Cover

Introduction

Just about every two years I have saved enough money —and saved enough vacation days to be able to take a month off from work and bicycle tour somewhere. In 1998 it was the Mississippi River Ride from Minneapolis to New Orleans; in 2000 it was the Pacific Coast from Vancouver, B.C. to Inverness, CA. Where would it be in 2002?

Before I'd even returned from the Pacific Coast tour, I was thinking of where I'd like to bicycle explore next. I decided on touring in southern China with Peter Snow (www.bikechina.com). I wanted to see the Yangtze River Valley before it was dammed and lost forever to the flood waters. I wanted to see the Li River and the karst hills in Guangxi. I wanted to see rice terraces and hill tribes, prayer flags and monasteries. The idea of touring China possessed me for over a year, but eventually the logistics just became too daunting.

In August of 2001, my mind turned toward the north—as it so often does in the heat of an Oklahoma summer—and I eventually decided on Alaska. It was a happy choice.

My daughter, Jessica, who had ridden the Pacific Coast with me, was in Japan. She was planning on meeting some friends in India in the summer of 2002, and so decided that she could not go on the Alaska adventure. So, I determined to go solo and self-supported and to that end became obsessed with plotting a route and lining up things to do and people to visit.

Because I work for the fire service, I determined to enlist the hospitality of Alaska fire departments and personnel along the way. I also wanted to see Denali National Park, go deep sea fishing for halibut, run a wild river in a raft, kayak, dig for clams, photograph wildlife, bird, hike, and . . . I decided to treat the tour as an action vacation. I would operate under the philosophy that I was using my bicycle not as an ends in itself but simply as a means of getting from one activity to the next.

In May, less than two months before my planned departure, I received an e-mail from Jess: "I'm going with you!" Woohoo! What great news. I immediately backtracked, adding Jess to my reservations and plans. We talked about what we each planned to take, weeding out duplicates.

Our bicycles and gear are essentially the same as for our Pacific Coast ride, but this time we will both pull B·O·B bicycle trailers. Jess bought a waterproof bag for hers. Mine, a newer model, came with one. We invested in a little more rain gear (pants and shoe covers). I threw in a warm hat remembering how cold my head had gotten on the coast tour. We decided to take separate tents this time . . .for comfort as well as for fewer trips in and out in which we would inevitably let in mosquitoes. Jess bought walkie-talkies. In mountainous Alaska, cell phones are undependable or useless, but the walkie-talkies will allow us to keep in touch if we get separated on the road. I bought a new little 35 mm SLR camera.

Before the sports store in Fairbanks with our bikes and gear

Basically we will tent camp in state, national, and RV parks (the latter being abundant in Alaska). We will also rely on the hospitality of my fire contacts and stay at fire departments and with fire people. We have scheduled only two nights in motels, but if it gets too cold or wet, that number may increase.

Because there are so few roads in Alaska, our route is simple. We will meet in Fairbanks and then head south down the George Parks Highway, stopping in Denali National Park for a day and continuing on to fire service people in Palmer and Anchorage before continuing around the Turnagain Arm of the Cook Inlet to Portage and then cycling the length of the Kenai Peninsula to Homer. In Homer, I plan on spending a day deep sea fishing for halibut while Jess "hangs out" with the interesting types who camp out on the Homer spit.

We will then backtrack to Portage, spend the night at a campground near the Portage Glacier, and the following morning hitchhike through the Whittier tunnel to a ferry, which will take us on a 7-hour cruise across ice-studded Prince William Sound to Valdez. We will climb out of Valdez and over the Chugach Mountains on the Richardson Highway, and continue on the Richardson through the Alaska Range and back to Fairbanks.

Stillwater, OK to Fairbanks, AK

Day 0--Thursday, July 18, 2002; Northward Ho! Out of the frying pan . . .

What should I title this our first travel day? Stillwater to Fairbanks? Nah. Too bland. Stillwater, OK to "Land of he midnight sun"? Nah. Too trite. Out of the frying pan into the freezer? Too extreme. It's a balmy 65F at midnight for Pete's sake. Okay. I've got it. "Out of the frying pan and into the refrigerator with the door open and the light on"? Perfect description of leaving the heat and entering the cool world of 24-hour light. (Hope y'all realize I'm just kidding.)

Here's the unvarnished version. A very long day—nearly 24 hours to get from Stillwater to Fairbanks, a mere click from the Arctic Circle. I experienced 3 (count 'em) cancelled flights, and long waits in both Minneapolis and Seattle.

I'm writing this on the Alaska Air leg from Seattle to Fairbanks (now via Anchorage), hoping that when I arrive in the wee hours tomorrow morn, I'll find my bike and BOB trailer and gear. Also Jess in fine fettle.

It is now 10:15 and still bright sunlight. Snowy  mountains, glaciers and ice flows, forests and lakes below. We cross the Turnagain Arm at low tide and I get a bird's eye view of the route Jess and I will be riding in few days. A moose stands in the water at the edge of a lake as we approach the Anchorage airport. Banks of fireweed frame the runway. The captain announces that the temperature is 65 degrees F.

Arrive in Fairbanks at 12:30 a.m. It is still daylight though the sun has set and the horizon is tinged red. I gather the bike, which seems to have survived the flights okay, and get a shuttle to the all amenities, luxurious Airport Way Super 8. Jess is dead asleep and opens the door groggily and then falls back into bed. I'm hyped up on airplane coffee, but decide that all bike and BOB assembly can wait until tomorrow. I brush the teeth and then I'm down for the count.

Fairbanks to Nenana

Day 1--Friday, July 19, 2002

Well here I sit in Skinny Dick's Halfway Inn (no joke—you can even get a t-shirt sporting copulating grizzlies and other vulgar stuff) at mile 328 of the Parks Highway, about 25 miles from our campsite in Nenana.

It's been a very strenuous first day. Lots of climbing and HEAT—85°F. Very up/down with one long hill about 5 miles out of Fairbanks and several others to rival it.

Jess and the bartender and the other two patrons are avidly watching "Law and Order" and enjoying a brewsky as I sit here downing a whole pitcher of ice water trying to get cool.

I was up at 6:30. Had no problems assembling BOB and my bike, nor did Jess. We sorted through our gear and left some duplicates and tools in our bike boxes, which we stored at the Super 8.

Left the motel at 9:30 (sans breakfast) and headed for a bike and sports shop near the University of Fairbanks. Jess wanted to buy some rain gear and we wanted to check out some bear mace. The latter cost $40 and comes with a holster and gun to shoot it from. We decided to keep a clean camp and not get it. Jess bought a pair of rain pants but could not find a jacket with the features she wanted in her size.

Breakfast at the Fairbanks Bun & Run on our first day

The roadside is lined with fireweed, yarrow, and a yellow flower I do not know. Also beautiful birch forests and tall, skinny evergreens called (the now 5 patrons agree) black spruce ("looks like it's been burned") and white spruce ("the one that doesn't look like it's been burned"). Of course also the wild strawberry and blackberry bushes.

Field of fireweed on the way to Nenana

Vast green vistas from the turnouts. We can see the Alaska Range that we'll be riding on our way up the Richardson on our return to Fairbanks.

Salmon hanging from a primitive drying rack

 A tiny town of 350 or so, Nenana, which means "a good place to camp between the rivers" is between the Nenana River and the Tanana River, but it is not a good place to camp. The campground I had reserved with was closed. We are camped on the lawn in front of a rundown motel. The guy wanted to charge $5 for a shower in a scuzzy little room he reserves for such. We declined, took sponge baths, and then went to Moochers in town for a beer and to find someplace cool and mosquito-free. Met Jan there. She had been working at Skinny Dick's Halfway Inn when we stopped in. Also met Debbie and Greg there, a couple who work in Denali and who told us we can park our bikes in their A-frame while we are bus touring.

An original log cabin in Nenana next to a modern log cabin with a green tin roof

Nenana is famous for its Ice Classic. In Feb. a 26-foot tall 5-legged tripod is set on the ice on the Tanana river. Everyone bets $2 on the day, hour, and minute the ice will melt enough to move the tripod 10 feet—it's attached by cable to a clock. This year the winners (there were 7 of them) split $300,000.

Nenana to Healy

Day 2--Saturday, July 20, 2002, 61.28 miles

Got up at my usual 6:30 and bicycled up the road to a gas station/ convenience store to get fuel for the stove and to mail my web report to Scott. Many places have no true phone service or electricity, but use a generator. I got lucky because they had a pay phone—but no fuel other than propane bottles for a different kind of stove.

On the way to Healy; notice the double rumble strips

 With no fuel, we could not fix breakfast, so after saying farewell to Floyd (our shirtless, muscle-bound, tattooed, bald, 50-something host for the evening), we returned to the convenience store and made a paltry breakfast of string cheese, sweet rolls, and coffee before getting on our way.

Read the Fairbanks newspaper over breakfast and learned that the Wheelchair Olympians were expected to arrive today. They will be racing from Fairbanks to Anchorage. Just cannot imagine piloting a wheelchair over some of the terrain we'd covered the day before.

A young guy came in asking who owned the Litespeed. He warned us about the frost heaved shoulders for the first fifteen miles or so out of Nenana. The shoulders were full of parallel cracks and had sunk down in places. We had to be constantly alert and ride in the road in places. Then we lost the paved shoulder and had 35 miles of wide gravel shoulder. When the shoulder returned, it had two rumble strips—the one closest to the road was deep and narrow, and the other one shallow and wide. Had to again ride in the road most of the time.

We came upon the Clear Lodge (a typical Alaska log road house and nothing like a lodge) about 5 miles beyond Clear AFB and about halfway to Healy. Stopped there for lunch.

When we started off again I was pursued by a persistent gull that flew just over my head and tried to light on BOB. Just as I was about to call for help on the walkie-talkie, it flew to a roadside pond that coincidentally also was occupied by some red necked grebes.

Though the road today was fairly flat for the first 35 miles, we had a stiff headwind and rough or poor road surface, combined with another day in the mid eighties. (What's with this? I came to Alaska to get away from the heat.) Anyway the three H's (heat, headwind, and hills) beat us up but good. We were exhausted when we got here.

The hill out of Healy

The hill into Healy

Scares us, too, when we think of what's to come, though we know we'll get stronger with each passing day. Jess collapsed into bed an hour ago (8 p.m.) and when I finish this I will follow shortly.

We have 11 short miles tomorrow (though we must begin them with a climb) to our outfitters and river rafting adventure and then 13 to our Savage River campsite in Denali National Park. So we can grocery shop and relax tomorrow a.m.

Healy to Denali National Park

Day 3--Sunday, July 21, 2002, 14.68 miles

Went to bed last night with a sharp sore throat and woke this morning with a thick head cold. Of all the luck—she who seldom gets colds has one. Certainly will not help me pant my way up these mountains.

The guide books describe Healy as "a quaint historical mining and railroad town with drab railroad buildings and wooden plank platforms which front the tracks and resemble a movie set." The book also says that Healy is Alaska's wealthiest town—and one of the richest in the nation, with a median household income of $60,000. This is because of the coal mine across the Nenana River.

We determined to ride down to the River to see the RR Station but learned that it was a 10 mile round trip from the campsite. As we had frittered away the morning and had a 2 o'clock raft trip, we decided not. Besides, Healy Hill snaking up and out of town looked daunting.

After a very leisurely breakfast and packing, we left Healy. This was the day that I expected to see Jim & Arletta Webster from my bike club. They were cycle touring with Alaska Adventure Cycling. We did not pass them on the road, however, and I was disappointed.

Strong headwind again today, but a bright, sunny day. We've had extraordinary luck with the weather, despite my grousing about the heat. There were windsocks and a wind caution as we came out of a cut and descended over the Nenana River. We took some photos and marveled at the railroad tracks and tunnel cut into the side of the mountains. This train ride/route is reported to be spectacularly beautiful and we are thinking of taking it south for a piece.

When we got to a canyon just before the entrance to Denali, the river was set up with slalom gates for kayakers, so we stopped to watch and also to eat lunch (cream cheese & cucumber on tortillas).

After lunch we had only two or three miles to the Nenana Raft Adventures where we changed from pedalers to paddlers. We donned drysuits, helmets, and life vests, and thus trussed waddled to the bus that took us to the raft. There was a large group of guys from Spain, and we rode in a raft with some of them. What a blast, but scary, too. Jess and I were second row paddlers behind two of the Spaniards. We paddled some Class 3 & 4 rapids called The Coffee Grinder, Box Car, and Ice Worm. We nosed into a hole and were engulfed in icy water. The guy in front of me was thrown back and whacked me hard on the face with his helmet. I got a temporary big lip but more icy water kept the swelling minimal. Then coming through one rapids, we high-sided and nearly capsized. I was on the low side, which was under water. Jess was so sure that I was going to fall out that she stopped paddling and grabbed my arm. Believe me I wasn't going to fall out. I had my foot wedged so tightly under the seat in front of me that I probably would have "gone down with the ship." Ironically, the take-out area was in Healy right near the RR station so we got to see it after all.

After our wild river run, we pedaled to the entrance to Denali National Park but caught a camper shuttle bus to our Savage River campsite. I was pretty tired with my cold and the raft run and really didn't want to pedal the additional 13 uphill miles.

Savage Creek CG to Wonder Lake, DNP

Several photos stitched together to show the panorama

Day 4--Monday, July 22, 2002,

Today I was up at 4:30 and glimpsed Denali on my way to the washroom. (Actually we had first seen her on our way from Nenana to Healy.) This tallest mountain in North America at 20,320 feet is perpetually blanketed in snow and shows herself only about one-third of the time. The rest of the time she hides behind her cloak of clouds. But this morning she was "out" and magnificent, painted bright pink by the sunrise. I learned later that this phenomenon is called "alpenglow." Just a taste of what lay ahead on our day in DNP.

We caught the shuttle to Wonder Lake at 5:45 am. It is hard to even put in words our tour. The mountains are enormous, vast, and drop dead awesome. The farther into the park we traveled (mostly on a tortuous one-lane, mountain-hugging road) the larger and more awesome they became until Denali loomed white and enormous only 36 miles away across a valley. Jess and I both snapped scads of photos, but I'm sure they will not come close to painting the massiveness and beauty of this the Alaska Range and its rivers and valleys.

Dall sheep foraged high up on the green "foothills," a golden eagle hung over the valley hundreds of feet below, a ptarmigan posed beside the bus, caribou were everywhere—some of the bulls with enormous racks, and many of the does with new babies. These poor creatures are plagued by flies, so they often come up out of the brushy vegetation onto the road to get away from the flies.

We also saw two bull moose and two moose cows—the two bulls at a distance but the two cows up close. While we did not see any wolves, we did see the vast area closed for their denning and were told that they had whelped three pups this year. The Denali pack is dwindling, so this is a good sign.

Why we rode the shuttle bus rather than our bicycles

Did we, you ask, see Ursus horribilis? Yes we did see grizzlies — six of them, one a cub who ran circles around its mother. There are estimated to be about 350 grizzlies in the park, which is about the size of MA. We were told to look for golden looking "haystacks" because most of the bears in the area are very light colored. Several were at long range but one was close to the bus, and one was sprawled ala bear rug, asleep on a hillside.

All told it was a wonder-filled but long day—11 hours of riding, spotting wildlife, getting off the bus for breaks. A Dutch couple and their son were the best spotters on our bus. He credited his many spottings to his "Dutch eyes."

Wonder Lake Road

 As soon as we hit the campsite, we prepared and ate supper, and then hitched the 13 miles back down to The Mercantile (a brand new store just before the Visitor's Center) to take showers. Three days with no shower is too much. I had enough bug repellent cream moussed into my hair to make it stiff, and despite our sponge baths, we both smelled like the yukky rubber dry suits we'd worn rafting yesterday.

And now here I sit composing this update while Jess catches some shut eye, or at least tries. I woke her with a shriek a moment ago. I was writing away, eating small French roasted coffee bonbons when a grey jay—the same one who had repeatedly lit on the table and pestered us during supper—executed a successful sneak attack when it landed on my hand, stole a coffee bean out of the tin, and flew off-laughing at my startled shriek.

One P.S. that I've been meaning to add: Our BOB trailers are workhorses, but not without problems. The handle ripped off Jess's waterproof trailer bag at the airport and when the bag arrived in Fairbanks, it had several holes in it. It's now patched up with duct tape. My bag survived the flights, but the rubber lanyard that holds my cotter pin somehow broke and I lost the pin. I had a spare and have tied it to the trailer with cord. No other equipment problems so far, cross the fingers.