The Ultimate CC (Coast to Coast) Part III
Fairbanks North

It's cloudy again. Maybe I should just mention when it gets sunny to save the C_L_O_U_D and Y keys on my keyboard. The road north starts out innocently enough but soons turn into gravel, dirt and other non-asphalt compounds. I believe that I have a 411 miles day, but miscalculate. It's 411 miles from Livengood, but I'm not near Livengood and not nearly living good at all.

At my first gas stop just north of the Yukon River, the shop owner tells me of a couple of German tourists who came through a couple of years ago on GSs. When they hit the relatively smooth portion of the wooden bridge they gunned it and both of them ran into the back end of a tanker on the north side of the bridge. This is not the place you want to do something like that. The attendant takes pity on my and gives me a can of bug spray when I try to buy one. A few miles later I pass an airstrip that requires the closure of the road to work. I'm not in Kansas anymore.

By the time I hit the Arctic Circle I begin to think that someone knew something when they put up that sign. The road is bad, bad, bad and I can't get above 3rd gear without fear of crashing or tearing the bike apart. Amazingly, there are cyclists out here. At the Arctic Circle there's a woman riding a horse for the Susan Komen Foundation. She looks worn out in a big way.

Hey, the sun is coming out and the scenery is breathtaking. It would be more fun if I could look at it without worrying about crashing. The highway department has developed a neat way of checking a person's manhood. At a stream or pond they've installed large, self-contained pumping units. A tanker will pull up to one of these units and top-off. Then they water down the road for some unknown reason or to keep the dust down. In a car this wouldn't be a problem. On a bike it becomes a huge problem. Where are my outriggers? The conditions are exceptionally bad where the tanker enters the roadway and dumps a lot of water while turning the rig. Just when you think you've made it through a long and slippery section of road you hit this very wet area. Slowing down isn't an option. Applying brakes would mean you want to take a mud bath. A man could become very religious in these sections.

At the supposedly closed construction zone I find that some joker had reversed the times. The road section closes at night. How do they tell if it's night or day up here anyway? I'm entering the Brooks Range following a pilot car. We pass a pond that has a dozen moose feeding in it. Wow. Now, how am I going to get a picture? When I slow down the driver of the pilot car waves to me to continue and catch up. Sure, he's seen the moose all day. I miss the picture. The Brooks Range is phenomenal and easily the best scenery of the trip. I'm only seeing a small portion of it, but this is where the "road" is.

In Coldfoot a sign reads "Next Gas, 244 miles." Uhh, this could be a problem. The RT isn't getting very good mileage on these bad roads. My quest for an Ultimate CC may be over. ARGH!!! Although, with these bad roads that might not be a bad thing. On the good side, I get the National Park stamp for the Gates of the Arctic National Park.

At a local tire shop foolhardiness takes precedence over intelligence and I rent a 2 gallon gas can for $25.00. The owner is pretty sure that he won't be getting his can back. This gets strapped to the top of my trunk and I head out. The whole idea and setup is a good indication of why I'm single. On top of this, I hit one of the recently watered down sections of dirt road. I will literally go out in a blaze of glory if I crash.

The pipeline has been a constant companion on this day. It zigzags through the countryside occasionally passing over or under the road. I couldn't understand why they just didn't run it in a straight line until I read that the pattern relieves lateral forces on the line. Other people have mentioned that the line is warm, but today it was cold. They must not be moving any oil. Considering the temperature extremes and the inhospitality of the place, this is one great engineering feat.

At Antigun Pass the road starts it's climb out of the Brooks Range and the scenery is the best yet. Trucks gear way down as they come over this pass and the guard rails indicate that many of them barely made it down. As the road climbs I'm in the clouds. In this part of the world, tundra, low-lying vegetation, has replaced trees. There are still rolling hills, but they are blanketed in this green covering. The long days of sunlight fuel the explosive growth of vegetation, even though summer is a month late this year. Some of the worst construction is in this area and the wet roads almost do me in.

I pass a Princess Cruise Lines bus that has broken down. This company is everywhere in Alaska and is doing a good job of handling the breakdown. In sympathy with their plight, my rear tire goes flat a couple of miles later.

This is not good. There isn't anything around for miles and the road is a soft dirt that will barely support the centerstand of the bike. I'm 70 miles south of Deadhorse in the middle of nowhere. A pickup, which is an escort for a wide load vehicle, stops to see if I need help. If they had a couch, I would lie down and spill my guts about my youth. Apparently they don't mean ‘that kind of help' and tell me that they'll be back through in a couple of hours if I'm still there.

The reason the tire went flat is that the rim is so bent it will no longer hold air. After I chop through the inch of mud that is covering everything I pull the rear wheel. Well, so much for my beautiful powder coated rims. Out comes a camping hatchet and I pound out the dents as well as I can. It's not a pretty site. Another problem is that the bead is no longer seated. My small compressor can't fill the cavity fast enough to seat the tire. I stand the tire up and lie across the top of it. This seals it enough so that I can get air into it. There's no reason to be dainty up here.

With the pickup in tow, we pass herds of caribou and the Arctic Ocean begins to control the weather pattern. It's getting cold and cloudy. Man, it's getting cold. Fortunately, all my cold weather clothes are with the guy in the pickup, and I don't want to make him stop. There is ice on the water everywhere along with snow. Amazingly, I make it to Deadhorse which is, easily, the ugliest town I've ever seen. It's all blue-collar oil business. Without going on a tour, it's impossible to get to Prudhoe Bay due to the oil companies.