Paco's Ride to Alaska

As a young boy teachers had warned my parents that I had a "full six-pack but lacked the plastic thingy that holds it all together".

You see, I would gorge myself on tales by Hemingway, Louis Stevenson, London, Cervantes (and was warped by Nietzsche), instead of the school tasks at hand. These soldiers of ideas filled me with a passion for wanderlust to the exclusion of all other school matters.

Later in life, to advance this ardor, I refused to be distracted by the desire to possess things. Rather I wished to be possessed by my dreams. Thereby I spent my lucre in the pursuit of extensive travels through out the more remote regions of our planet. Leaving me with pleasingly exotic memories.

Then a year and a half ago I was smitten by a philter. The enchantress was a motorcycle. A 2001 Harley-Davidson Heritage Classic. This steel pony presented new possibilities in the pursuit for adventure.

Since then I have journeyed and traversed as much of our country as I have dared steal time away from work. Logging over 20,000 miles in my first year of ownership. I came to the realization that I really longed for solitude and the wide open spaces of the road. Just my Dulcinea and me.

Thus dreaming of the next challenge, all of a sudden ooh, ooh, aahhhh... I passed a brain stone. Why not Alaska? A formidable task for sure, one definitely not for epicene's with under developed testicles..

I threw myself into the daunting logistics. June seemed to be the best time for the exciting, unconventional quest. Every night, for hours I poured over maps. Read other moto-cyclist's tales, thus gathering intel from those foolish few who had made this pilgrimage. The following where the email musings that I sent to my friends whilst on the road.

Click the pictures for a larger sized image.

Sent: Saturday, May 25, 2002 8:40 AM
Subject: Jack London Adventure

Made 1,100 miles 1st day. No problems except Dallas gridlock. Mind numbing boredom on those straight as wheat shaft roads. 2nd day 750 miles. Got caught in Kansas with (according to TV news 50 MPH winds) They closed the interstate because some semis were blown off the road, claimed gust up to 100 MPH. Then going through a mountain pass in Colorado north of Denver got high winds & rain on nice twisty roads. They don't compare to the Dragon at Deal's Gap but where sufficient to satisfy the moto gods. Then at the higher elevation it turned to snow. Complete whiteout. Trucks and campers pulled off but seeing as I had no shelter I pressed on. Tales to tell will come later. Just keep in mind the pucker factor was extremely high.

3rd day was hardest. The dawn broke colder than your woman's heart when she finds you with another. Only 356 miles but the first 200 took 4 1/2 hours to do, the afor mention snowstorm making the roads pure ice. Baptism by fire.

Learned how to ride on snow and ice - DON'T. Almost laid it down on a patch at 50 MPH, she wiggled like a worm on a no. 4 hook. Finally road Grand Teton (the Rockies are foothills) and Yellowstone. Old Faithful is still blowing. Snow off and on all day. Am in Bozeman, MO as a down day today (Sat) have to change oil, clean up the trail dust and make outskirts of Glacier National by nightfall. Tomorrow will do the park and cross border.

Have a happy Memorial Day

Forever westward and northward

Paco

PS: Do not send email unless emergency Don't have time to read just ride

Dateline: Dawson Creek,BC May 27 3:30 Local time.

Glacier Nat, Going to The Sun Hwy, was closed. They are trying to dynamite the pass since the snow pack is measured in tens of feet. Had to settle for the outskirts on Hwy 2. Was told by locals that since I was going to the Canadian Rockies at Banf and Jasper that those two parks would blow Glacier away.

They weren't kidding. I thought the Grand Tetons are big, these northern Rockies are on steroids. Still have snow and rain but it can't dampen my enthusiasm and wonderment. The Bow Valley Parkway is very panoramic but the Icefields Highway is awesome. Saw my first glaciers. The Canadians do roads right-twisties galore, in sweeping curves that can and are being run at 90 MPH

Finally left the snow behind at Grand Cache and am in upper 60's and sunshine.

Have seen deer, elk, caribou, and big horn sheep right on the roadway. I brought along an air horn, those used on boats to scare them away, really loud right? The elk and big horn think its a mating call and come even closer

Local intel in MO and Canada have given me cut off routes on gravel, good stuff that can be run at 50 MPH. Sure has saved a lot of miles but has caused bike to loosen bolts and fall apart, fixed with shoestring, later with balling wire. At Grand Cache met some great folks that own a tire store and all love motos. Adolf fixed me right up, bolted everything back together (hard to find standard, everything is metric-had not thought about that in my planning). Only charged me ten bucks Canadian so I had to give him a twenty.

All the people I have met have been super, especially when they see my tags. They don't get to many from that far away riding solo.

There is no traffic to speak of going north. Everybody going south even the bikers. Have not seen one bike going my way. All traffic is local or logging trucks. Now that I am on the Alaska Hwy their are lots of travel trailers but no bikes.

Onward and Upwards

Paco

PS: Bet the local yokels could make Watson Lake by the 28th, maybe even Whitehorse, the Bull Gator (reference to my bike which has an alligator kickstand) has to chomp some miles

Sent: Friday, May 31, 2002 3:02 PM

Made Whitehorse in 15 1|2 hrs-900+ miles. Lots of road construction delays and rain. Ft St John to Ft Nelson is boring just hills in a straight line. Very cold and damp 3 pairs of gloves \plus overgloves (rain gloves) cannot keep out the cold must clap hands and shove them into the jugs to keep warm. After Ft Nelson, along the Laird River, views are spectacular. Muncho Lake is awesome in it's frozen splendor. Still snow on the ground and through the mountain passes. Lakes, streams and parts of some big rivers are still frozen. Locals claim it is the coldest, wettest spring in memory. More deer, elk, big horn and bear. Still have road to self. No traffic to speak of.

Bikers are going south (just three) packing light so they aren't going far.

Three bicycles going north packing heavy doing the Al-Can the hard way, will take them most of the summer. Filled up at Teslin and noticed rear tire was bald, no tread and only 7,000 miles, the gravel eats them up. Inside while paying heard a voice yelling "How far?" I turn and respond, "Florida".

"Damn you, got me beat, SOCal" Anyway another broken down BMW rider bemoaning the fact that there are no dealers around and is waiting for a tow. Going north but never heard of the Top of the World Hwy or any of the ones that I've done. Wussy came up by ferry.

At Whitehorse got new rear tire $350 ouch!

Left at noon and got off the Al-Can for Dawson City. Again ran into rain; then it happened. 30 Miles outside of Pelly Crossing on the Klondike Loop (Mayo Cutoff to locals) on 22 klicks of fresh black loam, in the rain that had turned it into snot mud, she went down. Pinned me against the mud and slop. Riding on that with a street bike fully loaded weighing over 850 lbs was like driving on the ice in Montana. Anyway no damage except my pride and needing help to right her. The Bull Gator mouth was caked in mud, made him happy I guess, he probably caused it, just wanting to wallow some.

Dawson City was Jack London home during the Klondike gold rush. Five miles outside of town start the mountains of tailings moved by the miners.

Old abandoned dredges from the turn of the century litter the road. The city itself is in its original condition, an old western mining town. Dirt streets and wooden sidewalks they have casinos and saloons to attract the tourist since that how everyone makes a living.

Left in the morning for Fairbanks (8th day on road) Just 350+ miles away.

It took 3 1\2 hrs to get to the border, 67 miles away. Left in the cold rain and after crossing the Yukon River by ferry started climbing on The Top of The World Highway, snow everywhere and the fog. Visibility was half a car length. All is broken pavement, chip seal, and gravel. Potholes big enough to swallow the bike. And I am all alone. Slipped once, put my foot down to steady her and almost snapped the ankle. I made the decision right there that if it happened again I would let her go down, to far away to depend on others (there where none for hours). The windshield and helmet visor where worthless and had to lean out to the side to be able to see and make sure I was not on the edge. Hit the edge and it crumbles and you slide down the face of the mountain.

Finally crossed border and stopped in Border, AK for gas and a beer. Stopped in Chicken, AK, had a bite to eat, some chicken soup (of coarse) and a beer. Bought a patch, T-shirt & ball cap, tab $65. Sue owns the whole town. Gas station, gift shop, cafe, bar, and flying service. She announced she's a Republican and a Capitalist and she's going to hammer me because she only has two months to make a living. I proposed marriage.

Saw a Lynx and a bear bigger than my bike so I respectfully gave him wide birth. Finally the Taylor Hwy that connects me back to the Al-Can and Fairbanks was paved but large sections under repair and lots of broken pavement.

Friday morning dawns with more rain but it seems to be breaking. Have bike at the HD dealer for 10k checkup and they have giving me a loaner. So will try to make Denali Nat Park this afternoon and Anchorage tomorrow. The Haul Road and Prudhoe Bay are out of the question as to impassable. I'd rather save my gravel riding for more picturesque roads.

On on

Paco

Sent: Sunday, June 02, 2002 9:08 PM
Subject: Anchorage and Rest

After getting my bike from the 10k servicing rode to the outskirts of Denali Nat Park. At a filling station was told by a local that the cheapest place to stay was at the Denali Bluffs. Checked at other places and they all anted $135 and up for absolute dives.

The Bluffs were $95 on a bluff as their name implies with great views of the park and absolutely immaculate.

In the morning went white water rafting on the Nenana River. Even though you are fully clothed for the cold and wear a dry suit that makes you look like a giant blue condom. When the glacial melt water (38 degrees) hits you it sucks all your breath away. Even with the dry suit you probably could not survive more than 30 minutes in that water. Exhilarating! Ride 'em cowboy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

On the drive down to Anchorage, the state bird of Alaska, the mosquito, made it's famous appearance. They are more numerous than the love bugs down south. The windshield and fairing were black. At the road construction sites, while waiting for the pilot car, these little baby Draculas would quickly converge on any exposed skin and fly up into my full faced helmet.

Made Anchorage at around 5PM and was welcomed into the home of Rich and Jen. Military people that I know from them being stationed at Eglin AFB. They took me out to the Peanut Farm and The Oasis where we tried our best to drink Anchorage dry. After stumbling/staggering home slept until 8AM for much needed rest. Ate a late breakfast at Gwennie's, a locals favorite and former bordello. Washed the bike and Rich took me on the Abbott Loop to see the city and the ocean from up high. Then we took a 5 mile jog on trails right outside the city where the park rangers post recent bear sightings with warnings as to what type (Black, Brown or Grizzly) There had been a sighting earlier but thankfully we didn't see one. Am now heading for the Glacier Brew House for Alaskan King Crab and Dungenese crab. Tomorrow will head out for Homer and some halibut fishing then Seward for some glacier climbing and sea kayaking.

Have seen all kinds of animals but still no sighting of the Lord of The Northern Lights-Mr. Bullwinkle. Keeping my fingers crossed

Paco

Sent: Thursday, June 06, 2002 7:43 PM
Subject: Near Death

Arrived in Homer and was greeted with rain and cold after departing in glorious sunshine. The drive out of Anchorage is along a coastal road (AK 1) where the mountains tumble into the sea. It's nice to see and smell the ocean with it's tidal pools again. In Homer stopped at the Beachcomber for lunch and the local scoop on the halibut fishing. The best lodging deal in town is over a Chinese hog trough restaurant. Two night special, $99. The smell of sweet and sour pork permeates the room. Asked for a no smoking room and the Chinaman says they don't force their customers into smoking in the rooms.

I am the star attraction at the restaurant after he sees my plate. Calls out the family and the help, cater-walls in his high pitched tone, pointing at the plate. One by one they slowly walk around the bike, oohing and aahing, then get to the plate, squeal, point at me and say "Lolida?" when I nod my head they shake theirs, gather in groups and start cater-walling.

In the morning head out for a ten hour halibut fishing trip. Catch 5 but am limited to two. They look just like flounder but are much bigger. Anyway since I can't keep them I have them shipped to Rich and Jen up in Anchorage. Never have been fishing with snow all around me and wearing thick gloves.

That night in the shit hole that the metropolis of Homer is I order a dozen local oysters because I have to try them. Bill comes in at $24 per dozen! I had to laugh they taste no better than our local. My waiter Chris rides a Sportster. This guy is amazing he states that he has ridden it to Daytona and Sturgis from his home base of New Mexico and has done 800 mile days. Can you imagine the buzzzzzzzzz!

I awaken to another typical Alaskan day. Slate gray skies and 41 degrees. This time I am amazed that in turns into sunshine. The ride into Seward is spectacular along the Kenai Fjords Nat Park. Stopping at a rest stop, no bathrooms in this state, just latrines, meet lady from St Pete, Fl. She tells me she tried to do Top of The World Hwy but it had been closed. I must have been the last one to ride it.

Upon entering Seward I visit Exit Glacier, hike up its side and generally marvel. When I get into town looking to book a kayak trip and find some lodging I run into the BMW guy from Telsin. He got his biked fixed and turned me on to the best lodging deal in town, a Ho-Jo for $65 a night. Then while booking a sea kayaking trip for the morrow I run into him again as he says he is hiking up Mount Marathon. I state I'll join him. To date that hike has been the most strenuous and dangerous thing I have ever done. We wound up above the tree line on my belly rock climbing up the face of this mountain in loose slate.

One miss step and you perish. I had definitely bit off more than I could chew. This was not a hike but a mountain climb, of which I know nothing about. On the way down we got lost and ran into fresh bear scat, as it was still steaming. So then the only escape route was to slip and slide down a frozen waterfall. Extremely dangerous, as help would be hours away if we made a mistake and we're now in twilight. The next day did a wonderful sea kayaking trip and have gone hiking through the spruce forest. After expending so much energy over a 48 hour period I was ravenous. Eating dinner at a local restaurant I could not be sated with just one meal. After the fourth full meal the chef/owner came out wanting to see how big this customer was (I only weight 160 lbs). He was impressed and I burped and farted all the way back to my lodging.

Heading back to Anchorage and some city life and to pay a visit to the famous Alaskan Bush Company. I need some cultured anatomy if you get my drift. Got to go as library She-Bitch from Byzantium is hovering like a buzzard

Paco

Sent: Saturday, June 08, 2002 12:19 PM
Subject: Moosings & Musings

Returning to Anchorage on the Seward Hwy saw my first moose, a yearling calf ambling into the forest. I am at peace. Seward and Homer are first class aviaries. Bald eagles, puffins, ducks that can't identify and on one of my hikes through the forest a little dipper. This bird hangs around fast moving streams and waterfalls and swims up current to snatch the larvae of what ever. I've seen it on the nature channels but never dreamed I'd stumble unto one.

Bad news is reaching me about the Cassier Hwy (Can 37). RV'ers that are new arrivals are saying that the government is thinking of closing it due to the excessive amounts of rain flooding the rivers and potentially undermining the bridges. If that is so it would precipitate me into changing my entire plans, as that could cancel out Freedom Hwy and Bella Coola. The most dangerous part of this epic ride and the one I've been looking forward to. I do not wish to retrace but few road options are available so maybe the ferry.

I have had the pleasure of meeting some of the most amazing people. This land is populated by those seeking a second chance, maybe even their last chance. Like the Chinaman in Homer. He thought I was very courageous in riding solo from FL. He doesn't understand that I admire his courage much more. The courage to become a stranger in a strange land, not knowing the language, customs, or religion just to provide, not just for yourself, but for your children and your children's children freedom and opportunity.

That takes gonads the size of these mountains.

I have met the most resourceful, resilient women. They have left their men behind, taken the children and made a fresh start. Now owning the small business that populate these snow bowls called towns.

I carry with me the memory of Commando One, his tired blue eyes coming to life again as he walks me out to my bike to send me on my journey, draws himself proudly erect and salutes me, holding it as I ride off. He has let me know that Jessie will be watching over me.

I have tasted my own endorphins, at the passes and on the climb. Conquering my obstacles, knowing that anything is possible.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, mad to live...to burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars" Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Paco

Sent: Wednesday, June 12, 2002 7:35 PM
Subject: Near Death II

Williams Lake BC

Another she bitch at the library. Will elaborate later. Leaving Anchorage in rain. Rode a wonderful motorcycle road, Tok Cut off.

With the Sun whispering my name, Alaska bid me good-bye with a moment of fright interrupted by shear terror. 100 miles from US border going 70 MPH a moose broke out of the dense underbrush at a full gallop. Tried to swerve left, second moose following first. Hit brakes hard started fish tailing on wet pavement so went right, then moose went from running across my path to running in same direction, still fish tailing hard, to the point of high siding. When in doubt, break on through to the other side, let off the brakes and give the gator some gator aid. Goosed the bike and wound up right next to the big fella, could smell it's mustiness, reach out and touch it. Both of us had wild eyes, foaming spittle from the corner of our mouths, locked in the dance of fear at 40 MPH, prisoners of our forward momentum. Moose's neck was stretched forward like a horse at the Derby. His flank towered over me. Then suddenly his head dipped below my left side mirror, he had slipped on the wet pavement, his foreleg buckling and his heavy body listing towards me, more gator aid as he collapse behind my rear fender. To relieve the tension I screamed in my helmet at the top of my lungs for about a mile.

Did the last bit of the Al-Can that I missed when I took the jog up to the "Top of The World". 400 miles of pure gravel hell in rain, only managed 700 miles in 15 hours Monday. Same on Tuesday, though it was sunny - to much construction delays at 15 MPH.

Turned south unto the Cassiar Hwy - majestic scenery. Saw 15 bears (all black). More later.

Soon "The Hill" at Bella Coola, 18% switch back gravel heaven.

Still alive and going mad.

Yippie Ki Aye Mother F%^&*@s

Paco

Sent: Friday, June 21, 2002 4:01 PM
Subject: The Saga Continues

Raton, NM

Thought I had died huh? Really didn't care, huh? Oh well.

Now the summer migration was in full swing. Riding into an armada of the modern day Conestoga wagon, the RV, these 20 mule teams with their antediluvian cargo have become the most dangerous wildlife on the roads. At Watson Lake I had to cut south to avoid them. The 500+ mile Cassiar Hwy (Hwy 37) in British Columbia offers enough gravel to dissuade all but the hardiest RV'ers. I was back to the fundamentals, spectacular scenery, vegetation and animals in an undomesticated state. A little to undomesticated as it turned out. On one of the thick, heavy gravel stretches that I had to engrossingly navigate in 1st gear, movement caught my eye.

Rode up on a monster male, on gravel at 15 MPH, so close I could see the green chlorophyl stains, from chomping branches, on his whiskers. Made the gator burp, as that has worked in the past, just looked at me. Then made the gator growl several times. Would not move. At least he was sated, for he gave no chase, as I watched him closely in the rear view mirror.

All the roads so far taken in BC are simply spectacular. I am running out of superlatives to describe the beauties that I have seen. Got a ticket out of Prince George. My first encounter with a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman. Super nice guy. Told me I was going 80 MPH, told him his radar gun was off. I was going 88 MPH. Sat on his car, shot the bull on politics, motos, women, taxes etc and smoked Cuban cigars for over an hour. He told me tickets in Canada are not reported to the US. I told him I would then be a fugitive from justice as I took his picture next to my bike. Also am a smuggler. Crossed the border with some Cuban sticks that the officer and I partook of.

I have threaded The Needle, jousted with The Dragon, broke The Devil's Backbone, climbed The Stairway to Heaven, descended into The Valley of the Gods, and gotten my kicks on the Mother Road but when you say "The Hill" you say it with reverence and respect. All you can do is look at the task before you, do your best Mills Lane impersonation as you pump your fist and say "Let's get IT ON!" Forty plus miles of twisty, winding gravel with 8 to 10 percent grades delivers you to a single lane dirt/boulder strewn 18% grade. Put simply, a treacherous ski slope. Using your bikes compression braking in 1st gear you still have to ride the rear brake, risking failure from overheating them.

Also had incidents with five bears, this time the burps worked.

At Bella Coola took the ferry to Vancouver Island. The Canadian ferry system needs to put up a warning sign, Caution - Poetry Crossing.

We stopped at Ocean Falls, so named because the snow melt makes a fissiparous descent into the ocean. This place has been kept in God's watch pocket.

Vancouver Island is a splendid ride and Victoria is a European style romantic city. Two ladies, older than dirt took a dive off the mountain. Being a paladin I dismounted my steed and went to help. Both were in the back seat when I got to them. Bleeding from the mouth with broken arm and leg plus a nasty gash on another leg. The goobers in the RV's did not know what to do. So I commandeered blankets and pressure pads for the cuts. Had someone ride to a phone for an ambulance. Stuck around for 30 minutes assuring them they would survive (what do I know, I'm not a physician). It just made them feel good until the professionals arrived.

Took the ferry from Victoria to Port Angeles, WA and spent the night. In the morning rode out (on gravel of course) to Cape Flattery, the farthest Northwestern most point in the 48 states. Then proceeded down the Pacific Coast Highway with a stop at Olympic National Park to hike the Hall of Mosses before winding up at Coos Bay and another rear tire, geez!

When I walked in to the HD dealer a vertically elegant lady said "Welcome to Oregon, where we put your rain gear to the test." I had been riding for 10 hours in the heaviest rain so far. The Gore Tex was saturated. Told them they should put in a dryer as good will to riders. The owner thought that was a great idea.

Went to Fort Clapsup Nat Monument, Glacier Lake Nat Park and rode Idaho's Hwy 21 for some canyon carving. Then down to see the Great Salt Lake. Crossed Colorado on Hwy 50 doing some asphalt surfing at Royal Gorge. This highway is already being widened into a four lane so better do it this year. As a final, climbed the famed Pike's Peak, 11 miles of gravel to an elevation of 14,000+ feet. Panoramic views.

Very safe, three cars wide. You can do it riding a Ford Pinto. Of coarse the guys driving the big Chevy Yukons put it four wheel drive and ride the brakes all the way down on a 6 to 9 percent slope - No Stones!! Mental note: Must come back and run the Marathon to the top.

Paco

PS: Started composing this in a restaurant in Raton, NM (K-Bob's.) The manager was very nice but their computer went on the fritz. 200+ miles later am in Claude, TX finishing this piece in a judges office! Ain't life great!!!

Sent: Saturday, June 22, 2002 12:27 PM
Subject: Coming Home

Mineola, TX

Since I have time have taken Texas by the back roads. Any red line road on their maps are 65 to 70 MPH posted speed limits. Sure beats the interstate and you get to meet the nicest people in these small towns. Also did Monarch Pass in Colorado. After crisscrossing the continental divide so many times I just had the do the highest pass of them all.

Will be pulling in with a broken fairing. The gator flies well when you hit the pot holes on the Al-Can but the hog bottoms out on the frame when you land. It can be fixed if the bungee cords hold it together long enough to get home. The back turn signals are coming loose again and there appears to me metal fatigue around the bolt holes. Only two gravel dings on the front fender, lower side. You'd have to get on your knees to see them. The headlight gravel guard flew off on one of these excursions. Note for future - tie it on with zip ties.

Lessons Learned:

It seems to me that the whole system is screwed up. Your supposed to take risk and chances when you are young and then be cautious when you get older. Well, the young person has more to lose. More like 50 - 60 years of a good life ahead of you. On the other hand as we get older what have we got to lose? 10-20-30 years? The last few sitting in some nursing home, on a bed pan?

Do it now while you have your vitality. The saddest phrase on your death bed is "I woulda, I coulda, I shoulda".

Final thought.

"People are doing flips and twists all over the world to get into a genuine pair of Levi Blue Jeans and we got it all right here in North America...This is were we make our stand." The Blues Brothers.

Ride 'em fast, ride 'em hard, and put them up wet!!!

Paco

PS: Jessie has been watching over me and I'll pull in for her Memorial Sunday night at the Hurlburt club.

Here is the final installment:

Monday, June 24, 2002 8:01 AM
Subject: Home

Made her memorial by 6:30 PM. Filthy, crusty, smelling of three day old clothes and covered in trail dust I walked up to Commando One and gave him a bear hug. Told him she had watched over me the whole way. Stayed with him drinking into the darkness.

Already planning the next one. Up the Eastern Seaboard to the Bay of Fundi and catch those 44 foot tides or circumnavigate the Great Lakes.

Drove a car for the first time in a month. Weird, doesn't feel right.

It's not how many breaths you take but what takes your breath away!

I'm madly burning.

Paco

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