Haines and the Road Through the Yukon

Even though Haines doesn't offer too much in the way of hospitality (it does cater to the frequent cruise ships that dock briefly enough for hundreds of tourists to scavenge the area for souvenirs), I did find a true gem in town; the library.

The Haines library, clearly a very new structure, was beautifully built with all the amenities that make a public library worthy of its constituents; a children's area with frequent organized events for kids of all ages, computer stations with internet access, meeting rooms to house a variety of community events, and of course, lots and lots of books. For two days it became my second home, and I found it easy to stay there for hours on end. Everyone was very friendly and helpful, and I would occasionally bump into a woman whom I recognized from the ferry, allowing us to catch up on what we had been doing in town.

OK, so I found another gem in Haines; a Mexican restaurant that served the locally made beer on draft. Fish tacos and the Haines Brewing Company's Spruce Tip Ale. Now THAT, my friends, is a little slice of heaven...

My second night at the hostel, what would be my last as I was heading out early the next morning, was one of the most enjoyable hostel experiences I've ever had. The Israeli couple, unsuccessful in hitching a ride north, had returned for one more night before trying their luck again, and a family of Canadians from Vancouver, two grown brothers with their mother and aunt, as well as a young guy riding his mountain bike north from Wrangle, all converged in the hostels kitchen for a night of stories and laughter. It's always interesting to see how people from other countries view the United States, and we were in stitches all night as the Canadian brothers put their unique spin on American and Canadian politics and culture.

A couple rode in on touring bikes on the last night I stayed at the hostel. I didn't get to talk to them, but I was admiring their wicked sweet rides that next morning. On my next trip, I think I'm gonna do it this way...

When I set out the next morning, my first real day of riding in Alaska, I was perhaps as nervous as I had ever been on the trip to that point. The fear, of course, is always in the unknown, and nothing had more stories fraught with peril than the Alaskan Highway. For as nervous as I was, though, it felt good to be on the road again, and as I made my way out of town, I saw the Israeli couple from the hostel, as they had already walked to the edge of town leading north, hoping again to catch a ride at least to Haines Junction, a hundred miles north in the Yukon Territory. We waved and smiled as I passed by, giving each other the thumbs up to wish each other success.

On the road that follows the path of the Chilcat River north, a bald eagle took flight directly above me, and not a few miles down the road, a baby black bear darted across the road well in front of my bike, my first two impressive wildlife sightings since making land. A native woman who was directing construction traffic further along told me that her people believed that seeing an eagle fly above you was good luck, and considering my last encounter with wildlife on the motorcycle in British Columbia, I was more than ready to accept her word.

There is only one road out of Haines that will take you into the interior of Alaska, and you must cross through Canada in order to get there. The border guard, a friendly young woman with a sweet smile, wearing a full military uniform complete with flack jacket,  told me that I should prepare myself for some spectacular scenery in the Yukon, and she couldn't have been more right. That first stretch of road into Canada, part of Kluane National Park, was, without a doubt, the most thrilling riding I had ever done on my bike. The land took off in all directions, rising up on both sides of the road in muted greens that still somehow seemed more luminous than they should have considering the overcast weather, breaking into earth colored patches that created irregular patterns at the peaks of the mountains; something that looked more like the creation for a science fiction film than reality. With the weather pushing the clouds down low over those mountains, it also reminded me very much of Scotland, and i wondered if their shared latitude on a world map was just coincidence, or if that somehow made for the kind of conditions that made the two locations so similar in appearance.

The air was cold in the mountains, and there were varying levels of precipitation, so I had my heated jacket liner cranked up to high most of the way through the initial stretch of road, but I kept getting chills through my arms and back. I realized that it wasn't the temperature that was to blame; it was my response to what I was seeing around me. It was truly thrilling.

Sadly, this picture doesn't even begin to give you an idea of what it looks like in person.

Once in a while the sun would break through. Sort of.

As I made my way past the road marker indicating that I was now entering the Yukon, the views became all the more dramatic. If I had followed my inherent desire to stop at every view worthy of a picture, I would have been stopping every quarter mile; it was that impressive.

The downside, however, was that the roads were getting worse, with long stretches of highway that were either under reconstruction or what looked like what had been ripped apart in order for reconstruction to begin, but with no sign that it would be getting done any time soon, leaving just packed down gravel. With just a slower pace and a bit more concentration on the road, I was able to do fine, but it was taking more of a toll on my body than I would have imagined.

Yes, it certainly is.

One of the first stretches of gravel road. And this was the really nice part!

This is the bike of an older fellow I met at a rest stop who was returning to South Dakota - the BMW R1200GS Adventure. After some of the awful road conditions I found myself on, I sort of wished that this was the bike I was riding.

As I was photographing at a rest stop with an amazing view of mountains and a lake, a car rolled up just behind me, and much to my surprise, out popped the Israeli couple. They had successfully hitched a ride with a German family who had rented a car and were making their way through the area. We laughed at their good fortune, and when I headed out, they eventually passed me in a hurry, the German father apparently confusing western Canada for the Autobahn. We waved to each other as they passed, wondering if this would be the last time that I would see them.

Just a piece of a much bigger scene. The video below gives you a much better idea of what I saw.

By the time I reached Haines Junction, I was in desperate need of fuel, and I rolled into town with the indicator light on my gas gauge lit bright yellow. After fueling up, I again saw the Israeli couple. They had gone as far as they could with the German family, and were once again sitting out by the road, waiting for another ride that would get them closer to the Alaskan border. We talked for a bit and then said our goodbyes, but as I made the turn at the junction of Route 1 and Route 3 and continued my northwesterly route, I had a sneaking suspicion that we would be going through this ritual several more times along the way.

The ride along Kluane Lake, still part of the National Park, was stunning, and I again had to force myself not to stop every few minutes. I wasn't as successful as I had hoped, and I probably added a considerable amount of time to my day with all the stops I made.

 

This was an absolutely beautiful spot that nearly took my breath away when I rounded the corner and saw it. The video below gives you the whole view.

The birds at one of the rest stops along the way apparently weren't shy about coming right up to people looking for food.

Ah, the open road...

And this is how we do it from Jersey - again!

 When I finally crossed back into Alaska and finally made it to Tok, the first town of any significance past the border, it was nine o'clock at night. I had pushed off at 7:30 that morning, making for thirteen and a half hours of riding, but logging in only 438 miles. Even though some of that was due to the photo stops, much of it was the slugging through rough roads. I was exhausted.

I staggered into Fast Eddy's restaurant for dinner (apparently the famous place to go in Tok), and then, after getting a quote for $125 to sleep in a 6'x10' "cabin" at a touristy campground across the road, I opted instead for a $10 a night campsite just down the road in the other direction. It began raining as I had settled into my tent for the night, the droplets of rain making rhythmic thunks on the top of the tent's rainfly. But I was far too tired to even care, and in moments I heard nothing at all...