| Location: | Prudhoe Bay |
| Mileage: | 860 |
PICTURE : RIDERS AT ARCTIC CIRCLE
We'd had a great send off from Anchorage. Biker gang, Team Pterodactyl, organised a great gun shoot for us (and on which some of us contracted "machine gun grin"!) and a wild salmon BBQ. We could think of no better Alaskan Welcome. Except that some topped it all off with a trip to the Alaskan Bush Company. Good ol' Alaskan entertainment. Say no more.
The first stop on the Trans Americas trip was Fairbanks, some 360 miles north of Anchorage. It remains a consistently pleasant first day, although Mnt McKinley remained out of sight behind dense cloud and there was a drizzle for the first two hours. In Fairbanks, we get to meet John Binkley - a local politician and ex Alaskan State Senator, he also ran against Sarah Palin in 2006 for the Governeor of Alaska (but as we all know Palin won that). But more importantly, some 40 years ago he rode an R75 from Prudhoe to Ushuaia, leaving in December! Fascinating guy with some amazing tales!
Fairbanks to Coldfoot, was an unusually balmy sunny day. Dry conditions had created a number of large forest fires that reduced visibility and probably added to the uncharacteristic humidity. It also meant the dirt road remained dry. Added to that new stretches of tarmac, leading up to the Yukon River and everyone happily rolled upto the Arctic Circle, where the sensible team members donned their ridiculously looking mosquito head gear (the little buggers were out in force).
Everyone enjoyed a cold beer at Coldfoot and looked at the trucks coming from the north trying to guess the condition of the road, by the amount of mud that was caked to the sides. A south bound F800GS rider rolled in and told of the road works that were a bit dodgy.
It was an early start to Prudhoe Bay and the weather had stayed dry overnight. We passed more bikers than ever on Dalton (maybe up to ten or so in one day and that's without our group) - it seems that the road to PB is more like a biker highway than the old Haul Road! It's great to see so many of us out there enjoying the dare of the Dalton, but it's clear that it sits uneasy with the traditional truckers, who bend Kevin's ear at one stop, complaining at being overtaken by bikes.
The Atigun Pass was the first sign of a slight chill in the air and a road that refused to be dried out, with many creeping slowly down the muddy slope descending through the Brooks Range. Visibility was still hazy from the fires, but it was impossible not to get a sense of awe at the remote wilderness we were riding through.
It was road works that brought down our first rider as Andy, on the F800GS, had to tackle a freshly laid mound of dirt and rocks, which plonked his bike sideways - he was unscathed. Just 20 miles short of Deadhorse, we had our first sighting of caribou. Two massive herds of thousands of animals. No one had ever seen anything like it and we all pulled off onto a small track towards the river to get closer to the beasts. Hunters were also present, with bows and arrows but shot at nothing. Kenny, one of our American riders, told us that by law, they could only shoot very specific animals and no females or calves.
As always when you think you are safe home, the last few miles throw the most challenges. The half kilometre of muddy quagmire was totally unexpected and caught out Nick who spun his bike to face the opposite direction and ended on the floor. Once again, luckily this time, bike and rider were fine and rode into PB. In PB, we meet some of the other bikers - a Brazilian on a Harley Davidson and a bloke from Neath (only 10 miles from us in Wales!), travelling on a KLR with his daughter riding pillion!
As usual in PB, we all took the Arctic Ocean trip and most (but not all), took the skinny dip, ladies and men together! The water felt warmer this year! We are keeping our fingers crossed that the dry weather stay with us for our first miles heading south. Because from now on it's south for the next five months.
