Friday
This was to be a tough day. From Deadhorse back to Fairbanks in one hit, the full length of the Dalton Highway.
We met up in the canteen at 5.00 am for breakfast, planning to be loaded and rolling for 6.00 am. Johno and Bob were taking the Icefield tour, so were going
to follow on behind us. Conditions started gloomy and damp, but cleared as we rode South. Settling into a steady pace, the convoy of eight bikes sweeping
along, our main objective achieved, all the rest was just gravy.
The rain came back, and with a vengeance. I had packed my waterproofs away, and was contemplating stopping to put them on when we all pulled out to overtake a
truck. I saw Geoff's bike buck through a big puddle, and could have sworn I saw something fly off. As I rode past where it had been, there was a black
cylindrical shape in amongst the rocks at the side of the track. After a few seconds it registered that the shape was a tool tube! I stopped and waved the
truck we had just passed through, who to his credit had slowed to check I was ok, and turned back to look for it. After what seemed ages of trundling slowly
up the wrong side of the road, I spotted it and hopped off to retrieve it. Back on the bike and just about to turn around, I saw movement on the tundra to my
right. A herd of Caribou crossed the road not 50 yards in front of me!
Chasing back to the others, I waved at my mate the truck driver as I re-passed him, and pulled up behind them at a set of roadworks. Geoff's look of confusion
when I handed him his tool tube was priceless. The controller put us at the back of the convoy, which was unusual, behind the trucks. As we changed lanes, the
weather and traffic had made deep ruts, which caught Jon and Alex out.
They both toppled simultaneously into the mud, happily without injury to anything other than
pride. Oh, and Jon's fog light, now dangling by its wire. Gaz went to help Alex and I went to Jon and we soon had them back upright. Unfortunately Gaz's bike
slid off its side stand while he was picking Alex's up, but again without damage. The escort vehicle and the trucks were now out of sight, so we gathered
ourselves up and gave chase, not wanting to meet the next lot coming through. At the first chance after the roadworks Chris pulled in for us to regroup. Jon
managed to disconnect his light and stowed it away and I put my waterproofs on.
The steady drizzle continued as we headed up the Atigan Pass and into the cloud. The temperature plummeted along with the visibility, and it was a very nervous
few miles as I imagined a truck emerging from the gloom, or the road falling away. I only realised just how cold it had got once we came back down out of the
murk, and I could stop concentrating so hard! Thankfully I soon warmed up and we next descended the North Slope without drama, and stopped at the next set of roadworks. It was only then that we realised just how filthy both bikes and riders were! The fins on my cylinders were filled in, there was a 10mm coating of mud on all the leading surfaces of the bike, the screen was opaque, and all my gear on the back was uniform gray. Geoff’s Gopro, on the top of his helmet, was covered worse than mine. The spray from the bike in front managed to get you no matter how far back you rode. Chris warned us that the mud would set like concrete owing to the chemicals sprayed onto the surface of the road to keep it together, which is why he’d scheduled a rest day tomorrow for washing off.
Once through the roadworks we pressed on to the truckstop at Coldfoot. After a quick snack and a fill up, Chris, Jon, Alec, Clive and I continued on, leaving Gaz, Little Mark and Geoff to their three course meals. As we pulled out, we were followed by a truck, which quite disconcertingly, continued to sit on our (my!) tail at up to 70 mph. The next hill allowed us to outpace him, but of course the last thing we wanted to do was interfere with his work.
At the Arctic Circle we stopped again for a leg stretch and to check the bikes over. There was a guy in the car park on a Fireblade who was intending to ride
on to Coldfoot! Well if Saunders can do it on an R1? I couldn't talk to him for more than a couple of minutes though, owing to his habit of spitting after
every sentence, which was odd. On towards the Hotspot Cafe and the promise of one of their huge burgers, we came across a push bike at the side of the road. A Surly Fatbike for those who know about these things, ridden by a Londoner! He had cycled to Prudhoe Bay and was on
his way back, having wild camped at the side of the road!
Clive and I had been setting each other challenges since we left Prudhoe, and as I remembered one stretch of the road just after The Hotspot, arrow straight and
with clear view for miles, it was time to pull the winning card. Thankfully Clive agreed!
We had enjoyed a dry hour, but the clouds were piling up to the South of us. A convoy of University of Alaska minibuses heading back towards Fairbanks found us
very photogenic. Each one had students waving and pointing their cameras and phones at us as we passed. Must have been our rugged good looks?
Following Alex through the last of the Dalton before we rejoined the Tarmac, I was enjoying his smooth style through the bends, and marvelling at the fact that
he wasn't using the brakes! I was having to anchor up quite hard to avoid rear ending him. Must be the extra engine braking of those old 1150's. It was only
later when we were talking that we realised that his, and probably my, lights were completely covered in crud!
Just after we left the dirt, the rain started again, so the last twisty roads down into Fairbanks were wet. Clive indicated that he was low on fuel, so I
suggested he should catch Chris up to see if he knew how far the next petrol was. It was further than he had fuel for, as he sputtered to a halt shortly
after.
We rolled back into the campus at 7.00 pm, nowhere near as tired as I expected. A quick shower and then into the University Bar, where, according to my diary we
drank lots! There was live music on, but they weren't to everyone's taste. Bob and Johno made it back not too long after us, having had a trouble free trip
down.
Mark