Day 7: Adieu, Albertans!

Takhini Hot Springs, YT >> Skagway, AK
130 miles ridden/3 hours
Scenic snow-capped mountains are a common site for motorcyclists on the Klondike Highway in the Yukon Territory.
Scenic snow-capped mountains are a common site for motorcyclists on the Klondike Highway in the Yukon Territory

Before heading out this morning, I swung by the Canadian crew’s campsite to bid them adieu and a safe trip to the Arctic Circle. They were already hard at work, diligently prepping their bikes for the rugged roads ahead: swapping out road tires for knobbies while sipping coffee. Interestingly, not one of them had a tent smaller than a four-man, and their spacious accommodations looked like the Taj Mahal compared to my cramped quarters. Talk about living large!

As we exchanged pleasantries, each related a story in which he had dropped his own bike to make me feel less awkward about having done so the previous day. Nice touch; classy group.

From Whitehorse, I took the South Klondike Highway (Route 2 in Canada/Route 98 in the U.S.) to Skagway, AK, where I’ll catch the ferry to Haines, AK, tomorrow. At one point as I was riding toward the U.S. border, I looked across the valley and saw clouds beneath me! Each day on this trip delivers something new and amazing; I couldn’t be more fortunate.

The big attraction before reaching America was a suspension bridge that charged $20 for the view. Aside from the fact that jaw-dropping scenery was literally everywhere one looked, couldn’t I just answer three questions and cross for free instead? (Knowing the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow, I felt prepared.) But no such luck. And to top it off, these savvy businessfolk had built a fence around the whole contraption, eliminating the possibility of sneaking a peek. Oh well, the road is calling…

I made it to the U.S. border around noon, which meant I could spend the day exploring Skagway once I got my ferry ticket. While in line, I learned that on Thursdays there’s an 11a ferry in addition to the one at 7a, so I’m looking forward to sleeping in.

Downtown Skagway is preserved to give off a Gold Rush-era vibe, with tall building facades, wooden sidewalks, etc. reminiscent of a Western movie set. The main industry here is clearly tourism, since 3-5 cruise ships dock each day in the busy season, and the storefronts lining Broadway Street – the main thoroughfare – reflect this, screaming about the bargain t-shirts, towels, jewelry, and other assorted tchotchkes contained within.

Naturally, there’s a Harley store selling t-shirts and trinkets, but nary a bike part in sight. Woe be the Road King rider who breaks down in these parts. Still, H-D execs are savvy enough to spot a high-traffic area from half a continent away, that’s for sure.

I got a lesson on tanzanite – the next diamond! – from a jewelry shop saleswoman honing her pitch for the cruise ship crowds, as well as a recommendation to go to the Skagway Brewing Co. for lunch. First I’ve got to secure lodgings at the local hostel, then I’ll try the beer.

Hostel was $15. No receipt. Owner was bemoaning his hostel income. Retired from the military, he works for the National Parks Committee and also some local water quality control initiative. That’s three pensions he’ll eventually collect, so I think he’ll be OK.

Got a side order of “You’re not a local” with my regional brew, both of which were a bit tough to swallow. (There’s a “bite the hand that feeds you” reference in here somewhere…) And the town pretty much closes up shop shortly after the last ferry leaves, since the lucrative tourist dollars have left, so there’s that.

Back at the hostel, I had a conversation with one of my roommates – a poetry major from the University of Fairbanks who was heading back to Colorado to find work – about how to be a better person. My philosophy: Be less selfish and more self-less. This veered into the topic: “The rich and famous can accomplish more, more quickly than the unknown.” After all, Bill Gates can pour money into an initiative he’s passionate about and get it off the ground in months as opposed to building something from scratch with no resources. Not stuff you talk about every day, which made it fun and interesting.

The other roommate was a mushroom hunter about to embark on his annual journey to the nearby islands in search of his elusive prey: chanterelles and morels, the latter of which only grow after forest fires. (And here I assumed mushrooms were farmed or cultivated en masse, which shows how little this city boy knows.)

Apparently, hundreds of people do this, so seasonal cash-only societies pop up for a few months on islands with only 400 year-round residents. It was an interesting concept: buyers walk around with $50-$80K in cash looking to trade on the open market… No SEC, no arbitrage board, no oversight; you could take the amount offered or you could try your luck with someone else. He likened it to a new gold rush and said he can make up to $300/day.

As far as the allure of even easier money to be made by heisting someone’s haul? Even though this group is off the grid, they’re a relatively tight-knit bunch and bad news travels fast: poachers are refused food and fuel, which eventually forces them out of the trade. It’s a self-regulating/self-policing community.

Impressive that there are still pockets of the “Wild West” in our constantly connected world. But out here, in the Last Frontier, maybe it’s not so odd. After all, when you’re hundreds of miles from anything that resembles civilization, you’ve got to resolve issues yourself. Crazy that all these microcosms exist under the radar. Or maybe I’m the one living under a rock in a cave on the dark side of the moon…

While his stories didn’t romanticize the endeavor, eking out a hardscrabble existence for a few months in this manner sounded like quite an adventure.


Things I’ve learned on this trip:

  • The road – not a sign alongside it – will tell you how fast you can go.
  • Getting pretty good at scanning the roadside for bear, elk, deer, or anything else that might dart out in front of my bike.
  • Despite all the hours in the saddle, I still have to work on sitting up straight.
  • There is one correct way to hold the throttle open and two bad ones. If only I could master it 1/3rd of the time.
  • Three cameras is too many. However, three pairs of gloves is not.

When the middle of your day is 5pm, you know it’s going to be a long one. Also, the further north I get, the longer daylight lasts; there’s no discernible difference between night and day, which makes it tough to stop exploring.