186km

Yesterday opened cold and cloudless, and we headed out early. The area around Whitehorse is 'semi-arid' which isn't to say it's a desert, but that the riotous growth is shorter on this side of the mountain. It kept us dry though, which became a mixed blessing  as the day wore on. The highlight today was riding around Kluane Lake, a vast body of water about 150 square miles. The highway follows the southern shore before cutting through the shallows on a narrow bridge. It was stunning to see the mountains ringing the lake reflected in the still waters. Also I saw a bald eagle, but that hardly counts because it was Canadian.

The road took a turn for the worse early on. The first warning was a sign that read "road construction -- 186km." The surface soon turned to a patchwork of gravel, mud, and potholes. There were short reprieves of blacktop,nbut these sections werel ittered with frost heaves, sections where the permafrost had buckled the road. We shook our way to the Alaska border on dirt. It was tricky keeping the bike upright on gravel while dodging potholes. I lost my walkie-talkie over the side when I came over a heave into a deep hole. We fished it off the side of the road unharmed, but we took it a little slower from there. We kicked up a lot of dust, but there wasn't a lot of oncoming traffic, so we didn't have to worry about being blinded by some big rig's cloud.

As we rode between a few ranges we watched clouds begin to collect as the air coming down the slopes mixed. Before long we could see that it had begun to rain ahead of us. We can't catch a break when it comes to weather. After a short stop to gear up and get everything covered we headed into the storm. It was a short one, thankfully, and not especially hard coming down. The road turned a few degrees north around another peak and we circumnavigated it. At least the rain kept the dust down!

Crossing the border took even less time than it took into Canada. The suit looked at our passports and wanted to know if we had guns, then he waved us in. It turned colder as we approached Tok and the rain started again. We stayed at my relative's cabin, but we won't see them until Oregon. We finished off the night at a folk concert at one of the local RV parks, my relative's friends' children play a mean banjo and fiddle. I'm hot and cold when it comes to folk music, but it was pleasant, although by the end my road fatigue was biting pretty hard. It felt good to get back to the cabin, pull the black-outs against the sun and call it a night.

Riders on the Storm

Edmonton flooded today. I know because I drove through it. Today was probably the wettest day of our trip so far, although it lacked the mind-boggling fury of Friday. It rained on us the first few hours of the day, and I discovered a flaw in my rain gear. If you throw enough water at my shoes the moisture will creep around the tongue and flood the boot. So I spent the day with a squishy step. C'est la vie! I deserve a merit badge or something.

We quickly got away from the fields around Edmonton and up into the wooded hills that formed the backdrop for most of the day. The highways we took were cut through the Canadian forest, and while there were many signs warning of moose crossing I never caught sight of any of the hairy beasts. The weather let up shortly before lunch, so I took a moment when we stopped at Whitecourt for lunch to empty as much water as I could from my shoes. Our food options weren't very good. It was mostly chains, but we found a little hole-in-the-wall Chinese buffet on our way out of town. It was mostly edible. We were happy just to have some time to dry off, so the food almost didn't matter! As we rode up the ridges we would catch glimpses of the forest stretching out around us. It was really quite beautiful, and love the chance to explore these forests again.

We reached British Columbia by early afternoon, and entered the Pacific time zone. Dawson's Creek was only half an hour over the border. I was very glad to get my wet boots off! This town is mile zero for the Alaskan Highway, which we'll be following all the way back to the US.

Ft. Collins to Edmonton

We headed north the next morning from Ft. Collins. We dressed for the cold and rode toward Wyoming. The mountains rose up on our left, gleaming in the morning light, and for a moment I wished we weren't headed for the Arctic Circle, but instead riding to the top of the Rockies. Ascending to the uttermost pinnacle then looking out on the mottled country stretching as far as the eye can see. We made good time, the roads were nearly empty, and the Colorado farmland slowly gave way to the rugged outcroppings of Wyoming. Near the border, set way up on a steep hill was a huge buffalo cameo. Huge, untamed, and a little sad, it marked the spiritual border between the states.

We passed a Budget truck not far into Wyoming, and as I got closer I noticed that the warning labels on the outside were unusual. Instead of flammability signage or compressed air, this truck was radioactive. Who carries nuclear fuel rods in a rental truck?

We passed through endless, rolling, rocky fields populated with cattle and sheep and solitary pronghorn. The mountains faded out of sight to the west as we shot past them, we wouldn't see them again till we turned west in Montana. The terrain softened as we approached, dark outcroppings turning to peaked green waves.

We passed a sign for South Fork Crazy Woman. I was worried for a moment, would we have to drive around her? Would she have an pitchfork? Or an axe? I was less worried when we crossed the bridge for Middle Fork Crazy Woman. There was no North Fork, I hope she's not lost. Mental illness is no joke.

Montana sets an easy rhythm, ascending the high green hills then roaring down again. It started to cloud up around Billings, so we pulled over to get our rain gear. Part of the city is built several hundred feet over the rest on a Mesa, and we road up it to continue our journey. It was an astonishing sight, the view from the right was grey rain-washed prairie, to the left was a sheer drop over the city below.

We were lucky, this storm never got us, but north of the city the prairie turned it an inland sea. The grassland had been converted to endless shallows. Motana is incredibly flooded, rivers running fast and brown have jumped their banks and in places it had obviously been over the road. I was happy to be out of the lands after a few hours. We approached another storm, and this time we weren't so lucky. It didn't have a quarter of the force of the last day's weather, but we still got some rain. Our gear kept us dry and comfortable this time!

The last leg of our journey took us through the valley of Otter Creek. It was beautiful green country, and the serpentine route made for a pleasant end as we approached Great Falls.