I'll begin with some good news: last night I went for my first somewhat long bike ride, around 15 miles, and not only did it not bother my tendons one bit, but I was, despite almost four weeks of not riding, still damn fast. I don't want to make too much of this, and I know that it was a relatively short ride, but I think this means that this time of rest and mending has been somewhat successful. I'm going to ride more today and see how I feel. Also, I'm riding my old fixed gear bike now, which is wonderful and more physically demanding on my tendons. I have an - if I can make it here, where "here" should be read as "on my fixie", then I can make it anywhere - type of feeling. That is, as long as I properly stretch each day.
Oh yeah, Greyhound lost my bike. I'm looking around for something to ride but am not having much luck here in the CNY. If you've got any leads on a size and trip appropriate bike send them my way. Next week I'll be visiting Spencer in Boston where, I hope, he'll be able to share his secret, Boston specific, used-bike knowledge with me.
I miss you guys, all of you. Even you.
23 August 2007
05 August 2007
Five things in CNY that I've missed (alphabetically):
- family
- Lake Ontario
- old friends
- Saranac Root Beer
- spots that I grew up skating which, at the time, weren't very good, and have gotten worse. Still, I love them
Errata: While home I sampled Ithaca Brewing Company Root Beer. From a bottle it is at least as good as Saranac, but I've not found it from a tap. Saranac from a tap is the current best possible root beer experience, though not the absolute best root beer experience. That honor still belongs to the Empire Brewing Company's root beer on tap and brewed on site until their Syracuse location closed in 2002 or 2003. The Empire Brewing Company has since reopened but they no longer brew root beer.
- Lake Ontario
- old friends
- Saranac Root Beer
- spots that I grew up skating which, at the time, weren't very good, and have gotten worse. Still, I love them
Errata: While home I sampled Ithaca Brewing Company Root Beer. From a bottle it is at least as good as Saranac, but I've not found it from a tap. Saranac from a tap is the current best possible root beer experience, though not the absolute best root beer experience. That honor still belongs to the Empire Brewing Company's root beer on tap and brewed on site until their Syracuse location closed in 2002 or 2003. The Empire Brewing Company has since reopened but they no longer brew root beer.
quickly, quickly
Apologies! It's the 6th of August and I haven't written about events more recent than 22 July. Now we'll try and get caught up, briefly:
Monday - Thursday, 23 - 26 July: It took me two days to hitch a ride out of Haines Junction, and that ride got me only to mile 75 of 157. Tuesday night I stayed in the green shack halfway between Haines and her Junction. Ben and Kayla had also been planning on staying there and so we were reunited. Wednesday I tried for two hours to get a ride and had no success. Wanting not to miss my the ferry the next day I decided to ride to Haines. On the side of the road I saw my new favorite road sign. On top was a diamond shaped sign with an iconic image of a tractor trailer on a triangle, and beneath it on a rectangular sign was the following text: STOP AHEAD/CHECK BRAKES/STEEP DOWNHILL/NEXT 18KM. The ride into Haines was fun and beautiful and a little scary. Barb, the woman that gave me a ride to mile 75, told me that the land between Haines and the Junction has the highest bear population density of anywhere in the world. I saw only gophers. Once in Haines I quickly found Ben and Kayla. We camped in a free campground(!) and drank tee and ate carrots. Thursday we rode to the ferry terminal, boarded without hassle, and set sail. That night we stopped in Juneau for two hours and our new friend, Corey, gave us a quick tour.
Friday, 27 July: Ferrying all day. I don't want to seem fickle, but I think I've fallen in love with the sea. We stopped in Sitka and it was a cute town at 5am.
Saturday - Sunday, 28 - 29 July: Minutes after arriving in Prince Rupert we had met some strangers on the street who offered to let us stay at their house. They cooked us dinner (rice, sauteed asparagus and peppers, a big greek salad, and salmon with wasabi and soy sauce), gave us fresh, soft towels and let us use their bathroom and laundry, and cooked us breakfast (crepes with yogurt and fresh berries). Sunday afternoon Ben and Kayla pedaled on towards Prince George and eventually the States. With great difficulty I opted to give myself more time to rest. That night, with bicycle boxed and sent ahead of me, I boarded a bus headed south.
Monday, 30 July: Very bus-y day. At 10pm, 25 hours after boarding the bus in Prince Rupert, I was in Vancouver. There was still one bus leaving for Seattle that night, but I had sent my bike ahead using Greyhound Courier Express, and shipping service offered by the bus line, and if they were to ship across the border it needed to be done from Vancouver, and their office didn't open until 7am. I don't sleep well on buses or planes, and at 10pm Monday I hadn't slept since 6.30am Sunday morning. I decided to walk around and hope to find a hostel. A hotel room, I knew without checking, would have been too expensive, though I did meet a really drunk man on a park bench who offered to share a room with me. It was nice of him to offer, but I was happy to wander Vancouver in the middle of the night and marvel at the number of bicyclists and skateboarders I saw. That, more than anything else, impressed me. Eventually I found a hostel, but simultaneously found a 24-hour coffee shop. Rather than pay the $20 to stay in the hostel I opted to spend around $8 on three cups of coffee and a snack.
Tuesday, 31 July: I was back at the bus station at 5.30am. At 8.30, after a long and frustrating series of conversations with different Greyhound employees, each seeming to work under a different set of company guidelines, my bike and I were once again on a bus. Because of a long stop at the US border we didn't arrive in Seattle until 1.30pm. There I shipped my bike to Olympia, to my good friend and fellow Cyclonaut, Katie. In Seattle I wandered, drank coffee, and bought some zines for my upcoming flight. With what little gear I was still carrying I bussed to the airport, and that night boarded a flight for Syracuse. After making a connecting flight in San Francisco, after being awake and wandering for just over 65 hours, I got a little bit of sleep.
Wednesday, 1 August: Around 9am, with flights and connections done, I was on the ground in Syracuse. JTX picked me up at the airport and drove me to my mom's house. We hugged, caught up, and made plans.
So here I am now, back in central NY, the 315. I'll not update much while I'm here.
Monday - Thursday, 23 - 26 July: It took me two days to hitch a ride out of Haines Junction, and that ride got me only to mile 75 of 157. Tuesday night I stayed in the green shack halfway between Haines and her Junction. Ben and Kayla had also been planning on staying there and so we were reunited. Wednesday I tried for two hours to get a ride and had no success. Wanting not to miss my the ferry the next day I decided to ride to Haines. On the side of the road I saw my new favorite road sign. On top was a diamond shaped sign with an iconic image of a tractor trailer on a triangle, and beneath it on a rectangular sign was the following text: STOP AHEAD/CHECK BRAKES/STEEP DOWNHILL/NEXT 18KM. The ride into Haines was fun and beautiful and a little scary. Barb, the woman that gave me a ride to mile 75, told me that the land between Haines and the Junction has the highest bear population density of anywhere in the world. I saw only gophers. Once in Haines I quickly found Ben and Kayla. We camped in a free campground(!) and drank tee and ate carrots. Thursday we rode to the ferry terminal, boarded without hassle, and set sail. That night we stopped in Juneau for two hours and our new friend, Corey, gave us a quick tour.
Friday, 27 July: Ferrying all day. I don't want to seem fickle, but I think I've fallen in love with the sea. We stopped in Sitka and it was a cute town at 5am.
Saturday - Sunday, 28 - 29 July: Minutes after arriving in Prince Rupert we had met some strangers on the street who offered to let us stay at their house. They cooked us dinner (rice, sauteed asparagus and peppers, a big greek salad, and salmon with wasabi and soy sauce), gave us fresh, soft towels and let us use their bathroom and laundry, and cooked us breakfast (crepes with yogurt and fresh berries). Sunday afternoon Ben and Kayla pedaled on towards Prince George and eventually the States. With great difficulty I opted to give myself more time to rest. That night, with bicycle boxed and sent ahead of me, I boarded a bus headed south.
Monday, 30 July: Very bus-y day. At 10pm, 25 hours after boarding the bus in Prince Rupert, I was in Vancouver. There was still one bus leaving for Seattle that night, but I had sent my bike ahead using Greyhound Courier Express, and shipping service offered by the bus line, and if they were to ship across the border it needed to be done from Vancouver, and their office didn't open until 7am. I don't sleep well on buses or planes, and at 10pm Monday I hadn't slept since 6.30am Sunday morning. I decided to walk around and hope to find a hostel. A hotel room, I knew without checking, would have been too expensive, though I did meet a really drunk man on a park bench who offered to share a room with me. It was nice of him to offer, but I was happy to wander Vancouver in the middle of the night and marvel at the number of bicyclists and skateboarders I saw. That, more than anything else, impressed me. Eventually I found a hostel, but simultaneously found a 24-hour coffee shop. Rather than pay the $20 to stay in the hostel I opted to spend around $8 on three cups of coffee and a snack.
Tuesday, 31 July: I was back at the bus station at 5.30am. At 8.30, after a long and frustrating series of conversations with different Greyhound employees, each seeming to work under a different set of company guidelines, my bike and I were once again on a bus. Because of a long stop at the US border we didn't arrive in Seattle until 1.30pm. There I shipped my bike to Olympia, to my good friend and fellow Cyclonaut, Katie. In Seattle I wandered, drank coffee, and bought some zines for my upcoming flight. With what little gear I was still carrying I bussed to the airport, and that night boarded a flight for Syracuse. After making a connecting flight in San Francisco, after being awake and wandering for just over 65 hours, I got a little bit of sleep.
Wednesday, 1 August: Around 9am, with flights and connections done, I was on the ground in Syracuse. JTX picked me up at the airport and drove me to my mom's house. We hugged, caught up, and made plans.
So here I am now, back in central NY, the 315. I'll not update much while I'm here.
01 August 2007
Friday, 20 July: More time in Haines. There was coffee; there was improv theatre workshoping; there was walking in the rain and loving it; and, at midnight, there was Harry Potter.
Saturday, 21 July: From midnight until around 5am was time set aside for the Deathly Hallows, and then I got a bit of sleep before the improv workshop at 10. We improvised until 1:30-ish, after which I read some more of Potter. The improv performance was that evening, at 5:30, and we didn't stop having fun/making fools of ourselves until 9:30. Ben and I went to a bar in Haines, the Pioneer, for a concert and to meet the friend of a friend that could, maybe, give us a ride back to Haines Junction the next day. Immediately after milkshakes we met Julie and had our ride out of town and back to our bikes. She was fun, and we quickly dropped the "friend of a..." portion of the title and were actual friends. This was all taken care of so quickly that I only stayed at the show for one song, and then it was off to bed. It was a good song though. If I were a dancing man I would have been dancing then.
I think there might be a Pioneer bar in every town in Alaska.
During the afternoon we had a meeting about the trip. My tendinitis, though it was getting better, was still bad enough that I didn't think it wise to ride for a little while. Ben has a wedding to attend in Washington on the 19th of August, so though I needed more time, we also couldn't afford to simply take another week off entirely. We struck a compromise that allowed us to cover a significant distance as a group and allowed me to get a bit more rest - we took the ferry from Haines to Prince Rupert, BC. This saved us almost 1000km of riding and, since we weren't going to sail until Thursday, gave me another week to rest and, hopefully, heal. The downside, aside from not being able to ride, was that we ended up cutting out the Cassiar Highway portion of the trip. That would have been the last really remote, and most bear-dense, section of road. Maybe I can ride that portion next summer. I'd still like to see it.
Sunday, 22 July: Up at 6:00am and finished with the Deathly Hallows by 8. If you've not yet read it - don't. Unless you've read all the rest. In that case you should read it, and you'll probably enjoy it. I did. It ends predictably well, but it doesn't get to the end at all like I thought it would. I wish the epilouge weren't so sweet, and that it had more about the functioning of a post-Voldemort magical world. I'm kind of a sucker for those details.
We caught our ride out of town around 1pm and rode 40 miles to the Canadian Border. There we were denied entry into Canada. We were told that we were carrying insufficient funds. The Canadian border patrol officer who spoke with us told us that there was a law stating that we needed to carry $200 in cash for each day we planned on spending in Canada. The process of being denied entry took almost an hour, during which our friend, Julie, waited in her car while we were treated like children by the Canadian officers. If we were driving a nice car, the officer told us, he wouldn't insist we carried the money, but bicycles suggest poverty and the Canadian government shouldn't have to risk supporting foreigners. We spoke to a customs agent on the phone who told us that $50/day would be sufficient as long as we also presented an accurate, current bank statement. Assuming that it would take us 30 days to ride through Canada, we were expected to carry somewhere between $1500 and $6000 dollars in cash. That's insane.
Julie, who had to be back to her home in Whitehorse that night so she could work at 7am the next day, agreed to drive us back to Haines so we could go to an ATM. After getting $200 cash each and printing out bank statements we filled Julie's tank and were back on the road. At the border we were questioned by a different officer, one who had been in the room during the rejection process, but who had kept quiet and screened other travelers who had come to the border after us. He asked to see our money, and we showed him our $200 each. He shouted at us about not having enough for our planned two days in Canada and we corrected him and told him that the woman on the phone had told us $50 was fine. He then asked to see our bank statements. Ben and I produced ours, but Kayla's had gotten lost in the rush. He then began shouting again, this time directly at Kayla, and pounding his fist on the counter while berating her for failing to follow directions. Ben, Julie, and I looked on in shock. After a moment the officer noticed that Kayla was crying and we were looking at him in disbelief and he, I think, realized what a f-ing jerk he was being. He even looked a little embarrassed. He told us we could go through, but that when we entered Prince Rupert we had better have thousands of dollars or we'd have to buy tickets back to Juneau from there. It wasn't clear to me why we would have to go to Juneau rather than any of the half dozen closer ferry stops, but I thought it best not to raise the question then.
The conversation for the rest of the ride into Haines Junction was centered around our border incident, with each of us sharing our past experiences with overly aggressive keepers of the peace. In the Junction we bought Julie dinner and ice cream and exchanged contact info. She then left fot Whitehorse and we went back to Sally and Trevor's house for an early-to-bed night.
Saturday, 21 July: From midnight until around 5am was time set aside for the Deathly Hallows, and then I got a bit of sleep before the improv workshop at 10. We improvised until 1:30-ish, after which I read some more of Potter. The improv performance was that evening, at 5:30, and we didn't stop having fun/making fools of ourselves until 9:30. Ben and I went to a bar in Haines, the Pioneer, for a concert and to meet the friend of a friend that could, maybe, give us a ride back to Haines Junction the next day. Immediately after milkshakes we met Julie and had our ride out of town and back to our bikes. She was fun, and we quickly dropped the "friend of a..." portion of the title and were actual friends. This was all taken care of so quickly that I only stayed at the show for one song, and then it was off to bed. It was a good song though. If I were a dancing man I would have been dancing then.
I think there might be a Pioneer bar in every town in Alaska.
During the afternoon we had a meeting about the trip. My tendinitis, though it was getting better, was still bad enough that I didn't think it wise to ride for a little while. Ben has a wedding to attend in Washington on the 19th of August, so though I needed more time, we also couldn't afford to simply take another week off entirely. We struck a compromise that allowed us to cover a significant distance as a group and allowed me to get a bit more rest - we took the ferry from Haines to Prince Rupert, BC. This saved us almost 1000km of riding and, since we weren't going to sail until Thursday, gave me another week to rest and, hopefully, heal. The downside, aside from not being able to ride, was that we ended up cutting out the Cassiar Highway portion of the trip. That would have been the last really remote, and most bear-dense, section of road. Maybe I can ride that portion next summer. I'd still like to see it.
Sunday, 22 July: Up at 6:00am and finished with the Deathly Hallows by 8. If you've not yet read it - don't. Unless you've read all the rest. In that case you should read it, and you'll probably enjoy it. I did. It ends predictably well, but it doesn't get to the end at all like I thought it would. I wish the epilouge weren't so sweet, and that it had more about the functioning of a post-Voldemort magical world. I'm kind of a sucker for those details.
We caught our ride out of town around 1pm and rode 40 miles to the Canadian Border. There we were denied entry into Canada. We were told that we were carrying insufficient funds. The Canadian border patrol officer who spoke with us told us that there was a law stating that we needed to carry $200 in cash for each day we planned on spending in Canada. The process of being denied entry took almost an hour, during which our friend, Julie, waited in her car while we were treated like children by the Canadian officers. If we were driving a nice car, the officer told us, he wouldn't insist we carried the money, but bicycles suggest poverty and the Canadian government shouldn't have to risk supporting foreigners. We spoke to a customs agent on the phone who told us that $50/day would be sufficient as long as we also presented an accurate, current bank statement. Assuming that it would take us 30 days to ride through Canada, we were expected to carry somewhere between $1500 and $6000 dollars in cash. That's insane.
Julie, who had to be back to her home in Whitehorse that night so she could work at 7am the next day, agreed to drive us back to Haines so we could go to an ATM. After getting $200 cash each and printing out bank statements we filled Julie's tank and were back on the road. At the border we were questioned by a different officer, one who had been in the room during the rejection process, but who had kept quiet and screened other travelers who had come to the border after us. He asked to see our money, and we showed him our $200 each. He shouted at us about not having enough for our planned two days in Canada and we corrected him and told him that the woman on the phone had told us $50 was fine. He then asked to see our bank statements. Ben and I produced ours, but Kayla's had gotten lost in the rush. He then began shouting again, this time directly at Kayla, and pounding his fist on the counter while berating her for failing to follow directions. Ben, Julie, and I looked on in shock. After a moment the officer noticed that Kayla was crying and we were looking at him in disbelief and he, I think, realized what a f-ing jerk he was being. He even looked a little embarrassed. He told us we could go through, but that when we entered Prince Rupert we had better have thousands of dollars or we'd have to buy tickets back to Juneau from there. It wasn't clear to me why we would have to go to Juneau rather than any of the half dozen closer ferry stops, but I thought it best not to raise the question then.
The conversation for the rest of the ride into Haines Junction was centered around our border incident, with each of us sharing our past experiences with overly aggressive keepers of the peace. In the Junction we bought Julie dinner and ice cream and exchanged contact info. She then left fot Whitehorse and we went back to Sally and Trevor's house for an early-to-bed night.
25 July 2007
catching up, again.
Once again I've let my blog fall behind, and so I'm motivated to make some changes. It's difficult to give a detailed account of each day of the trip. It's time consuming, and I don't want to spend too much time using computers. I am, after all, adventuring after having spent two and a half years using computers in an office. In order to reduce my typing time I am going to make posts much shorter and less detailed. I'll be happy to give more details about locations or encounters if you ask me, and please do feel free to ask, but I'm not going to include as much detail in the blog from here on out. That said, on to the updates:
Saturday, 14 July: Late start out of White River, sometime around 11:30am. After riding for just less than an hour I stopped for a cinnamon bun and coffee at a "gift/rock shop" and spent 40 minutes talking to the old folks that owned, ran, and lived at the store. Hoping for a short day I planned on staying at a campground that my map showed to be 30km away. I arrived and found that it had been shut down. After having lunch and studying my map I resigned to ride to the next place on my map, the Kluane Village Campground, 35km away. The sky was cloudless and I was quickly going through my water. I finished my last drop just after the roadsign announcing "Kluane Village Campground - 2km". 2km later I learned that Kluane Village was not in fact a village, it was a large gas station with a field for camping. This place too had been shut down. I tried to refill my water but there was no power and so no water could be pumped. By the side of the road I waved my empty water bottles until a passing motorist stopped who had water to spare. The man that stopped, an Alaskan, refilled all my bottles, a combined 5 liters. My map showed there to be no other campgrounds until Burwash Landing, 50km away. I didn't arrive until almost 10pm. This was, up to this point, my longest day and hardest day of riding. At Burwash Landing Resort, which has free tenting, I met Martine and F(something), two cyclists from Belgium and Germany, respectively, who Ben and Kayla had met in Tok.
Sunday, 15 July: (Free tenting) + (more than 80 miles covered on Saturday) = Day off. There's not too much to tell. Burwash Landing is really small, has a free-store(!), and is surrounded by beautiful countryside. The "resort" was on the shore of Kluane Lake, which was big and warm. I didn't really swim since I didn't have a suit and the "resort" restaurant was right on the lake, but I spent a lot of time wading with my pants rolled past my knees. Ben and Kayla rolled in around 8.30pm.
Monday, 16 July: First we rode to, through, and past Destruction Bay. That's an excellent name. We had planned on camping at Cottonwood RV park, but when we arrived we found that it cost $26 to pitch a tent, a price that we all agreed was outrageous, and so we rode on. It began to rain immediately after we left. The next campground was called "Kluane Base Camp". We arrived to find that it wasn't a campground, but a collection of cabins. The owner told us that we could pitch our tents for $40! After a short conference we decided to ride the remaining 60km to Haines Junction. It rained the entire way. Approximately 12km before we rode into Haines Junction we had a really fun, really fast downhill. Here we set our current speed record for the trip: 75.8 kmph, or 47.1 mph. Riding this fast, in the rain, unable to see because of the water on my glasses, I thought "I should get a helmet". In Haines Junction we stayed in a home owned by my friends, Sally and Trevor. It was wonderful to have someplace warm and dry to sleep, and to be able to cook on a real stove, and to be able to shower and do laundry. After more than 80 miles of riding, most of which was in the rain, I don't think I could overstate how much we appreciated their willingness to share their home.
Tuesday, 17 July: Relaxing day off in Haines Junction. There's a great bakery you should visit if you're ever in town. I watched Jurassic Park.
Wednsday, 18 July: We hitchhiked to Haines, AK, to see southeast AK and to give my tendons some more time to heal. Doug, driving a tractor trailer, gave us a ride the entire way. I had never been in a tractor trailer before and was surprised to find how much space there is in the cab. We listened to Fleetwood Mac, Rumors, three times during the ride. I didn't mention it then, but I enjoyed it.
Thursday, 19 July: Haines is beautiful. If you've been to southeast you know what I mean, If you haven't, we'll talk about it sometime. It wasn't nearly as tourist-y as I expected it would be, despite the fact that it's a stopping point for cruise ships. Though I have fallen in love with Alaska while I've lived here, I thought that there wasn't much chance I would move back here after this trip. Now that I've been in Haines for a while though, I might. I think I would really like to live in Haines.
Saturday, 14 July: Late start out of White River, sometime around 11:30am. After riding for just less than an hour I stopped for a cinnamon bun and coffee at a "gift/rock shop" and spent 40 minutes talking to the old folks that owned, ran, and lived at the store. Hoping for a short day I planned on staying at a campground that my map showed to be 30km away. I arrived and found that it had been shut down. After having lunch and studying my map I resigned to ride to the next place on my map, the Kluane Village Campground, 35km away. The sky was cloudless and I was quickly going through my water. I finished my last drop just after the roadsign announcing "Kluane Village Campground - 2km". 2km later I learned that Kluane Village was not in fact a village, it was a large gas station with a field for camping. This place too had been shut down. I tried to refill my water but there was no power and so no water could be pumped. By the side of the road I waved my empty water bottles until a passing motorist stopped who had water to spare. The man that stopped, an Alaskan, refilled all my bottles, a combined 5 liters. My map showed there to be no other campgrounds until Burwash Landing, 50km away. I didn't arrive until almost 10pm. This was, up to this point, my longest day and hardest day of riding. At Burwash Landing Resort, which has free tenting, I met Martine and F(something), two cyclists from Belgium and Germany, respectively, who Ben and Kayla had met in Tok.
Sunday, 15 July: (Free tenting) + (more than 80 miles covered on Saturday) = Day off. There's not too much to tell. Burwash Landing is really small, has a free-store(!), and is surrounded by beautiful countryside. The "resort" was on the shore of Kluane Lake, which was big and warm. I didn't really swim since I didn't have a suit and the "resort" restaurant was right on the lake, but I spent a lot of time wading with my pants rolled past my knees. Ben and Kayla rolled in around 8.30pm.
Monday, 16 July: First we rode to, through, and past Destruction Bay. That's an excellent name. We had planned on camping at Cottonwood RV park, but when we arrived we found that it cost $26 to pitch a tent, a price that we all agreed was outrageous, and so we rode on. It began to rain immediately after we left. The next campground was called "Kluane Base Camp". We arrived to find that it wasn't a campground, but a collection of cabins. The owner told us that we could pitch our tents for $40! After a short conference we decided to ride the remaining 60km to Haines Junction. It rained the entire way. Approximately 12km before we rode into Haines Junction we had a really fun, really fast downhill. Here we set our current speed record for the trip: 75.8 kmph, or 47.1 mph. Riding this fast, in the rain, unable to see because of the water on my glasses, I thought "I should get a helmet". In Haines Junction we stayed in a home owned by my friends, Sally and Trevor. It was wonderful to have someplace warm and dry to sleep, and to be able to cook on a real stove, and to be able to shower and do laundry. After more than 80 miles of riding, most of which was in the rain, I don't think I could overstate how much we appreciated their willingness to share their home.
Tuesday, 17 July: Relaxing day off in Haines Junction. There's a great bakery you should visit if you're ever in town. I watched Jurassic Park.
Wednsday, 18 July: We hitchhiked to Haines, AK, to see southeast AK and to give my tendons some more time to heal. Doug, driving a tractor trailer, gave us a ride the entire way. I had never been in a tractor trailer before and was surprised to find how much space there is in the cab. We listened to Fleetwood Mac, Rumors, three times during the ride. I didn't mention it then, but I enjoyed it.
Thursday, 19 July: Haines is beautiful. If you've been to southeast you know what I mean, If you haven't, we'll talk about it sometime. It wasn't nearly as tourist-y as I expected it would be, despite the fact that it's a stopping point for cruise ships. Though I have fallen in love with Alaska while I've lived here, I thought that there wasn't much chance I would move back here after this trip. Now that I've been in Haines for a while though, I might. I think I would really like to live in Haines.
20 July 2007
continuing
Friday: So, the free food. Review: I had decided to camp at the White River Crossing RV park because they had complementary hot showers and, after the 80km that I'd ridden from US customs, most of which was loose gravel and dirt, I was really looking forward to a good scrubbing.
On my way to the shower I was approached by a man who looked to be about my age. He said that he had seen me ride in and wondered if I was hungry. He had some food leftover and was happy to share. Since I hadn't planned on riding that day and didn't have any extra time between packing up my camp and catching my ride to the border I hadn't eaten much of a breakfast that morning. In Beaver Creek I had eaten a bit, but I hadn't planned on riding as far as I did and so hadn't eaten nearly as much as I ought to have. Though I was caked in dirt, I was hungrier than I was dirty. I told him as much, and thought I'd follow him to a tent or RV.
He led me to a big, sturdy looking tent. Inside there was a large kitchen. Two refrigerators, two stove/ovens, a few tables for food preparation, and many shelves of food in boxes and bags. Instead of the generous camper I'd taken him to be, I learned that he was the cook for a large group of geologist doing exploratory work for a mining firm. He was not just a generous camper, but a generous camper cooking for 30, with a South African firm picking up the food tab. He told me that I could take whatever I liked, not just from the dinner leftovers, but anything in the tent was available. The geologists were leaving the next day, and any leftover food would have to be shipped elsewhere and stored, and if it was perishable it would just spoil anyway. I ate well, and had my first fresh produce since Glennallen. He then packed a bag of food for me to take and eat later on my travels: granola bars, tortillas, apples, tomatoes, yogurt, veggie brats, cans of soup and beans, and bags of trail mix. The bag probably wighted 15 pounds. After a few hours of sharing food and stories I thanked him again, cleaned myself up, and went to sleep feeling awe and appreciation about how lucky I seem to be.
On my way to the shower I was approached by a man who looked to be about my age. He said that he had seen me ride in and wondered if I was hungry. He had some food leftover and was happy to share. Since I hadn't planned on riding that day and didn't have any extra time between packing up my camp and catching my ride to the border I hadn't eaten much of a breakfast that morning. In Beaver Creek I had eaten a bit, but I hadn't planned on riding as far as I did and so hadn't eaten nearly as much as I ought to have. Though I was caked in dirt, I was hungrier than I was dirty. I told him as much, and thought I'd follow him to a tent or RV.
He led me to a big, sturdy looking tent. Inside there was a large kitchen. Two refrigerators, two stove/ovens, a few tables for food preparation, and many shelves of food in boxes and bags. Instead of the generous camper I'd taken him to be, I learned that he was the cook for a large group of geologist doing exploratory work for a mining firm. He was not just a generous camper, but a generous camper cooking for 30, with a South African firm picking up the food tab. He told me that I could take whatever I liked, not just from the dinner leftovers, but anything in the tent was available. The geologists were leaving the next day, and any leftover food would have to be shipped elsewhere and stored, and if it was perishable it would just spoil anyway. I ate well, and had my first fresh produce since Glennallen. He then packed a bag of food for me to take and eat later on my travels: granola bars, tortillas, apples, tomatoes, yogurt, veggie brats, cans of soup and beans, and bags of trail mix. The bag probably wighted 15 pounds. After a few hours of sharing food and stories I thanked him again, cleaned myself up, and went to sleep feeling awe and appreciation about how lucky I seem to be.
18 July 2007
....and then I started riding again.
The Haines Public Library is beautiful. I'm not at all informed about its history, but it looks like it's been built within the last 5 years. Most new buildings are, I think, ugly. This is an exception. I've not done much exploring of the shelves yet, but it looks great. I'll let you know what I find. Now though, I want to talk more about the trip.
Friday: Having made plans to meet Ben and Kayla in Haines Junction on Thursday the 19th, which is tomorrow, I was considering hitchhiking back to Anchorage to rest for a week and then hitching out to the scheduled meet up. My bike, I decided, would have to stay in Tok. It isn't easy to get a ride when you've also got a bike fully laden with panniers. After asking for help those few people in Tok with whom I'd become at all familiar I had no luck finding a place to store my bike and gear. What I did find, if I wanted it, was ride to the border. The Postal Service has a contract with a local man in Tok for the delivery of mail to every mailbox between Tok and the border along the Alaska Highway. This man agreed to let me ride with him to the border. Stopping at each mailbox made it seem like a long 93 miles, but he was good company. He was born and raised in Alaska, and was in his early 60's now, and had great stories of old Alaska. He told me of hunting year round for food, something that he still does, and about how Alaska has, unfortunately, calmed down a lot in the last 20 years. From his description it sounded to me like when he was my age an Alaskan man couldn't go a week without having to fight somebody. When I told him that I had enjoyed working in a library he said that he believed me, that I had the look of a "city boy", and that I'd not have been able to make it in old Alaska. He was probably right.
At the border we said goodbye and wished each other luck. An older Canadian couple helped me by holding my bike while I loaded bags and strapped bundles and bottles to racks. They asked about my trip, and when I told them our plans they said "that sounds miserable"! They were traveling in an RV.
I decided the ride the 27km between US and Canadian customs, and then to camp in Beaver Creek. The no-man's-land between borders was a weird stretch of road. It seemed to me that cars drove more slowly through it. Maybe the drivers wondered which nation's police would ticket them if they sped. Would it be neither, or possibly both? I had similar thoughts. If I were hit by a car or crashed hard during a fast descent where would the rescue workers come from?
Riding wasn't too painful, and I decided to keep on and not stop to see much of Beaver Creek. The Yukon, for those of you who haven't driven through it, is beautiful. The road winds around and over rolling hills, with nothing but trees, lakes, creeks and mountains to see on either side. That is, when you can see. From the US border I rode 80km, and at least 50km was on super dry, loose gravel. It was rough and offered little traction and so was slow riding, and each time a car passed it kicked a cloud of dirt into the air and shot rocks at me from beneath its tires. Though I thought that I was riding into a headwind, a common cyclist complaint that usually means "I'm tired and want to blame my fatigue on something other than myself", I was forced to accept that there was simply no noticeable wind. Each time a car passed it would send a cloud of dirt into the air that seemed to float directly above the road and take forever to settle to the road. By "forever" I guess that I mean "until I had ridden through it". When I finally stopped I was caked in dust, dirtier than I've ever been and more tired than you've ever been. I don't know how tired you have been, but I was really, really tired. And dirty.
....but then something wonderful happened that I'll write about later. It involves free food(!!!) and then some extra free food(!!!).
Friday: Having made plans to meet Ben and Kayla in Haines Junction on Thursday the 19th, which is tomorrow, I was considering hitchhiking back to Anchorage to rest for a week and then hitching out to the scheduled meet up. My bike, I decided, would have to stay in Tok. It isn't easy to get a ride when you've also got a bike fully laden with panniers. After asking for help those few people in Tok with whom I'd become at all familiar I had no luck finding a place to store my bike and gear. What I did find, if I wanted it, was ride to the border. The Postal Service has a contract with a local man in Tok for the delivery of mail to every mailbox between Tok and the border along the Alaska Highway. This man agreed to let me ride with him to the border. Stopping at each mailbox made it seem like a long 93 miles, but he was good company. He was born and raised in Alaska, and was in his early 60's now, and had great stories of old Alaska. He told me of hunting year round for food, something that he still does, and about how Alaska has, unfortunately, calmed down a lot in the last 20 years. From his description it sounded to me like when he was my age an Alaskan man couldn't go a week without having to fight somebody. When I told him that I had enjoyed working in a library he said that he believed me, that I had the look of a "city boy", and that I'd not have been able to make it in old Alaska. He was probably right.
At the border we said goodbye and wished each other luck. An older Canadian couple helped me by holding my bike while I loaded bags and strapped bundles and bottles to racks. They asked about my trip, and when I told them our plans they said "that sounds miserable"! They were traveling in an RV.
I decided the ride the 27km between US and Canadian customs, and then to camp in Beaver Creek. The no-man's-land between borders was a weird stretch of road. It seemed to me that cars drove more slowly through it. Maybe the drivers wondered which nation's police would ticket them if they sped. Would it be neither, or possibly both? I had similar thoughts. If I were hit by a car or crashed hard during a fast descent where would the rescue workers come from?
Riding wasn't too painful, and I decided to keep on and not stop to see much of Beaver Creek. The Yukon, for those of you who haven't driven through it, is beautiful. The road winds around and over rolling hills, with nothing but trees, lakes, creeks and mountains to see on either side. That is, when you can see. From the US border I rode 80km, and at least 50km was on super dry, loose gravel. It was rough and offered little traction and so was slow riding, and each time a car passed it kicked a cloud of dirt into the air and shot rocks at me from beneath its tires. Though I thought that I was riding into a headwind, a common cyclist complaint that usually means "I'm tired and want to blame my fatigue on something other than myself", I was forced to accept that there was simply no noticeable wind. Each time a car passed it would send a cloud of dirt into the air that seemed to float directly above the road and take forever to settle to the road. By "forever" I guess that I mean "until I had ridden through it". When I finally stopped I was caked in dust, dirtier than I've ever been and more tired than you've ever been. I don't know how tired you have been, but I was really, really tired. And dirty.
....but then something wonderful happened that I'll write about later. It involves free food(!!!) and then some extra free food(!!!).
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