We left Part 2 Flogging It To Deadhorse in the mozzie swarmed carpark at Chena Hot Springs at the theoretical end of Day 10, as usual the sun was completely unsupportive and refused to go down. We walked into reception dirty and sweaty, but with the casual swashbuckling air of adventure motorcyclists who have achieved something special. The run-of-mill tourists checking in immediately fell back, and even those about to get the keys left the desk without taking their watering eyes off us – they could sense they were in the presence of beings so superior to them that they could only look on in hushed awe. Either that or we were a bit pongy.
Day 11 started very late; we had almost been begged by Ride Leaders Justin and Bayne to have a sleep in and do whatever we wanted. What we wanted wasn’t laundry, but Talkeetna was a week old, so the laundry bags had started to take up most of the luggage space. Getting in behind the efficient Tassie team of Karen and Maureen, presumably while their husbands Tim and Bruce were off getting a foot massage and playing golf, the detoxing took place, and all was set for the remainder of the tour.
Less routine activities were chosen to fill in the remainder of the day; a dip in the hot springs followed by our first quad bike experience. The hot spring was extensive, and where the geothermal streams entered the pond were marked with very confusing lights which might have been trying to warn bathers that superheated steam was about to enter, but flashing concentric green and red circles didn’t really convey the message as quickly as the severely scalded skin. Feeling scorched and refreshed, we added our togs to the rest of the group’s hangings outside the rooms and headed to the quad biking. Our guide was very laisse faire, helmets were totally optional, and once out to the main arena all restrictions on speed and maintaining control were cancelled. A few drifties and other hoon-level skills were practiced, before heading back for a nice afternoon nap. Dinner was at the bar that evening, which made keeping the flow of IPA’s coming a lot easier.
Day 12 started with some glimpsing between the curtains at 4am which was the scheduled time for moose to visit the lake outside our room according to someone, who was clearly making it up as we only saw a duck. The mooses did appear at breakfast, running past the dining room just when our breakfast was served, however other team members sorted out the necessary photography. With laundry and other stuff packed and loaded into the support vehicle with help from a billion mozzies, we headed off back toward Fairbanks before getting onto the highway south. First stop was at the geographically confusing town of North Pole, which unsurprisingly leverages off the relationship of the North Pole with Santa. A coffee and a wander through the extensive tourist shop and we all felt comfortably re-aligned with gross materialism, and ready to continue our journey back into civilisation.
Loaded up with gifts suitable for giving only in faraway December, we kept on south until we got to Delta Junction, where the road from Canada joins up with the highway. The Buffalo Centre Drive In, famous for its burgers, was the lunch venue and it failed to disappoint with an actual steak sandwich available. The only major decision required was straight or curly fries to satisfy the eternal craving for salty carbs. Having pushed the pants to the limit once again, we continued south to Paxson where we met the other end of the Denali Highway we had last seen at Cantwell on the way to Fairbanks.
The day was a fairly short one, we headed up the Denali Highway to a lookout which showed huge views of the Alaska Range to the north. With the opportunity to consume some more snacks taken by those who didn’t plan to ever see a cardiologist, we regrouped and trundled off to the Tangle River Inn which was the destination for the night. After the usual efficient check-in process, we sort of hung about and had a rest before it was a civilised time to get to the restaurant. We sat by the window and watched Trevor slowly jogging back up the hill to the inn, while our hostess described a grizzly bear attack on a moose the previous day vaguely in the same area Trevor had just jogged from, but the scene remained quiet. A quick Google indicated that bears do see in colour, making Trevor’s selection of a bright red athletic shirt even more controversial. A delicious dinner was had with the whole crowd in attendance, and we learned that the mysterious Chicken Fried Steak is just steak cut into small pieces and fried like one would do chicken. With Trevor having frightened off all the bears, we decided on a group walk to the nearby lake and a swim for the brave/insane and a lesson in drone operations by Nic for those sensible enough to stay away from the water.
Day 13 was a backtrack and continuation south once we had sorted out Justin leading the wrong way toward Denali, thankfully the error was recognised before too many riders were lost in the wilds of central Alaska. It was about 100km down to Glennallen, where a stop for fuel was planned but abandoned due to the seething mass of trucks, RV’s, caravans, and cars jamming into the main Tesoro service station. Instead, a trip to the IGA was taken to stock up on lunches to be eaten further down the track. Passing the settlements of Copperville, Silver Springs and Copper Centre, things were starting to look up for the metallurgists in the group, before taking a left turn east and heading toward Chitina, which happily also means copper in the local language. We made it to Liberty Falls for disposal of the chosen lunch, stopped for a refuel in Chitina, then embarked on the 100km dirt road to McCarthy/Kennicott. The heat was palpable in the 80’s Fahrenheit, which was a bit unpleasant when not moving, but the road condition was generally good and there were only a couple of sections of deep gravel and some minor water crossings besides the thick dust.
The exciting crossing of a pedestrian bridge and an additional 5 miles saw us pull up at Kennicott Glacier Lodge. The spelling of Kennicott is correct, but so is the spelling of Kennecott which was the result of an error in the Kenni(e)cott Copper Company head office. In general terms the glacier is named Kennicott, but the Post Office sign is Kennecott so everything to do with the company town uses Kennecott. There was immediate disappointment as we’d missed the last mill tour, so spent the rest of the afternoon on a self-guided effort around the incredible site which closed in 1938 but looks like it just closed a few years ago – things don’t rot. A full sit-down meal was planned in the Lodge for 7pm, which turned out to be frankly spectacular, the beef roast was melt-in-mouth stuff and the veges magnificent.
Enough punters had shown an interest in the mill tour to change the Day 14 plan, those who wished could do the tour and leave at lunchtime, the rest could do as they pleased and have a sleep in and stay until the lunchtime exodus or leave earlier. Day 14 achieved, the interested party were guided through the history of Kennecott, which began with discovery of a seriously rich copper deposit in 1900 by two prospectors. The very high copper grade supported development in such a remote place; including a seriously expensive 196 mile railway (which is now the road) all the way to Cordova on the coast to ship the concentrate to Tacoma in Washington state for smelting.
The inexperienced guide getting some of the mill details right and some of them wrong but given full marks for trying, we finished the tour and in the mounting heat headed back to the Lodge for packing, dressing, helmeting, gloving, mounting, and leaving. The 100km trip back along the dirt was a lot quicker, as we had experience and being well spread out we could ride our own race. By about 1pm we all congregated at the Chitina restaurant, which conveniently opened up just for us and provided a very acceptable lunch.
The post-luncheon plan was continuation south once we’d recovered the highway. We’d been warned by Bayne about the scenery heading into Valdez – relentless snow-covered peaks and steep sided valleys, and he hadn’t exaggerated. After the group was separated at roadworks with a 25 minute cycle time, a long stop was taken at a lookout to admire the views before the rest caught up and we started the descent into Valdez. A dodgy looking track heading out to a viewpoint was too much for Justin, so rather than walk out he decided riding would be quicker. A meeting at the end with some cyclists was watched from afar with mounting suspense – would Justin be forced to show he was higher up the food chain and throw their bikes off the cliff? Or just have a pleasant chat? Unfortunately it was the latter so we quickly lost interest and with the rest of the group hurtling past, remounted and started the descent to sea level.
The mountain chill eased a little as we rolled down the hill, then was reinvigorated through the spectacularly tight Keystone Canyon with its multitude of waterfalls dropping off the sides into the Lowe River.
Gathering into sort of a group, we rolled into Valdez and found our way to the Best Western located next to the marina on the promising sounding Meals Ave. Dressed for the town, we wandered to the Lonely Planet recommended best restaurant in Meals Ave, only to find it closed and no meals were available. The Potatohead craft brewery was a good starting point, and a ridiculously large meal at Mike’s Palace finished us off for the day.
Day 15 included an early cruise on Prince William Sound, which suited most of the tour members as we could relax and just worry about feeling seasick rather than worry about crashing or being attacked by moose/bear/gangs of squirrels out in the harsh Alaskan environment. Otters and the odd seal were the first of the wildlife as we motored past the other end of the 800 mile oil pipeline from Prudhoe Bay, before heading out through the narrows of Valdez Arm into Prince William Sound proper. An interesting location on the port side was Bligh Island, scene of the Exxon Valdez disaster in 1989. Details of the incident were described by our skipper, with a major cause the drift of icebergs from the Columbia glacier that the ship was trying to avoid. We headed west to the southern side of Glacier Island, where a seal colony momentarily interested people until a humpback whale showed up and did some stuff.
The second part of the cruise was north up to the Columbia Glacier, or as close as the boat could get without a Titanic re-enactment as no one was too interested in getting anywhere near the water by floating around on a door. The Columbia Glacier has been rapidly retreating from nearly out to Glacier Island back to where it has split into two or three separate glaciers since the 1980’s, and is one of the last to do so with others nearby retreating at the end of the last ice-age. The result is less drifting icebergs in Prince William Sound, and a longer cruise to see the glacier.
And finally, the highlight of the cruise – a seafood chowder and a huddle down in the warmth inside while a piece of iceberg was carted about by a crew member for passengers yet to experience frostbite to touch.
Back at the dock, tips were dispensed according to one’s feelings about the chowder, and an afternoon of relaxation and possibly a small nap was celebrated. A visit to the museum was the next activity, with the history of the town featuring the difficulty early prospectors had getting out over the Valdez Glacier, the lost battle with Cordova to be the terminus of the Kennecott railway, the Prudhoe Bay to Valdez pipeline, and inevitably the 1964 earthquake which caused the town to be shifted onto more solid ground. A light snack and a few IPA’s at Potatohead with a nightcap IPA in the hotel bar saw out the day, but yet again not the daylight.
Day 16 was the penultimate, with glaciers now the theme of the trip. As always, the day started with a backtrack, and this time all of us were caught up at the roadworks for half an hour or so while listening to interesting stories from the young lollypop sign lady.
Admiring the scenery, we made our way to Glennallen for a repeat lunch from the IGA, this time eaten at the IGA with views over the Glennallen Pregnancy Centre. The descent into the dark world of American chocolate bar addiction was complete for some by this stage, with several of the team making trips back into the IGA for more Turtles or Butterfingers or PayDays and dealing them openly to their sticky victims. With the rain in Alaska now falling mainly on the Glennallen IGA, we tried to re-wrap the chocolate and geared up once more to motor the 120km to Glacier View, our final non-Anchorage destination on the tour.
As we were fairly early into the accommodation, Ride Leader Justin who was possibly still high on Turtles suggested a viewing of the Compass Expeditions Beyond Siberia video, with special commentary by himself and Bayne who had both been on the inaugural Road of Bones expedition. Numerous trips to the bar before, during, and after the video and a few PayDay poppers had some of us primed to play volleyball out on the grass court while sensible types clustered around the yet to be lit fire. With only three serious injuries to men in their prime, the volleyball was over and the penultimate tour dinner was held, before re-clustering around the fire for more medicinal drinks and medicinal toasted marshmallow sandwiches. Some nearly got to sunset, and therefore sunrise which typically happens 10 minutes later, either of which still hadn’t been seen by most.
Day 17 arrived, well for some but less well for those who had been trapped around the campfire by strong spirits. It was a mere 172km back to Anchorage, so there was no serious pressure but to arrive back to Motoquest intact at a reasonable hour. The glacier theme reached a crescendo with a stop planned to visit the Matanuska Glacier, one of few that can be reached and walked on easily. The road in was dusty and had disturbing overhanging glacial moraine cliffs, but no geotechnical dramas befell the group. After purchase of tickets and some Butterfingers at the office, the remaining mile or two was ridden to the car park.
The glacier sits in a river valley and is fairly flat at the end compared to most, so walking up onto it was no real struggle even for the strong spirit effected.
Glaciered out, we remounted and pressed on to a morning tea/lunch (munch) at Chickaloon that was designed to clean out the over-supply of snack foods that had accumulated in the support vehicle. With more chocolates consumed for a good cause and the Chickaloon ancient tractor and farm machinery display appreciated, we kept on in the rising heat with lowering enthusiasm as each passing mile meant the end was becoming nigh.
After a final re-group at the Anchorage welcome sign, nigh was reached at Motoquest at about 3:30pm after refuelling the bikes conga-line style for the final time. It hadn’t felt like 17 days prior we’d left the same carpark, so much fun and scenery had been experienced it felt a lot longer, but the trip had to end sometime. With a few wines and beers laid on by Motoquest quaffed and photos taken next to the trusty steeds, it was into the transit van and back to the Lakefront Hotel.
The finish was a team dinner in the hotel where speeches were made, and absolutely true and correct stories told with round after round of plain table water fuelling the laughter. A group of riders had become friends, and this blog series is dedicated to everyone on the first True North Alaska: Compass Leaders Justin and Bayne, Team Tassie (Tim, Karen, Bruce and Mause), the Coloradonese Alden, Jan, and Mike, fellow Brisbanians Nic and Margreth, fellow QLDer Richard O’Roma, Victorians Maxine and Peter and Trevor, SA’s Jake, and WA’s Patrick O’Perth. The hilarity just never ended and this trip will be very hard to beat.
End of Part Three, and Alaska.
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