Norm's Ride
Fairbanks, AK to Wiseman, AK
267 miles
We awoke to a sunny day. Good. We checked all of our unneeded bags and gear at the dormitory in their storage room. We wanted to make the bikes as light as possible. I was nervous. This was it. "I'll be ok once I throw a leg over the bike and get started," I kept telling myself. I wasn't feeling confident at all. It's not too late. I don't really have to do this. What am I doing? Why am I even thinking about doing this? The answer kept repeating itself in my head: Norm, Norm, Norm. Yes, Norm.
OK, let's go. This is the whole reason I came. I kept telling myself, "It can't be that bad. It just can't be that bad."
At the last gas station heading north out of Fairbanks, we fueled up. I finally got to use my two 1 gallon Rotopax gas containers. Finally. This is the reason I've been hauling them around with me the whole time.
I knew the road would be paved for awhile. Norm and I rode to the Arctic Circle in August of 1998, so I kind of was familiar with what was to come, but beyond that was a total unknown. Eventually, the pavement ended and the gravel/dirt began. Funny, I didn't have the "death grip" on the handlebars that I remember having back then. I guess that's when experience kicks in.
We made it to the start of the Dalton Highway, then crossed the mighty wooden Yukon River bridge finally reaching the Yukon River Camp.
I could see the camp building from the start of the Yukon Bridge. It hadn't changed much from when we had stopped there before. We were starving, so after we fueled up we stopped for lunch and a bit of shopping.
We left the Yukon River Camp with renewed strength and headed north towards the Arctic Circle. The weather was declining, the road was continually getting worse and the rain started, but we still managed to take a few photos in-between rain drops.
We planned on spending the night at the Arctic Getaway B&B - Igloo #8 in Wiseman, located 70 miles north of the Circle and 17 miles north of Coldfoot, but we had to get there first. That would mark our half way point to Deadhorse, but we still had 70 miles to go.
I'm not sure if I can adequately describe how bad the road became between the Circle and Coldfoot. It is nothing like I have ever experienced before...and I have ridden over 400,000 miles (including riding Ruta 40 to Ushuaia, Argentina). The amount of concentration it took along with the sudden changes in road conditions was unbelievable. It ranged from wet, slick, muddy ruts to stretches of pavement, back to gravel, freshly grated soft dirt and then 15 miles of following a pilot car through road construction, back to mud. Not to mention the pouring rain, mist, then more pouring rain. Crazy! At times the bike was wiggling so wildly under me that I thought there was no way I was going to make it. More than once I thought I was going down. It was NOT fun!
As we pulled into Coldfoot, it was raining pretty hard. If I recall correctly, and I'm not sure if I am or not, there were only two gas pumps: one for diesel and one for gas...I think. I pulled into one side of the pump behind John while the other two swung around to the other side. No convenient credit card swipe here. Nope. You had to walk inside the building, leave your card at the register, walk back outside, fill up your tank, walk back inside the building, pay for your gas, then go back outside and move your bike. Did I mention that the parking lot was a giant mud pit with more giant mud puddles sprinkled throughout? Stupid!
By this time, I had had it! But, nooooooo. Jeff was competing in the National Parks Tour and decided that he wanted to stop at the Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve Visitor's Center in Coldfoot to get a passport stamp for his National Park's book. Are you kidding me??? I'm sure we were a spectacle when we sloshed into the Center soaking wet, dripping water with every step we took, creating a small swimming pool at the Park's stamp location.
Well, eventually Jeff got his stamps. I think there were around 7 or 8 of them there, like I said, at that point I didn't care, but having done the National Parks Tour in 2001 or so, I understood why he wanted to get the stamps. It was cool. I even ended up getting them on a blank piece of paper to add to my book. Now, if I can only find my book when I get home. The other two guys were standing at the counter buying something, so I was curious. I never bothered to take my helmet off and with my ear plugs securely implanted in my ears I could barely hear what was being said. "What? Huh? What?", I gave up and took my helmet off displaying the most gorgeous head of helmet hair I've ever had! Certificates, they were getting certificates. I had to have one for my collection, so I paid the $1. The Parks Junior Ranger (she was so young) placed mine and Jeff's in a plastic bag and sealed it with tape to protect if from the torrential rain outside. Then, unfortunately, we headed back out in the rain and headed for Wiseman. He had room in his top case, so that's where it went...and stayed.
I could see that the sky up ahead was starting to clear just a little. Thank goodness. Maybe it'll stop.
Wiseman is tucked away in the scenic foothills of the Brooks mountain range. You have to really watch for the hand made sign to Wiseman, otherwise, if you blink, you'll miss it. We missed it twice and had to turn around a couple of times. The GPS isn't always exact. After you turn off the Dalton Hwy., the gravel road takes you across a bridge over the rushing river and then you have to drive about 3 miles further. It's located in a beautiful, forested area of birch, aspen and spruce.
The log cabins are very secluded, quiet and "off the grid", but very clean and comfortable. It is owned by a wonderful couple, Berni and Uta Hicker and their two children who actually live in the main house which is a 1920's former gold rush dance hall. Uta's sourdough pancakes the next morning were wonderful! I didn't want to leave.
