A Life of its Own (Day 15)

The Dalton Highway seems to have a life of its own. From one hour to the next, the same section of highway can be completely different.  It could go from large golfball size gravel to pea size gravel, and then to dispersed gravel with a solid layer of dirt exposed underneith.  There were many sections a mile or more long where crews were working on it.

Today the road was a completely different road than it was just yesterday and the day before.  The same stretch of road that took me nine hours to travel yesterday, took me only five hours today.  Basically when it dries out, it becomes the consistency of dried clay.  Areas where I was riding 15-20 mph yesterday were dried out and were ridable at 50-65 mph today.

I woke up especially early to catch the tour bus out to the arctic ocean. Because of security around the oil fields, this is the only way tourists can go to the sea. Before the tour they make you watch a short video featuring the history of Prudhoe Bay, and all the innovations that have been made over the years in oil exploration.  After that, a guy with a badge checks your ID and lets you on the bus.

Deadhorse is a pretty big place, or at least a lot bigger than I thought.  There are rows and rows of companies which are each a cog in the oil business up here.  Some buildings are well houses themselves.

Workers generally work 12 hour days, 2 weeks on and 2 weeks off. They are flown in and housed/fed for free from Fairbanks and Anchorage. The guide was saying even housekeepers up here start at $55k/yr.

On the bus I saw an arctic fox stalking something in the oil fields.  I also saw a couple arctic swans and musk oxen.

They let us off at the ocean and warned us of the Pete moss on the ocean floor, and of "accidental plunges" that have happened in recent weeks.

This is as far as I'd be going north... time to start thinking about the ride back.

As I started out, first thing I noticed as all the deep gravel was dispearsed from the trucks driving over it.  The next thing I noticed is that I was able to pass a couple dual sport riders.  This ride was going to go much faster than I thought (still five hours to Coldfoot).

Once I got to Coldfoot, I sat down with some other riders. They asked what I rode, and when I told them one guy says "That's the guy I was telling you about from Deadhorse."  Then another guy mentions someone riding a Yellow Goldwing with a spare front tire in the back seat. (Paul)  They didn't know we knew each other.  It's funny how stories travel up and down the Dalton through the riders.

One funny topic at lunch was a guy we all spotted at one point or another who is making the trek on a Vespa.  He's got it loaded up and has 4 small spare tires, 2 on the front, and 2 on the back.  I hear he's from Italy and had his Vespa shipped to New York.  He was telling one guy it does 47 MPH, but that is the extent of his story.

I felt pretty good after a burger, so I just got back on the bike and headed south.  There was an option to camp on the Yukon river at 120 miles, or keep going the 250 to the next fuel stop.

Before I left, a GS 1200 rider from the lunch table was getting ready to go too.  I think he thought I was going to follow him out, and he warned me "just take it easy ... I'm going to be going fast".  I didn't think much of it since he was on a bike made for this stuff and I was not.

We actually ended up riding the rest of the Dalton together.  In the dirt he would walk away from me in the corners or where it was wet, I would catch up on the straights.  On the pavement, I held my own, but I could not shake him when I took the lead. Now I really need to test ride one of these bikes!  It had all the storage of the wing, and handled well on dirt and pavement.  It's also about 350 pounds lighter.

At the end of the Dalton we congratulated each other and took photos by the sign. Getting back to the bottom of the Highway felt more of a personal accomplishment than just getting to Deadhorse.

I took the lead through the rest of the twisties and then pulled into the fuel station.  It was around 9pm but I was ready to ride further since I thought Paul and Steve were so far ahead of me.  That's when Paul pulled into the gas station.  He was on his way back to his camp site, taking his time because he thought I was going to take one more day to get down the Dalton.  I just went back to his camp and setup my tent.

Tomorrow we'll head out toward Dawson, which is 950 miles from here. There's a 75 mile stretch of dirt, but from what we've heard, it should be a breeze if it is dry.  If it is like the condition of the Dalton today, it definitely won't be that difficult.  I believe that's the last long stretch of dirt road for this trip.