Before you think I’m crazy for a day like what is briefly described above, you have to know that as hard and trying as it was at times, I was having fun. Plus. I knew that rain was in the forecast for Monday. The only thing that could have been better in my mind, would to have had a support vehicle chasing me so I could actually ride without fear of totally destroying my equipment and body as I rode. When I told a truck driver back in Coldfoot that I left at 3:50am in the morning, traveled to Prudhoe Bay,(Deadhorse), and then back to Coldfoot by 2:15pm, you could see him processing the information and then said, “Damn, you were hauling ass!!” I was thinking to myself, “Not really, the bike was hauling the ass, I was just ass for driving to fast and long.”
I guess because I planted the seed in my mind the night before about getting up early and starting to Deadhorse. My mind 
was racing and I naturally woke right around 3am. I sat in bed for a second listening to sounds around me and out my window I could hear dogs howling, at least I thought it was dogs. Have not heard that coyotes run up here, but I could be wrong. My $200 dollar room was so nice that I actually went out to my motorcycle the night before and got my sleeping bag, silk liner, and pillow so I could just sleep on top of the bed. Not to sure those sheets have been cleaned for awhile. So I rounded everything up, put on my entire gear, and set off into the north for leg one.
The sun never really sets even if they call a time sunset in Coldfoot, the skies were bright blue and the air was crisp at 45 degrees. The Atigun mountains to the north blocked the sun from my view and what I didn’t know at the time was this mighty sun was going to be a small issue later. I actually hit the road at 3:50am and it was just me, no other living thing that I could see, not even an 18-wheeler. I had hard surface roads for the first 20 miles and then transitioned to dirt. If the roads stay like this to Deadhorse, I will make good time.
It wasn’t long after I started that I climbing into the Atigun mountains and into the pass. As I climbed the temperatures continued to fall and fall and fall until they hit a low of 33 degrees. Was I cold? Nope, that little trip in Anchorage to the Alaska Leather shop to fix my heated suit was paying dividends now. Even my little toes spoke to me and said, “thank you.” Cold fingers and toes, I hate that. On a motorcycle, cold fingers and hands eventually will make you stop. I was just rolling along 60-65 mph when the first issue of the day hit me in the face and it was something that I prayed for. Give me cold and give me sunshine, but no rain please. That sun pounded me in the face and my shields for sun protection were not helping much. Is it because I was so far up north that the sun seemed 10 times more intense? Could it be with no air pollution to speak of, I was seeing what a real sun looked like. I literally could hardly see 20 feet in front of the bike at times, so I had to slow my speed to 10-15 mph 
until the angle of the sun that was hitting me made it easier to see. Until you see it in person, it is really hard to describe just how intense that sunlight was. The Antigun pass was incredibly beautiful. The sharp edges of the mountain peaks with no trees and snow capped, while some were bare. Being out there with no other human in sight was also cool on one hand and a little concerning on the other. We are so programed now a days that we need humans around us at all times in some form or another. You say you want to be left alone or be by yourself, but once your stuck in this environment when sh$% happens, you got one person to lean on, you. If you didn’t think most scenario’s through, you might just be waiting in the cold, lonely, world north of the artic circle. Yes, I’m above the artic circle.
Reaching the end of the Atigun pass or mountain range, I was drop into a valley of nothing ness. No trees, just low laying grass, snow, and water. Sometimes it looked like the road was built up in places high enough just to get through. You could see forever. Sometimes the road blended in with the terrain and I had to slow to make sure that I just didn’t drive off into the wild blue yonder. What helped in some places were the snow guide poles that they put down for the snowplows to follow to make sure they stayed on track. It was still early enough in the transition between winter and summer that large junks of ice were still floating in the streams and or lodge in nooks because the water was traveling so fast.
Rolling into Deadhorse, it looked like a work zone only. The wind was howling at a steady pace of 30 knots or more and I could image how brutal it must be to work here in the middle of winter. I should have taken more picture of this area, but I got the feeling that I was an alien in a strange world and they might not take to kind to photo’s. I mean, I was here for fun, these guys were working. The hunt for gas was now on, because a 240 mile clip with no services in between, even my gas hauling rig would be in the tight zone. In the dirt, head winds, weight an loaded, and the speeds that I was carrying, I was getting 38 miles to the gallon. The most fuel I have every burned is 9 gallons times 38 is 342 miles. Now I do carry and extra 4 gallons in those red tanks in back just in case and that gives me and additional 152 miles, which is 494. 240 times 2 is 480. Would you roll the dice in no man land? Not me, back up for my backup. Finally stopped a worker walking by to point me to fuel and he kindly gave me direction there and how to use it. Because of the extreme cold, their pumps are quite different. No attendant at all, just a phone if you need help. Put your credit card into the terminal, select your pump that matches type of fuel, diesel or gas. All of that is in a little building. Now walk back outside, open the numbered box, mine was 3, lift the handle insert into tank, now turn the lever to on in the box, then turn the emergency cutoff handle 90 degrees to on, and the pull the trigger and fill. All of this because sometimes the cut off vales when below zero do not cut off. I have no idea how much fuel I got or what the total was, but I do know it was $5.50 a gallon.
Now food! I knew from other rider stories that the best place to eat was the newest looking hotel. It was an easy find because it was the biggest yellowish box in the area. I was amazed at how clean it was inside. Unfortunately for me, lunch was not being served until 11:00 and I was there at 9 to 9:15. The lady at the front desk see us motorcycle idiots all the time and before I even asked, she asked, “Did you enjoy the ride?” That was funny! Sticking out like a sore thumb. Anyway, she walked me back to the self serve food area that just about had a little bit of everything and some were left overs from the night before. Just like home! Chicken Cordon Blue, fruit bowl, and a carton of milk, $8 and that was that. Did I mention that they do not allow boots or shoes inside and you must remove said boots or shoes, put on booties and walk around with blue covered feet. Well at least everyone looked the same. Once again , no pictures. Sorry.
After lunch/breakfast, I came out to the bike and notice Dixie standing on my fender looking just a little upset that I got her BMW dirty. I told her if she didn’t like it, she could take up residence in Deadhorse and I would be on way. She promptly jump back into the Tank Bag and wrapped herself with gloves I was not using. There is nothing really to see here. It’s flat, you really can’t see the ocean very well, and it is basically a construction zone. If I wanted to pay for a tour to the ocean, I could have put my toes in the water. Sorry, not interested. Riding here was a bucket list, so CHECK.
So here we go in reverse order and this time I knew it wasn’t going to be quite as fun as the ride here, because I knew the 18-wheelers would be awake and rolling. So your thinking, so what? How many of you have every driven behind an 18-wheeler on a dry dusty road? You cannot see to get around them, so whatever their speed is, you match it. I ran up against three and only one made me follow him for about 10 miles of dust eating cussing. Sometimes I had to drop 500 yards back if the wind was in my face. Crosswinds were great cause you could close right up on there butts looking for a crease. Finally the last truck pulled over, slowed, and let me blast by. I was lighter and more nimble, so I could maintain 60-80 mph at times on the flats.
This is when all the fun ends. This is when all the joking about having a plan ends. This is when having a backup for the backup starts. Something in the frontend of the bike just didn’t feel right at speed. She was starting to follow grooves in the road and sometimes just felt soft or wobbly. Something told me, even though the sound of everything was correct, the feel wasn’t, so I stop. With bike running, I blip it, normal. I got off the bike and did a walk around, and everything looked dirty but good. Kicked the tires and they felt normal but I was going to check air since I’m stopped. Back tire, 30, right where I set it. Front tire 9 PSI. Really, 9? Checked again, 9. Crap, flat tire in the making. I had Ride-on inside the tires and it was suppose to seal small holes and I could not find anything sticking in the tire or any holes or damage. Currently, I’m 100 miles from Deadhorse and 150 miles from Coldfoot. Crap! I open the side case, grab my electric air pump. hook it to the bike that I wired just for this, and pumped that tire back to 30. It appeared to be holding. Got back in the saddle and took off. After 50 miles, things still felt perfect, but I stopped and checked pressure. Lost 5 psi. I’m ok, I didn’t re-fill the 5, and took off. I came rolling into Coldfoot at 2:15ish. Checked tire pressure, still the same, sitting at 25 psi. I would have to assume at this point, Ride-on fixed the issue. So, he who planned is safe.
At Coldfoot I decided to eat and see how I felt. I still had 250 miles to go to reach Fairbanks and a lot of that was dirt. I also knew they were working maintenance on this half. It is now 3pm and based on how I felt and the weather report that I knew about, I was going. I refilled the front tire to 35 PSI this time to give a little more room for leaking air. Saddled up and blasted 20 miles down the road and came to an abrupt halt. Seems someone lost control of their Grader and drove into a ditch. So us riders had to wait almost 30 minutes while they pulled that piece of equipment out of the ditch. Work zone after work zone were thrown in my path. Loose dirt, mud 3 inches deep and I was getting a little irritated the last 50 miles or so. Within 15 miles of the end of the Dalton Highway, another work zone stoppage. I mean come on, it’s 6:30 and I’m beat, let me pass. I only had a 3 minute wait, where I understand the others had been waiting 15 minutes or more. Lucky me. The last 5 miles of the road I knew was going to good to go but what is this? They soaked the road with water and turned it into a muddy goodbye mess, just to say, thanks for the visit and we do not want you to forget us.
Finally asphalt and I never thought I would say it, but I did. The weight and size of the motorcycle combined with all the extra weight that I was carrying made the soft stuff and mud, gut wrenching at times. I learned very quickly that if didn’t stand up while riding through this crap, I was going down. Many times the bike would suddenly slide left or right and I just came to terms, I’m going down. Then the tires and gyro effect would snap it back inline with a little guidance. I was mentally exhausted driving through the wet stuff. If I had a CR-125 and a chaser vehicle, it would have been a different story. All in all, these short terror rides sometimes 2 to 3 miles long, didn’t ruin the fact that 95% of the road was a hoot to ride and I cruised at highway speeds.
I set a personal best with this leg. Once I rode with a group to Nova Scotia and the last leg of that trip was 625 miles long for me. Others may have had more or less, depending on where home was for them. Lori and I were totally whooped from that last leg. Today I completed 733 miles in 16:30 hours and even though I was tired, I had a great time. The main reason for the push was that I knew it was going to rain Monday. That forecast came true. Can you image riding 250 miles or more in the mud? I wanted no part of that equation because I had read the stories from other riders.
Would I do it again? No likely not. Give me a chase vehicle and 200 to 250 pound bike carrying nothing, mud or not, I’m in. To ride this R1200GSA loaded through the mud and soft dirt is not for the faint of heart. BMW has schools just for this bike and how to handle these situations and I didn’t take them. In my defense, I’ve been riding a long time and I have a lot of miles under my belt in the dirt. Just not with this big of a bike.
For this trip, this ends my dirt road riding. This means that from Fairbanks to Whitehorse, I will have to make adjustments to my planned route. I will update you as I move along. Sorry for the long blog post, but there was a lot to cover.
Pictures of the Day
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