Chris' Ultimate Coast to Coast Ride

Chapter 9

Road From Hell

           I rode up to the start of the Dalton Highway.  I quickly became tired once again.   I really needed to stop and get some rest.  I decided to pull off and grab a quick nap at the next turnoff.  Just as I had decided that, I came up to the start of highway.  Pavement ends, the Dalton Highway was about to start.  The Milepost guidebook describes the Dalton Highway thusly:

            “The highway is named for James William Dalton, an Arctic engineer involved in early oil exploration efforts on the North Slope of Alaska.  It was built as a haul road between the Yukon River and Prudhoe Bay during construction of the Trans-Alaska pipeline, and was originally called the North Slope Haul Road. Construction of the road began April 29, 1974, and was completed 5 months later.  The road is 28 feet wide with 3-6 feet of gravel surfacing.  Some sections of road are underlain with plastic foam insulation to prevent thawing of the permafrost beneath the surface.”

“The Dalton Highway is unique in its scenic beauty, wildlife and recreational opportunities, but it is also one of Alaska’s most remote and challenging roads.  On some sections of gravel road, the washboard can be so severe your teeth rattle.   Calcium Chloride is used only in limited areas on the road to control dust; it is corrosive to vehicles and slippery when wet.  There are several steep (10-12 percent) grades.  Flat tires are a common occurrence on this road.  Watch for ruts, rocks and dust in dry weather, potholes in wet weather and trucks and road maintenance equipment at all times.  There are soft shoulders and abrupt drop-offs from gravel road to tundra; pull over with care.  Services along the Dalton Highway are limited.”

            Approximately 25% of the 414 miles is paved.  Unfortunately those sections are never long enough, but they do give rider and bike some needed respite during the ride.  Being able to make it up the Dalton Highway was the part of the ride I feared most.     

            Prior to this ride I had very little dirt riding experience.  In fact, the vast majority of my dirt riding experience had come during the past 24 hours on parts of the Alaska Highway.  I knew there were better, more experienced riders than myself who had tried to make it up the road and failed because of weather, road conditions, bike breakdowns, tire failure or any number of reasons beyond their control.  Towing a disabled bike off the Highway was extremely expensive.  I did not know if I would make it, but there was only one way to find out.  I pointed the bike north and left the world of pavement behind.

            The beginning of the Highway was thick, heavy mud, almost clay-like.  After a few miles, I gained a little confidence, though at the rate I was going I might reach Prudhoe Bay sometime in September.  I tried different methods.  I rode in tire tracks, I rode outside tire tracks, I rode in the middle and I rode on the edges.  Nothing seemed to work all the time, but I started to get more comfortable.  Crossing deep tire tracks was always a thrill as the mud tried to rip the handlebars from your hands. 

            As I climbed through the first moderate grades, the bike pulled smoothly through the mud.  I held my breath waiting for the rear tire to slide out, but it held firm.  I learned to completely pull off the road and stop as trucks flew by.  Some truck drivers would slow, others just flew by, showering you with mud, rocks and dirt. 

            I had just finished climbing a small grade and saw a truck start up the hill behind me.  I pulled over to wait and let him pass.  Taking a few minutes to rest didn’t hurt either.  As the truck went past, his right, rear tire threw out a golf ball sized rock.  It flew straight and true striking me in the middle of face shield.  The rock would have hit me square between the eyes had my shield been up.  As it was, the shield cracked but was still serviceable.  I quickly learned to duck way down when passing any truck.

            After the first 30 miles or so, the surface turned to hard packed gravel, almost stone surface.  I was able to pick up speed here, moving up to 50 mph at points.  I was beginning to think this was going to be a lot easier than I thought.  I was zipping along riding down a grade when I hit something at the bottom.  I don’t know what it was, rock, pothole….it didn’t matter.  The handlebars were pulled from my hands and the bike bottomed out.  My head went down and struck my tank bag, as the bike continued on in full tank-slapper mode.  As my head came up I was able to grab the left handlebar and gain control of the bike.  I coasted to a stop.  Okay, perhaps I had been hasty about the “easier than I thought” thing.   I continued on a little wiser and much more cautious. 

            I came across a tour bus a while later that had stopped to allow everyone to get off the bus and take pictures of the pipeline.  I thought this might be the Arctic Circle monument, though I was still some 50 miles short of that.  I stopped and asked what was going on.  This turned out to be a mistake as nearly everyone on the bus seemed to want to have their picture taken with the crazy guy on the bike, covered with mud.  I didn’t want to get off the bike for fear that it would tip over in the mud, so I dutifully stood there while group after group trudged over to me in the mud to have their picture taken.  It really didn’t take very long and gave me a short break from the road.  As I pulled off, I chuckled to myself about all the tourists that would be heading back to Fairbanks with shoes covered in mud up to the ankles.

I reached the bridge across the Yukon River at milepost 55.  The bed of the bridge is constructed of wooden planks.  I was not too worried since the bridge regularly held trucks much heavier that me.  It was quite a long way down though.  I rode on, getting banged, bounced and generally bashed around. 

            I stopped for gas at the Hot Spot Café just past the Yukon River.  After I pulled off the road into a muddy lot, I gassed up from the back of pick up truck loaded with fuel barrels.  This stop turned out to be unnecessary.  I had more than enough fuel to reach Coldfoot, AK, the halfway point on the highway.  And I could not reach Prudhoe Bay without refueling in Coldfoot.  I wasted time for this stop, but I had been paranoid about running out of gas, since my exploits near Fort Nelson.

            A short time later, I reached pavement again.  The pavement would continue on until north of the Arctic Circle at milepost 115.  I wished it would go much further, but I took advantage of the smooth ride while it lasted.  I decided not to stop at the Arctic Circle monument for the obligatory photo opportunity.  I could do that on the way back and did not want to waste the time doing it now.  Most people turn around at the circle and head back to Fairbanks, but I was continuing on.  North of the Arctic Circle, I would be entering the land of the midnight sun. 

            Sadly, the pavement ended way too soon.  I arrived in Coldfoot tired and muddy, but overall in good shape.  I had been on the road now for over 36 hours with only my short nap on the ground in Tok, yet still, even though I was tired, I was not sleepy.  I was only 244 miles from my goal and I wanted to push on.  This would be the last of any services until I reached Prudhoe Bay.  The weather continued to be excellent with plenty of sunshine, little wind and no storm clouds in site.

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