Leg 3, Whitehorse to Glennallen, the finish line

It was already past noon when I left Whitehorse. Jack Gustafson had come down from Glenallen to man the checkpoint. Randy Carlson and his wife were also there. They had taken their pretty much new to them sidecar rig to come from Seattle, and were following the track of the rally while vacationing on three wheels. Randy reported that going through construction was a lot less stressful than on 2 wheels - but, as the width between the wheels was not the same as most cars, it was still a handful to negotiate the various loose gravel paths. Nevertheless, they got a few envious looks from the crowd of valiant riders!

The stop was quick. Just like in Boise, we got food and drinks. I'm not a great hamburger or hotdog fan, but man, this hot food tasted mighty good! It was fun to meet with the riders again. This time, I felt a bit less like an outsider, although I still knew well that I was just running the course "for fun." "For fun!" No comments :-) Jack collected the receipts and pictures, and our route sheets where we had noted the bonuses (boni?) that we wanted to claim. Randy was sitting inside, entering all the data in the official rally database. I don't remember if any split ranking was disclosed, but I was obviously not concerned. All in all, I was pretty happy with my performance: I had accomplished the 2 goals I had set for this leg: bag Orcas island, and make it to the next checkpoint in time. The overwhelming goal of "being safe" had been marred by the Parking Lot Incident, but I gave myself the benefit of the doubt on that. What a guy!

A couple riders had not made it to the checkpoint. Dave Biasotti and Alan Barbic, who rode together, and John Laurenson a little later, got stuck in the snow on the Cockamamie highway. They had to turn around, and the delay meant that they missed the window for the checkpoint. They nevertheless kept riding, and made it to Glennallen to accomplish the whole ride. One of the rally masters, Jan Cutler, got run over by a car ... when on foot in a parking lot! (if I recall correctly.) He had to stop. Bob M. had other commitments (he was to speak at a meeting or a conference somewhere East) and had to ride on that way. And of course, we had one rider who was doing the rally... in a car! His bike broke down in Nevada and couldn't be fixed in time. He had to get to Glennallen anyway, as his wife was scheduled to fly in so they could take a few days of vacation in Alaska, so he decided to rent a car "with unlimited mileage" to get there. And while he was riding, er, sorry, "driving" up North, he figured that he might as well go bonus hunting, for the heck of it!

Riders were talking about the next leg. I decided that I was going to take it easy, and that my revised goal for this leg was going to be to just get myself to the finish line in Glennallen. Jack, and old (sorry, "seasoned"!) Alaska hand, was a most excellent resource, providing instant mileage of the top of his head, routing information, and up-to-date road and weather conditions as he had just driven down from Glennallen. He had set a box of little plastic bottles on the table, and the wise riders who did check out the bonus list when it was distributed, grabbed a bottle to fill up at the Yukon crossing, as there was a few additional points that could be had for a picture taken by a painted rock placed their by him. Other riders who just took off without checking the bonus list could only curse him out at the Finish line :-) (Not really!)

Jack had offered bonus opportunities all over. Big points would be awarded for the more hairy ones, of course. Also, Alaska has its share of ferries, and sure enough, a rider could get big rewards from going at sea. Some of the bigger bonus points could be had by riding down to Juneau, which cannot be reached by road (well, not by roads most people would care to ride on touring bikes :-) Timing had to be just right, though. Planning also entered into the equation, as it is usually required to reserve space on ferries, way ahead of time, as those are very busy. Some of the few riders who chose this bonus got to rest in the cabin they reserved - or at least, try to rest, as the place was quite noisy, it seems! Other bonus points in Alaska were up North, far out West - perfect plan to get riders to visit a bit of Alaska.

I lingered and socialized at the dealership, till I realized that mine was the only bike left in the parking lot. Hey, wait up, guys! I peeled out (well, I slowly and carefully made my way out.) and headed on Northwest. I filled up with gas outside town, and left Whitehorse a bit after Noon. I had decided to get a good night of sleep. I was not quite sure what to expect with the roads further up, and after my experience with construction, I had revised my tentative rolling average way down. The next stop would be Beaver Creek, a few miles before the border between Canada and Alaska, a few hours down the road, but after that there was a whole lot of nothing for a while. I was planning on stopping there, not to push further that day, get some good rest and push on the next day. In hindsight, roads were much better than I though, I was not that tired, and I could have gone on. But I enjoyed myself, I had a great, pleasant ride, and recuperated. I stopped a few times to take pictures, something I had not done much on the way up (besides taking Polaroid shots of bonus stops, of course.)

One of the highlights of that short leg was riding by Kluane lake, a bit past Haines junction. Getting closer to the lake, I was surprised by the color of the surface, which from a distance seemed sharply separated into 2 different sections. Getting closer, and rounding a corner, I soon realized why: the air temperature dropped 20 degrees, and I could see that the surface of the lake was actually frozen. The different hues seemed to be created by the difference between the ice, free water, and silted free water right off of the glaciers up at one end. I had to stop to check the surface from a closer, and less mobile, vantage point. I pulled into a parking lot by the lake, and when I stopped the engine and took my helmet off, I could hear the strangest noises. It later became obvious that it was the ice singing: creaking, cracking, crinkling, and tinkling, groaning and moaning, whistling with the wind, the music of the ice never stopped. I loved it! The surface of the ice is not skating-flat, but rather a collection of crystals and sharp blades and flakes, created I guess by the wind whipping around whatever moisture is in the air. I got to visit with two thirty-something ladies from Salt Lake City who were biking (bicycling...) from Anchorage to Whitehorse as part of an organized tour. Now, that's hard work! We hooed and haaaed at the scenery, but they didn't stop very long, as the temperature was, well, freezing :-) I lingered behind, sitting on a rock by the shore, listening to the lake. Great respite.

The border used to be right at the little town of Beaver Creek, but it was moved a few miles down the road: when a vehicle would run the border (more often than not, not even realizing that the crossing was there), sirens would come off, and wake up the whole town. There's not much there, a couple motels, a couple gas stations, and a few houses strung alongside the road. I got there end of afternoon, got a motel room, and had the luxury to go do laundry and sit and read in the sun while waiting for my small load to be done. I socialized with the local dog, who had come to check out who I was and if I had any goodies (he scored a few bits of beef jerky and some granola bar. He wagged its tail, so I take it that it was at least up to its regular fare. I listened to the local radio. You could only pick up 2 stations - one religious channel, of course, and one station that was playing a mystery theater play. Unfortunately, the station faded out before the end, so I'll never know who killed old Mrs Whittington... Had a nice chat with the lady at the motel's front desk, had a nice chat with the waitress in the restaurant, had a nice chat with the couple sitting at the table next to me, had a nice chat with the 3 kids who were ogling my bike when I went to put a cover on it before heading back in... All people from the four corners of North America., all here to enjoy the rugged outdoors. My slow and stilted gait was a good ice breaker - although it was usually attributed by witnesses to a sore butt, rather than a sore back :-) Went to bed right after dinner, and SLEPT!! I wasn't sure how early the gas station would open, so I had fueled up in the evening - force of habit now, I thought I might leave early. I had made sure to wait 4 hours before fueling up, in order to document a rest stop: that was worth a few points. Still thinking rally mode :-)