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Day 9
Next morning we went back down to the cafe for breakfast. There was a tour bus parked outside and a long line, but since we wanted a hot breakfast and not just a pastry, they took our order and we went in the back to grab a table. I was amazed to find such a great place to eat in such a remote place. The pastries looked awesome, and I can tell you that the hot breakfast was as well. I especially liked the HUGE piece of sour dough toast.
Well fed we headed off to the Canadian border and the Top-of-the-World Highway. It was wet this morning, and the rain made the dirt road muddy and slick. It wasn't too bad in most places, but every so often there was a patch of deeper mud and I'd feel the bike getting loose. I kept it steady and used the throttle and didn't have too many problems, though some spots it got looser than others. Today I was riding sweep with Bill and Moose at the front, and Graeme third. Graeme and I ride at about the the same pace, which is slower than Moose and Bill, who also ride about the same pace but much faster. Today, however, I was a slower than Graeme so I gradually fell behind. When he couldn't raise me on the radio, Graeme would slow down or stop until we could communicate and then he'd start going again. It was nice knowing he was keeping tabs on me in case anything happened.
The further along we went, the worse the weather got. It was cold and wet and foggy. I'd heard that this was going to be one of the most scenic roads of the trip, but not this day.
Actually, I think this picture is about the best view we got all day...
A few miles before reaching the border we came across a little roadhouse and decided a hot cup of coffee was in order. As we were pulling in, Graeme got sideways crossing the muddy ditch into the driveway and nearly lost it, but he managed to keep the bike upright.
The place was pretty neat, with a warm wood-burning stove for heat. The family dog had his spot and we stood around the stove to warm up.
There was also an old shell of a truck outside with caribou, moose, and elk antlers piled around it.
After coffee we rode on to the border a few miles up the road. We sat on the bikes in the cold drizzle while the border guards checked our passports. I guess they had mercy on us being on bikes in such bad weather, and ushered us through with no fuss.
The road climbs up higher into the mountains and it got colder and foggier, and started to sleet. We passed a few snow banks along the side of the road, and could see that we were riding on a shelf. It is probably just as well we couldn't see anything, because I'm told there are some very steep drop-offs and it's a long way down. At any rate, this was my view for most of the rest of the ride down to the Yukon River, and it's one of my favorite photos from this trip...
That's pretty much what it looked like from inside my helmet.
After a while we were back on pavement and making a steep descent into the Yukon River valley, eventually arriving at the ferry crossing.
We waited a few minutes and watched the ferry captain do an amazing job of maneuvering the vessel in the swift current to a smooth docking with the gravel loading ramp. We boarded the ferry and headed across the river to Dawson.
I was next to Graeme and had to laugh as he removed his gloves and proceeded to wring about two pints of water out of each one. We were very wet...
...and hungry. Arriving in Dawson, we quickly parked and walked down the main drag to the first place that looked like it had good food...
We occupied two tables in the restaurant, one for our wet, steaming gear, and one for our wet, steaming bodies. As we sat down to eat, we realized that we were all exhausted. It had taken 7 hours to ride the 109 miles from Chicken to Dawson. We decided that it was time to find a hotel and a laundry and call it a day.
After lunch, we headed to the town visitor center where they had some neat artwork on display, and asked them to help us locate rooms for the night. They found pretty good deal for us and called the hotel to have them hold a couple of rooms.
Dawson was a neat old mining town with dirt streets and lots of old buildings. It feels like stepping right back into the gold rush days.
We did laundry, dried out our gear, and turned in early for a good night's sleep.
Mileage for day 9: 109
Total bike mileage to date: 3,323
Next morning we went back down to the cafe for breakfast. There was a tour bus parked outside and a long line, but since we wanted a hot breakfast and not just a pastry, they took our order and we went in the back to grab a table. I was amazed to find such a great place to eat in such a remote place. The pastries looked awesome, and I can tell you that the hot breakfast was as well. I especially liked the HUGE piece of sour dough toast.
Well fed we headed off to the Canadian border and the Top-of-the-World Highway. It was wet this morning, and the rain made the dirt road muddy and slick. It wasn't too bad in most places, but every so often there was a patch of deeper mud and I'd feel the bike getting loose. I kept it steady and used the throttle and didn't have too many problems, though some spots it got looser than others. Today I was riding sweep with Bill and Moose at the front, and Graeme third. Graeme and I ride at about the the same pace, which is slower than Moose and Bill, who also ride about the same pace but much faster. Today, however, I was a slower than Graeme so I gradually fell behind. When he couldn't raise me on the radio, Graeme would slow down or stop until we could communicate and then he'd start going again. It was nice knowing he was keeping tabs on me in case anything happened.
The further along we went, the worse the weather got. It was cold and wet and foggy. I'd heard that this was going to be one of the most scenic roads of the trip, but not this day.
Actually, I think this picture is about the best view we got all day...
A few miles before reaching the border we came across a little roadhouse and decided a hot cup of coffee was in order. As we were pulling in, Graeme got sideways crossing the muddy ditch into the driveway and nearly lost it, but he managed to keep the bike upright.
The place was pretty neat, with a warm wood-burning stove for heat. The family dog had his spot and we stood around the stove to warm up.
There was also an old shell of a truck outside with caribou, moose, and elk antlers piled around it.
After coffee we rode on to the border a few miles up the road. We sat on the bikes in the cold drizzle while the border guards checked our passports. I guess they had mercy on us being on bikes in such bad weather, and ushered us through with no fuss.
The road climbs up higher into the mountains and it got colder and foggier, and started to sleet. We passed a few snow banks along the side of the road, and could see that we were riding on a shelf. It is probably just as well we couldn't see anything, because I'm told there are some very steep drop-offs and it's a long way down. At any rate, this was my view for most of the rest of the ride down to the Yukon River, and it's one of my favorite photos from this trip...
That's pretty much what it looked like from inside my helmet.
After a while we were back on pavement and making a steep descent into the Yukon River valley, eventually arriving at the ferry crossing.
We waited a few minutes and watched the ferry captain do an amazing job of maneuvering the vessel in the swift current to a smooth docking with the gravel loading ramp. We boarded the ferry and headed across the river to Dawson.
I was next to Graeme and had to laugh as he removed his gloves and proceeded to wring about two pints of water out of each one. We were very wet...
...and hungry. Arriving in Dawson, we quickly parked and walked down the main drag to the first place that looked like it had good food...
We occupied two tables in the restaurant, one for our wet, steaming gear, and one for our wet, steaming bodies. As we sat down to eat, we realized that we were all exhausted. It had taken 7 hours to ride the 109 miles from Chicken to Dawson. We decided that it was time to find a hotel and a laundry and call it a day.
After lunch, we headed to the town visitor center where they had some neat artwork on display, and asked them to help us locate rooms for the night. They found pretty good deal for us and called the hotel to have them hold a couple of rooms.
Dawson was a neat old mining town with dirt streets and lots of old buildings. It feels like stepping right back into the gold rush days.
We did laundry, dried out our gear, and turned in early for a good night's sleep.
Mileage for day 9: 109
Total bike mileage to date: 3,323
Keep it coming
A trip like this is hard on any machine.
I'm working on another post - should be up shortly.
