The shuttle kept going down the road winding between some of the Alaska hills and let us have a glimpse to the way that we would have to do again on our way back, but this time on two wheels. Soon, the asphalt gave way to a dirt road that shake our convoy. While getting there in the shuttle we met Tim, another bicycle traveler, whose light load (much lighter than ours, and which actually has a name, bikepacking) had caught our attention earlier. He told us he was on his way to Prudhoe Bay, in an attempt to match the record to get to Mexico City in 6 weeks.
Little by little, the sky cleared up and the clouds gave way to the sun. Suddenly, Robbie, our driver, slowed down and gently backed up: on the edge of the deserted road sat a magnificent lynx, which was watching us with curiosity. It’s a great rare privilege to encounter this beautiful feline in the wild. Robbie took the opportunity to pointed at us a huge nest of Osprey built at the top of a post. This rapace is found in many corners of the globe and likes to nest near lakes and rivers.
The hills followed one after the other, the road went up and down and I began to seriously worry about the idea of having to climb these steep mountain slopes. Juan and Tim had fun to see me so worried and inform me that those were only “baby hills”…. Whatever, from my point of view, these uphills seemed tough. Tim noticed, amused, that starting a first bike trip by this corner of the globe was probably a bit of a madness… Little did we know how right he was!
Six hours later, Robbie finally dropped us off. We had finally arrived. The sign indicating the Polar Circle stood before us, symbolic starting point of our great adventure. Appeared from nowhere, a small curved lady with gray hair, gave us certificates attesting our official crossing of the invisible line marking the outline of this cold part of the world.
After a quick picnic and a fierce fight with a cocky squirrel, stubborn enough to try to steal our sandwiches, we loaded our gear.
And here we went, on our way to our first kilometers along the Dalton Highway. As I imagined, the progress was arduous. The dirt road and pebbles made each pedal stroke more difficult, we must force. And our lack of training, and sleep that day, added also to the challenge. Before our eyes, rose suddenly a very steep slope of terrifying length, the famous Beaver slide. We would learn later that this uphill remains in the memory of those who had to face it, I must confirm. From the first minute, we were struggling. Very quickly, I suffocated, my legs burnt. I gave up, and found myself pushing my bike along this climb of hell. Juan was also walking and tried to encourage me. At this very moment already, I began to hear a small voice in a corner of my head, slowly and then louder, whispering to me: but what the **** are you doing here?!
We arrived at the top, exhausted. We still cycled a little before deciding to stop for the night. We found a perfect place to pitch the tent in the emergency access to the pipeline, this American pride standing along the Dalton Highway and connecting the oil rigs of northern Alaska to the seaport of Valdez, where the oil is shipped for refining.
We filtered the water from the river preciously salvaged by Juan and eagerly devoured a chicken noodle soup before hanging our food bags in a stunted tree, far from our camp, in a clumsy attempt to avoid contact with bears, unique inhabitants with moose, wolves and other wild members of the local fauna, in this region deserted by human.
We slept 12h! This first morning set our ritual: we got dressed, packed the tent, ate our breakfast and set our bikes. Then we were ready to start our second day. The goal was to travel 35km. It was hard. I suffered a lot, especially during the first 10 kilometers. Several times I had o go down to push my heavy loaded bike along these damn sandy uphill. We took a welcome break at the top of the Finger Mountain. My energy was at its lowest. Nevertheless, With my precious binoculars around the neck, I followed Juan on the small path leading to a nice viewpoint on the steppes of Alaska. We fledge marmot and squirrels and I observed the area, looking for a moose or a caribou without any success.
The rocky overhang was swept by a freezing headwind. We quickly resumed the road and I finally managed to get the trick to climb the hills: just need to take as much speed as possible in the descent… avoiding sneaky potholes. Finally, I pedaled up my first climb without getting off the bike. Then a second. Then a third…
In the evening, our kilometers swallowed, the line of access to the pipeline offered us again a place where we settled for the night. My legs felt made of lead.