Skip to main content

The Alaskan Freakin’ Highway

IMG_1422 I still can’t figure out how I feel after the last three days on the Alaskan Highway. It all started so well leaving Dawson Creek, a beautiful sunny day with only a bit of frustrating wind to hold me back. Traffic wasn’t bad, the road was nice, the scenery was green, and all was well. Except for those evil looking clouds in the distance…

By the early afternoon, those evil looking clouds were no longer in the distance. In fact, they were pouring evil cold rain on my head.  Now, rain itself isn’t so bad, especially a fairly mild rain. It’s easy to walk around town or run to your car and not get too wet. Riding through it on a motorcycle or a scooter is something entirely different though. First of all you get completely soaked because of your speed – I mean, really soaked. It’s like standing under a shower, everything gets wet regardless.

Next, you lose a ton of visibility. The clouds block the sun so there’s low light, then your dark tinted goggles work against you. Except they’re covered with water on the outside and condensation on the inside so it doesn’t matter much either way. Then there’s the rain pelting you with raw physical force, smashing into your face and causing constant pinpricks of pain. Don’t forget the constant pitter-patter on your helmet, either, like sitting under a tin roof.

IMG_1458 And of course, there’s that whole coefficient of friction issue, where now the road surface is much more slippery – except you don’t know how much more slippery, how much each different road surface is affected, whether you will slide off that shiny bit at an angle in that turn or if it’s actually grippier than the rough bit… Oh, and you’re on the Alaskan Highway, so let’s add random spots of gravel, mud, faux-gravel, and all sorts of other crazy crap that you aren’t sure how to deal with most of the time.

Okay, you have a picture in your head now. Expand it – don’t forget that 90% of the vehicles on this road are semi-trucks or RV’s, so you have these huge things whipping past you at twice your speed. They throw water up at you everywhere which sucks, but isn’t remotely as bad as the vortex trailing behind them that tries to either push or pull you across the road randomly, almost completely overwhelming at times.

Then add the fact that it’s in the high 40’s, you’re soaking wet, riding at 40MPH, and freakin’ freezing. So cold that you have a deathgrip on the handlebars with hands you can barely unwind, feet that would be numb except they hurt so bad (don’t worry, keep telling yourself it’s not below freezing so they can’t be frostbitten… can they?!), legs so cold and cramped up that you can’t even get off the scooter without falling over when you stop… Yeah, it’s awesome.

stitch_IMG_1459

Seriously, it is awesome. Why, I don’t know. It just is. Maybe it helps when you sing “you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” over and over again for hours. Powerful song.

IMG_1568 In any case, that was my first few days on the Alaska Highway. Setting up camp in the rain was no picnic either, and of course packing up in the morning in the rain is always a pain. Let’s just say that when the rain stopped but the evil clouds stay, I didn’t quite celebrate… but when I came around a mountain this afternoon and saw a patch of blue sky far in the distance I almost cried. Hours later when I finally reached it I rode down the road counting down the seconds until I rode into a patch of sunlight, it was so beautiful.

Now I’m sunburned because I didn’t put on suntan lotion this morning because it was pouring rain. I just can’t win, eh? At least I got to take pictures today!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Patagonia Beckons

Today I begin what may become one of the most difficult tests of long term mental and physical endurance and strength I have ever undertaken: for most of its remaining 2500km through Patagonia, Ruta 40 is considered one of the most desolate highways in the world. Over half of the remaining road is gravel, sand, and dirt. The number of towns listed on a map once I pass Perito Moreno can be counted on one hand, and there are many stretches of hundreds of miles without provisions, fuel, or places to stay.

Gear Review: Sea to Summit Big River Dry Sacks

In the past couple months on the road I think I’ve spent more time riding my scooter through rain than I have in the dry – this is clearly reflected in the fact that as time has gone by I’ve invested more and more money in things to keep my stuff dry, since wet gear sucks. One of my favorite purchases for this trip is the pair of Sea to Summit Big River Dry Sacks I picked up just before leaving, in 13L and 20L sizes. They cost me around $20 each and are one of the best pieces of gear I’ve purchased in years – extremely durable, effective, and simple to use.

5 Things that Suck about Traveling Solo

I find it telling that it seems a majority of the interesting travel blogs I run across are written by solo travelers, most often women. I think there’s a reason why we write more than people who travel with friends or in groups and that it’s pretty self evident: it’s an outlet for our loneliness. In the last year and a half, the vast majority of my time has been spent away from home, alone. As I write this, it’s been over a month since I’ve conversed with anyone in my native language, and I can remember every single conversation in English for the month before that. The truth is, I don’t think I could have done this without the internet – without a blog to share my thoughts, without Facebook to see what my friends are up to, without the occasional e-mail to provide a façade of normalcy… without these things I’d likely have driven myself insane with my internal dialogue. Now, I grant, there’s a reason I travel alone and I do love it, but lately it seems all I run across in the blogosp