beemerdons
Certifiable Old Fart
+1, Gunny; good call John, if our FJR Forum ever starts an Alaska header then this photo should be Post #1 on an AK thread! JSNS!ADV cover photo!
The Alaska Slo-Mo Photo Tour.
- Thread starter UberKul
- Start date
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Bokerfork
Well-known member
If our FJR Forum starts an Alaska header then we'd better photoshop a beat up Gen I in there.
Gentle bump.
Gentle bump.
HIGHLANDER
naewittyshitepostedeere
Excellent ride report Brad, brings back many memories, I feel another itch starting.................
UberKul
Tire Assassin
Just a couple quick notes before we move on. The Spot 3 tracker ran the whole trip on one set of batteries, impressive and unexpected.
I left out a washcloth while packing thinking I wouldn't need it. Picked one up at the first nights campground that was left behind in the shower room. Never used it, but I did get to brag about my Martha Stewart washcloth (road tool) the whole trip.
Somehow “fun first, safety second” became the motto of our trip.
Don had a nifty little power supply that he could charge up our headsets with each night then recharge the device while riding the next day from his bike. Needed on a trip like this and I'm getting one.
Back to your irregularly scheduled programming.
Hatcher Pass was a total grand slam in route selection and timing. Breakfast on the way in was great, weather perfect, views spectacular and traffic light. Todays date is July 5th… yeah baby!!
It was recommended we go out ride east on Hwy 1 to see the Matanuska Glacier after the pass. A little further off route than we had anticipated but we did get some road twisties in. Stopped for directions in Chickaloon, it was like a vortex of relaxation.
The glacier... meh.
It was getting late in the day and we needed to get some housekeeping done so we swing into Wasilla for refuge from the incoming rain a little shopping and a laundrymat. Don took the opportunity to make repairs to his Airhawk seat cover.
Picking up some stuff at Walgreens saw this pocket farkel, thought it was mints but turns out to be a game with dice.
Leaving that morning it was a **** Tex socks kinda day.
In Anchorage we thought maybe The Motorcycle Shop would be open for a tire, wrong.
The plan was to hit Anchorage as an approximate halfway mark for an oil change and visit with some Sacramento FJR folks who moved up about five years ago. Combining the two made perfect sense so I had shipped up a couple oil filters in advance. The plan did not survive first contact. Rick and Karen didn’t answer their door when we rolled in but it was the end of the 4th of July weekend. They were probably still out somewhere enjoying themselves, or inside hoping the two dirty bikers would go away soon before they had to call the cops? Turns out they had just gotten home from a long weekend and didn’t hear us ring. Meanwhile we moved on to Plan B, go to a parts store, do an oil change in the driveway and skip the filter change. Too bad you can't recycle your oil just about anywhere in Alaska like you can here in California. Not even the locals knew where you could dump oil on a Sunday morning.
Luckily a nice guy in line at the napa store caught wind of what we needed and let us come to his house for the needed bike maintenance. Nice guy but we did wonder if he eats people while being led out into the suburbs of Anchorage. He even gave me a couple quarts of cheap Castrol GTX oil since Don had bought some high-end Delo diesel oil that we suspect had cleaned his rings well enough to allow large consumptions of oil each day. The guys were changing out a fuel pump in a pickup that had died in the middle of the Whittier Tunnel and Don was able to offer some advice.
Rick called about the time I was pouring in my second quart of oil, “Hey we're here, ready to do your oil change”! So we finish up and head back to the other side of town to meet with the California escapees. They have a great place on a lake and absolutely love living in Alaska. Here are the proof of life shots. They are not just living, they are loving life!
Karen is sporting the latest in broken back wear due to a fall in their boat.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention Rick is inactively selling his FJR and wanted me to mention it would make a great fly-n-ride. Contact RicinSac for details.
The trip takes on a nautical theme coming up.
I left out a washcloth while packing thinking I wouldn't need it. Picked one up at the first nights campground that was left behind in the shower room. Never used it, but I did get to brag about my Martha Stewart washcloth (road tool) the whole trip.
Somehow “fun first, safety second” became the motto of our trip.
Don had a nifty little power supply that he could charge up our headsets with each night then recharge the device while riding the next day from his bike. Needed on a trip like this and I'm getting one.
Back to your irregularly scheduled programming.
Hatcher Pass was a total grand slam in route selection and timing. Breakfast on the way in was great, weather perfect, views spectacular and traffic light. Todays date is July 5th… yeah baby!!
It was recommended we go out ride east on Hwy 1 to see the Matanuska Glacier after the pass. A little further off route than we had anticipated but we did get some road twisties in. Stopped for directions in Chickaloon, it was like a vortex of relaxation.
The glacier... meh.
It was getting late in the day and we needed to get some housekeeping done so we swing into Wasilla for refuge from the incoming rain a little shopping and a laundrymat. Don took the opportunity to make repairs to his Airhawk seat cover.
Picking up some stuff at Walgreens saw this pocket farkel, thought it was mints but turns out to be a game with dice.
Leaving that morning it was a **** Tex socks kinda day.
In Anchorage we thought maybe The Motorcycle Shop would be open for a tire, wrong.
The plan was to hit Anchorage as an approximate halfway mark for an oil change and visit with some Sacramento FJR folks who moved up about five years ago. Combining the two made perfect sense so I had shipped up a couple oil filters in advance. The plan did not survive first contact. Rick and Karen didn’t answer their door when we rolled in but it was the end of the 4th of July weekend. They were probably still out somewhere enjoying themselves, or inside hoping the two dirty bikers would go away soon before they had to call the cops? Turns out they had just gotten home from a long weekend and didn’t hear us ring. Meanwhile we moved on to Plan B, go to a parts store, do an oil change in the driveway and skip the filter change. Too bad you can't recycle your oil just about anywhere in Alaska like you can here in California. Not even the locals knew where you could dump oil on a Sunday morning.
Luckily a nice guy in line at the napa store caught wind of what we needed and let us come to his house for the needed bike maintenance. Nice guy but we did wonder if he eats people while being led out into the suburbs of Anchorage. He even gave me a couple quarts of cheap Castrol GTX oil since Don had bought some high-end Delo diesel oil that we suspect had cleaned his rings well enough to allow large consumptions of oil each day. The guys were changing out a fuel pump in a pickup that had died in the middle of the Whittier Tunnel and Don was able to offer some advice.
Rick called about the time I was pouring in my second quart of oil, “Hey we're here, ready to do your oil change”! So we finish up and head back to the other side of town to meet with the California escapees. They have a great place on a lake and absolutely love living in Alaska. Here are the proof of life shots. They are not just living, they are loving life!
Karen is sporting the latest in broken back wear due to a fall in their boat.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention Rick is inactively selling his FJR and wanted me to mention it would make a great fly-n-ride. Contact RicinSac for details.
The trip takes on a nautical theme coming up.
Last edited by a moderator:
Niehart
Pie Smuggler
SacramentoMike
Not Safe For Work
Great to see Rick and Karen! Sorry to see Karen in some kind of kinky body cast, tho.
Hmmm, fly 'n ride, huh?
Hmmm, fly 'n ride, huh?
beemerdons
Certifiable Old Fart
Papa Chuy Viejo's newest screensaver, Many Thanks Guys! JSNS!
UberKul
Tire Assassin
After a nice little visit with Rick and Karen and further confirmation that the remaining trip routing was optimal we headed out to Homer Spit via Anchor Point the most westerly highway point in the United States. A little wet.
A side road bypass made for a great start to the morning and out first wildlife for the day.
Here Dons steps down into a very dead animal, fur and stench being the only evidence it was even there.
No clue? Looks like a cartoon cat.
I tried to get more westerly than most tourists.
We have eagles!
To me Homer and the Spit seems like a busy fishing area that tolerates tourists that don’t fish. The Salty Dog is another one of those dollar bill adorned hole in the walls that is kind of a non-event.
What it started life looking like, the post office.
One drink later we are outta here.
Have to go to the spittiest part of Homer Spit.
Not a lot of backtracking on this trip but we had to at this point. Did get to see some awesomeness along the way though.
Kassiks Brewery in Kenai was on our to-do list through an acquaintance of Don’s. Another local California resident who moved up and living the good life in Alaska. Best of all… they own a brewery!
Subtle political statements contain some mighty fine beer.
Our new brew friends turned us on to some great local mexican food and camping at Cpt Cook Rec Area north of Nikiski.
Stayed up late for the sunset.
Me like.
Coming up... bunkers, beaches and boats.
A side road bypass made for a great start to the morning and out first wildlife for the day.
Here Dons steps down into a very dead animal, fur and stench being the only evidence it was even there.
No clue? Looks like a cartoon cat.
I tried to get more westerly than most tourists.
We have eagles!
To me Homer and the Spit seems like a busy fishing area that tolerates tourists that don’t fish. The Salty Dog is another one of those dollar bill adorned hole in the walls that is kind of a non-event.
What it started life looking like, the post office.
One drink later we are outta here.
Have to go to the spittiest part of Homer Spit.
Not a lot of backtracking on this trip but we had to at this point. Did get to see some awesomeness along the way though.
Kassiks Brewery in Kenai was on our to-do list through an acquaintance of Don’s. Another local California resident who moved up and living the good life in Alaska. Best of all… they own a brewery!
Subtle political statements contain some mighty fine beer.
Our new brew friends turned us on to some great local mexican food and camping at Cpt Cook Rec Area north of Nikiski.
Stayed up late for the sunset.
Me like.
Coming up... bunkers, beaches and boats.
beemerdons
Certifiable Old Fart
https://www.azbeemers.org/forum/index.php?topic=4848.msg38981;topicseen#msg38981 Uberkul - Brad: With your kind permission I have moved your amazing and stupendous AK RR over to AZ Beemers!
"Here's the BEST Alaska Moto Ride Report I've ever seen or read: From Uberkul Brad and Don! Gripping narrative, incredible photographs and just fantastic!"
"Here's the BEST Alaska Moto Ride Report I've ever seen or read: From Uberkul Brad and Don! Gripping narrative, incredible photographs and just fantastic!"
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wheatonFJR
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UberKul
Tire Assassin
The next day Louie’s Steak and Seafood offered us some good food and great atmosphere.
The overlap of routing soon ended and new views emerged as we headed out to Portage Valley on the way to Whittier. At the visitor's center we were treated to an Eagle vs Seagull air battle that had the local rangers pulling out their phones to capture. I don’t know how but the seagull survived after a good fifteen minutes of beak and claw midair strafing. Trying to get a micro four thirds camera to focus on fast action against a blue background is challenging at best.
The wait for Whittier Tunnel gave me the opportunity to do another tread to hair ratio check, looks about balanced to me.
Heard the tunnel could be challenging with the train track and wet conditions. Maybe a little if you are trying to take pictures behind your back, adjust your song choice and have a conversation with your buddy at the same time.
Once we popped out in Whittier we needed to check the ferry schedule to see if we would be there an hour or a day or more. The terminal was closed but the ferry schedule would allow us to get in early the next morning to buy tickets and cross the same day. Free time means exploring.
Exploring or ‘spor’in as it became know as the hillbilly set in with the passage of days was good in Whittier. Found some old ammo bunkers that just screamed for a mini smokey burnout and we obliged.
The best Halibut fish and chips I've ever eaten from the Swiftwater Cafe.
More spor'in.
Camping at Head of the Bay in Whittier meant we didn’t have to pay to go through the tunnel two more times at $12.00 a pop, and again, it didn’t suck.
Yes the big beer bottle on the rocks is Kassiks, imported by motorbike for just such an occasion.
The next morning this little boat had come in to port. Sneaky little bugger.
Rearranging my gear in the side bag gave me the opportunity to fold my nail back. Check, don’t need to repeat. How good are things when a boo boo like this is worth reporting? Pretty fan-frickin-tastic because with me it usually involves an orthopedic surgeon.
I assume a 1 is good?
Ferry loading and tie down for the Whittier to Valdez trip. We had to put our camp fuel in the hazardous cargo room and forgot to grab it on departure, oops.
Sea life, saw a whale too but missed the shot, bummer.
Who can see an iceberg and not think Titanic?
Window seat for the Spot to keep on track’in.
Obligatory lawless bikes in the location sign photo.
Next...copper mines and misery... well, maybe large discomfort anyway.
The overlap of routing soon ended and new views emerged as we headed out to Portage Valley on the way to Whittier. At the visitor's center we were treated to an Eagle vs Seagull air battle that had the local rangers pulling out their phones to capture. I don’t know how but the seagull survived after a good fifteen minutes of beak and claw midair strafing. Trying to get a micro four thirds camera to focus on fast action against a blue background is challenging at best.
The wait for Whittier Tunnel gave me the opportunity to do another tread to hair ratio check, looks about balanced to me.
Heard the tunnel could be challenging with the train track and wet conditions. Maybe a little if you are trying to take pictures behind your back, adjust your song choice and have a conversation with your buddy at the same time.
Once we popped out in Whittier we needed to check the ferry schedule to see if we would be there an hour or a day or more. The terminal was closed but the ferry schedule would allow us to get in early the next morning to buy tickets and cross the same day. Free time means exploring.
Exploring or ‘spor’in as it became know as the hillbilly set in with the passage of days was good in Whittier. Found some old ammo bunkers that just screamed for a mini smokey burnout and we obliged.
The best Halibut fish and chips I've ever eaten from the Swiftwater Cafe.
More spor'in.
Camping at Head of the Bay in Whittier meant we didn’t have to pay to go through the tunnel two more times at $12.00 a pop, and again, it didn’t suck.
Yes the big beer bottle on the rocks is Kassiks, imported by motorbike for just such an occasion.
The next morning this little boat had come in to port. Sneaky little bugger.
Rearranging my gear in the side bag gave me the opportunity to fold my nail back. Check, don’t need to repeat. How good are things when a boo boo like this is worth reporting? Pretty fan-frickin-tastic because with me it usually involves an orthopedic surgeon.
I assume a 1 is good?
Ferry loading and tie down for the Whittier to Valdez trip. We had to put our camp fuel in the hazardous cargo room and forgot to grab it on departure, oops.
Sea life, saw a whale too but missed the shot, bummer.
Who can see an iceberg and not think Titanic?
Window seat for the Spot to keep on track’in.
Obligatory lawless bikes in the location sign photo.
Next...copper mines and misery... well, maybe large discomfort anyway.
Last edited by a moderator:
UberKul
Tire Assassin
Thompson Pass outside Valdez was a highlight for me. Being at altitude or at least feeling like you are makes me a happy camper.
Getting off road at altitude where the other sheeple fear to tread makes me ecstatic! Seeing we're not really as high as we could be at Thompson pass we took off on a dirt road that turned into a poleline road.
Don thought this would be the perfect place to rest his weary bike, and not ride further on this road. I rode a bit further, made a couple stream crossings and got a mediocre shot of a glacier. But it was the solitude that made it fun and exciting.
In this remote area it’s not uncommon to eat out of busses, we did and got some surprisingly good food.
McCarthy road out to the Kennecott Mine is almost all gravel with a little pavement and dirt thrown in at beginning and end. Google earth showed an old train trestle that looked like it have photo potential. It did.
Mixed in with the long straight stretches of road where these wonderful sections where it would swoop down into a ravine and sweep back out climbing back to the elevation you had just left. Twisting the throttle was the right thing to do in these little roller coaster sections to steer from the rear not to mention the giggle factor. Unfortunately, Don felt the grill of a Ford pick up at the end of the last section. I had come through and passed a truck on the exit knowing Don and him would hit that section about the same time so I started the mirror watch, and watch, and no Don. No, this can’t be! I just went through something like this a month or so ago so it can’t happen again, or so I though. Make the U and slowly head back not sure if I’ll find Don poking out of the windshield or packed underneath the oncoming vehicle. Probably just chatting the guy up but knowing uneasily this ride has made a very large change for the worse. Truck in ditch Don’s bike into truck… but barely with Don laying on the bank and getting up. This is all very good to see. Turns out, Don was powering out of the turn saw the truck and headed for the ditch he was closest to, so did the truck driver. Truck got stopped thanks to anti-lock brakes and Don just banged into him a little hard. Slight damage to the rental truck that would be turned in after hours and not mentioned by the kind gentleman but information exchanged just in case. Don needed to **** and drink, in that order, so off we went to accomplish more great things.
It was only about another three miles out to our camping area on the river. Not so much a camp as a high spot in the riverbed with a table. It was looking like rain so we set up and got those drinks we both needed before a fine meal of canned chili and tortillas, mmmmm mmm. We would hit the Kennecott Mine the next morning bright and early then ride out the next day.
The morning brought wind and rain. Our first real pack-out in the rain and it sucked.
When visiting the Kennecott Copper Mine you have to walk over a footbridge to catch a shuttle for the mine a mile or so up the canyon to the mine structures. Motorcycles get to ride across this bridge and right up to the mine because we are special. But not special enough to park next to the historical building as told by miss park ranger.
Another bus vendor, this time coffee, but they also made specialty pizzas.
We didn’t get back out to Copper Center until midday but they made us stupid-big sandwiches that put our bellies back on track.
The owners RV’s, and then they have ATV’s that get unloaded at camp to really get out there!
Rode up on this mystery mobile wondering what am I seeing? A super-wide side hack pulling a trailer. Don said he saw momma tucked in cozy like she was riding in a car.
Back into the Yukon and just had to play the half in half out game.
Didn’t see a single border jumper?
Next up... gritting it out, hog heaven and ghost towns.
Getting off road at altitude where the other sheeple fear to tread makes me ecstatic! Seeing we're not really as high as we could be at Thompson pass we took off on a dirt road that turned into a poleline road.
Don thought this would be the perfect place to rest his weary bike, and not ride further on this road. I rode a bit further, made a couple stream crossings and got a mediocre shot of a glacier. But it was the solitude that made it fun and exciting.
In this remote area it’s not uncommon to eat out of busses, we did and got some surprisingly good food.
McCarthy road out to the Kennecott Mine is almost all gravel with a little pavement and dirt thrown in at beginning and end. Google earth showed an old train trestle that looked like it have photo potential. It did.
Mixed in with the long straight stretches of road where these wonderful sections where it would swoop down into a ravine and sweep back out climbing back to the elevation you had just left. Twisting the throttle was the right thing to do in these little roller coaster sections to steer from the rear not to mention the giggle factor. Unfortunately, Don felt the grill of a Ford pick up at the end of the last section. I had come through and passed a truck on the exit knowing Don and him would hit that section about the same time so I started the mirror watch, and watch, and no Don. No, this can’t be! I just went through something like this a month or so ago so it can’t happen again, or so I though. Make the U and slowly head back not sure if I’ll find Don poking out of the windshield or packed underneath the oncoming vehicle. Probably just chatting the guy up but knowing uneasily this ride has made a very large change for the worse. Truck in ditch Don’s bike into truck… but barely with Don laying on the bank and getting up. This is all very good to see. Turns out, Don was powering out of the turn saw the truck and headed for the ditch he was closest to, so did the truck driver. Truck got stopped thanks to anti-lock brakes and Don just banged into him a little hard. Slight damage to the rental truck that would be turned in after hours and not mentioned by the kind gentleman but information exchanged just in case. Don needed to **** and drink, in that order, so off we went to accomplish more great things.
It was only about another three miles out to our camping area on the river. Not so much a camp as a high spot in the riverbed with a table. It was looking like rain so we set up and got those drinks we both needed before a fine meal of canned chili and tortillas, mmmmm mmm. We would hit the Kennecott Mine the next morning bright and early then ride out the next day.
The morning brought wind and rain. Our first real pack-out in the rain and it sucked.
When visiting the Kennecott Copper Mine you have to walk over a footbridge to catch a shuttle for the mine a mile or so up the canyon to the mine structures. Motorcycles get to ride across this bridge and right up to the mine because we are special. But not special enough to park next to the historical building as told by miss park ranger.
Another bus vendor, this time coffee, but they also made specialty pizzas.
We didn’t get back out to Copper Center until midday but they made us stupid-big sandwiches that put our bellies back on track.
The owners RV’s, and then they have ATV’s that get unloaded at camp to really get out there!
Rode up on this mystery mobile wondering what am I seeing? A super-wide side hack pulling a trailer. Don said he saw momma tucked in cozy like she was riding in a car.
Back into the Yukon and just had to play the half in half out game.
Didn’t see a single border jumper?
Next up... gritting it out, hog heaven and ghost towns.
Bungie
FrostBack #2 - IBA # 44620
Awesome. Just f'n awesome.
UberKul
Tire Assassin
I never get tired of looking at beaver.
This poor little guy got caught out by us trying to get across a bridge with it's roughage.
It had been a long day riding, too long so we settled on a RV park with camping for the night. The rain started right off with thunder cells moving through. The campsite we picked was a low spot in the park and slowly began to fill with water after getting about half set up. Bloody hell! Pack back up and move to higher ground finally getting another canned meal in us about 11:00 PM. We are wet, our stuff is wet and we are in a RV park. We have had better nights but this was a good learning experience.
The whole experience could be told in this one tent peg if it was still soaking wet.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny thank God! We spent a few hours drying out gear before hitting the road again.
Came upon this squadron of Harleys that parked in formation.
Who brings this kind of regimented structure to the Yukon? The Argentinians is who, but most looked like they were real riders back home so we give them a pass.
Plotted a little ghost town hideaway I found while scouring Google Earth. No indication it was back in the woods from the road so thought it would be a big zero for sightseeing but turned out to be quite interesting and photogenic.
I think Don's thinking "I could fix this".
We had weather coming in which did not excite us but made for some great photos as they enveloped the mountain.
Not sure if Million Dollar Falls were that good but a couple hundred thousand would be a safe bet.
The drop down into Haines felt a little like Thompson Pass without the breaks in weather. When the clouds are down and the rain comes steady you just want to put in the miles to get someplace pleasant… or Haines, whichever comes first.
Rolled into Haines a little late in the day but had grown used to the extended hours folks operate up here. A few local celebrations put us behind the eightball this weekend and we were coming up dry for housing that night. We even had a local motel operator calling all the others he knew to find us a place. No luck, so we went to get some dinner and ponder our predicament. The food was only mediocre and Don had to talk me off the ledge of a perceived financial meltdown over trip expenses. The nice waitress came through and clued us in to our housing solution for the night and all was good again. We were able to secure two rooms at a local fort that had been converting to lodging called Fort Stewart.
My room was a tiny little thing but warm, dry and had a bed. Best part was the radiator heater to dry gear on.
Started out in the rain again today, this eagle feels like we do about all this rain BS.
We bought passage on the Haines to Skagway Ferry but had the morning to blow before departure so we went in search of Grizzly Bears. The salmon were not running yet so no fish equal no bears.
On the one hour ferry to Skagway we met back up with a father and son team that we had originally met in Chicken.
It’s a little surprising how often you run into travelers repeatedly up here. They were on a similar course as us and had less rear tire than Don. We strongly urged them to get new rears before heading south past Whitehorse. They also hadn’t lubed their chains since they left! OMG! Gave them our can of lube as a gesture of goodwill. Never know when you might need or meet these guys again.
Hit Skagway Brewing fresh off the boat for a pretzel and beer.
Somewhere along the way Don had broken a spoke?
Think this is the foundation of a burned down building but monoliths were made for climbing on.
Don got footage of my miserable attempt to jump off this perch. Lurch - stall - roll - start and ride off in humiliation.
Carcross desert is a geological phenomenon for this region... but I just wanted to shred it!
Don was getting VERY nervous about his rear tire not making it down the Cassiar Hwy so we diverted to Whitehorse for a tire. As we came in we found this big-*** weathervane that actually moves with the wind. Very cool.
Nothing open when we roll into town but found this KTM with a story to tell in the parking lot of the Honda shop. Don talked with the owner the next morning and found he only rode it like that about a kilometer to get it off the road in a safe spot.
We stayed and ate at the Airport Chalet where a very nice motorcycle enthusiast checked us in and made sure we knew MotoGP was on the big TV after they kicked those World Cup guys to the curb.
Not much we could do after hours other than make a plan of attack for the next morning. The moto man from last night was working the cafe the next morning so we hit him up for local intel. It was like we switched on the Energizer Bunny! Darcy, our new found fixer promptly shuffled us into his pickup and whisked through town to anyplace that might have ever had a motorcycle in it. The stupendously huge effort unfortunately produced no workable results but he gets hero status anyway.
So Don and I had “that” talk. The one where you go one way, I go another and we meet up when things are better. He was afraid he would bring down the trip if his tire failed once we got on this big stretch of no-mans-land called the Cassiar. It didn't take much convincing but after checking the mileage to the next potential tire and my argument that a problem could be handled better together than separately he made the Cassiar Hwy commitment. Onward hooooo.
Up next... roadside rubber, big asphalt, and as good as it gets.
This poor little guy got caught out by us trying to get across a bridge with it's roughage.
It had been a long day riding, too long so we settled on a RV park with camping for the night. The rain started right off with thunder cells moving through. The campsite we picked was a low spot in the park and slowly began to fill with water after getting about half set up. Bloody hell! Pack back up and move to higher ground finally getting another canned meal in us about 11:00 PM. We are wet, our stuff is wet and we are in a RV park. We have had better nights but this was a good learning experience.
The whole experience could be told in this one tent peg if it was still soaking wet.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny thank God! We spent a few hours drying out gear before hitting the road again.
Came upon this squadron of Harleys that parked in formation.
Who brings this kind of regimented structure to the Yukon? The Argentinians is who, but most looked like they were real riders back home so we give them a pass.
Plotted a little ghost town hideaway I found while scouring Google Earth. No indication it was back in the woods from the road so thought it would be a big zero for sightseeing but turned out to be quite interesting and photogenic.
I think Don's thinking "I could fix this".
We had weather coming in which did not excite us but made for some great photos as they enveloped the mountain.
Not sure if Million Dollar Falls were that good but a couple hundred thousand would be a safe bet.
The drop down into Haines felt a little like Thompson Pass without the breaks in weather. When the clouds are down and the rain comes steady you just want to put in the miles to get someplace pleasant… or Haines, whichever comes first.
Rolled into Haines a little late in the day but had grown used to the extended hours folks operate up here. A few local celebrations put us behind the eightball this weekend and we were coming up dry for housing that night. We even had a local motel operator calling all the others he knew to find us a place. No luck, so we went to get some dinner and ponder our predicament. The food was only mediocre and Don had to talk me off the ledge of a perceived financial meltdown over trip expenses. The nice waitress came through and clued us in to our housing solution for the night and all was good again. We were able to secure two rooms at a local fort that had been converting to lodging called Fort Stewart.
My room was a tiny little thing but warm, dry and had a bed. Best part was the radiator heater to dry gear on.
Started out in the rain again today, this eagle feels like we do about all this rain BS.
We bought passage on the Haines to Skagway Ferry but had the morning to blow before departure so we went in search of Grizzly Bears. The salmon were not running yet so no fish equal no bears.
On the one hour ferry to Skagway we met back up with a father and son team that we had originally met in Chicken.
It’s a little surprising how often you run into travelers repeatedly up here. They were on a similar course as us and had less rear tire than Don. We strongly urged them to get new rears before heading south past Whitehorse. They also hadn’t lubed their chains since they left! OMG! Gave them our can of lube as a gesture of goodwill. Never know when you might need or meet these guys again.
Hit Skagway Brewing fresh off the boat for a pretzel and beer.
Somewhere along the way Don had broken a spoke?
Think this is the foundation of a burned down building but monoliths were made for climbing on.
Don got footage of my miserable attempt to jump off this perch. Lurch - stall - roll - start and ride off in humiliation.
Code:
Don was getting VERY nervous about his rear tire not making it down the Cassiar Hwy so we diverted to Whitehorse for a tire. As we came in we found this big-*** weathervane that actually moves with the wind. Very cool.
Nothing open when we roll into town but found this KTM with a story to tell in the parking lot of the Honda shop. Don talked with the owner the next morning and found he only rode it like that about a kilometer to get it off the road in a safe spot.
We stayed and ate at the Airport Chalet where a very nice motorcycle enthusiast checked us in and made sure we knew MotoGP was on the big TV after they kicked those World Cup guys to the curb.
Not much we could do after hours other than make a plan of attack for the next morning. The moto man from last night was working the cafe the next morning so we hit him up for local intel. It was like we switched on the Energizer Bunny! Darcy, our new found fixer promptly shuffled us into his pickup and whisked through town to anyplace that might have ever had a motorcycle in it. The stupendously huge effort unfortunately produced no workable results but he gets hero status anyway.
So Don and I had “that” talk. The one where you go one way, I go another and we meet up when things are better. He was afraid he would bring down the trip if his tire failed once we got on this big stretch of no-mans-land called the Cassiar. It didn't take much convincing but after checking the mileage to the next potential tire and my argument that a problem could be handled better together than separately he made the Cassiar Hwy commitment. Onward hooooo.
Up next... roadside rubber, big asphalt, and as good as it gets.
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UberKul
Tire Assassin
Found this very cool and fancy woodwork in a restaurant at the start of the Cassiar.
Just happened to take a photo of each rear tire as we were about to get on the highway. Mostly to show folks later if the trip turned epic in a not so funny kinda way. I think at this point Don would admit he has too much crap for the 140 profile tire. I was running a 130 and still had some actual traction in the dirt. By this point I was carrying Don’s tools to buy some more mileage from his tire.
Talking with a fellow DR rider outside the restaurant who told me he was heading back home on a ferry and his son wanted to babysit him so that both were cutting their trip short. His sons big KTM had four, count ’em, four tires on the back, and a winch on front! Let the negotiations begin!
So Don buys his insurance policy and you could feel the tension around him relax.
Life is good so bring on this road of woe and terror we have been hearing about!
The stories of Cassier are not true or at least overblown, it’s a great road! Scenic, reasonably twisty but sparse in services. Very sparse. There are some potholes you could bury a small pet in but if you’re careful picking your lines it’s a piece of cake.
We did find a Beemer rider on the side of the road with no front wheel in sight but they said they were fine when we stopped to ask. Probably had something being flown in by helicopter with the evening meal.
We turned off the Cassiar to run out to Stewart BC, Hyder Alaska and the Salmon Glacier. Let me say right off the bat that this was the best area of the trip for sightseeing bar none. The road through the deep valley leading into the area is overhung with ominous glacial ice. The glacier melt releases into glorious waterfalls cascading down to the road level streams and ponds. I feel small here, but in the most wonderful way imaginable.
It wasn't too late in the day when we went in search of a tent on the Zumo. I only had one camp spot plotted out on this leg and were not having much luck boonie bashing to find this one.
We did eventually find the real road to the recreation area. We rode past a little lake onto a trail that eventually turned into Ore Mountain hiking trail. Don had struck up a conversation with some hikers and talked them out of taking the one camp spot left on the back side of the lake. Go Don!
We set tents, dropped bags then blasted off for the Salmon Glacier and dinner in Hyder.
I took this picture because a small rockfall was coming down when I rode through. Nothing big but entertaining and unusual to say the least.
I’m guessing it was about 20 miles up to the overlook of Salmon Glacier with every mile being as cool and exciting as the last.
Enough of the inexplicable beauty it was time to feed.
We heard from some guy way back in the trip at some outback location about a bus you had to eat at in Hyder. So here we are, at another bus getting ready to eat fish. Like most busses this one has rules.
Along with the best fish I had on the trip.
Son was cooking, dad caught the fish. Son was going to get a newer bigger bus to expand the business. Cool.
Next up... no sparky, big fish and what the hell is that!
Just happened to take a photo of each rear tire as we were about to get on the highway. Mostly to show folks later if the trip turned epic in a not so funny kinda way. I think at this point Don would admit he has too much crap for the 140 profile tire. I was running a 130 and still had some actual traction in the dirt. By this point I was carrying Don’s tools to buy some more mileage from his tire.
Talking with a fellow DR rider outside the restaurant who told me he was heading back home on a ferry and his son wanted to babysit him so that both were cutting their trip short. His sons big KTM had four, count ’em, four tires on the back, and a winch on front! Let the negotiations begin!
So Don buys his insurance policy and you could feel the tension around him relax.
Life is good so bring on this road of woe and terror we have been hearing about!
The stories of Cassier are not true or at least overblown, it’s a great road! Scenic, reasonably twisty but sparse in services. Very sparse. There are some potholes you could bury a small pet in but if you’re careful picking your lines it’s a piece of cake.
We did find a Beemer rider on the side of the road with no front wheel in sight but they said they were fine when we stopped to ask. Probably had something being flown in by helicopter with the evening meal.
We turned off the Cassiar to run out to Stewart BC, Hyder Alaska and the Salmon Glacier. Let me say right off the bat that this was the best area of the trip for sightseeing bar none. The road through the deep valley leading into the area is overhung with ominous glacial ice. The glacier melt releases into glorious waterfalls cascading down to the road level streams and ponds. I feel small here, but in the most wonderful way imaginable.
It wasn't too late in the day when we went in search of a tent on the Zumo. I only had one camp spot plotted out on this leg and were not having much luck boonie bashing to find this one.
We did eventually find the real road to the recreation area. We rode past a little lake onto a trail that eventually turned into Ore Mountain hiking trail. Don had struck up a conversation with some hikers and talked them out of taking the one camp spot left on the back side of the lake. Go Don!
We set tents, dropped bags then blasted off for the Salmon Glacier and dinner in Hyder.
I took this picture because a small rockfall was coming down when I rode through. Nothing big but entertaining and unusual to say the least.
I’m guessing it was about 20 miles up to the overlook of Salmon Glacier with every mile being as cool and exciting as the last.
Enough of the inexplicable beauty it was time to feed.
We heard from some guy way back in the trip at some outback location about a bus you had to eat at in Hyder. So here we are, at another bus getting ready to eat fish. Like most busses this one has rules.
Along with the best fish I had on the trip.
Son was cooking, dad caught the fish. Son was going to get a newer bigger bus to expand the business. Cool.
Next up... no sparky, big fish and what the hell is that!
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James Burleigh
Well-known member
Holy cow!
Epic ride and ride report. Thanks for sharing!
UberKul
Tire Assassin
This will be the final installment of the Slo-Mo Tour and time to put this one to bed.
So we had already dropped a section of the intended route that went out to Telegraph Creek due to tire wear but as our time out was winding down we had to start putting in some pretty big miles.
We leave Hyder and Sewart thinking we’ll get gas when we hit the highway intersection again. Wrong, Let’s push on and hope for the best. The best gets us about 269 miles before I’m dry and reaching for the spare gallon clamped on the bike. We get about another 38 miles and Dons bike dies as we are pulling into a reservation gas turn off. We get them both to the pump and get the “no status” gas as instructed by the very insistent local women. Whooo pulled that one out. Thinking this adventure would not have been complete without a little gas drama we patted ourselves on the back, took some pictures and moved on… kinda.
Back at the highway Dons bike just died. No hiccup or sputter just off like it had been switched. We go through the drill, getting gas-check. Getting spark- nope. Check battery and fuses- check. Find a broken gas tank bracket so my money, a loonie in this case, is put on a pinched wire under the tank. Apart it comes, full on garage sale on the side of the road.
I loose a loonie when Don figures out there is a fuse in the spark plug wire. It’s not the fuse but a bad contact at the fuse.
Scratch it up, tighten it up and… spark!
Reassemble in reverse order and we’re off again. By they way, ten motorcycles went by during our little roadside electrical quiz and not one stopped. I’m not surprised but it was a little sad.
For some reason I had this bridge marked as a photo op. It was a little unnerving and exhilarating riding over a gorge seeing everything below you.
Not too much further down the road Don’s bike began having power issues. He could idle but no power. We made a quick U to a river rest area where a fish survey with dip netting was going on. Don began the carb bowl drop while I took pictures. Carbs are a one man job and this fish business was pretty interesting.
I bet I could get really big things with a wish this big!
These guys were pulling fish up with every other dip sometimes two at a time. The litter bearer would run down, scoop up the fish and run it up for record keeping. There was another guy doing something similar but his final step was a club to the head.
The dreaded carb bugger! No clue what it is or where it came from but just like a person the bike felt better once it was removed from the passages.
We started hearing about BC being caught up in a lot of fires but did not see anything until Williams Lake. Looked like a big thunderhead but wasn’t.
Sorry Canada, Don’s not impressed with Tim Hortons.
I thought we might be getting to the point where we would just begin droning on home and not do much more interesting stuff until we cut the corner around Prince George. When we got out on the Interior Plateau on the west side of the Fraser River we had one of our longest days without human contact of the whole trip. Riding the first three quarters of the day seeing only one other person and no moving vehicles was a special day indeed.
Don had a little hiccup with the carb again but by this time we figured out how to blow its nose without disassembling.
Not big but close.
Working our way back to the east side of the Fraser for gas.
Must get to pizza! Walkways be damned!
The sun sets on a smokey Williams Lake.
Time had run out. I had a huge dirt run out to an area called the Gang Ranch planned but timing had worked against us. That, and we had just done 437.2 miles trying to get it all in and it started not being fun.
This trip was my baby. It had been carefully constructed from the finest DNA I could drum up using all the resources available. Information from books, forums, maps, satellite imagery and personal experience was compiled, analyzed and recorded to evolve into this living thing of route planning . Amputating a limb (the Gang Ranch) do to time was heartbreaking but had to be done.
Wow, that was heavy
Trains… cool
The final push to Washington was entertaining and pretty but grew more urban by the kilometer and then by the mile. We would soon be done with this ride so a melancholy began to take hold but also a sense of excitement. The pull of home grew as we pulled into the in laws driveway and familiar faces replaced the friendly strangers of weeks past. The melancholy was replaced when we finally arrived home to wives that understand that we had just scratched a very big itch. Loving us for who we are and knowing... there will always be another itch.
We have tread to hair ratio inversion. Mission complete.
Don made it home on his original tire.
So we had already dropped a section of the intended route that went out to Telegraph Creek due to tire wear but as our time out was winding down we had to start putting in some pretty big miles.
We leave Hyder and Sewart thinking we’ll get gas when we hit the highway intersection again. Wrong, Let’s push on and hope for the best. The best gets us about 269 miles before I’m dry and reaching for the spare gallon clamped on the bike. We get about another 38 miles and Dons bike dies as we are pulling into a reservation gas turn off. We get them both to the pump and get the “no status” gas as instructed by the very insistent local women. Whooo pulled that one out. Thinking this adventure would not have been complete without a little gas drama we patted ourselves on the back, took some pictures and moved on… kinda.
Back at the highway Dons bike just died. No hiccup or sputter just off like it had been switched. We go through the drill, getting gas-check. Getting spark- nope. Check battery and fuses- check. Find a broken gas tank bracket so my money, a loonie in this case, is put on a pinched wire under the tank. Apart it comes, full on garage sale on the side of the road.
I loose a loonie when Don figures out there is a fuse in the spark plug wire. It’s not the fuse but a bad contact at the fuse.
Scratch it up, tighten it up and… spark!
Reassemble in reverse order and we’re off again. By they way, ten motorcycles went by during our little roadside electrical quiz and not one stopped. I’m not surprised but it was a little sad.
For some reason I had this bridge marked as a photo op. It was a little unnerving and exhilarating riding over a gorge seeing everything below you.
Not too much further down the road Don’s bike began having power issues. He could idle but no power. We made a quick U to a river rest area where a fish survey with dip netting was going on. Don began the carb bowl drop while I took pictures. Carbs are a one man job and this fish business was pretty interesting.
I bet I could get really big things with a wish this big!
These guys were pulling fish up with every other dip sometimes two at a time. The litter bearer would run down, scoop up the fish and run it up for record keeping. There was another guy doing something similar but his final step was a club to the head.
The dreaded carb bugger! No clue what it is or where it came from but just like a person the bike felt better once it was removed from the passages.
We started hearing about BC being caught up in a lot of fires but did not see anything until Williams Lake. Looked like a big thunderhead but wasn’t.
Sorry Canada, Don’s not impressed with Tim Hortons.
I thought we might be getting to the point where we would just begin droning on home and not do much more interesting stuff until we cut the corner around Prince George. When we got out on the Interior Plateau on the west side of the Fraser River we had one of our longest days without human contact of the whole trip. Riding the first three quarters of the day seeing only one other person and no moving vehicles was a special day indeed.
Don had a little hiccup with the carb again but by this time we figured out how to blow its nose without disassembling.
Not big but close.
Working our way back to the east side of the Fraser for gas.
Must get to pizza! Walkways be damned!
The sun sets on a smokey Williams Lake.
Time had run out. I had a huge dirt run out to an area called the Gang Ranch planned but timing had worked against us. That, and we had just done 437.2 miles trying to get it all in and it started not being fun.
This trip was my baby. It had been carefully constructed from the finest DNA I could drum up using all the resources available. Information from books, forums, maps, satellite imagery and personal experience was compiled, analyzed and recorded to evolve into this living thing of route planning . Amputating a limb (the Gang Ranch) do to time was heartbreaking but had to be done.
Wow, that was heavy
Trains… cool
The final push to Washington was entertaining and pretty but grew more urban by the kilometer and then by the mile. We would soon be done with this ride so a melancholy began to take hold but also a sense of excitement. The pull of home grew as we pulled into the in laws driveway and familiar faces replaced the friendly strangers of weeks past. The melancholy was replaced when we finally arrived home to wives that understand that we had just scratched a very big itch. Loving us for who we are and knowing... there will always be another itch.
We have tread to hair ratio inversion. Mission complete.
Don made it home on his original tire.
wheatonFJR
...
Wow. Best Alaska RR ever. One of the all time best RRs.
Thanks for your efforts to put it down.
Really Outstanding!
I'm going back in a week to reread this sucker.
Thanks for your efforts to put it down.
Really Outstanding!
I'm going back in a week to reread this sucker.
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