Fairbanks, AK 33 miles ridden
Today I made left-hand turn on red. In front of a cop. Not, as we say in New England, wicked smahht.
For context, the campground I was staying at was on a relatively isolated edge of Fairbanks. Also, I was eager to replace my broken mirror so I could prep for tomorrow’s trip to Tok to see if the Top of the World Highway was open. And although I had no set schedule other than making it to the bike shop before it closed – remember, there’s 20+ hours of daylight up here – I was nonetheless in a hurry.
The campground entrance was one branch of a four-way intersection, complete with a fully functioning traffic light that happened to be red when I pulled up to it. As I sat in neutral waiting for the light to change, I looked to my right: Nothing as far as the eye could see. Straight ahead of me: No traffic to the horizon. To my left: About a quarter-mile away, a sedan was slowly making its way toward me.
I waited.
Nothing.
I waited some more.
Nada.
I flashed my high beams.
Still nothing.
At this point I was wondering if the light was triggered by a pressure-sensitive plate, in which case it would only change if a car joined me at the stop line. Since that didn’t seem likely in the near-term future and I was unwilling to stick around and find out, I did another traffic check: to my right = nothing; dead ahead = nothing; to my left = the car was still about an 1/8th of a mile away.
I left the line and was straightening the bike out of the turn when I thought: “What’s the chance that’s a…” and at that very moment, the red and blue lights popped on. I pulled over and waited for what I knew was coming: a lecture and a ticket.
“You know why I pulled you over?” he asked.
“Because I took a left on red, I assume,” I answered. “I’m not going to deny it: I did it. However, I will say in my defense that there was no other traffic on the road besides you, and you were far away.”
“License and registration, please. But why not just wait for the light to change?”
“I wasn’t sure if it was triggered by a pressure plate and got tired of waiting.”
“Then why didn’t you make a right and turn around in the parking lot across the street? You could have made three rights on red.”
“No denying that, but I hadn’t thought of it.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Well, this is just fantastic, I thought. I’m screwed if I get an order to appear in court. I’ll have to hang around here ‘til god knows when… Oh well, I deserve a ticket; at least I can pay that at the post office.
About ten minutes later, the officer returned. “Just a warning this time,” I heard in disbelief. “Be more careful out there and slow things down.”
“Will do,” I said, tucking my license away. “Thanks!”
Whew.
Email to friends:
Everybody –
Here it is, the end of the third week I’ve been on the road, and yesterday I took the dreaded Dalton Highway/haul road of “Ice Road Truckers” fame to the Arctic Circle unscathed! Of course, on the way back, I made the very unwise decision to try to make a U-turn/three-point turn on a steep, shoulder-less, gravel road about as wide as two parking spaces end-to-end to go back and get a better angle on a photo, which didn’t go so well. (As the guy who put the new tires on my bike the day before said: “Alaska will give you all the rope you need to hang yourself with.”)
About halfway through the turn, as the bike seemed certain to plunge off the road, I made mistake #2 by clamping down on the front brake, which locked up the wheel and dropped the bike instantly. As we were going down, I actually feared the bike might tumble end over end (yes, the roads are that steep and I have photos to prove it), but luckily, it did not. End result: left-hand mirror clean snap right off, left running light smashed, left floorboard somewhat mangled. However, mechanically, the bike was sound, so I got it upright and headed back to Fairbanks, a bit wiser for my troubles. Now, if I can only remember this for my trip to the just-opened Top of the World Highway tomorrow, I’ll be all set.
Also, the entire time I’ve been debating the Arctic Circle trip, all the riders I’ve encountered who have ridden it (on enduros and dual-sports, mind you) have told me “If it’s dry, you’re all set. But if it rains, you’re in trouble.” Naturally, my trip wouldn’t have been complete if the skies hadn’t opened up about 40+ miles ’til the tarmac. But no additional incidents! The rest of the trip was a breeze and my bike was caked in mud. The pictures are ridiculous. But the trip has been nothing short of amazing and I still look forward to getting up and riding every day!
Time’s running out on this library computer; I’ll talk to you all soon.
-GK