Chris' Ultimate Coast to Coast Ride

Chapter 11

Homeward Bound

              I awoke the next morning.  I wanted to get on the road as soon as possible before any weather could move in and trap me here.  I carried my luggage out to the bike.  The temperature on the bike read 32 degrees.  A strong wind was blowing off the ocean.  I still had one more thing to do before I left town.  I walked down to the water and filled my glass vial.  I taped it shut and stashed it safely in the finger of a glove, right next to my other vial of water.

            As I left the clerk at the hotel told me snow was moving in.  I was not going to dawdle.  I actually got lost trying to leave town after refueling.  It seems stupid but all the buildings looked alike.  I nearly drove down the runway that services the town.  I was finally able to locate the Dalton Highway again, without the embarrassment of asking someone where the one road out of town was located. 

            I headed south across the coastal plain as the temperature dropped into the 20’s.  Snow began blowing horizontally across the landscape.  It made the road a messy, quagmire once again.  Fortunately the road is very flat until you get off the plain, so I just kept sliding along.  Off the plain, the snow subsided and the sun started coming out.   Before leaving the Dalton Highway, I would hit more rain, more sun and more rain again.  The climate seemed to change every hour or so.  On the trip north, I had not encountered one drop of precipitation once I started on the Dalton Highway.  I had been very lucky.

            I took more pictures going south and tried to see more wildlife.  Still, I saw no sign of the elusive moose.  There were plenty of caribou though.  No bears around that I saw, though they had warnings posted in Prudhoe Bay from what appeared to be some recent problems with the Grizzlies in the area.

            Atigun Pass had a fresh coat of snow that made the crossing somewhat tricky, but I was considering myself an old hand at dirt now.  I was actually sliding through some curves, sort of enjoying it.  I also knew what was ahead and was not worried.  The Dalton Highway was no longer this scary demon that was going smack me silly.  This is not to say the road was any better.  It was still the worst piece of crap road I had ever been on.  To even call it a highway is a joke.

            I stopped at the Arctic Circle and got some pictures.  There was even another person there so I was able to get me and bike in front of the marker.  I passed the Yukon River and entered the lower section of the highway, which I still think was the worst part.  I was determined to not drop the bike at this point.  I managed to stay upright, despite a scary moment here or there. 

            When I finally reached pavement at the end of the highway, I just got off the bike and looked around.  I shot some pictures of the bike.  Mud was everywhere.  I was a mess, the bike was a mess, but both had survived over 800 miles of the best pounding the Arctic could give.  I hopped back on the bike and rode back to Fairbanks.  It had taken me 13 hours to make the ride up to Prudhoe Bay on the haul road the day before.  The return trip only took 10.

            I spent the night in a hotel in Fairbanks and left early the next morning.  I stopped at a car wash and tried to some of the mud off the bike, at least to the point where the license plate could be seen and the lights, front and back, would work.

            South of Fairbanks, I finally found what I had been looking for the entire trip; the elusive moose.  I passed it and saw it standing by the side of the road.  I swung a quick u-turn and pulled over.  I turned the bike off and got the camera out.  A momma moose and her calf were grazing on the side of the road.  Momma was not concerned, but the calf remained shy and stayed partially hidden in the bushes.  I sat by the side of the road and watched them for about a half an hour.  At times, momma would graze up to within 10 feet of me.  It almost seemed that I could reach out and touch her.  Though tempted, I stayed motionless when she got close.  The calf made sure to keep mom between me and him. 

            I was amazed at their size and how much they could eat.  They eventually worked their way back into the woods.  I got back on the bike and rode on.  As I worked my way south, I saw lots of other bears, caribou, stone sheep and goats, but no more moose.  And of all the bears that I saw, none could compare to my friend outside Fort Nelson.  All of them seemed very small, and none of them were bold enough to sit in the middle of the road.  They would just timidly scamper across.  I had learned to look for a hump on the back as a sign that the bear was a grizzly.  I can’t remember if my friend had a hump or not, but I like to think he did.  It makes a better story.

            The section of the Alaska Highway that had been such a horror just a few days earlier was now nothing.  The road conditions had changed that quickly and of course, I was now riding through during the day in perfect weather.  I was shocked by the difference and wondered if I had imagined how difficult the road had been on the way north.

            I worked my way home over the next five days, never pushing anything too hard.  I did ride straight through from Minneapolis to Maryland, a little over 1,000 miles, but that was only because I was ready to be home and tired of staying in hotels.  I had ridden some 12,000 miles  since leaving home at the end of July.

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