through Alaska, were given to the
Soviet Union in the course of the war,
how times change.
Stopping at a gas station in Grande
Prairie I got talking to another biker
Gabe, an American.
The biking fraternity are very
gregarious always ready for a chat
but sadly this does not include Harley
Davidson riders, who for some
reason see themselves as superior
beings. I am not sure why, when all
they seem to do is pose, riding up
and down the blacktop with as few
corners as possible. Riding down
through California I was surrounded
by a multitude of Harley riders but
as soon as I crossed the border at
Tijuana into Mexico and this is no lie,
I did not see one Harley Davidson.
We discovered that we were both
making for Deadhorse so decided to
ride together for a while, a sensible
move as some of the roads were
going to be difficult and with not
much Couchsurfing in such a remote
area we could share a motel room.
Bear country. Fabulous! Wolves,
buffalo, moose, the brilliant coloured
fireweed, the endless road, the
difficult to cross expanded metal
bridges, forest fires. I just loved it.
Laura had educated me about
bears, if you meet a bear on the path
back away slowly. Never get between
a bear and her cubs. Black bears
climb trees brown bears don’t. Worst
case scenario, attack the bear. Yeah
right!
If you see a cougar always face
them, they won’t attack head on they
creep up behind you, very reassuring.
Dawson Creek, Fort St John,
Watson Lake, Whitehorse now in the
Yukon, magical times feeling like a
gold prospector.
Haines Junction and finally Tok,
Alaska. The Journey up the Alcan,
a story in itself. Gabe was picking
up new tyres in Anchorage, so we
turned south. I found a host, Ryan
from Seattle working in Anchorage
and living in a shotgun house, so
called because a bullet fired through
the front door would go right out the
backdoor without hitting a wall, but is
this an urban myth. Already staying
TRAVERSE 73