Arctic Circle

Today's goal was the Arctic Circle. My new riding buddy and I had decided to make that the day's end and camp at the campground. Unfortunately I received a text from Jared over lunch that said he had some trouble with an item that had shipped to the trading post in Tok, as well as not being able to get a tire until tomorrow. I know how it goes, but I'm a bit disappointed. Jared's a nice guy, and I looked forward to hanging out with him. I also was hoping to have a companion down the treacherous Dalton Highway. I also worried about Jared a little. With so little riding experience, will he be okay? Myself, I'm a big boy and have been pulling stupid stunts on motorcycles for a long time. I'll make it one way or another. I can get myself into trouble and I can get myself out. Or I'll text Katherine on the sat comm to get me out of said trouble, whatever works.

But Jared's made it this far, and for all I know I'm not giving him enough credit. He said he's into hiking and outdoors stuff, so I'm sure he knows when it's time to turn back.

Gas in Delta Junction, lunch in North Pole (no, not that one, the town in Alaska), and on to Fairbanks. I need bear spray and freeze-dried food from REI, and a t-shirt from (as far as I know) the most northern BMW dealer in North America. Ooh, REI has goose down Patagonia vests on clearance. Score! That sucker is going to feel nice in the tent further north, and will work well over my electric liner on the bike.

The BMW dealer was amusing. They also carry Harley-Davidsons (I promise to be nice today since I had the loudest bike in the campground last night). Guy asks me what I need. "Just a t-shirt.", I say. I didn't say for what brand. He takes one look at the Aerostich riding suit and never hesitates when he says, "BMW shirts are over there." Gawd, we all have uniforms, don't we? Harley folk in their pirate outfits, BMW riders, et. al. in their fancy nylon suits so they don't get wet on their way to Starbucks. (And don't think me so arrogant that I don't put myself in the latter category. Those parking lot speed bumps are so treacherous that I need that $300 skid plate.) There's a metaphor in their somewhere.

Why didn't I just buy a shirt on the way back instead of dragging it all the way to Deadhorse and back? Umm, yeah, good question. It would have been even a gooder question had it occurred to me while I was at the dealer, not after.

I didn't look for a new front tire. Screw it, the Wobblin' Goblin on the front will get me down the Dalton and back home just fine.

Purchases made, let's do this thing! The rough pavement begins soon after Fairbanks. It's not bad, though. Then, the Dalton Highway. Oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god, how bad will it be? Rocks the size of baby heads? Horrible truck traffic that's been backed up for three weeks? I'm a little nervous.

For the first ten miles or so I'm getting my legs. I follow a semi for the longest time because, even though he crawls up the hills, I don't want to get in the way on the downhill while he tries to get momentum. I don't think he'll run me over or anything, but I don't want him to have to touch the brakes. This road belongs to trucks who bring supplies and equipment, I am but a guest on this road. 

After a bit, at the top of a hill with a pull off, he slows way down and even hits the brakes. Is something wrong? Should I go around? Go around I do, and it becomes evident what he was doing. He knows the road, and he knows that even a scared Dalton newbie like myself can open it up from here on out. He knows I won't get in the way. 

I'm flying now. A consistent 45 mph at first. Then 50, then try 55 for a while. Oh, it's still dirt, but it's relatively smooth, with little actual gravel and no baby-heads. It's paved in spots, but I prefer the dirt. The pavement doesn't survive winter well, whereas the dirt is easily fixed with a grader if it gets rough. 

Yukon River does have gas, right? I left Fairbanks with 240 miles left on the tank. I haven't seen a gas pump since. I could still make Coldfoot...barely. Yukon River does have gas. That gas costs $5.50 for every gallon I put in, and I smile as I'm pumping it. (For historical comparison later, premium in Seattle is about $3.89 right now.)

The road is so awesome. The BMW is so awesome. It's made for stuff like this and it is eating it up. Maybe it gets rougher later on, but right now I'm maintaining 55mph on a dirt road, something I wouldn't have imagined myself doing a year ago. I'll need two things in Coldfoot tomorrow: gas, and some sandpaper to get this smile off my face.

And Jared? Jared will be fine. His Triumph, like my BMW, is built for this. For him and for myself, I worried needlessly. Tomorrow is going to be so awesome. But first I must sleep, with sun blazing away at 10:30 at night. I've been told the sun will barely touch the horizon tonight, disappearing only because the mountains will briefly get in the way.

Oh, yeah, saw a moose in the middle of the road on the Dalton. Way cool.