Fairbanks & The James Daughton Highway
We set off for Fairbanks, the second largest town in Alaska, expecting it to be similar to Anchorage but we were generally disappointed with the campgrounds on offer and more generally with the town itself. On our first night we ended up pitched by a site entrance next to where preparations for the annual fairground were underway and it was pretty grim, grey and crowded.
Our spirits were boosted by the arrival of a couple of other British travellers, Luke & Vicky, who seemed to have endless energy and had already spent a good few months back-country traveling, which basically means traveling in the wilderness where there are no "facilities". We had a good chat with them over a few beers with Eric, an aspiring American actor...who was currently unemployed.
Mike's bike still needed repairing from the Denali highway, namely that a new pair of handlebars needed to be fitted. The sole BMW dealer in Fairbanks is George at Trails End motorcycles, who Mike had had a few conversations with before leaving Denali. George's initial assistance seemed to be hampered by the fact we were on F650's, which he regularly stated in an almost southern but firm drawl that he 'Didn't like 'em', and the fact that Mike spoke too fast for his liking on the phone, and hence wouldn't order any parts before our arrival. By the time we did get to meet him, his phone manner proved not to be an isolated incident, where once again, he re-iterated his dislike for the F650. He lives in a largish house near the outskirts of town from where he runs his dealership where there is more character to be seen in the form of varying BMW parts and bikes over the past 30-40 years or so than apparent order. Having said that, he did seem to know where to find things when he wanted them. Overall we both needed a few spare parts, amongst two of which was a circlip for John's side stand switch, and two rubber bushes for Mike's air filter box. The palaver we had to hear as to why John should want a replacement circlip and why I should want these bushes was of Basil Faulty proportions. Eventually a friend of his turned up and asked if he fancied a coffee, at which point the little interest he had showed us disappeared, and so did he,.... very shortly afterwards on a BMW bike with his hair combed back and sporting a big pair of sunglasses. This, from a man who must be fast approaching 70. We had some sense that he may order the things we discussed but we weren't sure.
Ever since Mike had seen Kevin and Gill Saunders break the world record for the Pan-American Highway, an itch had been formed to at least see the start of their run. A quick look on the map appeared to suggest the highway to link us to Prudhoe Bay/Dead horse was about 250 miles each way, about a days drive there and a day back, and John needed little encouragement for another adventure. We both prepared our kit the night before and gave ourselves sufficient food & drinks for the day traveling out. After some last minute adjustments to John's head bearings we set off at about 12:30, 3 hours later than we'd hoped. By the time we got to the sign-posted part of the highway it read 511 miles !!!! We mentally gulped and overcame this hurdle only to discover that the road disintegrated into gravel after about 70 miles.......50 miles down the gravel/dust track we stopped for lunch & coffee and reflected on our latest poorly researched adventure...but with the British resolve to carry on.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536727.jpg">
Not long after realizing that there was sill 411 miles to go to Prudoe!
This was a interesting ride...we'd already established on the Denali highway that it was better not to think about what you were doing on these gravel roads and here we were again with over 400 miles of them ahead of us, and the same amount back. Using the Denial technique, easily confusable with the Denali technique, we careered off down the highway at approximately 50mph, choosing not to think about the consequences of any spills. This technique could be likened best to driving up the driveway of an English Manor whilst hanging onto a pneumatic drill, and with about as much steering potential and ability to appreciate the surroundings.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536801.jpg">
The Hotspot cafe about 180 miles in......
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536770.jpg">
The infamous Alaska pipeline, stretches approximatly 800 miles from North to South.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536745.jpg">
One of many forest fires we saw, this one had pretty well burned out as you can see. Surprisingly enough these fires are often started by lightening.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744025.jpg">
The purple flower is called fireweed and grows after forest fires, can be seen in abundance.
We covered just over 270 miles on the first day and found accommodation at a small village of 19(ish) called Wiseman, in Igloo no 8-(the next nearest town of not many more people was about 25 miles away). The setting of Wiseman is incredibly beautiful, just off a river you could only expect to see in the wilderness.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744104.jpg">
The view approaching Wiseman......this photo doesn't do it justice.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744062.jpg">
This one does though......... !!
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744165.jpg">
Outside the Igloo !
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747134.jpg">
Inside..........
We had had no dinner and only had enough cash to cover two nights accommodation-when Mike asked if they took VISA, the owner Bernie, just laughed, as if VISA was some sort of new fangled thing. He did graciously offer us a pizza though which we gladly cooked in our igloo(actually a log cabin). The cabin was great, complete with cooker and two comfortable beds. We lay in bed still vibrating from the gravel and our bodies continued to re-live the experience long into the night and the following day. Our forearms and shoulders having taken most of the punishment.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744227.jpg">
Self sufficiency is important in the wilderness. Power supplied by wind and sun.
The following morning we were greeted with lots of coffee, fried eggs and pancakes. We then set off towards Prudhoe Bay with more gravel and dust.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747158.jpg">
Mike outside the igloo....looking a little weary.....
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747180.jpg">
The only other town signpost in Wiseman....
As we started to go up into the mountain region we stopped to take a rest and met an American retired taxman from Boise, Idaho-Dick, We didn't think any 'Fools & Horses" jokes would be understood, although the irony wasn't wasted on us ! He was 59 and traveling in the same direction on a Kawasaki KL 650. Whilst we were chatting to him, Kevin Saunders, Mikes inspiration tuned up, leading a group from his company, Globe busters, of riders on an a Pan American highway trip for 5 months down to Argentina. Mike, almost disbelieving his eyes, then introduced Kevin to Dick who started clicking away on his camera on hearing of Kevin(and Gill's) world travel records.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747281.jpg">
Rising through the mountains just before meeting Kevin Saunders.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747240.jpg">
Kevin Saunders...in person.
The Alaskan's, not content with disjointing our shoulder blades on the gravel, presented us with a new challenge for road adhesion, and that is of putting mud on the roads with a binding salt, and then flooding it with water. This is to help keep the surface free from dust apparently. We wondered if the strewn motorcycles we anticipate to find by the highway in the future will make dust seem such a problem. The result was like driving through chocolate icing-to add insult to injury, this seemed mostly applied to steep hills. When wet, you slithered and slid and hoped you might stay on-When dry, the previous lorry tracks made in the wet, made for ruts for us to have our steering shaken-at times seeming that it would be taken out of our control.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114751769.jpg">
The slippery slurrry.......discovered later that standing up on the footpegs was a great help.
After driving on some more sensibly covered roads, we decided to make a brief stop by the side of a largely dried-out river. Mike decided this was an excellent opportunity to test some more of the Dakar's off-road ability and within about 20 seconds had his real wheel deep in mud and was looking round for assistance from John, who was probably wondering why the chocolate icing wasn't enough challenge for one day.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114752004.jpg">
Doh !! .....that sinking feeling...........
Remembering some of Chris Scotts 'recovering from sand bogging techniques', we tipped the bike onto its side and inserted some driftwood under the rear wheel and raised the bike again. With John and Mike pushing, the Dakar moved forwards and left a big thank you right up John's BMM suite. We survived and finally got to Prudhoe Bay. We'd been advised by Kevin Saunders to stay at the Prudhoe Bay Hotel where you paid a set price, which included accommodation, 3 meals and anything you wanted to eat or drink from the restaurant during your stay.
Prudhoe bay is basically the start of the Alaskan pipeline which pumps oil from Prudhoe 800 miles across Alaska. It is primarily run by BP & Phillips. It is a refinery, which defines the town, as opposed to the town having any character of its own. The hotel is best defined as loads of large portacabins all connected together to make one building. As guests, it was like being on some kind of battleship. The rooms were clean, warm and functional though. To see the Arctic Ocean, you have to have security clearance, which is tied to a refinery trip run by BP. The refinery trip, with the exception of introductory "BP is great and looking after the environment" video....(apparently Caribou herds have increased with the presence of BP, although no scientific evidence has been established to substantiate their claim), was as about as interesting as a bus ride round an industrial estate. We did however get to dip our feet in the Ocean and witness the 'Polar bears' from our bus have a swim. This is very COLD water.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114752043.jpg">
Toes in the Arctic Ocean...others were bolder and went for a swim.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773491.jpg">
Buy one, get one free !! Last shot at Prudoe before the return journey.
Dick, who we'd met on the way down, was also staying at the Prudhoe and asked if he might ride with us on our first leg back to Wiseman/Coldfoot area. We agreed and set off. The day was very windy and chilly and didn't really lend itself to scene viewing. This was further enforced with the vast number of mosquitoes who swarm you if you stop-They get in your ears, eyes, mouth-anywhere they can get access too. We actually met a contingent of British Cyclists 40 odd miles out of Prudhoe, who had one of their team sick from mosquito bites, and these guys were wearing mosquito nets on their heads....but had been bitten on their hands. We yet again encountered the Chocolate icing on a larger scale, which frightened all of us a bit more. After a 10 min stop, Mike tried riding standing on his foot pegs and this improved the situation dramatically, John quickly followed suite but Dick thought it looked too unbalanced and struggled through it sitting down. (We later explained why it was better....i.e. by shifting your weight off the seat you move it on to your foot pegs and hence, lower the centre of gravity and improve handling).
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773512.jpg">
Coming back through the mountains
John and I had our dreams literally pinned on staying at Igloo no 8 again, although we knew the chances were slim of their being a vacancy. ...Sometimes chances are slim but work in your favour-they'd had a cancellation and were grateful for our custom....we had beds! We met up with Dick for dinner, said our farewells and retired back to our beds.
The following day we set off in the direction of Fairbanks for our last day of the James Daughton Highway. This was a fairly cold morning which was shortly joined by rain which made driving doubly hazardous...we plodded on and finally the rain gave way and we made it to the Artic Circle to get a few photos, where it was still very cold.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773533.jpg">
An obligatory photo at the Arctic Circle.
Heading on we finally made it to the 'HotSpot' cafe, which is actually quit a largge cafe in the middle of nowhere but still manages to be renowned for its hamburgers....so we duly ordered 2. They were massive!! A refreshing lunchtime break and we were back on the pneumatic drills again. With about 20 miles of the gravel part left, John's drive chain jumped ship, or more precisely his rear sprocket...fortunately he managed to stop his bike before any entanglements occurred. The chain was remounted and tightened and we set off again, finally making it back to Fairbanks.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773564.jpg">
The begining of John's chain jumping...a story continued in later episodes !
Back at Fairbanks, our previously quiet camping neighbor, asked us where we'd been(now three nights had passed since we left if you're not keeping up). His name is Doug and it appeared he had better times in his life as this now appeared to be his home, a small dome tent.(Doug was not alone though in living on a camp site-We both saw quite a few families who were well established in living there and at other sites.) Doug showed interest in our bikes and journey and we involved him as we could. At one point he actually had Mike talking on his mobile to the Mother of a friend of his who lived in Texas !!
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773581.jpg">
Four days and 1100 miles later.
Fairbanks though was not our town and we wanted to leave as soon as we could, however, the parts ordered from George had to be collected, assuming they'd been ordered, and then fitted.
So Mike made another visit to George who did have his handlebars in stock as well as a few other items ordered...but not all. This time George was far more pleasant, even though he was also dealing with about 3 other customers simultaneously.
John, meanwhile was in search of a new chain as his had definitely seen better days. Chain purchased, our new chain splitter was invited to the old BMW chain and dutifully broke. After all sorts of pushing and pulling and purchase of new tools, between us we managed to shear off a 12mm tubed shaft handle off the tool. After more discussion and synopsis, the old chain was sawn off having discovered that the tool did work on the new chain. Chain finally fitted, followed by Mike's handlebars, things were looking a bit more go again BUT one of George’s friends pointed out that one of John's fork seals were leaking on our penultimate visit to see him. We'd had enough maintenance for a while and as the leak wasn't serious, postponed it to our next stop in a week or so's time.
In summary, Fairbanks was a sprawling town which only really offered us Internet Cafe's and large department store shopping, and of course, George. George incidentally became more friendly each time we visited until on the last occasion, he actually shook Mike's hand as we left for the final time, and gave us both Alaskan license plate holders.
We set off for Fairbanks, the second largest town in Alaska, expecting it to be similar to Anchorage but we were generally disappointed with the campgrounds on offer and more generally with the town itself. On our first night we ended up pitched by a site entrance next to where preparations for the annual fairground were underway and it was pretty grim, grey and crowded.
Our spirits were boosted by the arrival of a couple of other British travellers, Luke & Vicky, who seemed to have endless energy and had already spent a good few months back-country traveling, which basically means traveling in the wilderness where there are no "facilities". We had a good chat with them over a few beers with Eric, an aspiring American actor...who was currently unemployed.
Mike's bike still needed repairing from the Denali highway, namely that a new pair of handlebars needed to be fitted. The sole BMW dealer in Fairbanks is George at Trails End motorcycles, who Mike had had a few conversations with before leaving Denali. George's initial assistance seemed to be hampered by the fact we were on F650's, which he regularly stated in an almost southern but firm drawl that he 'Didn't like 'em', and the fact that Mike spoke too fast for his liking on the phone, and hence wouldn't order any parts before our arrival. By the time we did get to meet him, his phone manner proved not to be an isolated incident, where once again, he re-iterated his dislike for the F650. He lives in a largish house near the outskirts of town from where he runs his dealership where there is more character to be seen in the form of varying BMW parts and bikes over the past 30-40 years or so than apparent order. Having said that, he did seem to know where to find things when he wanted them. Overall we both needed a few spare parts, amongst two of which was a circlip for John's side stand switch, and two rubber bushes for Mike's air filter box. The palaver we had to hear as to why John should want a replacement circlip and why I should want these bushes was of Basil Faulty proportions. Eventually a friend of his turned up and asked if he fancied a coffee, at which point the little interest he had showed us disappeared, and so did he,.... very shortly afterwards on a BMW bike with his hair combed back and sporting a big pair of sunglasses. This, from a man who must be fast approaching 70. We had some sense that he may order the things we discussed but we weren't sure.
Ever since Mike had seen Kevin and Gill Saunders break the world record for the Pan-American Highway, an itch had been formed to at least see the start of their run. A quick look on the map appeared to suggest the highway to link us to Prudhoe Bay/Dead horse was about 250 miles each way, about a days drive there and a day back, and John needed little encouragement for another adventure. We both prepared our kit the night before and gave ourselves sufficient food & drinks for the day traveling out. After some last minute adjustments to John's head bearings we set off at about 12:30, 3 hours later than we'd hoped. By the time we got to the sign-posted part of the highway it read 511 miles !!!! We mentally gulped and overcame this hurdle only to discover that the road disintegrated into gravel after about 70 miles.......50 miles down the gravel/dust track we stopped for lunch & coffee and reflected on our latest poorly researched adventure...but with the British resolve to carry on.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536727.jpg">
Not long after realizing that there was sill 411 miles to go to Prudoe!
This was a interesting ride...we'd already established on the Denali highway that it was better not to think about what you were doing on these gravel roads and here we were again with over 400 miles of them ahead of us, and the same amount back. Using the Denial technique, easily confusable with the Denali technique, we careered off down the highway at approximately 50mph, choosing not to think about the consequences of any spills. This technique could be likened best to driving up the driveway of an English Manor whilst hanging onto a pneumatic drill, and with about as much steering potential and ability to appreciate the surroundings.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536801.jpg">
The Hotspot cafe about 180 miles in......
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536770.jpg">
The infamous Alaska pipeline, stretches approximatly 800 miles from North to South.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114536745.jpg">
One of many forest fires we saw, this one had pretty well burned out as you can see. Surprisingly enough these fires are often started by lightening.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744025.jpg">
The purple flower is called fireweed and grows after forest fires, can be seen in abundance.
We covered just over 270 miles on the first day and found accommodation at a small village of 19(ish) called Wiseman, in Igloo no 8-(the next nearest town of not many more people was about 25 miles away). The setting of Wiseman is incredibly beautiful, just off a river you could only expect to see in the wilderness.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744104.jpg">
The view approaching Wiseman......this photo doesn't do it justice.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744062.jpg">
This one does though......... !!
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744165.jpg">
Outside the Igloo !
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747134.jpg">
Inside..........
We had had no dinner and only had enough cash to cover two nights accommodation-when Mike asked if they took VISA, the owner Bernie, just laughed, as if VISA was some sort of new fangled thing. He did graciously offer us a pizza though which we gladly cooked in our igloo(actually a log cabin). The cabin was great, complete with cooker and two comfortable beds. We lay in bed still vibrating from the gravel and our bodies continued to re-live the experience long into the night and the following day. Our forearms and shoulders having taken most of the punishment.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114744227.jpg">
Self sufficiency is important in the wilderness. Power supplied by wind and sun.
The following morning we were greeted with lots of coffee, fried eggs and pancakes. We then set off towards Prudhoe Bay with more gravel and dust.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747158.jpg">
Mike outside the igloo....looking a little weary.....
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747180.jpg">
The only other town signpost in Wiseman....
As we started to go up into the mountain region we stopped to take a rest and met an American retired taxman from Boise, Idaho-Dick, We didn't think any 'Fools & Horses" jokes would be understood, although the irony wasn't wasted on us ! He was 59 and traveling in the same direction on a Kawasaki KL 650. Whilst we were chatting to him, Kevin Saunders, Mikes inspiration tuned up, leading a group from his company, Globe busters, of riders on an a Pan American highway trip for 5 months down to Argentina. Mike, almost disbelieving his eyes, then introduced Kevin to Dick who started clicking away on his camera on hearing of Kevin(and Gill's) world travel records.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747281.jpg">
Rising through the mountains just before meeting Kevin Saunders.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114747240.jpg">
Kevin Saunders...in person.
The Alaskan's, not content with disjointing our shoulder blades on the gravel, presented us with a new challenge for road adhesion, and that is of putting mud on the roads with a binding salt, and then flooding it with water. This is to help keep the surface free from dust apparently. We wondered if the strewn motorcycles we anticipate to find by the highway in the future will make dust seem such a problem. The result was like driving through chocolate icing-to add insult to injury, this seemed mostly applied to steep hills. When wet, you slithered and slid and hoped you might stay on-When dry, the previous lorry tracks made in the wet, made for ruts for us to have our steering shaken-at times seeming that it would be taken out of our control.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114751769.jpg">
The slippery slurrry.......discovered later that standing up on the footpegs was a great help.
After driving on some more sensibly covered roads, we decided to make a brief stop by the side of a largely dried-out river. Mike decided this was an excellent opportunity to test some more of the Dakar's off-road ability and within about 20 seconds had his real wheel deep in mud and was looking round for assistance from John, who was probably wondering why the chocolate icing wasn't enough challenge for one day.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114752004.jpg">
Doh !! .....that sinking feeling...........
Remembering some of Chris Scotts 'recovering from sand bogging techniques', we tipped the bike onto its side and inserted some driftwood under the rear wheel and raised the bike again. With John and Mike pushing, the Dakar moved forwards and left a big thank you right up John's BMM suite. We survived and finally got to Prudhoe Bay. We'd been advised by Kevin Saunders to stay at the Prudhoe Bay Hotel where you paid a set price, which included accommodation, 3 meals and anything you wanted to eat or drink from the restaurant during your stay.
Prudhoe bay is basically the start of the Alaskan pipeline which pumps oil from Prudhoe 800 miles across Alaska. It is primarily run by BP & Phillips. It is a refinery, which defines the town, as opposed to the town having any character of its own. The hotel is best defined as loads of large portacabins all connected together to make one building. As guests, it was like being on some kind of battleship. The rooms were clean, warm and functional though. To see the Arctic Ocean, you have to have security clearance, which is tied to a refinery trip run by BP. The refinery trip, with the exception of introductory "BP is great and looking after the environment" video....(apparently Caribou herds have increased with the presence of BP, although no scientific evidence has been established to substantiate their claim), was as about as interesting as a bus ride round an industrial estate. We did however get to dip our feet in the Ocean and witness the 'Polar bears' from our bus have a swim. This is very COLD water.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114752043.jpg">
Toes in the Arctic Ocean...others were bolder and went for a swim.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773491.jpg">
Buy one, get one free !! Last shot at Prudoe before the return journey.
Dick, who we'd met on the way down, was also staying at the Prudhoe and asked if he might ride with us on our first leg back to Wiseman/Coldfoot area. We agreed and set off. The day was very windy and chilly and didn't really lend itself to scene viewing. This was further enforced with the vast number of mosquitoes who swarm you if you stop-They get in your ears, eyes, mouth-anywhere they can get access too. We actually met a contingent of British Cyclists 40 odd miles out of Prudhoe, who had one of their team sick from mosquito bites, and these guys were wearing mosquito nets on their heads....but had been bitten on their hands. We yet again encountered the Chocolate icing on a larger scale, which frightened all of us a bit more. After a 10 min stop, Mike tried riding standing on his foot pegs and this improved the situation dramatically, John quickly followed suite but Dick thought it looked too unbalanced and struggled through it sitting down. (We later explained why it was better....i.e. by shifting your weight off the seat you move it on to your foot pegs and hence, lower the centre of gravity and improve handling).
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773512.jpg">
Coming back through the mountains
John and I had our dreams literally pinned on staying at Igloo no 8 again, although we knew the chances were slim of their being a vacancy. ...Sometimes chances are slim but work in your favour-they'd had a cancellation and were grateful for our custom....we had beds! We met up with Dick for dinner, said our farewells and retired back to our beds.
The following day we set off in the direction of Fairbanks for our last day of the James Daughton Highway. This was a fairly cold morning which was shortly joined by rain which made driving doubly hazardous...we plodded on and finally the rain gave way and we made it to the Artic Circle to get a few photos, where it was still very cold.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773533.jpg">
An obligatory photo at the Arctic Circle.
Heading on we finally made it to the 'HotSpot' cafe, which is actually quit a largge cafe in the middle of nowhere but still manages to be renowned for its hamburgers....so we duly ordered 2. They were massive!! A refreshing lunchtime break and we were back on the pneumatic drills again. With about 20 miles of the gravel part left, John's drive chain jumped ship, or more precisely his rear sprocket...fortunately he managed to stop his bike before any entanglements occurred. The chain was remounted and tightened and we set off again, finally making it back to Fairbanks.
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773564.jpg">
The begining of John's chain jumping...a story continued in later episodes !
Back at Fairbanks, our previously quiet camping neighbor, asked us where we'd been(now three nights had passed since we left if you're not keeping up). His name is Doug and it appeared he had better times in his life as this now appeared to be his home, a small dome tent.(Doug was not alone though in living on a camp site-We both saw quite a few families who were well established in living there and at other sites.) Doug showed interest in our bikes and journey and we involved him as we could. At one point he actually had Mike talking on his mobile to the Mother of a friend of his who lived in Texas !!
<IMG SRC="http://pic4.picturetrail.com/VOL784/4062504/8448420/114773581.jpg">
Four days and 1100 miles later.
Fairbanks though was not our town and we wanted to leave as soon as we could, however, the parts ordered from George had to be collected, assuming they'd been ordered, and then fitted.
So Mike made another visit to George who did have his handlebars in stock as well as a few other items ordered...but not all. This time George was far more pleasant, even though he was also dealing with about 3 other customers simultaneously.
John, meanwhile was in search of a new chain as his had definitely seen better days. Chain purchased, our new chain splitter was invited to the old BMW chain and dutifully broke. After all sorts of pushing and pulling and purchase of new tools, between us we managed to shear off a 12mm tubed shaft handle off the tool. After more discussion and synopsis, the old chain was sawn off having discovered that the tool did work on the new chain. Chain finally fitted, followed by Mike's handlebars, things were looking a bit more go again BUT one of George’s friends pointed out that one of John's fork seals were leaking on our penultimate visit to see him. We'd had enough maintenance for a while and as the leak wasn't serious, postponed it to our next stop in a week or so's time.
In summary, Fairbanks was a sprawling town which only really offered us Internet Cafe's and large department store shopping, and of course, George. George incidentally became more friendly each time we visited until on the last occasion, he actually shook Mike's hand as we left for the final time, and gave us both Alaskan license plate holders.
