Day 12 - Whitehorse to Squanga Lake

It was a particularly cold and blustery day for us getting started out of Whitehorse.  After clumsily maneuvering our loaded bikes down the elevator and out of the hotel, we stuffed our hands into our mittens and set off in the search of food.  While it was available, McDonald's was too good to pass up, and the novelty of "McDonald's Canada" hadn't worn off yet. 

Day 11 - Champagne to Whitehorse

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

We were on the road earlier than ever--9:30 am.  I was excited because the day was supposed to be only about 56 miles of riding with our sights set on the city of Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon Territory.  We had poked our heads out of our tent happily surprised to see the sun shining brightly as the air carried a warm tail wind.  All days prior had been too cold for shorts, but we were feeling optimistic and dressed for warm weather.  On days like the one prior where there was hardly a cloud in the sky, even the SPF 80 sunblock we were using couldn't completely keep my ears from being cooked like bacon in the intense sunlight.  I decided to try something new to protect my ears, and wrapped a bandanna around my head with my ears tucked beneath.  The day was looking like it was going to be great--except for one looming problem.

Day 10 - Kloo Lake to Champagne... Kind Of

June 2, 2008

 

We were beginning to wise up a bit regarding the wind.  The pattern we noticed was that the winds ceased at night, and started up again around 10 A.M..  As it so happened, our morning was wind free as we quickly broke down camp--but just as we had hypothesised, the wind picked up just as we were hitting the road around 10:00.  It was a familiar foe that we were beginning to love to hate.

Day 9 –Burwash Landing to Kloo Lake

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Whoever told us that it would be windy by Kluane Lake wasn’t kidding. In the morning as we packed our things, the wind wasn’t yet blowing with full force, but it was licking at the lake, upsetting its surface and sending small waves into the North-Western shore. It was cold too -- Cold enough that we were wearing our wool mittens.  We had pretty much blown our food budget on the $15 burgers the night before, and the store at Burwash Landing didn’t have much in the way of sustainable food, so we ate the last of what we had on hand, which wasn’t much at all. They warned us at the lodge that there weren't any grocery stores untill Haines Juction, but we knew to take that with a grain of salt. Destruction Bay was coming up, and roadhouses like that usually had the kind of food we needed. We made sure to grab a map from the pamphlet rack in the lobby since the GPS wasn’t being too much help, then we hit the road.

Down the road just a bit we saw a small round owl perched in one of the dead trees to our right. Apparently the dead woods were not void of all life. It was comforting to see, but perhaps it was a bad omen of what our day had in store…

Day 8 – “Chainsaw Massacre” Campgound to Burwash Landing

Saturday, May 31 2008

It was kinda nice to be back home—nice warm bed, a fridge full of food, TV, etc. But it just didn’t feel right that I was back home already. It kinda felt like cheating to have stopped at home while I was in the middle of this incredible journey on my bike… Actually, I didn’t recall how I’d gotten home. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but I went with it.

Day 7 – Yukon Border to “Chainsaw Massacre” Campground

Friday, May 30, 2008

By morning the rain had cleared up and we had a bright clear sky, so as we packed our things I charged another batch of batteries, and we set some of our things out to dry in the sun.

At the roadhouse gift shop, we had a chance to check our email, and we bought Alaska decals to put on our bikes like badges of honor. It had taken about a week, and the Alaskan highways had proven to be a worthy challenge that had broken us in more than enough. My whole body ached from the previous day of riding, but it was time to head back out on the road. We called home from the roadhouse payphone, then set out to cross the Canadian border.

Remarks on Alaska

I’m not sure exactly what I expected Alaska to be like, but I was surprised around nearly every corner. My exposure to Alaska before this had only been what I had seen on TV and in pictures, but they almost never show some of the things that I feel truly represent the sections of Alaska we had traveled through. Much of it felt familiar, but so much more of it felt strange—larger than life, in just a few words. The sky is bluer, the mountains rockier, the sun hotter, the wind colder, the climbs steeper, and the roads rougher.

Day 6 – Tok to Alcan

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Before we left on our trip we had visited many websites and Internet forums trying to find some good information and good advice about the types of distances we'd be able to ride. This was particularly important to us after we had learned that we would need to average 75 miles per day in order to meet our dad in Vancouver when he would arrive. I remember that several people said that it would be impossible for us to average 75 miles a day up in Alaska and Yukon, but the fellow whose blog we had been following said that we definitely could do 75 miles per day, but that we'd be hating life. Well, we had just finished a 90 mile day the day before and we were feeling mighty proud of ourselves. Getting up bright and early we had another 90 mile day ahead of us.

Day 5 - Chistochina to Tok

May 28, 2008

In the morning, there was still a light wind, but Mark and I were ready to deal with it. Well… almost.

Day 4 – Glennallen to Chistochina

Monday, May 27, 2008

This was the day that our real trouble started—at least, for Alaska and Canada.  Bright and (ahem) “early” at 10 A.M., we awoke to a patchy sky. Of course, the very first thing we noticed each morning was the weather, as it would greatly affect the rest of the day. The patchy sky didn’t seem so bad. The clouds looked heavy and fluffy, but seemed too small on their own to cause us any woe—but if they ganged up on us, we could see it being a problem.

Day 3 – Sheep Mountain to Glennallen

Monday, May 26, 2008

How long had we been riding? Only four days since we had left home, and I had already lost count.

Do you ever notice that no matter how odd the changes in your life may seem at first, you eventually accept those changes as your reality? Perhaps it isn’t the same for everyone, but it is the case for my brother and I. We weren’t quite used to it yet, but we were definitely adjusting.

Bright and early, we were awake and ready to make up for the time we had lost the day prior. There was a spark of excitement within us. The sky was a picturesque blue with many small, fluffy clouds, and we were warm and dry. We packed up our bikes and I plotted our course.

Day 2 – Chickaloon to Sheep Mountain

Sunday, May 25, 2008

I couldn’t tell if I was alive or not. It was all dark, and nothing made sense. Vague shadows of thoughts tried to break into view, but a shadow in darkness has no form. Something about “The Jetsons.” What? That couldn’t be right. Nothing made sense.

Day 1 – Anchorage to Chickaloon

Saturday, May 24, 2008

We woke up around 8:00 a.m. after a good nights rest to find that it was a bit cold. While I showered, Mark packed his things. While Mark showered I bundled up because the gray sky didn’t look good to me.

Over a breakfast of oatmeal bars, we discussed the morning’s immediate problem. The Glenn Highway, the only way for us to go, forbids bicycles on it. Big signs were posted at all highway entrances forbidding us to go any further. What to do? Supposedly, there was a bike path leading out of Anchorage to Eagle River, and after Eagle River, we could supposedly ride on the Glenn Highway without any problem, but we already lost the trail to Eagle River, so the highway was our only route unless we wanted to waste several hours finding that path. Another cyclist rode into our camp with the same dilemma as we were eating. It was hard to understand him. I’m not sure of what nationality he was, but it was clear that he was headed the same way we were. Eventually, he decided to just ride the highway despite the signs, and so did we.  Just as we were saddling up, small raindrops began to fall, and quickly grew to be heavy raindrops.

Day 0 – Anchorage, Alaska

May 23, 2008

Early in the morning at the Las Vegas airport, Mark and I hugged our mom, said our goodbyes, and boarded our flight. It was a surreal experience filled with silent questions. “What is it really going to be like? Are we going to make it? What is Anchorage like? What can go wrong? Did we research enough? Are we really prepared?” Despite these inner questions, Mark and I were both pumped with excitement, not fear.

We proudly told people we met about what we were undertaking, and loved the different reactions. Some people thought we were yanking their chains, others viewed us as heros, and others, as complete fools. Each reaction fueled us on.

The Hardest Part

The hardest part of doing an extreme trip like this is buying the airline ticket.  Or in other words, COMMITTING to the attempt.  I guess you could buy the airline ticket without mentally committing to your goal and then giving up along the way.  But you know what I'm trying to say.  Talk is cheap. Its easy to say you'll do something completely nuts, but it is something entirely different to follow through with it. My brother Mark learned this the hard way, perhaps.

Taking The Plunge

You may be asking yourself, “why?” Why ride your bicycle from Anchorage, Alaska, of all places, to Tijuana Mexico of all other places? Or for some people, “why all the way to Panama!?” “Why to Tierra del Fuego!? I mean, have you SEEN a world map!?” In all seriousness, I think you have to be just a little nuts.

Blog Forward

Hi everyone! In the summer of 2008, my brother Mark and I rode our bikes from Anchorage, Alaska to Tijuana Mexico. We were joined on our adventure by our dad in Vancouver, BC. It took us eleven weeks, and took us over 4000 miles through some of the most remote, and most beautiful areas of our continent. It was so very hard to accomplish, but also deeply rewarding to have done so.

That trip has become such a big part of me, but it is a part of me many people can never fully understand. To fully understand it, you must have been there. Because of this, I feel very distanced from people.

Therefore, I am going to tell my story and try to pass on what I gained from the bike trip. Stay tuned for a true story of adventure, hardship, brotherhood, rite-of-passage, and an experience that was deeply and truely rewarding.