bigplatcool

In my last few musing I have referred to all the interesting people I have met. One positive point about travelling on your own, is the fact that you talk to far more people than you would if you were travelling with a partner or in a group.
I see this first hand with the Motoquest Tour that I am on at present. We tend to stick together.

Some of the most interesting people I have met have been in the oddest places.

During my ride across the Yukon, I stopped in two small places to refuel and in both places met very interesting people. These were Destruction Bay and Burwash Landing. It was obvious where Destruction Bay found its name. It was such a bleak and forbidding place that clearly, everything that arrived there, soon self destructed in self preservation. Where Burwash’s name came from took a bit more digging. I am still unable, even with the help of Wiki, to find out where the name comes from.

Traveling Grandparents at Destruction Bay. On the way to see Grandchildren in Whitehorse

Anyhow at Destruction Bay I was at the pumps and a Suzuki pulled in. Riding it was a male of Eskimo origin. He was in a hurry. I reckoned that Eskimo Bill had a bit of Eskimo Pie waiting for him somewhere. So I decided to show him what a GS Adventure could do.

Off I went, flat out. Wanted him to worry that someone else someone else might be in the hunt to harpoon his Eskimo Pie. He was up to the challenge. What was not up to the contest however, was his mount. he over took me about 20 miles out of Destruction Bay and thereafter all I saw for a while was his pipe. Exhaust that is. Then about 50 miles on he suddenly started falling apart. Like in the movies. Through a bit of gravel that did not slow Bonnie and I down one bit and the next thing, bits and pieces started falling off his bike. First his windshield, then one of the mud flaps, then some more plastic. I stopped to help him and to silently gloat a bit.

Eskimo Bills bike still in one piece before Bonnie shows him her derriere

I carried his bits to Burwash, where I stopped to wait for him. The thoughts of Eskimo Pie being on the receiving end of an Harpoon, not of his own doing, was clearly on his mind. That or he spoke no language known to me. No words, no thanks, no ” I lost” , just a guttural noise, gathered his bits and pieces , pushed them under other bits on his bike and he was off.

So  I am sitting there shaking my head and this tall, thin old man stumbles over to me.

Good morning he says in an European Accent. “I suppose I should call you Sir” he says.

I wondered how he knew that I had stuck it to Eskimo Bill? “Why” I inquired?

“Because” he says, “You ride the best motorbike in the world!” I wonder how he knows that Bonnie is the best ride in the world. Has he been able to compare her with Jayne, Spot or Lesley, as I have? Does he know that I have just shown Eskimo Bill the sharp end of an African Assagai? That this is the Assegai that has tamed the toughest mounts in the middle kingdom and fathered four children and now has grandchildren to boot.

He sees my bewilderment so he helps me out and says “BMW’s are the best in the world because they come from Berlin, which is where I come from!” Without stumbling he then tells me his story, which goes as follows:

His name is Siegfried Neuendorff. He was born in Berlin in the 1930’s and was forced to serve in the Hitler Jugend. At the fall of Berlin in 1944, he was captured by the Russians and shipped to a camp in Poland. He returned to Berlin in about 1948 at the time of the famous Berlin Airlift. He was taken under the wing of some Americans and ended up in Torrance, California in about 1950.

Siegfried Approaches a heavily laden Bonnie. About to call me Sir!

Soon afterwards he as he describes it “Receives a letter from the President inviting him to serve his country and accept a draft into the army.” Not yet a citizen he declines and is advised it is not optional. He reports for duty, receives basic training and is advised that he is on the way to war, for the second time in his life.

In a moment of brilliance he tells his CO that they are sending him to the wrong place because he speaks German, Russian and Polish. This will be of no use in Korea. For once the army shows some sense and reassigns him to a base near Frankfurt as an interpreter. There he stays for three years. As he does not drink, smoke or gamble – he proudly tells me all of the above are bad for your health – lethal he says, he returns to the US with money in his pockets and what is in 1954 a very rare item, a Mercedes Benz!!

He starts a small business, gets married and does quite well. A few years later when he and his wife are getting the hang of the American way of  life and in particular, the accumulation of material assets, she tells him one day that there are more meaningful things to do with their lives. All this time I am waiting for a request for money! I can smell it coming.

So they pack up, sell up and off they go to the Amazon River Delta, where they live amongst the local Indians for the next twenty years, teaching them carpentry, vegetable cultivation, basic heath care and how to read and write. He speaks fluent Portuguese and Spanish. Later they spend time doing the same thing in Peru. I tell him he should write a book. He tells me that he has and rushes off to get me a copy.

This is my favorite photo so far. He rushes off to get me a copy of his book. I see he was in a hurry leaving the loo and that the toilet paper is still hanging out of the top of his trousers

I have glanced through this and it is very interesting for sure and will be read. I offer him a donation for the book, which he readily accepts.

I did not see Eskimo Bill again, presumably Eskimo Pie has welcomed him back into her furnace.

Today I have taken the day off at the hotel in Fairbanks. The rest of the team have ridden to the so called Arctic Circle to have the obligatory photos taken against the sign. They are all trying to pack in as much motorbiking as possible. Their tour ends on Sunday when my big trip back only starts. Another 4000 miles in the following two weeks. I do not need this ride today, 400 miles there and back. To nowhere in particular. Eight to ten hours in the saddle.

I use the time to consolidate my things. Laundry done. Badly needed with everything starting to stink a bit. Although my socks and underpants are washed every night, as are my teeth brushed (my mother specifically instructed me to do this before going to bed and I always listen to her), this does not clean them like a washing machine. So they are now all in fine shape. My admin is also up to date, as are my e-mails.

It turns out to have been the right decision. The team leader, who is not the usual person has taken the wrong turn about 30 miles into the ride. There is only one road out and one fork in it and he takes the wrong one. Yes he is blond and his name is not coincidentally Dom! So they all ride 400 miles to nowhere in particular and return dirty and tired.

I have invited the Crosby’s, my Lake MacDonald friends for dinner. They come in from their cabin in the wilderness and we have a great meal at the Restaurant nearby. An excellent evening as well. I will see them again in the fall when Eveanne and I travel through New York State to Maine and New Brunswick. They live near the Finger Lake District which is of particular interest to me as it is an emerging wine growing area.

Tomorrow we leave towards Valdez and sleep midway in a place called Paxson.

Good Night and Good Luck

Copyright 2012.

It suddenly struck me about 60 miles from Fairbanks that I had screwed up.
This morning we all left Talkeetna promptly at 09h00. A perfect day with the promise of seeing Denali or Mt McKinley as it is properly named. The name of the mountain was changed from Denali, its native name, to McKinley in the early 1900’s by an Act of Congress following the assassination of President McKinley. In the US, no natural landmark can be named after a living person. Subsequently in the 1970’s the Alaskan House of representatives changed the name back to Denali and petitioned the US house to approve the name change as well,  but this has been blocked for years by the Congressman from Ohio, the home state of President McKinley. So the name remains officially as Mount McKinley, but everyone refers to it as Denali and the area surrounding it is known as the Denali National Park.

The mountain is truly imposing. The main reason  for this is that it has a higher vertical rise from its base than does Everest. It stretches over 16000 feet from the bottom where as Everest has about 14000 ft from base camp to the summit, or  so I am told by Peter, who I meet at the view point. He writes for Outdoor Life Magazine, lives in Talkeetna, has a top end fly fishing tour company and should therefore know these things.His brother Tim is also there with more camera equipment than Harold Bloch and he appears to know what to do with it as well. he is a fellow of the American Society of Photographers. He also gives me his card. They have my newly Anchorage printed Moreson cards. If you have time look at his website at http://www.panoscenes.com and you will see some truly amazing photography.

Biker Pilot Conquers Denali

When we arrived at the view site, some 40 miles from the base of the mountain, it was shrouded in clouds although the weather elsewhere was perfect. It has its own weather system due to a combination of prevailing winds and Geography. As if on cue, the clouds parted for us and we were afforded an magnificent view of the summit.

Denali peeks out of the clouds

From there we went to the visitor center. I then decided to skip lunch as these are becoming drawn out affairs and head straight for Fairbanks. I figured this would give me an extra two hours to catch up on some writing and my laundry, much needed I might add.

So off I went, leaving all behind. Balls to the wall, enjoying the freedom of not having to ride in a group. About 60 of the 120 miles to Fairbanks behind me I suddenly realised that I had seriously messed up

You have to know I am approaching the stage of my life at which my short term memory is often the shortest thing in my body. Not always as the comparative item is dependent on whom and what I am thinking about. Thoughts and dreams of Bonnie, Jane, Spot and Lesley, particularly Lesley definitely make my short term memory the loser in this competition, loosely speaking of course!

What I had forgotten is that when we set off this morning, for the first time on the trip, I had dumped all my gear in the support van. So all the stuff I needed. My dirty clothes, my laptop, my iPad etc was not with me and was in fact about two hours behind me in a Merc Sprinter. I was not about to turn around so I just slowed down and relaxed.

As a result I went into Nenana, a small riverside town about 50 miles from Fairbanks to look for something to eat. I did not find anything really good, but what I did find was Don Bauer, all the way from Southern California on Bonnie’s identical twin. A 30 year anniversary edition GS 1200 Adventure. That is where the comparisons ended. His girl had had a major amount of  cosmetic surgery done to her care of his fine hands. Almost every modification one could think of. He took great pride in explaining them all to me and gave me full details of where the basic stuff came from. The one I liked the most was the shotgun with a folding stock with a special quick access holder in the one pannier. There in case the bears or tequila kings of Mexico were after him. His girl is the same age as Bonnie, exactly but she already has 37000 miles under her belt in two and a bit years. He is a hard core biker. 68 years old and he looks great.

Don Bauers Girl

Three days earlier in Anchorage, in the parking lot, Homer and his wife walked over to talk to me. She gave me hell because she said I was parked in a handicap bay. I had not realised I was. She asked me what my handicap was? I told her 15. She was not amused. Homer nearly wet his pants and he chirped that it was because I rode a BMW! In a heavy southern accent he then told me proudly that he was 93 ( he looked no more than about 75 and very fit). He rides a Harley and flies. I asked in what? A Cessna 185 he tells me. He says old “Crotchety” his wife is 82 and she also flies it. I am almost knocked flat. This is a serious aircraft and not for cissies. Goes to prove my point about Biker Pilots and Biker Chick Pilots.

So that aside, Don “The Man” Bauer and I part company and will re-establish this shorty as there is some of my stuff that he wants as well. An hour later I am at the hotel waiting for my kit, which eventually arrives as we are about to leave for dinner.

Tomorrow there is an out ride to the Arctic Circle. I have decided not to go as it is a bit pointless. 200 miles there and 200 miles back. 400 miles in total, much of it on very poor roads, just to have your photo taken at a sign. Instead I will use the morning to catch up on some things and in the afternoon I will go to the Chena Hot Springs. I am told that they are stunning and I plan to lie in them for an hour to sooth the body, which is now feeling a bit battered.

In the evening I am going to my Lake McDonald (remember the Glacial Lake swim in the Montana Glacier National Park) friends, the Crosby’s house and then we will all go out for dinner. I have contacted them and they are delighted, or so they say, to see me.

With all this in mind and the fact that on Thursday we ride to Paxson and then from there to Valdez on Friday, a total of about 300 miles, I have decided to give the mad dash to the Arctic circle a miss. This plus the fact that as you will see below I still have a wee bit of riding to come.

Then on Saturday my long haul back to Michigan starts with some very big days riding in the early stages as I go through Dawson City on the “Road over the Top of the World”.  Lots of dirt and I need to be fairly fresh for this and then for the balance of the 3700 miles that I will cover in the following two weeks.

I am battling to upload my photo’s due to a very slow connection and will do so overnight and then re-post them in this blog. If any of you want access to more of my photos please let me know, as I have a shared Dropbox folder, to which I will happily give you access.

Two last observations before I go to bed.

Firstly, I have never seen flowers and flower gardens to equal the ones in Alaska. At first I could not work it out as it is never warm here. It is of course a matter of “light hours”only and the laws of photo synthesis. At this evenings restaurant there was, in their garden, the biggest cabbage I have ever seen and a stunning display of flowers.

Giant Cabbage. See Human hand in photo for comparison

Secondly, I have never seen so many bad airfields. In Alaska if you can land a plane in a space, then it is immediately s=designated as an airfield. Wherever you look, there is an area  hewn out between some trees and flattened. Like mosquitos, immediately thereafter, some Super Cubs arrive and are tied down. Last night walking to dinner, I saw two Super Cubs tied down at the end of the main road. I could not even see the runway at first. Then I realised it was the small road leading off the main road.

Tarkeetna Town Runway. Fly in for dinner takes a new meaning

Main Street Parking Super Cubs in background

So until tomorrow and some serious writing. I will try and recreate my bankers Opus.

Good Night and Good luck

Copyright 2012

The end point of yesterdays “tester” dirt ride

Biker Pilot passes the test

Last night it was five star luxury in Alyeska and tonight it is at the opposite end of the spectrum. The Swiss Inn, very rudimentary, but spotlessly clean. Similar to my second night on the road, then in Fountain City.

It has been more than a few weeks now and nearly 7000 miles are behind me. That will pass by tomorrow between here and Fairbanks. So we are near the base of Denali, more commonly known as Mt. McKinley, the highest mountain in North America and one of the must do mountains if you are serious climber.

This is also the end stop of the Alaska Railway which runs from Seward which is where we were yesterday through Anchorage to here. It is peak tourist season and the cruise boats dock in Seward. These trusting unsuspecting souls are then put on the train or in busses and brought here. The only thing is you cannot see the mountain. It is covered in clouds and it has rained all day. Nothing unusual here.

Seward with Cruise ship in harbour

On the way back from Seward to Girdwood. Boring!

In fact, when I woke up it was immediately apparent that this was going to be a wet gear day. The rain was streaming down. There was a time when I would never ride in the rain, or play golf, or walk or camp. It is now all old hat. Here as the Beetles sang “Why don’t we do it in the road”, just substitute “rain” for “road” and you have the jist of things.

Our route takes us back through Anchorage, then up to Palmer, lunch at Independence Mine and then an “optional” dirt road over Hatcher Pass to Willow and then on to Talkeetna.

Independence Mine – Lunch before the Mud Slide

Of course, unless you are riding a Harley, two couples are, these are not really optional. So we are all onto the dirt. Just looking at the road I knew it was going to be a nightmare. Wet, dark clay surface and more rain barreling down.

Getting Ready for the Mud

So off we went. As I suspected it was like a wet mirror. Brendan, the tour guide went first, then a married couple with Paula who was a naval officer and is clearly very together going second. I decided to hang back and watch the action. There had to be some action. Oddly enough it came much later than expected. We had all traversed the really difficult stuff, just before the top of the pass and then going down hill. Going downhill, on wet and muddy dirt is never my best. A bit like keeping going post the big O. You are finished but you have to keep moving.

So just after the really messy bit as I came around a corner people were running everywhere and one of the guys, Justin from NYC,  a Banker, had slid off the road and into a ditch. I suppose it is what you would expect from “A Justin” and “A banker” to boot.

End of the Bad, No more wet patches or so we thought

Fortunately he was OK, a testament to wearing the proper protective gear. He wears Klim stuff, the best in the West. He is shaken up and a bit sore. A quick check shows everything working. Five of us jump into the mud in the ditch and man handle the bike out. Yuck! The bike is not in such good shape. The whole instrument panel, windscreen and front end is hammered. However it is a BMW and still works, so he has to ride it on until the support vehicle, it has driven on the tar, can assist with temporary repairs. It is a Motoquest owned bike. Justin will only have a big bill to show for his learning curve. Nothing a UBS banker cannot deal with.

Justin does a Simon

This is where he ended up. It is deeper than it looks. About three feet. Remains of Windshield on road

This riding has however, made me very tired. I have to adopt the standing position with Bonnie. She is not quite the right height for me. I need handle bar height extensions as I have to stoop. This is extremely uncomfortable and hurts my back as I have to bend it all the time to keep in the slot.

High heels would help and get her up to the right height for me in this position. As I have previously discussed, standing is the very best position for a difficult ride. It gives one the leverage you need to control and dominate your mount. Ending up with a sore back diminishes the pleasure one gets from doing it this way.

Nevertheless, Bonnie and I make it to the end. Spot in SA is better set up to get down and dirty. She is a bit taller. Longer legs, so to speak and at the right height for me to stand and drive her using my hips and the full force of my upper body. Jayne, in the UK, is the urban lady. Standing up for the rough and ready, is not her thing. Rather take her down Silver Street or on the A 414 to Cambridge. She would have hated today.

I have learnt from the debacle of loosing my “Bankers and the world Economic mess” debacle and this blog is being written in Word, saved on my computer and in the “Cloud” and then will be posted.

Alaska has a very short summer season and everyone has to make hay whilst the sun is shining. So all the tourist related activities are full to brimming. You cannot hire a car, rent a motorbike or find a room. On top of this they only have a four to five month window in which the roads can be repaired or rebuilt. Buildings fixed and new things constructed. So you are held up everywhere.

The group I am riding with is starting to gel, most of us that is. Generally they are a very nice bunch. A few Biker Pilots as well. As with all these things there are always a few Ponces. We only have two. They have to ride faster, talk louder and pump their own egos. I fully expected one of the two to be the person in the ditch. It was not to be and the Justin Banker is actually like the Justin Nephew, a really nice guy!

Tomorrow sees us in Fairbanks. The second biggest city in Alaska and I am meeting up with Stephen and Luanne, who could not believe that I have contacted them, for dinner.

I hope we get to see Denali in all its glory.

Lastly a very happy birthday to Sharry Banner for the 31^st.

An Aircraft crossing. Cars get to wait here.

Coffee stop Alaskan Style. Coffee maker from New Zealand. Dog from the First Nations

Till the next blog.

Good Night and Good Luck

So five star luxury tonight in the leading Alaskan Ski resort, but it does not have Wi Fi in the rooms. I am sitting in the lounge getting this off.

Hoping that I do not have a repeat of yesterdays loss, not loose, of all the hard work. The Opus about Bankers. Two whole days now floating around in cyber space. I am in the process of recreating it.

My Sunday started badly. This was to be the first day of my Motoquest tour and all I had to do was be at their offices by 10h00. As the offices are less than 10 minutes from my hotel, no problem. A great dinner last night to meet the team and early to bed. All packed up and ready to go, almost. what could go wrong?

The first thing was a phone call from my dear friend Harold at 01h00 in the morning. A serious issue to  be sorted out. His iTunes account had run out of money. This needs me to sort it out as he is now almost a bachelor and therefore technically incapable of these things. So I could not go back to sleep. Two hours reading. Then at about 03h00 I made the mistake of reading my mail. An urgent please for assistance from cousin dearest. So now the mind was really working.

So mail composed and around 06h00 a telephone call to the UK. More documents and so on until sure as hell I missed the 10h00 deadline and only got there at 10h30. One other complication as well. In my selective thin out of gear I sent my tried and tested bag back, full to Michigan and bought a smaller waterproof bag. However it is so much smaller that my residual shit did not fit into it, so a quick trip to REI for a repeat purchase of the original.

On my own for the first 100 miles to catch up the gang, a great and very beautiful ride from Anchorage via Girdwood to Seward. Seward is in effect Anchorage’s harbour and is physically very stunning. In a Fjord, it is a real fishing village. Lunch with all and then back to Girdwood and the Alyseska via Hope.

When we arrived here, Brendan the young hotshot tour leader announced that for those who wished to partake, there was a small off road ride. “About 30 kms to an old mine on a well prepared gravel road/path”. I have heard this shit before. It is the epic sort the men out from the boys early on stuff. So nowhere to hide. The woeses riding Harley’s were definitely out. They all had girls with them and therefore other things to do on arrival. Some of the big mouths on BMW’s also bailed quickly. In the end five of us went. As I suspected it was anything but easy. However I ditched all my peripherals beforehand. Luggage, Panniers, Tank Bag and spare tires. Also having learned from Jan Du Toit, down went the tire pressure and I was ready.

So I am proud to say I did not let the SA Men down, unlike the Stormers, another bunch of Bishop’s morphies. we arrived after much tail sliding at the old gold mine entrance and  a waterfall of unimaginable beauty. Unfortunately this is not the place to upload anything.

Then back. Now the pace was really picked up by young “Rocket Man” to the extent that at one point around one of the corners I managed to do a Valentino Rossi slide and my “rocket pocket” underpants are soaking in my basin, having needed a full wash. But I am here and the ridicule will be reserved for the Harley boys.

So tomorrow up to Denali and lots more dirt. This is good as it is real riding.
I cannot be late so it is good night blog and off to bed.

Good Night and Good Luck

Copyright 2012.

Hello All

I worked for two days on an epic post titled “Bankers and views on the World economy” > I posted it a few minutes ago and it disappeared. Normally I prepare my work using word and then copy it into the WordPress. This time I did not and it has vanished when I hit the “Publish” button.

I am really sorry because it was two days work which I thought was backed up and although I say it myself, it was hard hitting and good reading. I am now getting ready for the start of my ride tomorrow and it is too late to start again.

I am going to search for it. Two days of work wasted. I have had a few mails complaining that I am loosing my edge. No more sexual bite. Please believe me I am as loaded as ever. The fact is I arrived in Anchorage exhausted. A bit over 2200 miles ridden between Tuesday 17 July and Wednesday 25 July with one day off. This averages out a little over 300 miles per riding day. It has been tough going and once here I had a number of things to take care of.

I had shipped a bag here with clean clothes. So I unpacked everything in my room and then have been repacking it and slimming down what I have. I shipped back 47 lbs on FedEx yesterday.

This is what came off Bonnie. Includes Metal side panniers plus bag and FedEx box shipped from Michigan

Tomorrow we start riding again. I have met everyone in the group and we had dinner together. A really nice bunch plus some pilots. The most interesting of whom is Dianne. She is an A330 captain with US Airways. A Biker Pilot. Her husband is also along. He is just a biker!

I am going to try to find the missing blog.

Until then

Good Night and Good Luck

Copyright 2012.

At about 08h00 this morning it started, the noise of a piston aircraft engine revving for take off. Since then it has been going virtually all day. For some this might be a massive annoyance. For me, it is music in my ears.

Floatplane heaven. Look beyond the yellow plane

Just a few more

Typical dock and cabin on Lake Hood with owners land plane also there

Yield to all aircraft

The Seaplane airport. The Lake is a registered airport subject to FAA control, not Water Affairs

A Beaver taxis out past me

To better enjoy the spectacle I was out relatively early, this is not an early start city. I suspect it has something to do with balancing the very short winter days with allowing everyone to enjoy the equally short summer. As I remarked to someone here today, A good summer day here (which it was today, clear skies, 22 C and a slight nip in the air), is the equivalent of a great winter’s day in the Cape (It might even be a bit warmer in the Cape).

A Take Off sequence

Up Up

And about to be away

Just landed

So today has been a day for flying and riding. But Bonnie went in for a quick “perk me up”, an oil and plug change. Plus I had ordered new tires before I set out to be waiting for us here. I am not putting them on, as we had new rubber fitted in Vancouver. The difference in riding since then has been remarkable. If you are going to use a rubber, it needs to be the right type for the road. No point in having rough riders with a young tight frisky girl, save them for the worn out older chicks. So I have easy gliders fitted.

Lake Hood Sea Plane Airport

At the BMW dealer I run into Rick again. he is here to get some spares and then off on his travels. This time he gives me his contact details. he is in the aviation game near Winnipeg. I might pop in on the way back.

The dealer lent me a Triumph to ride. It is not a bad bike but it was like a date with no empathy. We spent the day together is all I can say and we got wherever we had to go. This was to Lake Hood where I found an epic spot and sat on the grass watching the activity. There are more seaplanes here than there are light aircraft at Lanseria and Rand combined and more, I suspect than in the UK and in Germany. The land aircraft park has more tail draggers than I have ever seen in one place. And it is all part of the main International Airport. For the uneducated and ignorant, a tail dragger has a small wheel at the tail and it sits when on the ground with its tail down. Whereas most modern aircraft have a nose wheel and sit on the ground with the tail up. Tail draggers are much more difficult to fly but offer significantly better short field performance than a nose wheel equipped aircraft.

My mate Rick. This is how Canadian Tough Men ride. He actually has the real kit!

Aviation is the life blood of Alaska. without small planes Alaska could not and would not function. So they have their priorities here. Aircraft take precedence over virtually everything. The aircraft are of every shape and size under the sun. The old aircraft that you see in “Ice Pilots” and “Alaska Bush Pilots”, are all around. there is almost nothing which shines and sparkles. On the Lake each owner has what appears to be a jetty and a small shed in which to store their belongings. Some of the aircraft are simply tied down, as they are at most of the airfields at each little town I rode through. Scully, this is Super Cub heaven. One in two aircraft is a Super Cub. Other than that Cessna’s are the crown princes and Beavers are the Kings here.

Tail dragger at Tok Airport

Here you can land your aircraft on the water. Provided it is properly equipped, you can taxi it out and across the freeway to the International Airport terminal and drop your passengers off right next to the Cathay Pacific 747 on which they are going to Hong Kong. This is peak season here, for tourism, fishing  and hunting. So the aircraft are busy. This is when the pilots and the operators make their money. everyone works on a contract and does not get paid for the winters other than a handful of technicians and some very hardy pilots. The very long days mean that lots of flying can be done

There have been significant changes taking place in US aviation during the past few weeks. The FAA (Federal Aviation Administration) operates as a law unto itself, often denying pilots and operators, whom they merely suspect of having committed and infringement, of the most basic of legal rights. This was done under legislation which dates back to the early 1950’s. Anyhow one of the current Senators, also a pilot, fell afoul of the FAA for a minor mistake and was subjected to same treatment as many other pilots have been. The net upshot has been a new “Pilots Bill of Rights”. See below:

Rep. Sam Graves (R-Mo.), co-chair of the House GA Caucus and GA Caucus member Rep. Dan Lipinski (D-Ill.) have pushed the Pilot’s Bill of Rights past its final legislative hurdle and on to the president’s desk. The legislation, championed by Sens. James Inhofe (R-Okla.) and Mark Begich (D-Alaska), co-chair of the Senate GA Caucus, stands to lift a veil of secrecy from investigations and reverse the presumption of guilt that pilots subject to certificate action have always faced.

“For a long time, pilots have expressed frustration about the treatment they receive during an FAA enforcement proceeding. It tends to be a guilty-until-proven-innocent process,” said Graves. “The Pilot’s Bill of Rights is intended to address this and other issues that, in some cases, actually lead to an FAA enforcement action.”

“Passage of the Pilot’s Bill of Rights is a much-needed step toward improving communications between pilots and the FAA and ensuring that vital safety-related information reaches those who need it most,” Lipinski said.

At least democracy is alive and well in the US, for all its other flaws.
At A

My day has mainly been spent sorting out my kit, of which I have far too much. My aim has been to halve what I am carrying. This has not been possible, but inroads have been made a heap of stuff will go back to Michigan via FedEx. My rerouting back has also been organised and the new itinerary will see me back in Michigan about four days earlier than planned. I have a lot to do there so this will be welcome and it will also mean that I will get to the UK on or ahead of schedule and back to SA on time.

Tomorrow I will pack it all up, write a lot more than I have recently, visit the nearby aviation museum and, I forgot, collect the new Moreson business cards that I am having printed. I had run out because between my new bosses, Nikki and VV, they have kept me so busy on the wine side that the 50 card I brought along are out.

Once again I was given a lesson in the power of the internet and technology. Nikki e-mailed the artwork for me card to me in a PDF file. I then went to the printers armed with my iPhone. There I forwarded the e-mail to them and “Bobs your Uncle”, they were ready to rock and roll.

Anchorage is a real frontier town, much like Upington. People are very friendly and everyone  will make a plan to help you. I like this and always have. Winter’s could be very tough here. At least I would have Bonnie to keep me warm.

Tonight I am treating myself to the best seafood restaurant in town for Oysters and Alaskan King Crab legs. As I finish this off the aircraft are still taking off from right outside the hotel.

Good night and good luck!

Passing the Matanuska Glacier I am once again in awe of the scale of things here. This glacier, situated about 100  miles form Anchorage, runs for about 50 miles from the peaks of the Chugach Mountains down into the valley below. Even though everything around it is green and melted, this frozen river survives and slowly moves forward, hiding who knows what secrets.
Last night I had dinner with my two new Swiss friends, Annie and Patrick. I met them the night before at Haines Junction over dinner and we have agreed to meet at Fast Eddy’s for diner in Tok. They are both bikers, but not here on their bikes. They are driving. Their personal situation is also confusing. I am not sure if they are an item or not. More about them in a later blog.
This morning I meet and have breakfast with the owner of the BMW F800GS, this is Bonnie’s smaller brother, which has been parked next door over night. It and he look like they have been through a mud battle ground. His name is Richard as well and he calls himself Rick. They have done the Dawson City – Klondike – Chicken Run. We discuss this and laugh when he tells me about a German he came across, who had been high sided off his bike. This is when you do a Neil Berry, and launch yourself into outer space over your handle bars. Apparently he did not have his helmet chin guard down and as a result he came down on the windshield and significantly altered his face. His riding partner had patched him up using duct tape and it did not look pretty. All this guy was able to do was cry about the fact that his bike had got so dirty. Forget his face and the damage to everything. It was the dirt and mud on his baby that was playing hell with him. So the two of us were hysterical over coffee.
Shortly after leaving Tok I see a huge and impressive snow clad mountain in front of me. Denali! Or so I assume. Then I look at my map. It is not possible as Denali is miles away. This is Mt. Sanford and behind it, equally impressive is Mt. Blackburn. Both about 16300 ft. Well short of Denali’s 20320 ft.

The ride does not look far on the map, however it is nearly 330 miles. Not a  nothing ride and will take about 7 hours. In fact it takes less. Mainly because I am overtaken by the Swiss in their car and they then give it real stick. I am able to tuck in behind them and enjoy about 150 miles of really high speed moving. However, the one driving is driving like a madman/woman and I decide to drop back. This is fortunate and more about it in a later blog, because they become a guest, for a short while, of the Alaska State Troopers.

My hotel in Anchorage, The Millenium is on the shores of Lake Hood. This is adjacent to the Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, which is no more than a mile away. Now Lake Hood is the largest operational float plane airport and base in the world. It forms and integral part of the main airport. So you can float plane in and get a bus to your flight to the rest of the world. There are over 300 float planes based here.

Every house has a plane docked in front of it. It is wall to wall float planes! I walk out of the front of the hotel onto the patio for a drink and am dumbfounded. In the morning I will take pictures.

Some interesting facts about Alaska.

• It is the largest state in the US
• Its land area at 586,412 square miles (1,518,800 km²) isover twice the size of Texas, the next largest state.
• Alaska is larger than all but 18 sovereign countries.
• Counting territorial waters, Alaska is larger than the combined area of the next three largest states: Texas, California, and Montana.
• It is also larger than the combined area of the 22 smallest U.S. states.
• Over 85 % of all the communities have no road serving them at all. The only access is by water, in summer and by air all year round.

Tomorrow I will go to the Alaska Aviation Museum which is a short walk away.

So in my next few days I am going to cover some really interesting and juicy stuff, including inter alia

• Flying Alaska style, this is tail dragger country
• My thoughts on whether I prefer flying to motorbiking or vice versa
• The state of the world economy, my views on it
• More levels of “Strike Outs”
• The second worst hamburger in North America, again in Canada.
• Dicing with Eskimo Bill between Destruction Bay and Burwash. He looses!
• Siegfried Neuendorff, another random character I meet, also in Burwash.
• The Swiss fall afoul of the cops. how they ever thought they could get the better of a Biker Pilot I do not know.
• I will start explaining to all the girls why they should have a Biker Pilot, something that my DD ( Darling Dearest) has known for years. But for all you girls married to, or involved with boring bankers, accountants, doctors etc, the secrets of true female happiness and bliss, will slowly be revealed.
• I decide to do the mud run over Taylor Highway to Dawson City on the way back to Michigan.

My room looks like an atom bomb has hit it. I have dumped everything I have had packed, the bags, panniers and dry bags on the floor and am slowly sorting through everything. I had also sent a bag of extra stuff to Anchorage to await my arrival. Why, I know not as I have too much as it is. My plan is to ship most of the surplus stuff back tomorrow or on Friday and travel much lighter for the balance of the trip.

I had hoped to star uploading some photos, but two hours later my Mac has run out of disk space and I am making a plan.

Good Night and Good Luck until the morning

Copyright reserved 2012

9200 kms later I have crossed into Alaska and in so doing I have fulfilled one of my long time dreams.

This has been a hard days riding on the worst roads to date.

I am staying in the metropolis of Tok which reminds me of Katima in the Caprivi strip. It is a real frontier town. Harold I am sure that they can fix your tow bar here.

Bonnie is dirty, but she and I have had an exhilarating day. She has been ridden hard and fast in various positions.

Next to my motel is the renowned “Fast Eddy’s” restaurant. I am taking my new best Swiss friends, Annie and Patrick there for dinner. Although they do not take reservations, Jacky at reception has been sweet talked into keeping a table for me. It is amazingly busy and the fresh salad bar has my name on it.

So all my adoring sports fans, the bad news is that you are going to have to wait for the next full blog as I am taking the night off and we are going to give it a bit of hell.

So those of you who are used to your morning fix over a fresh cup of home made coffee, a latte, A cup of boiling water, a boob milkshake or whatever. The next big update will be on Thursday Alaska time. It will, I promise you, have lots of juicy morsels in it. For your information I am now 10 hours behind the civilised world of SA and therefore officially on the other side of the world.
Good night and good luck.

I have updated yesterdays blog with some pictures. I think I exhausted the Dawson Peaks bandwidth and could not upload any pictures.
This morning I decided to make a detour on my way to Whitehorse and route via Carcross. Formerly known as Caribou Crossing, this has now been shortened into its current form. Carcross is on the route into Skagway, There are two famous dead end routes which start on the Alaska Highway, both of which towns are in the USA and not Canada. If you look at the map of Alaska, it has a slice that runs down the coast between the sea and British Columbia. There are these two small villages nestled into the glaciers and the sea that draw literally hundreds of thousands of visitors every year, being Haines and Skagway. Almost every visitor comes to them by sea in the huge cruise ships which leave Seattle and Vancouver and which then sail up the Inner Channel, then through Princess Charlotte’s Sound and from there up the Chilkoot Inlet. This inlet has mountainous glaciers towering thousands of feet above the sea, literally meters from the boats. It is home to some of the most exotic forms of sea life and marine birds.

View riding into Carcross. Skagway glaciers in the background

Famous Railway Bridge in Carcross

Ticket Agent at Carcross Station

The only way to travel from Haines to Skagway directly is via a ferry. The alternative is a 600 mile road trip. If you start in Haines, you drive back to Haines Junction and then down the Alaska Highway to Whitehorse and from there through Carcross and on to Skagway. In both cases you will have to pass through customs and immigration twice in each direction. I was not going all the way to Skagway, only to Carcross which is about 60 kms of a 160 km road.

The ride was, as all of them have been mind blowing. Shortly before turning off the Alaska Highway I stopped at Jakes Crossing to fill up with gas. I noticed a BMW 1200 GSA like Bonnie with its rider underneath it. So I went over to help. I had never seen his problem on a BM in all 25 years I have owned them. His drive shaft was leaking oil. It had been to the BMW dealer in Fairbanks for another problem and this was the outcome. More embarrassingly his riding partner was on a Harley and we both had to endure 200 tons of Harley “shit”. Anyway although I had all the correct torx sockets we were not able to fix the leak. They then told me that the BM dealer in Fairbanks has recently been acquired by the Harley Dealer. This explains the poor work. Remember that I had the same experience with my tire.

So I gave them the name of the dealer in Whitehorse and off I went. ON the way I saw baby bear in the middle of the road wandering along. I put Bonnie in neutral and idled up to him/her, hoping to get close enough for a camera shot. as soon as Baby realised I was there he was off like a shot and no photo.

I have seen a disappointing amount of game. everyone tells me how many bears they have seen. It is like the lion in the Kalahari, I always hear about how many everyone else sees. So I have this dominant male theory. All wild animals are territorial and whenever a really dominant male appears in the area, all but the most vigorous of males duck for cover. This has to be the reason that I get to see so little of these animals.
On the way I pass Emerald Lake. The intense colour is caused by the formation of “marl” on the bed of the lake. This comes from the limestone hills in the area and the Lime combines with the Calcium to form Calcium Carbonate (CaCO3) for the chemists. this reflects the light and gives the water the intense colour you see in the  photos.

Emerald Lake

Then back onto the Alaska Highway to Whitehorse and the Yukon Liquor Board. As I am arriving, the Snowbirds also arrive in formation with their support aircraft. I make a note to tell the Canadian Government that this level of adulation is not necessary and they do not have to send the whole team to meet me in every stop over.

The people I have to meet at the Liquor Board must have thought I was joking when I said I was coming by motorbike to see them. When I arrived they came running out to look on in amazement and I was ushered into the head of the boards office for an introduction. An hour later I went to see their store in town and was proudly shown Miss Molly “In my bed” on the shelves. It commands a better price than a Graham Beck Red blend and a Saxonberg Red Blend. It is also selling well.

Famous sign for Whitehorse Airport

Miss Molly In my Bed on the shelf in Whitehorse

At about 16h00 I hit the road for Haines Junction. This is where you drive to Haines. It is nessled between the glaciers and I have lucked in on the accommodation this time, with a great single room suite at a small B and B. I have dinner at a small Hungarian Restaurant and meet a young Swiss couple going in the same direction and also staying over in Tok tomorrow evening. After a beer and good laugh we arrange to travel together and have dinner in Tok tomorrow evening.
It is now very late here. After midnight and finally dark.

My next blog will be from Alaska. All going well I should cross the order before lunch. I then loose another hour of time and will be 12 hours behind SA.

Good night and good luck

I have caught up the backlog. Before reading this episode, please read the earlier one published a few minutes ago. I will not be expanding on the strike outs in this blog, so that there is no confusion in the order.

So this morning, the Thomsons, Lindsay and Marian from Pender Island joined me at breakfast. This island neighbours Salt Spring and has a population of roughly 2000 permanent inhabitants versus Salt Spring’s 10000.

He was formerly an international executive for Alcan now part of BHP Billiton.

They ride whenever they get the chance. She has her own bike but prefers to do the longer trips on the back of his KTM. At breakfast, Dave the owner of Dawson Peak, joins us. He moved here about 39 years ago and started building the lodge in late 1973, just ahead of the winter.

The first building was tent structure that still sits inside the now main building. Slowly, over the next 30 years he added to the buildings. His home was originally a six-sided log building and now is a very nice home on the water. He has a motel structure with about 10 rooms , six small cabins away from the water and then three larger cabins on the water, one of which is the one I am staying in.

Inside the old tent. Marian, Dave and Lindsay

Before coming to Teslin, Dave worked as a teacher in Vernon, a small town in the Okanagan Valley. Remember sports fans this is where Penticton is. Home to the hottest women in the BC wine business, Cynthia and Miranda. This is where Lithe Leslie dropped in and out of my life for a brief and frustrating period. This is where wines nearly as good as Môreson’s are made.

He could not see himself getting old and fat as a schoolteacher or becoming an even fatter school Principal. He wanted to travel and do something that gave him lots of time off. He was also a trained carpenter so he came to the Yukon looking for adventure and ended up in Teslin. The Yukon has clearly been good to him. 65 years of age and in great shape.

The only problem he has is that he is deaf and needs hearing aids. He tells me this started due to his work as a carpenter but the defining moment was when he was attacked on his porch by a predatory bear and he had to shoot it. The resulting echo, because he was under a low metal roof, left him completely deaf for three days. Over the years, he has had to shoot bears in the building area on three occasions due their aggression

Once here, he started working as a teacher and used the money he earned to first build his cabin and then expand his operation until it was self funding. He has built everything himself. Today, he and Caroline, his third wife, only open the operation during the summer months and then they go down to their house in Vernon. They then use this to travel throughout the world. Nothing fancy, they use local busses in South America, Asia and Africa and stay wherever. The first two Mrs. Dave’s could not survive Teslin having come from big cities, the latest, Caroline comes from the Yukon and has no problem with the relative isolation. She too loves travelling.

So Dave regales us with great stories of the Yukon, having travelled extensively throughout the area. Mainly on his motorcycle. Catherine also has a motorbike. Dave rides a Harley but I forgive him, as he seems to ride it everywhere. Gravel roads do not appear to worry him. I know he really wants a BeeMer.

We talk about the First Nations with whom he has worked for many years. They have the same alcohol and crack cocaine related problems facing our coloured community. Many of these small Indian communities are “dry” in an attempt to try and counteract the problem. However he says that whenever they get to one of the bigger towns, with money in their pockets from a payday, it goes out of the door and into a bottle in minutes.

Lindsay inquires about the long days in summer and short nights in winter. At Dawson City well North of here, on the evening of the summer solstice if you stand on the top of the hill overlooking the town, the sun only briefly touches the horizon. So it is light all day. In winter there is only twilight for a few hours, otherwise it is dark. Depression is a real problem in these communities.

However on the other hand the tribal elders and chiefs show more intelligence than our fine friends back home. The tribe in this area, having received a multi million dollar settlement from the Government for some previous, knew that they had to put their money to work, failing which it would inevitably run out.

So as a first off guided by some of the younger hotheads, they bought a local sawmill, ejected the existing management and installed some of their tribes people in to run. Needless to say it cratered.

But at least they learnt. Now they have specialist outside feasibility studies done before making any investments. After investing they leave the existing management in place and then introduce their people via a long-term mentorship program. Needless to say it has been a resounding success. Anybody listening in Pretoria or whatever it is called now.

Dave tells us that they are not reopening next year. They want to travel in the Yukon and Alaska. The only time in which one can do this is the three months of summer between early June and mid September. By this time the overnight temperatures are already below 0 and ice is already forming in the lakes and rivers. Dave is planning a 700-mile trip down the Yukon River and back in small aluminium hulled boat he has here. One of the ones we went fishing in last night. About 15 feet long with a 20 HP Honda motor. The trip will take about three months and the river is navigable the whole way. This sounds like a much better deal to me than paddling for months. Like the difference between what Max is doing and what I am doing.

So Lindsay and I have pointers for current and future trips. Lindsay and Marian are headed for Whitehorse via Atlin, one more must see but not in this trip for me. Included in my next trip will also be Skagway and Haines. Both on one way roads and in the USA (Alaska). So to get to them you leave Canada go into the Us and then back out of the US and into Canada again. I will however make a small diversion to Carcross in the morning on my way to Whitehorse.

Lindsay and Marian are debating riding all the way up to Inuvik. This is a huge undertaking on gravel and shale roads for about 800km. I look at it on the map. It is on the Beaufort Sea in the Artic Circle. Also known as the Arctic Ocean. Remember this, as it will a quiz question at some point. The road crosses the mighty Mackenzie River. I am not sure of the point, as much of the route will be tundra. Maybe on a KTM you need the bragging rights. Lindsay and Marian are a couple with whom I would like to one day do a trip together.

Lindsay and Dave swap notes about travelling in China in the late 1960’s when everyone was dressed as a Mao look alike. Phuket before it was commercialized, Bolivia, Peru and Africa. We laugh at Dave’s stories and make mental notes.

Then the Thompsons have to leave. They are meeting people in Whitehorse this evening. First Lindsay gets on. A sort of a hop and a skip. I have to get on like this as well. Not my usual professional mount and slip in to place. The gap into which I have to fit is narrow. This normally presents only slight challenges. Now technique is all-important. On one side as I approach is the saddlebag and on the other is the big bag containing my clothes. So I lift my leg up as if I was going to do the hurdles and then simultaneously, as it goes through the gap, I hop twice to get it to the point that I can simply slide into place, ensconced in/on Bonnie.

Lindsay is on first

Lindsay gets on before Marian. He has to because he has a stiff leg and has not yet developed my technique. I do not want to show him how. It will win a girl lake Bonnie over. Then Marian gets on with practiced aplomb. I can see she has mounted many times before. She wraps herself around Lindsay and pats him on the back. Giving instructions she is. Off they go. I am so very envious and make some mental memo’s for my next trips.

Marian slide onto her mount

They are on the way. I am so envious, not of the bike but of the company

So tomorrow it is on to Whitehorse for my meeting with the Liquor Board and then onto Haines Junction for the night.

So from Teslin YT

Good Night and Good Luck