I woke up to light streaming through the window, waiting to see if I was nauseated, to the realization we'd avoided getting sick from the water. Twas a great way to start the day.
We'd decided to head south from Whitehorse for Skagway since it was only about 100 miles or so and we could ferry across to Haines and loop back up. I'd had cell signal and googled the ferry from Skagway to Haines, finding that it was leaving at 3:30 pm and the next would be 4 days later. We hurriedly hit a sporting goods store which had waterproof socks for the Butterfly as well as some other things we'd not been able to find, stopping at a McDonald's for a quick meal before racing south in the rain for the fjords around Skagway.
The McDonalds manager had come over to talk bikes, telling us the loop from Whitehorse to Skagway to Haines and back around was a beautiful ride, as he and buddies did it on long day trips to get out. He rode a Ducati MultiStrada and said the roads were great and to have a safe trip. A rattle had developed at the rear of Kim's bike and we stopped a few blocks from the Mickey D's, pulling into a Honda dealership that sold both bikes and cars.
In the parking lot I found a missing bolt on the chain guard and while Kim ran in to find a replacement I adjusted and lubed the chain. One of the shop guys came out to see if we needed help and also to check out a wreck that had just occurred in the nearby intersection.
By the time we got back on the road we'd lost a good amount of time and needed to get to Skagway quicker than I wanted.
The road was really good and the area approaching the Alaska border was amazing - a barren area of rock formations covered with lichen and so different than the forests we'd been in.
We happened to time our arrival to coincide with a steam train and it's billowing clouds of white in the landscape.
Heading down into Skagway, the road was absolutely awesome, twisting along a canyon with views of water and clouds on the mountains.
At the border crossing the guard said we were lucky today as the weather had been terrible for weeks. The road from the border was really nice, winding down along a sheer canyon with glimpses of the Pacific ahead.
As we rolled down the mountain slope, in the distance there were two cruise ships visible in the harbor
It was about 3:15 by the time we arrived, going straight to the Ferry Terminal and having to bypass the little downtown section which looked nice, but we could see wandering tourists from the ships eating ice cream and carrying shopping bags. The attendant in the terminal said we'd have to go standby since the ferry was full, but that generally motorcycles never were left behind. We paid $148 and put the "HNS" tags on the windshield and headed for Lane 8 immediately, as he directed.
We clambered off the bikes and ahead saw a couple waiting as well, their heavily laden R1150GS on it's side stand and covered with gear.
They were from the Czech Republic and spoke excellent English, a young couple who'd ridden across Russia, Mongolia and Kazahkstan, then having shipped their bike to San Francisco and ridden up the west coast. It turns out we'd been camping and staying in the same towns for a couple or three days simultaneously but had not seen each other.
The lady organizing and checking tickets came out so we went back to our bikes. She told us not to worry as she'd always been able to squeeze bikes on board and directed us to move up to the front with the Czech couple.
As we pulled up in line behind them, the winds came up off the bay and in my headset I heard Kim struggling, looking back to see her and the bike fall over. She yelled that something had happened to the steering when she'd turned and it had frozen, just as the wind hit her. She wasn't hurt but as we lifted the bike a I saw a broken USB plug fall to the ground. In trying to figure out what had happened it looked as if the USB dongle on her power cord had somehow slipped down between the yoke and tank, preventing the bars from turning.
The USB plug housing was toast, but we had a spare and I was glad to find it was not a more serious issue. I was also glad it happened at a stop and not while on the road where she could have had a serious accident. Lesson learned and after some judicious rerouting of the wire, we talked with "Frank and Kate" and discovered our routes and plans were much the same - north to Alaska, then south to Mexico, Central and South America.
The signal came to board, so we agreed to talk more on the ferry and got the bikes in line for the loading process. Since we were the last aboard, I watched as the last truck and camper combo turned around and backed in, wondering why. We rolled over the ramp into the ship and got the bikes parked in front of all the vehicles, then headed upstairs for coffee and the 12 mile trip to Haines.
The ferry ride was a lot of fun and the scenery was great. We enjoyed sitting on the top deck enjoying the cold breeze and scenery. Frank and Kate had stayed up front to nap a bit.
The dock in Haines came up an hour later and we watched as the ship docked, hanging back to let the crowd of folks go below to get in the vehicles. We dawdled, knowing we'd be the last off the ferry, finally going below only to realize that the entire ferry was waiting for us to get our bikes off. There were glowering faces from the campers and crew. While waiting to load the ferry, we’d been in discussion with Frank and Kate and I hadn’t paid attention to the loading, only seeing the last vehicle backing in, which I thought odd since every ferry I’d ever been on had loaded from the rear and driven off the front. In brilliant fashion and a hurry to get up to the top deck, I’d also failed to notice that all the vehicles in the hold were facing our direction when we parked. Embarrassed, we hurriedly got saddled up and moving.
Once safely off the boat, Frank and Kate (aka Fanda and Katchka) and weeun's discussed camping together and continuing the next day to Tok. We found a roadside campground on the water, where a camp spot was available according to the liquored-up owners, but Frank wanted to check out the state park further down the road. We continued on and as we entered the park saw "No Tent Camping" on the dirty sign. Continuing in a ways, we reached a white stripe on the road with signs warning us that bears were ahead and no cyclist or hikers should proceed if bears were visible. Bears weren't visible, however piles of fresh fish guts were strewn on the road and a couple of guys with telephotos and tripods were sitting near the line.
I asked the guys what was up and they said a grizzly with two cubs had just been eating on the road and not to proceed. That was good enough for me and we decided the previous campground would be fine. We returned to our first stop, setting up tents in the chilly air. The rain had stopped earlier and though it was threatening we got none.
Frank and Kate had been on the road a long time and were about to crack their thousandth can of beans when I insisted we hit town for a good meal of fresh fish. We finally found the spot recommended by the camp host and after a very long wait had some fantastic fresh halibut. Since they were on a shoestring budget, we treated them and Kachka was in heaven, having a fresh cooked meal of fish and more.
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The camp host had warned us that bears wandered through the camp area but not to worry as they had never bothered campers. We got a good fire going and I strapped on my vest with rows of bear spray cans - similar to a suicide bomber with sticks of dynamite - and all wired to explode simultaneously in case I saw a grizzly.
Well, that's not exactly true but I did keep a can of bear spray in my pocket. Kaschka and Fanda said they'd not been able to find any bear spray in Canada and had actually had to use a motorcycle disc brake alarm one night to scare a bear who'd come around their tent. When they’d entered Canada, folks had told them loud sounds often scared bears away, so Fanda had decided to take his disc brake alarm off the bike and keep it in the tent at night just in case. He'd figured how to trigger it, and sure enough they'd actually had to use it one evening and it worked. He said it was terrifying hearing the bear near the tent and it's deep guttural growl. He'd hit the alarm and the high pitched squeal had scared it away. They shared the story with us as we sat around the campfire.
Kashcka was a singer/songwriter and said the beauty of Canada and Alaska had inspired her to write many songs as she rode on the back of the bike. I was finally able to coax one from her, a beautiful, heart wrenching song in her native language that brought a tear to my eye.
We finally crawled off to sleep after I drug our cases off the bikes and about 50 feet from the tent just in case a bear smelled the food within them.
