Dease Lake, BC >> Takhini Hot Springs, YT 650 miles ridden/15 hours
Today was tough riding; it started cold, got hot and I didn’t adequately hydrate. Even worse, one of the Canadians got a flat, which completely unnerved me.
I had stopped at the “grocery store” in Teslin, Yukon Territory, to stock up on snacks for the day’s ride, while the lone rider from Victoria and the Albertan crew continued on to Whitehorse, only to come across the BC biker patching his tire. He said he had cell service and CAA – the Canadian version of AAA – and was all set, so I took off but couldn’t shake the bad mojo.
I’d seen more motorcyclists today than at any other point on the trip and everyone had driven over the same 6-8” strip of reworked road coming to or leaving Teslin, yet somehow this guy drew the short straw. Adding to the eerieness, at lunch he had talked about staying in Teslin, but decided to ride on with the Albertans and then – BAM! – flat tire 20 miles out of town. Ian, the Ural driver and leader of the group of Albertans, said this was a sign to follow your gut – advice I’d heed at the tail end of my trip.
Seeing someone stuck on the side of the road really spooked me because I could easily picture myself in his shoes – lord knows I was the most ill-equipped of the bunch. And at this point, traveling solo didn’t look so fun, the excitement and sense of adventure put on hold as you hike back to the nearest settlement. To give you a sense of how remote this part of Canada is, outside of fellow motorcyclists, you might see one or two other vehicles a day, and these are 10+ hours days spanning 500+ miles. While this makes for great riding, the sword cuts both ways; break down and you are on your own…
Sure, I knew accidents were possible, and the longer you ride, ever more probable, but I really wasn’t looking forward to my turn being stranded roadside. Not having cell phone reception in Canada didn’t make the prospect any more palpable. I pish-poshed a suggestion to get a satellite phone for the trip, knowing I could grab my tent and water for the hike to the nearest town, but it wasn’t a journey I was looking forward to.
Even though I wasn’t consciously thinking about all this, I knew it to be true, and it really took the wind out of my sails. I was just hoping Lady Luck would be with me throughout this entire adventure of mine.
To fuel up this morning, I had to backtrack eight miles, and sure enough the Canadian crew was already at the gas station waiting for it to open. One of the benefits of being the only game in town is that you get to make your own hours. Although we all had reserve fuel – some Beemer riders had one-gallon gas cans that locked to their panniers (and here I thought locking saddlebags were a luxury!) no one wanted to risk not making it to the next service station. So when the owner finally showed up at 9.10am, she was met with brisk business.
I mentioned to the group that I’d passed what looked like a good photo op on my way to the gas station, so they let me fuel up first and race ahead to await their arrival. By this point, I’d already developed a reputation for being able to catch up with them under any circumstances, so after taking a few shots of their caravan as they rolled by, we reconnected at breakfast. When we reached the border of the Yukon Territory, everyone stopped for a group photo on their bikes by the hilltop “Welcome” sign except me, since my bike couldn’t go off-road. Not that these friendly Canadians didn’t try to convince me to give it a shot…
Stopping in Teslin to refuel, a BMW rider from St. Louis, Missouri, returning from Alaska gave me the first intel – and hope – that I could make it to Prudhoe Bay, the northern terminus of the Dalton Highway. He also provided the name of a father-and-son team in Fairbanks who could put new tires on my bike at a rate cheaper than the local dealerships.
To access Teslin from the south, you first have to cross the 584-meter Nisutlin Bay Bridge – the longest bridge on the ALCAN – which spans Teslin Lake at its narrowest point. A steel grate surface, it will grab your tires and make your bike wobble no matter how much you think speed equals stability. The length of several football fields, it’s faaaar too long to duck-walk across without losing all dignity, so crossing it becomes a mind game: your stomach churns as your bike swerves despite your best efforts to keep it pointed straight, the idea of dumping and coming up a few fingers short runs on a loop in the back of your mind until you reach the safety of the other side. And don’t forget, you have to cross this on the way back, too!
Following a great breakfast, it was a (relatively) brief sprint up the ALCAN to Whitehorse, the largest city in northern Canada and the capital of the Yukon Territory. However, it took far longer than the 4-6 hours I’d estimated by looking at the map (go figure!), and on top of that, the Takhini Hot Springs campground was actually about 20 miles past Whitehorse. It might not seem like much after having already been in the saddle for 14 hours, but I’d been on my bike longer than I wanted and was starting to lose it.
By the time I finally made it to the campground, I was completely frazzled. Trying to navigate to my campsite, I went the wrong way down the driveway, spun the bike around, got confused in a maze of unmarked cabin trails and did exactly what you shouldn’t do when turning a corner on a gravel road: locked up the front brakes, dropping the bike on an uphill corner right in front of the Albertans.
I was spent – mentally and physically drained – and I was ready to leave the bike right there. In fact, I’d let go of the bars, the engine died, and as I was stepping off, Ian came over to help me right my steed. Although I’m pretty sure I lost all credibility with the group right there, over breakfast the next morning the Albertans showed what true gentlemen they were, going to great lengths to make excuses for my accident.
Stress, embarrassment and an unacknowledged fear of breaking down in the middle of nowhere buzzing through my head almost as loud as the mosquitos outside my tent, I couldn’t wait for a dip in the curative hot springs. Coming back from a few hours in the warm water, I was loose and taffy-like; calm and relaxed. I slept like a log that night.
I’m taking tomorrow off to do laundry, write postcards, and explore Whitehorse. Need to shake the bad vibes. Lots of riding ahead, so I might as well do my best to enjoy it.
Today’s crack from the Albertans: “Couldn’t you afford to buy an exhaust?”