First part of Revill Dunn's trip from Anchorage, Alaska to Austin, Texas on a Traveller. Lots of pictures at: http://www.bubbleshare.com/album/415104

I'm getting antzy. Friday, if I can manage to hold on long enough and not somehow catch the flu or break a leg, I fly to Anchorage (well, Palmer, to be specific) to pick up my latest bike and start this summer's epic ride.

We graduated Aaron last weekend. And finally found out about his grades. Since high school and a couple of unfortunate and completely unnecessary maternal pressure events he stopped telling us what his grades were. Considering the steady flow of honor roll certificates and the willingness of way too expensive colleges to have him, I didn't push for details. His mother did, which is why it took so long to find out.

Cum Laude. Aaron was disappointed; he'd expected Summa Cum Laude. He missed it by a couple of hundredths of a grade point. Personally, I don't think a degree with honors at Rice in a Math and Physics major is disappointing. I'm proud as hell of the kid. And, I'm free! We've been splitting my income three ways the last four years. Taxes get a third, Rice gets a third, and we got to live on the leftovers. It hasn't been privation but it'll be nice to operate a bit farther from break-even.

Tuesday, I packed Sara up and mailed her off to Israel for her mother's 80th birthday. It's been me and the bird and the cats and the piles of stuff I'm trying to fit in just two suitcases since.

I'd had two projects I was supposed to finish before I left. Due to working late and weekends, both are complete and ready to ship as soon as the engineers finish fiddling with them which will happen when it happens, not before. So of course I am on a 3rd project, absolutely essential and would I mind working nights and weekends? Well, I did come in Sunday for a couple hours. It's hard to concentrate, I'm getting antzy.

So, I've mowed the lawns (ours and our blind tenants) and dug up the potatoes and staked the tomatoes and done all those things that need to be done before I leave. The last minute farkels have arrived and are beside the suitcases, looking for a nook to travel in. The new digital camera should arrive tomorrow. HOW IN HELL am I going to get all this stuff through baggage check? Do you realize just how much space a pair of size 14 motorcycle boots takes? That's one suitcase. Sara says wear them. Yeah, sure. I can just see the scene at security when I show up in knee high boots with big buckles on the side. "Please step over here, Sir and take off the boots". Not to mention travelling without being able to cross my legs.

Only a few days more. Wish me luck. I'm washing my hands constantly and riding like they really ARE out to get me.

 

I flew in to Anchorage last Friday. Mike, the former owner of my new-to-me Mz Skorpion picked me up at the airport and put me up for the night. Mike is a helicopter mechanic and a neat nut; if there's a more perfect former owner to buy a bike from, I haven't met him.

The MZ is every bit as perfect as I was led to believe. The only flaw is the noise. The owner before Mike put a Supertrapp pipe on it. We spent Saturday putting grip heaters and a luggage rack on the bike, and swapping the Supertrapp for the stock pipe. Which made the bike run like crap. It's been rejetted.

So, back to the Trapp. This ride will be with earplugs!

Obi Juan showed up about 6, just as I was taking the bike out for a test ride with the stock pipe. He was on his TransAlp and it had just started raining.

So, as soon as we put the Trapp back on I suited up (with my Brand New TourMaster electric Vest) and headed out in the misty rain for Anchorage.

An hour later we arrived at Gene the Wordsmith's place where we had a great supper of Tri Tip, a hunk of bovine flesh never found east of California.

Next morning it was still threatening rain when we headed out for Valdez. Gene had invited a couple of friends to ride with us the first hundred miles, to a diner at an alpine pass halfway between Anchorage and Valdez. Wives met us at the diner and everybody had a jovial lunch. Then everybody else went back, and Obi Juan and I forged onward. Through the misty rain.

Shortly thereafter my new TourMaster electric vest quit working. It hasn't worked since. TourMaster. Remember that brand. Don't depend on it.

The ride to Valdez was exceptional. Snow everywhere. I now have photos of my bike in white stuff, just like a real Rounder.

Day two was Valdez to Tok. Since I'd been down the Yukon before we passed up the Tok cutoff and rode almost the whole way back to Fairbanks on the Richardson Highway, across some very cold and still part frozen highlands. More white stuff photos. Then, a short jaunt to Tok and bed.

Day three we tackled the Dawson Highway, also known as the Top of the World Highway. The first couple of hours were pretty but uneventful, until we got to Chicken where one can, should one wish to do so, purchase a bumper sticker that says "I got laid in Chicken." I didn't choose to do so.

The Top of the World Highway starts at the Canadian Custom House, on a high ridge through mountainous tundra. It was blowing about 40 mph. as we were questioned by the rather pretty Customs agent. Canada is so refreshing. Customs wants to know about things that matter, like weapons. In the US all they want to talk about is DRUUUUGS.

It was dirt almost all the way in to Dawson City. Good dirt. Recently graded and well packed. Dust was the biggest issue, and dust comes with dirt roads. The MZ handled it like a dirt bike. An overloaded dirt bike with inappropriate tires and clip-ons. Which is pretty much what it is.

Dawson City is the biggest city in the northern Yukon, which is to say that it's got several diners and even a hardware store. The evening was uneventful, except for Obi Juan's Forceful snoring.

The road from Dawson to Whitehorse is one of the least scenic routes we've taken so far. Which means, of course that it's absolutely gorgeous, with tremendous vistas of snowpeaks almost constantly. Just another snowpeak, no big deal. That's the Far North attitude. Personally, I have difficulty focussing on the tarmac.

Wildlife sightings are no big deal either. Oh. Look over there. A bald eagle, sitting in the top of a tree preening. Just an eagle, no big deal. Bears too. Lots of bears. Those are worth stopping for, because they just might take offense if you drive past. It's a lot better idea to stop and wait for them to leave the side of the road. Moose and elk are less unpredictable, unless there's a calf nearby. (There was.)

Whitehorse was not nearly as upsetting as the last time I was thisaway. Nobody screamed at me the whole time. Last time I got yelled at for no particular reason three times. There is a lot of alcoholism in Whitehorse.

Other than that, it's a nice city. They have a walk along the Yukon that's quite pleasant, with the fast flowing grey water and occasional stranded ice flow.

It's still early spring up here. Not as early as it was on the Top of the World, but snow and ice are still to be seen in shadowy spots here and there, and ice banks still line much of the riverside.

Leaving Whitehorse, we rode along the Alcan for most of the morning. This is the first familiar road we've ridden since Valdez. Juan was very careful to plan a route along roads I haven't travelled. The result is that I have now ridden every paved highway in Alaska, and the Top of the World, only paved to Chicken.

About five, we arrived at the junction of the Alcan and Hwy 37 (aka The Cassiar) to Stuart and Hyder. We had reservations at a motel/RV park at the intersection, but it wasn't all that open. Finally we found someone who seemed to belong; he wasn't all that interested in renting a room. He seemed positively relieved that we wanted to cancel our reservations so we could camp. I hope Juan doesn't get a charge on his card anyway.

The first fifty miles of the Cassiar was paved, sort of. Between the potholes anyway. And, as advertized the scenery got seriously scenic. It's been spectacular the whole way, but this road pulls out all the stops. Even jaded Alaskans get a funny look in their eyes when you mention the Cassiar. "It's a pretty route". Then they warn you about the potholes.

Potholes there were, but on a bike they're fun. Sorta like being in a video game, with a ludicrous Disney or Spielberg scenery backdrop scrolling while you try to dodge holes, gravel and bears. It's hard to do; the backdrop keeps grabbing your attention.

We camped the night at a Dyer (sp?) Lake Provincial Park, a totally lovely place indeed. It's on a crystal lake with snowpeaks waaaay up THERE on the far side. After setup and supper I took a walk in the dusk. Beautiful. About half a mile from camp, along the lakeshore hiking trail I disturbed a beaver who circled just offshore to chase me off, occasionally KaPLOPping his tail.

Yesterday morning was more of the same, cool and gorgeous. The scenery this direction just keeps getting better, from merely jaw dropping to indescribable, to much better than that.

Next morning, we hit the first section of the fabled Cassiar Highway gravel about an hour out of camp. It was very well graded gravel, not deep and scary at all. It was actually a lot smoother than the pavement because the chuckholes were filled with gravel. Unfortunately, the water truck had been past recently and they mix a gooey muck with the gravel to keep the dust down. Our bikes, our legs and our luggage were greyblack in a few miles and there was a lot more than a few miles of the stuff.

It could be worse. Rumor has it that in rain, the road quickly turns into deep muck. Yuk. I'm glad the weather was gorgeous.

After lunch we started climbing, and the early spring got earlier and earlier. The succession of wildflowers that we'd seen on the ride from Dawson City reversed, all the way back to the little crocuses poking through the snow at the pass. There's a couple of passes on the route so we got to watch spring happen over and over again through the afternoon.

About 4, we got to the final pass and the turnoff to the South. We went straight, to Stuart/Hyder and one more pass. I stopped to take yet another photo of a snowpeak (It's right beside the highway, bigger than Dallas) and Juan laughed at me. "You won't EVER make it to Hyder if you stop to take photos of every peak on THIS road!"

That didn't phase me a bit. I've still got 400 frames left on my digital camera. He was right though, if you took a picture of every magnificent vista, you'd never make it though the pass. And then downward, spring springing one last time down to sea level.

Stuart is a small Canadian town with a bit of tourist stuff. Hyder is a preserved bit of Wild West. Dirt streets, roughsawn shacks. The only real businesses in town are bars and tourist junk shops. There's no American customs. You can't get to anywhere else once you're in Hyder; I guess Customs just doesn't care.

Canada is more reliable; you have to clear Canadian Customs to return to Stuart.

The Hyder Seek probably triples the population of both towns. Long distance bikes (and I mean REALLY long distance bikes) are everywhere. Lots of Oldwings, with some very creative extra gas tanks hanging off the tails, on back seats, everywhere. After all if you've got a bike that will do ONLY 300 miles on a tankful, you need extra gas don't you? Iron Butt riders do.

As we were standing in the parking lot discussing hardware, a Wing rolled up with a quite bleary rider aboard. He'd just that minute completed a 48+ ride, all 48 states plus Alaska (Hyder) in 10 days. He needed a receipt, which he got at the bar. Signed by the Legendary Ron Ayers, the organizer of Hyder Seek and a lot of very expensive motorcycle tours.

Most of the people here have done at least one of Ron's tours, and are wearing the shirts to prove it. Africa. New Zealand. Even Antarctica. No, they didn't ride there. They rode to Argentina and took a cruise, part of the package.

Supper was picnic style, baked halibut and salmon and a couple of sides. Mostly it was fish, lots and lots. These guys understand low carb diets.

This morning Juan and I officially registered and were issued our commemorative shirts with the Hyder Seek 2008 logo.

Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.