Ed rides to Fairbanks I just learned that my friends all have much better sense than I. Also, I learned that most touring cyclists have a very different approach to our sport. I must say, I am slowly coming around to everyone else's way of thinking. After four years in the planning, and one false start, I finally decided to go for a little bicycle trip from Palo Alto, CA to Fairbanks, AK. It seems that no one else on the planet wanted to go with me (can't say that I blame them; I even shudder at the thought of spending three weeks with me) so I decided to see how much trouble a person could get into on a bicycle, and went by myself. I'll try (unsuccessfully, no doubt) to keep it concise and stick to facts that might be useful to others planning similar ventures. First, I'll describe what equipment I took. Second, I'll give a few anecdotes and exaggerations from the trip itself. Finally, I'll give a log of each day's destination. 1) EQUIPMENT --------- * Steel frame road bike with Mavic Module-4 40 spoke rims (wheels built by Shaw in San Jose), 52/39 chainrings, 13-15-17-19-21-23-26 Sachs freewheel, Continental 700x28 Super Sport tires, 3 Continental 700x32 Top Touring Spare tires, Mr Tuffy tire protectors , 4 spare tubes, Blackburn rear rack, Frame mounted Zefal HPX pump, Plastic rack insert (splash guard), Double bungee cord to fit rack, Lone Peak rear panniers, Lone peak handlebar bag, North face sleeping bag, OR bivy sac, 3 bottles mounted on frame * Clothing: Wool tights and jersey, 2 poly-pro long sleeve shirts, 2 short sleeve jerseys, 4 pairs socks, 4 pairs underwear, Lycra tights, Bellweather booties, Bellweather mittens, Face mask, Cheap plastic sandals * Extra hardware: spare spokes, spare nipples, spare hardware for rack, 2 hose clamps, Spare Look cleat, hardware, spare Sidi shoe strap, clamp, Tie wraps, Small bottle of Syn-lube, Many Rema patches, Many (6 or 7) tubes of patch glue, Spare cables (1 derailleur, 2 brake). * Tools: Diamond Tool 6 inch adjustable wrench (fits headset), Park combination headset/pedal wrench (short version), Swiss army knife, Leatherman combination tool, plastic tire levers, short flat screwdriver (for Look cleats), Park crank puller, Rivoli chain tool, 2-6mm, 2-5mm, 4mm, 1/8in Allen wrenches, 8-9-10mm 3-way wrench, spoke wrench. * Misc: 3 freeze-dried dinners, Small stainless pot with lid/folding handle, Bic lighter, First aid kit (basically a bag of bandages from REI), Toothpaste, toothbrush, antihistamine, aspirin, Cortisone cream, Carmex lip wax, razor, blades, Liquid soap ("Campsuds"), insect repellent ("Jungle Juice"), sun block, Q-tips, Vetta C-10 cyclometer (my $20 GPS system!), Camelbak, Several pieces of nylon rope, steel cable with lock. * My bad attitude. In addition, I kept the handlebar bag loaded with stuff to eat, beginning with a lifetime supply of Cliff bars. Now, as we all know, Cliff bars come in four delicious flavors: "chocolate", "double chocolate", "stomach ache", and "puke". Not being a big fan of chocolate, it's easy to see why I still had a few of these left on the last day of the trip. Keeping food-on-demand has been a big problem for me. I usually tried to find some cookies or crackers that would last me throughout the day, but I have yet to hit on the ideal combination. In total, this arrangement weighed in at slightly less than a metric ton, although I soon learned from southbound cyclists that I was traveling "light". 2) Route description and stories: ----------------------------- Lower 48: I took the CalTrans recommended escape route through northern CA. This involves taking various back roads (Antioch Bridge, 113, 45, 99W) up the central valley, until I-5 is the only road. Except for the headwinds, this was OK. The little bicycle map from CalTrans is good, but it's a little misleading around Dunsmuir (there's a third Dunsmuir exit you're supposed to take to get back on I-5, but there are no signs so you don't know where that road might go...) and completely useless at Redding (fortunately I knew the route from the last time I tried this) but eventually you get to Weed. From Weed, I took 97. The climb out of California is significant. I believe it hits 5000ft at one point. I got to K-falls by lunchtime, and on to Bend after a very long day. Just north of Madras, OR I stopped to change clothes (etc.) when I was met by a southbound cyclist named Jan. It seems that she was out for a few weeks riding around the Northwest, and was headed to the Bay Area. After a quick exchange of life stories I learned that Jan was was quite a cycling phenomenon. She has this habit of pedaling across a few states, finding an interesting place to live, and then relocating there! She was completely "auto-free". I had been worried about being out alone. After this encounter I felt much better. This woman was quite an inspiration. She also pointed out that I am an idiot for riding against the prevailing wind. The headwinds continued up through Washington. Just before Ellensburg, I passed an older couple riding along 97. I then stopped for lunch and was surprised to see this same couple stop at the same place! They sat down next to me and we had a nice chat; expressing our love of cycling, and our mutual disdain for the bicycle/industrial complex. He then reached over and took my check so he could buy my lunch for me. That was really nice. There was a bit of climbing up to Swauk Pass, but that was followed by two hours of pleasant downhill into Wenatchee. The spread of "civilization" became quite apparent on that segment. It was quite shocking to go from wilderness to shopping malls in only an hour. Then it was on to Chelan. I highly recommend avoiding Chelan as a place to stay. This is a dam/reservoir/resort/casino/decadent town with overpriced motels and no vacancy. British Columbia: Hwy 97 up the Okanogan river is a study in contrasts. First, it was the only day on which I had tailwinds. I was tired but had no trouble covering quite a bit of distance (for me, at least). There seems to be quite a difference in land use between the US and Canada. This is evidently a large fruit producing region for both countries. On the US side there are large ranches and occasional suburban homes. On the Canadian side, things are much greener, there are more small farms, and all of the houses are neat and tidy. However, suburban sprawl is evidently common to both, as I found out in Kelowna. The larger towns in this region are expanding at an alarming rate, complete with all the usual shopping centers, malls, fast food places, etc. After Kelowna, the headwinds returned for the transition over to the Thompson river. Kamloops is another sprawling suburbia in which I wasted a lot of time trying to escape. It seems that bicycles are directed off the highway at one point, and then left for dead. OK, there are probably "Bicycle Route" signs directing you through town, but I must have missed one and so was helpless. I climbed out of town to try to get back on, but found a "Bicycles Prohibited" sign on the on-ramp. I then went past a few shopping malls and tried again, a little farther west, and met the same situation. I must have done this three times, getting farther and farther into the suburbs, when I asked an elderly gentleman what to do. He pointed out a frontage road that takes you along the highway, past the jail, and back onto 97 via a "bicycle only" passage. I'm really glad he knew that. I'd still be lost there. West of Kamloops it's a bit more barren and hilly, but quite pleasant. Drinking water was a problem for me throughout Canada, as rest areas have none. Some nice Swiss tourists helped me out with water before Cache Creek, and I was able to get up to 70 Mile House as darkness set in. The daily cycle of cloudless skies, cool mornings, warming by noon, and darn hot by late afternoon started here. This weather pattern (which I really liked) lasted for about a week. When I arrived in the thriving metropolis of Quesnel I got my second flat of the trip (first one back in Redding, CA). It was a snake bite. All of my flats on this trip were snake bites, except for one tube abrasion pinhole caused by the lap on the Mr Tuffy. I got absolutely no punctures. The heavier rims and tires, along with the Mr Tuffys, are a big improvement. I almost hit a moose on a descent into Prince George (OK, it wasn't THAT close, but those animals are HUGE!). This was the first wildlife I saw. I sneaked through Prince George after a stop in the shopping mall for groceries, and headed west. Incidentally, most restaurants on this trip were completely bicycle friendly. Some of them really knew the concept of sitting by the window so you could watch your stuff. Evidently this is a popular route. Also, grocery stores were very willing to let me bring my bike inside. In Prince George, one clerk promised to stay by the pharmacy while I shopped, to keep an eye on it! You can't ask for much more than that. Hwy 16 is a fine road, even with the road construction. People warned me about the sealcoat construction, but I had no trouble. The shoulder was really smooth with just a little gravel. Again, heavy rims and tires are a big advantage on roads like this. This is where the motorhome traffic becomes significant, as there are few alternate routes. It's pretty much 50/50 motorhome/logging trucks at this point. The headwinds started getting pretty bad along here, and I was getting a bit run down. I ran across some eastbound cyclists who were loaded much more heavily than I, and who told me that I was nuts for trying to cover so much ground. I was beginning to agree with them. After Smithers, the Hazleton mountains make for a beautiful backdrop that lasts well onto the Cassiar Hwy. In fact, even in my depleted state, I felt that the lower 300 miles or so of the Cassiar is the most beautiful road I have ever ridden. Admittedly, the weather was perfect, and I haven't ridden on ALL roads in the world. However, with snow capped peaks alongside, the road winds northward through forest land while crossing innumerable clear rushing streams. Even the 80 miles of non-paved (hard packed dirt) surface weren't much of a problem. I got pretty dirty from all the dust kicked up by the heavy vehicles, along with some road construction, but was able to make reasonable time. There are some rough areas, but they only last a few miles. I wouldn't want to ride that road in wet weather, but I highly recommend it as a beautiful, remote road. Also, I saw two black bears wandering around on the road. This, along with Bullwinkle a few days before, comprised the total wildlife I saw on the entire trip. The bears seemed mostly interested in playing with flowers, and tended to shy away from the occasional passing motorhome. Thus, I was glad to see some traffic. I spoke with some European cyclists who were headed south, with very heavily loaded mountain bikes. They told me I was nuts. They were doing 50-80 miles a day and having a good time. I was beginning to get envious. By the way, there are really only a few sources of food/shelter on the Cassiar. At mile 87 is a logging camp with a store open to the public. At Meziadin Junction is a cafe. At mile 157 is a place called "Bell II" which is just a gas station, cafe, and RV parking lot. This one is so remote that their pay phone is connected by satellite. At Iskut (mile 254) there are a few stores and cafes spread over several miles. Dease Lake (mile 308) is pretty big, with 2 motels and several cafes/taverns. Finally, at the junction with the Alaska Hwy (mile 456) is a gas station, motel, saloon, and cafe. This is also a very friendly road. Absolutely every oncoming vehicle waved to me, and most passing vehicles tooted. Some drove alongside asking me where I was from, where I was going, and did I need anything. At Junction 37, a motorhome person asked if I was the same guy they passed 3 days in a row! It seems that I was making as much progress as some of the motorhome crowd. I made a point of waving back as much as possible, and felt bad if I couldn't (I usually can't spare a hand when I'm climbing, eating, etc.). Speaking of traffic, I noticed a definite trend. Motorhome traffic picks up in the after-breakfast-but-before-lunch time period, and again between lunch and dinner. Outside of those times, for the rest of this trip, traffic was noticeably lower. Also, the logging traffic really falls off by the mid point of the Cassiar. It becomes about 90/10 motorhome/commercial. The Yukon: ...where men are men and women are women, etc. The Alaska Highway in the Yukon is a fine road, provided you trained on, say, the Ho Chi Minh trail in the rainy season. Mostly it's paved. Actually, it's all officially paved, but large portions of it are ripped up for construction as the Canadian government tries to encourage more motorhomes to take this route. There were a few 10-20 mile sections ripped to shreds between Junction 37 and Teslin. It started to rain, off and on, which made for some interesting cycling. Also, the headwinds became worse. Teslin is a little resort town with a few overpriced motels and some cafes. I really didn't like it much, but the people were really friendly to me. It was there that I encountered a few local Indians who, while celebrating Canada Day, asked me why white people are so stupid and explained that you would never see an Indian riding a bicycle. They told me that Indians are smarter. At that point, I could only agree with them. I thought that perhaps I had stumbled onto a cultural difference worthy of further investigation, but decided that that was neither the time nor place. It was actually quite an amiable encounter, but I didn't want to push my luck. I mean, I'm not THAT stupid! I also encountered some motorcycle riders who, upon seeing me, said "whoa! now THAT guy's tough!". I thought about knocking over their bikes but decided that awing the Hell's Angels was accomplishment enough for one day. The biggest town in this area is Whitehorse. The highway doesn't actually go through town, but skirts the edge at a higher elevation. Not wanting to waste time dropping into town and climbing back out, I stayed on the road. There was enough in the way of gas stations, stores, etc. in that area to keep me going. My rear tire (still on the 700x28's) decided to form a hole and bubble the tube out, so I decided to swap it for one of the Top Touring 700x32's. So, one rear tire, with some original miles on it, lasted me all the way to Whitehorse. I thought that was really great. The days were getting really long by this point. This is good for trying to make extra mileage, but it's a little scary to be the only thing on the road, late in the evening, in the middle of the Yukon. At one point, I stopped to fix a pinhole leak in my front tire (Mr Tuffy lap wore through) and while sitting on the shoulder, it started to sink in about just how remote this region really is and how nuts I must be. In fact, I was mostly surprised that I wasn't more scared than I was. It just didn't feel dangerous until I thought about it. OK, so don't think about it! Sometimes I'd get a second wind at 9pm, and think about riding through the night. It was very tempting, and it surprised me to feel so awake and alert. A lot of this trip saw me living on 5-6 hours of sleep with no trouble. Low stress, lots of exercise, and lots of daylight really let me live with less sleep. It's quite an effect. Also, it stays quite warm, even in the rain. Long distance riders may wish to travel to northern regions in summertime, just for these reasons. Maybe they already do. After tenting at a small commercial campground (Otter Falls) where absolutely no one was present, I headed for what would be the most miserable day of the trip. Have I mentioned headwinds? They got worse. Also, it started to rain. The Kluane Lake area was described as beautiful, but it looked like the inside of a rain storm, to me. Oh, yes, there's a 100 mile stretch of road devastation just before the Alaska border. Several southbound cyclists warned me about what lay ahead, and told me I'd never keep my daily mileage through it. They were almost right. They also told me I was nuts. First a word about road devastation. The term "construction" doesn't do justice to the reality. These guys have a few short months to widen, repave, and sometimes alter the path of this road, all while allowing motorhome traffic to pass. They begin by tearing the pavement off, down to the dirt and gravel. Then there are these things called "frost heaves". These are little bomb craters, anywhere from 6 inches to several feet across. Sometimes they've been filled with gravel, and sometimes not. In the rain, this surface turns to mud with little rivers running through it. It's a really good thing I had heavy rims and tires, because there were many times I thought I'd smacked the tires to the rupture point. I mean, I hit these rocks and holes hard, as it was the best way to get across it all. All of this was going on while motorhomes with satellite dishes, towing Jeep Cherokees were passing withing inches of my left elbow. I survived by reminding myself that at least I wasn't sitting in a bad meeting at work. It wasn't terribly cold, and I'm really glad I had trained throughout the rainy winter months this year. However, the mud got into cogs and derailleurs, making the chain jump. My only choice was to squirt some precious drinking water on the drive train to clear it out. Worst of all, in the middle of a particularly miserable stretch, flagmen were set up with a pilot truck to take cars single file through a 4 mile stretch. Against my pleas (I really tried hard) they forced anyone on bicycles to ride on the pilot truck. Ostensibly, this is for safety reasons (there were huge gravel trucks zipping around), but probably it's just to avoid delay of traffic. There was nothing I could do. I consoled myself by thinking that even a gravel road would have been in better shape, so I shouldn't be too ashamed. It was pouring at this point, so I was having a great time. Also, my panniers leaked like sieves. I had water mixed with crumbs forming a layer of mush inside my handlebar bag. 10 more miles of mud, rocks, and bomb craters found me at a really strange place called "Cook's Inn". It's a little store, cafe, gas station, and motel all wrapped into one. I walked in to the cafe/store as the extended family was eating dinner. They welcomed me like a member, got me a room, and told me to go get cleaned up for dinner. Also, I was told to leave my bike outside, and to not worry about it. All of this was mixed with sarcasm, exaggerations, and rude comments. I really liked these folks. I got cleaned up, de-mudded my things as well as I could, changed into my other filthy bike clothes, and went down for dinner, explaining that I had gotten dressed up for the occasion. Even with the funny smell of the place (it seems that their water supply has a heck of a mineral content) it was quite a memorable evening. Up early the next morning, I knocked off the last fifty miles of Yukon mud. I stopped for a late breakfast near the border at Beaver Creek. A hitchhiker approached me and said that he had seen me the previous day riding in the rain. "It was inspiring", he told me. Wow. First I awe the Hell's Angels, and now I inspire a vagrant. This was turning out to be quite a productive trip. The US customs agent seemed annoyed that I was interrupting his lunch to ask permission to enter the US. He just asked me where I was from, and let me pass. Incredible. I showed no id's to either US or Canadian customs on this trip. So, by good fortune, I re-entered the US on the 4th of July. The road on the Alaska side had not yet seen its annual construction, so it's in good shape. However, the headwind was persistent, and the terrain was really annoying. There are lots of roller-coaster hills, with dried mud at the bottom of each. This prevents one from gaining too much speed on the descents, as the traction is uncertain at the bottom. Thus, one loses a lot of momentum. The wind was getting pretty bad here, too. For most of the stretch to Fairbanks, I was struggling to maintain 12mph which, believe it or not, is a bit slower than my usual pace. In addition, I had butt sores on top of my butt sores, my good knee was hurting, and I was having a hard time concentrating on riding. Tok is evidently the dog mushing capital of the world, and is loaded with tourist trash and overpriced motels. The cook at the cafe where I ate dinner called me a coward when I told him I was planning on flying back to CA, instead of riding. He had a point. However, I was getting really sick of riding. The next day was especially miserable, as there was a 15 mile stretch of road construction (complete with another .75 miles of pilot truck ride, against my objections) with continuous headwinds. At least it wasn't raining. I spoke with some eastbound tourists who told me I was nuts, and that I should carry more stuff and not travel so far in a day. I was getting pretty drained by this point. It had been really hard to find enough food of any quality, and sufficient liquid. I think the accumulated effects of the last few weeks were getting to me. I thought I could make it to Fairbanks in one day from Tok, but fell 40 miles short at Salcha River campground. Under different conditions, I would have been OK, but this wind was really getting on my nerves. My last day was rather pleasant. The wind disappeared, and it was sunny and warm. I just poked along for a few hours. As I headed out for the final 40 miles, I saw a squadron of F-16's circling overhead, and passing down close to the road. Thinking that I was about to be punished for past sins of wearing improper cycling attire, and not showing proper respect for cycling's racing elite I looked for cover. Then I realized that the markings on the planes read "USAF", and not "USCF". Whew! Eielson AFB was just ahead, with its main runway running parallel to the highway. After the F-16's landed, their KC-135 came in, followed by a bunch of A-10's. Now I had a better understanding of how that stretch of highway back in the Yukon got into its dire condition. I suspect a secret deal exists between the construction contractors and the US Air Force. After North Pole (hey, I don't name 'em!) my radar picked up another rider a few hundred yards back. I picked up my pace a bit, and held on all the way to Fairbanks. He caught me at a traffic light, at which point I thanked him for getting me to wake up. When I told him how good it felt to ride in calm air, he told me that he thought there was a headwind. That was amazing. It was nothing compared to the days before. He then gave me some directions around town. I spent the afternoon riding around Fairbanks and buying souvenirs. It's a small city, and not particularly beautiful, but everyone was very friendly. Cycling on the road was frowned upon, though, and I received a few horn blasts for doing so. The roads aren't very wide, and, as with most towns, people aren't in the mood to tolerate delays. I camped that night at a really strange, wonderful place called the "Norlite" campground. Waking up at midnight to find daylight is a delightful experience. The next day I took the Alaska RR (a great train ride) down to Anchorage. Anchorage is a very tourist-oriented place, with very expensive accommodations and no vacancy, anyway. I navigated my way over to the airport that evening, and found a red-eye back to SFO. The bicycle survived well, although after I returned I discovered that my brand new sealed bearing derailleur pulleys had rusted internally from the abuse. One still had water inside, but spun freely. The other had some grease left, but was binding horribly. That undoubtedly added some drag and contributed to my drive train problems. I cleaned them up to a point where they still spin, but bought some reputable bearings at a local bearing dealer to replace them next time they fail. Other than that, it was just dried mud and caked on dirt. I only used up the one rear tire for the entire trip. These wheels held up well. This trip was wonderful. It was just long enough, as I was just getting depleted when it was time to quit. I felt perfectly safe the entire time, and have many fond memories of pleasant encounters, with none of the other kind. In fact, the most dangerous part was the ride down the peninsula from SFO back to Palo Alto. That was much more dangerous than the previous 3000 miles. In retrospect, I've decided to learn a little bit about camping, so that I can prepare some food (other than boiling water for freeze dried slop) at the occasional emergency camp. Admittedly, my style of mostly motels is a bit expensive, but I really wanted to cover a lot of ground. At least I now know that I'm nuts. If anyone is planning a similar trip, I will be happy to provide additional details. Ed 4) Log: --- Day: Destination: Miles: 6/18 Colusa, CA 192.0 6/19 Weed, CA 186.7 6/20 Bend, OR 209.6 6/21 Goldendale, WA 154.9 6/22 Chelan, WA 213.6 6/23 Kelowna, BC 188.4 6/24 70 Mile House, BC 203.4 6/25 Quesnel (Hush Lake), BC 176.2 6/26 Endako (Savory Rest Area), BC 175.2 6/27 South Hazleton, BC 167.2 6/28 Bell II, BC 184.2 6/29 Dease Lake, BC 152.9 6/30 Junction 37, YT 150.1 7/1 Teslin, YT 152.6 7/2 Otter Falls Cutoff, YT 191.1 7/3 Cook's Lodge, YT 168.0 7/4 Tok, AK 151.1 7/5 Salcha River, AK 166.8 7/6 Fairbanks, AK 40.0 Total: 3224.0