The Breakdown
The story about how Deadhorse got it's name is as unromantic as the town. There are several possibilities, but the most accepted and most reasonable centers around a construction company. The people who were putting in the runway for the airport were called the Deadhorse Construction Company. Since they were the main game in town, the name stuck. I get a room at the Caribou Inn which is a modular building with a lot of very basic rooms for the tour boat crowd. I really don't want to ride down that rotter road again, but I made it. Top of the world ma!
In the morning the RT is on it's side and looks like a dead horse itself. The right mirror is broken and both tires are now flat. I'm a broken man. To make matters worse, now it won't start. I'll find out later that it was oil locked and I was fortunate to not have done any damage when I tried to start it.
Now, here's the good part, a bear had pushed the bike over. One of the people at the motel saw this happen in the middle of the night, but there wasn't anything he could do. I guess the bear just wanted to go for a ride. Maybe it was a Russian bear who still had a thing for German products. Now what?
Well, you can't go to Hertz or Avis and rent a truck or car. This isn't Miami. Maybe I'll fly south, rent a truck and come up to pick up the bike. Uh, rental car companies won't allow you on the Dalton Hwy. Gee, I wonder why. My last option is to throw the bike on a freight truck and fly out. Waiting for parts is not a good option since I really don't know what is wrong with the bike at this point. So, $200 for the truck and $280 for the plane and I'm out of here to Anchorage. Sure, Fairbanks is closer, but the only dealer there is a real ditz. Do I want to trust my bike with him? Absolutely not.
The Motorcycle Shop and owner Don are great. Even though I accidentally call at 7:00 A.M. (I'm still on Florida time) Don patiently listens to my problem and then comically asks if I know what time it is. Every time I call in the future I can hear him in the background shouting, "Ask him if he knows what time it is." I feel like I've found a home.
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The flight is neat. Since the runway in Deadhorse is short, the 737 pilot must floor it to take off. The force pushes you into the seat and you feel like an astronaut on the shuttle. I get to see the Arctic Ocean, but it's a solid sheet of ice since summer is so late this year. The view of the Brooks Range is phenomenal and I get to see just how big it is. There are row after row of valleys similar to the one I drove up. Each valley has it's own river and it's hard to tell which one has the road. |
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It takes the trucking company 5 days to get the bike to Anchorage. Everyday they lie to me about when the bike is going to be shipped out. In the meantime, I get a chance to explore Anchorage, which is a wonderful city. The mountains cradle the town and many of the sites I want to see are within walking distance. Since I'm right downtown, I see every IMAX film at the Performing Arts Center and walk all over the city. Each day, at one of two main parks downtown, there is live music varying from Bolivian pan flutists to Scottish bagpipe trios. Sitting at one park and listening to the music from the other park in the distance makes a person wonder just where they are. I purchase a locally mined piece of jade from Stewart's Photo, who are one of the founding families in the area. |
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| By the fourth day I'm going stir crazy. I talk a local Harley shop into renting me a Sportster with unlimited mileage for the day. They won't do that again. I get an early start and head to Fairbanks for a stamp I missed from the Yukon-Charley Rivers National Preserve. Then, it's back down to Denali. The weather is cloudy and the odds of seeing Mt. McKinley are not good. On the way south of the park the sky clears and I get a great view of the highest peak in North America. Only 20% of the people will ever visit the park on a clear day, so I feel privileged to have seen this old man. The Brooks Range is still more scenic. |  |
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On the way south I, once again, pass Houston, AK. I missed the Last Frontier Rally due to the bike's problems and the fact that my tent was on the truck somewhere north of here. It turns out that I would have garnered the long distance trophy, but I'm not really into that since it smack of competition. A rider from Texas got it and that's ok.
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Back in Anchorage I get another stamp for the Lake Clark National Park and learn that Kenai Park is open until 7 P.M. That's all I need to hear. The ride south is exceptional. Several years ago, the road was moved down from the side of the mountain to alongside the water. This has made all the difference in both the scenery and the flow of this road in summer. The law states that it is illegal to hold up 5 or more cars behind you. You must pull over which is an enlightened idea. |
| This area has the second largest tidal changes in the world, according to the literature. They are second only to the Bay of Fundy in eastern Canada. I'm thoroughly enjoying the road and the snow capped peaks. Even the sign that proclaims "302 moose killed this winter" doesn't change my mood. After all, it's summer isn't it? Don't moose hibernate in the summer or something like that? Before I know it I'm in Seward. |
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This is the quintessential Alaskan fishing and touring port and I take lots of pictures. The view of a cruise ship beyond the fishing fleet at the base of a mountain is beautiful. Most importantly, I get the Kenai National Park stamp and learn that there is another one north of here. Down an 8 mile dirt road that, causes me to break out into cold sweats, I see my first glacier and more moose. So much for the hibernation theory. The Exit Glacier is a little one, but it's still neat. With one more stamp in hand I head back north. I can't repeat the words I heard when I returned the bike with over 900 miles on it. After that kind of mileage on a Harley my hands and feet are still buzzing.
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Day 5 without my bike and I'm both livid and furious. At this point I'm screaming at the dispatcher. The bike is in town and the delivery is marked hot, hot, hot. The driver elects to load it in the front of the truck. By the time he arrives at the motorcycle shop I have several questions about his ancestry, specifically related to a shallow gene pool.
As soon as the bike comes off the truck it attracts a crowd. The RT looks like it's been around the world. Two riders who were going to ride the Dalton Hwy. immediately change their mind. They're enlightened individuals. It takes a long time to get the dirt off the bike to where we can see the wheels only to find out they have the wrong rim! ARGH!!! I might as well establish residency since I'm never getting out of Alaska. I'll call the dog sitter tomorrow and ask him to ship my dog up here.
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Thanks to a tech rep with an oil drilling company I get a decent rate at the Best Western by the airport. My credit card is starting to get hot and I don't know how much more of this frustration and cash outlay I can handle before I fly home. At least the bike made the trip down in decent shape. There are a few marks in the paint from tie downs and the sidestand is bent, but otherwise it's ok.
I'm able to do some cleaning and waxing in addition to fixing some minor parts, like a driving light bracket the Dalton killed. There are some riders at the dealer from Brazil who made the trip up here on their bikes. And I thought I had come from a long way away. They're short of money and looking for work. It's a long way back to Brazil.
The hotel is near Lake Hood which is a seaplane basin. During the summer, at times, it is the busiest airport in the world. Seaplanes are so thick they resemble mosquitos buzzing around. Surprisingly, bugs haven't been a huge problem for me. If you stand still while out in the country, the mosquitos will find you, but they aren't nearly as big as the ones we have in Florida. Hopefully tomorrow will find me back on the road. The parts are here! Amazingly, the police bike conversion comes mostly assembled. The tires are on the rims and include the disks and ABS ring. The wheels are even balanced. Installation is easy with the only difficult part being the new centerstand. There's still a lot of mud and dirt down there. Descartes might have to be renamed the Blues Mobile since he now sports cop rims and cop tires. After an oil and filter change I'm back on the road again. Willie Nelson would be proud. This is the longest period I haven't been on the bike since its been new and, even though it's running rough and needs a tune-up, it's good to be out again.
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