Alaska to __________?

Quick update: Left on 30th. In Seattle at Green Tortoise Hostel tonight.

A dump, but standards have been lowered substantially after sleeping in tent in rain, and in hostel dorm with worst snorer ever. Day One went up to Blue Lake CA to mom's studio.

Day Two to a campground outside of Crater Lake in Oregon.

The Portalnd snorer--one of my riding companions, John, has gone ahead up to BC. His snoring title was seriously challenged last night by Seattle snorer. Sleep hard to come by. Seattle is great town--felt like SF only nicer. Sorry SF! Even Safeco field beats PacBell Park.

Nothing to do when you ride but look around and think. When you see an obstruction in the road or a semi coming at you at 85, you focus on that. When you have 500 miles of riding through forests, across rivers, up and down mountains by yourself, you sing whatever song pops into your head, and you think of lame puns for your next update. "Let me esplain. No, there is no time. Let me sum up." -- Inigo Montoya, Princess Bride.

If Hyder counts, and if Skagway counts, then I'm about to enter Alaska for the third time, this time up at Tok.

Skagway was a beautiful drive, and the town is a cool tourist destination--the 17th most visited cruise ship port in the world.

I washed my bike today, and my clothes, and took a shower. I did so by traveling 75 miles per hour through driving rain for 3 hours.I pushed thru to Valdez--a 550 plus mile day. Spectacular views. The best so far.

I can't believe it has been less than three weeks. 5500 miles down, and still heading North.I'm 5500 miles into the trip, now in Fairbanks.

I have seen moose, a bear, bald eagles, wolves (today in Denali, chomping on a Caribou leg), two dots I'm told were Caribou, two more dots I'm told were grizzly bears, and six dots I'm told were Dall Sheep.

These headlines write themselves. Bear Attack at Sukakpak! Solstice Ride: Three Days--and No Nights--Above the Arctic Circle. Smoke Jumping on the Alaska Pipeline! Alcan Sans Gas Can! These headlines write themselves.

Salmon and Bear Glaciers, Stewart/Hyder.The long lost disposable-camera film photos are in, thanks to my Mom. The photos are small, limited to the max. of her dialup capability--and her patience, I'm sure. You get a tiny taste of what it was like to look down on Salmon Glacier and pull right up to Bear Glacier down by Hyder/Stewart in Southern Alaska--and to travel with Ichiro, the record holder for the most hits ever in a season.

So I just get started towards Chicken, when hail comes down the size of marbles. A truck pulls over to offer me a spot inside the double-cab for shelter. I gesture with a knock on the helmet that I'm protected. It was probably interpreted as "I'm a knucklehead." They shake their heads and laugh and drive on.
I take shelter under the bike, then a scraper, and wait it out.I'm in Dawson City. Will post photos later; this is costing a fortune.

I couldn't resist that headline.I couldn't resist that headline. I've been repeating it in my helmet for several days and several hundred miles. So, as I understand it, a "Sourdough" is a true Northerner; someone who originally came to Alaska or Yukon for gold, or someone who is a hardcore arctic citizen through and through. "Mayo" is the town of Mayo, a stop I made on the Silver Trail on the way to Keno. And "moose turds" ... well, you'll see the photo.

In the interests of saving gas, tires, a slack chain, worn sprockets, wildlife preservation, and scenery enjoyment, I've been cruising at around 50 mph--nice when there is no traffic but unsafe when there are 30 wheelers on your tail. It gets me about 60 mpg at that speed, 50 mpg if I go to 60, 45 mpg at 65, 40 mpg at 70 mpg. Not sure how I would do if I went 15 mph.

Two updates in one day? Unprecedented. Photos.Some photos for your enjoyment below.

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Into each adventure a little adversity must fall, and the day before yesterday was my day.In Jasper on Tuesday night I had planned a conference call with friends in California to have our second half rotisserie baseball draft (yes, I can leave my home, my job and all my possessions but The Chumpians must triumph by season's end!). So I was on a conference call from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. Jasper time--long enough to see the local girls go out and back again ("Still on the phone? Must be talking with your sweetie!" I wish.).

Banff hoodoos are well guarded by mosquitos. To approach them is to risk a pint of blood and tube of anti-itch cream.Banff is quite the resort town. I've never been to Aspen or Sundance, but this has to be as swanky, if not more so. Once there I ran into one of two BMW riding brothers I camped next to in Jasper. They sent me a nearby campground about 3 miles outside of town. In line I was spotted by Toddy--the Kiwi I ran into in Coldfoot on the Dalton Hwy, again in Dawson City, YT, and again in Keno City.

Quick update, I'm in Jackson Wyoming--and loving it.Three days in Yellowstone and I rode the entire park: every road, every entrance, every side road, everything. Lots of pictures to upload but no way to do it. I have about 12 minutes left on the public library internet.

So Yellowstone was devastated by fires in 1988. They had a "let it burn" policy, and while that might be great for the forest in the super long term, in the meantime at least 7 or 8 generations will pass before the trees look like they did before the fire. Time to rethink that policy.

The money edition. I also hiked a 15 mile marmot gauntlet today--and live to tell.Inspiration is gushing out like Old Faithful--which was a cool geyser to see, actually. Either I got some bad info or the clockwork-like geyser decided to take an extra 45 minutes to blow when I went to see it. Oh well, still a great show. Most people were leaving before the geyser had finished its business. The waterfall at "The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone" was great, and the buffalo and elk were just sitting by the side of road people-watching.

I hate to show a photo of the Mighty Beagle wheels up, but there she was.John the Snor--, I mean, Paramedic--originally named his bike Carmen, but changed it to Carmen The Wonder Bike after one particularly deft road-to-offroad recovery maneuver for which John seems to think he was not entirely responsible. Now that Beagle has endured the harsh Utah/Colorado desert shale, cacti and mud on a bald tire through heat and cold and all the drops to which I subjected her without missing a beat, 13,000 miles from the starting line she earns the "Mighty" prefix.

In 14,000 miles, I had yet to encounter the elusive pink donut. That is, until Flagstaff.I have always loved doughnuts. LOVED 'em. My routine on weekends in SF was to go down to Chestnut street and get a doughnut from the local donuttery, then off to Peet's for the Sunday paper and a thick cup of coffee. Every time I'm in the donut shoppe I ask if they have strawberry/cherry (pink) icing. Every time they say more people asked for it, but they don't have any yet. (Yet? Is it that hard to get?) In 14,300 miles through two nations I have looked but not found a single cherry iced donut.

Calling shower number 467, number 467. Shower number 468, number 468...I was reminded of one particularly hot day going through Glen Canyon between national parks. It was absolutely scorching hot. A mid-day furnace with no place to hide, no shade anywhere, and 100 miles between gas stations. I was so thirsty, but it didn't seem worth it to stop in the sun and drink the hot water in my tank bag. Not much traffic at all, so it was easy to spot the headlights in my rear view mirror several miles behind me.