The road climbed slowly, I concentrated on my breathing. And suddenly, I saw them: on the side of the road, two mooses (mom and baby) were watching us while chewing on grass. It was so awesome! We felt full of energy for the rest of the day! By middle of the day a car going the other way warn us about another moose by the side of the road, so we went on slowly. We observed from the distance until he decided to move and we could continue our ride. And only a few kilometers from our planned stop of the day, we spotted another family of moose by the side of the road. The mother suddenly decided to cross, followed by her two cubs, a few meters in front of us. We didn’t move an inch, mom was big! And we knew moose can be as dangerous and unpredictable as bears if they feel threatened. The little group, however, passed gently on the other side of the road, and we soon resumed ours.
We arrived at Delta Junction super hungry, and decided to stop at a gas station which was offering meals. Bad luck though, the place was closed. Juan got back in the road while a man, in his sixties, approached me. He asked what we are looking for and I explained our quest for food. I received in return a mocking “oh yes, you women, you get tired quickly”. And to explain to me that I must be exhausted, because I am a woman, and that a woman on the bike, compared to a man, you know, it is not the same, the man is never tired, he endures. I force myself to smile. Damn! As far as I am concern, I cycled the same distance as Juan. And who said I was more tired???!
I was a bit grumpy when I join Juan few minutes later.
We quickly found something to eat and we settled in the State campground at the entrance of the city.
I passed without paying attention in front of a small blue car but Juan stopped me and said ‘It’s a 2CV! These people are french!’ Indeed, we met Carine and Quentin, an amazing couple who has been traveling with their extraordinary little vintage blue citroen 2CV from Brazil. They went down to Patagonia and traveled through all the continent up to Alaska. An amazing journey, and outstanding mechanical skills!
Linden and Jake were also located nearby, as well as another couple of German biketourers, Sven and Carina.
We declared the following day “rest day” and did absolutely nothing, if not some shopping to supply us with pasta, dehydrated soups, peanut butter, nuts of all kinds and sausage. While the german couple left early in the morning and Linden and Jake left in the afternoon when it stopped raining a bit.
We rode the next day for about fifty kilometers and wild camped near a bridge, under the shelter of a rest area. On the road, we met Jeremy and Daisy, a Franco-Belgian couple who also decided to go on an adventure on two wheels.
We were moving slowly but surely along the Alaska Highway. Little by little, our bodies as much as our minds were taking the rhythm of the journey. At times, I looked at my filthy nails in despair, then started laughing alone. Who among my friends, my family, would endure these conditions? Rain, stress, mental strain, lack of shower, rudimentary comfort… Because traveling by bike is also all that. When the road gets a little too much, when I’m struggling to push the pedals, that’s what I think: “You can do it. You’re a fighter “(with Rocky’s music in the background, please)
This trip is also a challenge. And I hope to do it!
Arriving to Tok, suddenly it appeared in front of us, the mountains of the Alaska Range. They were there, like a spectacular and impassable wall, sprinkled with snow. The road was nice and easy. I took this opportunity to follow the advice of my coach (aka daddy) and worked my speed. I went on for a few kilometers, pedaling and turning my legs at full speed … before deciding it was enough.
We stopped for the night in a charming campsite by Cathedral Creek, run by a German lady and finished the 40km separating us from Tok the next day. We found Carina and Sven there, and the camp manager involved us that night in a pancake contest that we lost miserably.
Only a little over a hundred kilometers separated us from the Canadian border. The weather was wet and the road climbed between the mountains. The rain surprised us several times, but fortunately never lasted very long. We planned to spend the night 10km from the canadian customs post. When we arrived at the campsite supposed location however, we found it completely closed. We pushed a little further, without any hope of being able to pitch the tent in this wetland. Soon, we were by the american border post. We tried to turn around but US agents stopped us to ask us if everything was ok. Nicely, they informed us that the camp we were looking for closed several years ago, and that there was indeed no place for wild camping in this area. It was getting late though. Probably seeing our tired faces, one of the agent hesitated for a seconds, then said: “A little further, there is a kind of welcome point for visitors, with a shelter. You can put your tent under it! “
And that’s how we found ourselves literally camping on the land border between Canada and the United States.
