18 – 27 July 2012
Shirley: Finally we’re heading to Alaska — the last frontier! This will see us complete the major leg of the journey from Circle to Circle.
It’s not that far now. We’re about 100 kilometres from Kitwanga and the road to Hyder, Alaska.
Travellers love a good sign. There are plenty in Australia — the longest straight, the Tropic of Capricorn, the most eastern town. At the junction of the Yellowhead and Cassier Highways there’s a sign that says it all — North to Alaska.
We’re 237 kilometres from Stewart and the USA border, 240 kilometres to Hyder and just 201 to the Bear Glacier. This is a real milestone.
After the obligatory photos we’re heading north along the Cassier when disaster strikes. We’ve travelled about 250 kilometres from Smithers when the back of the bike feels like it’s dragging along the road.
Brian: We’re cruising along about 95 kph on the lookout for bears. Apparently they graze beside the road up here. Ken and Carol are behind us. All of a sudden the bike starts to sag at the back end and then there’s an almighty grinding sound, the back wheel locks up as the whole rear of the bike collapses onto the wheel. I’m sure we’re going to end up sliding down the road. I grit my teeth, brace my arms and ride it to a halt, coming to a stop with a screech of things grinding and the back wheel locked up. I know it’s not good before I even get off the bike.
Ken pulls up and says, ‘Shit that was amazing! Bits and pieces flying everywhere! Have you blown a tyre? Is it bits of rubber?’
I wish it was that simple. When I look at the bike it’s clear what’s happened. The rear shock shaft has snapped in half, pushing the shock and spring into the plastic rear hugger I put on to protect the shock from mud. That’s disintegrated and it’s bitten into the tyre. It’s a bloody mess, to put it mildly. The whole rear of the bike is resting on the back wheel. It’s something I didn’t expect to happen; it’s an Öhlins Shocker — the best money can buy.
This bike isn’t going anywhere. Out here there’s no mobile phone signal. Thank goodness for Ken and Carol. They keep heading north to try and find a tow truck for us. We know there’s a campground about 16 kilometres away and they should have a phone. At worst Stewart can’t be more than 100 kilometres away.
There’s nothing we can do but wait. A few other bikers come along and pull up to see if we’re alright. There’s nothing they can do for us, but it’s great that the camaraderie between motorcyclists lives on.
Standing alone on the side of the highway the silence is deafening — the only sound is the buzzing of the mosquitoes driving us crazy.
We haven’t been waiting long when a British Columbia Ministry of Transport vehicle pulls up. ‘You look as though you’re in a bit of trouble,’ says the woman driving. ‘You do realise you’re in the middle of bear country, don’t you?’
We’ve been so preoccupied with our predicament we hadn’t even given that a thought.
Shirley: Sherrie Applegate is our saviour. This no nonsense woman in her 50s is great in a crisis. She seems used to being in charge. She talks to colleagues on the radio and they say it will cost about $600 to get the tow truck to come and get us from Stewart, but there’s nothing in Stewart. Her advice is to go the 250 kilometres back to Smithers. Sherrie is going back there and would love to give us a lift, if only she could get the bike into the back of her pickup.
She radios a road gang who are working on the highway and soon there are three burly blokes on hand to help us out. The easy part is getting the tailgate off the pickup so we can use it as a ramp. But we still have to get the bike onto the tray.
While we’re standing around with everyone offering up ways of getting the incapacitated, heavy bike into the back of the pickup I notice something about Sherrie. The mozzies don’t bother her at all. What’s her secret? She doesn’t eat bananas after March. Old wives’ tale or scientific fact, it certainly keeps the mozzies away from Sherrie, while I’m being eaten alive.
Brian: Wade, one of the road workers, should’ve been in World Championship Wrestling. Even though we’ve taken the luggage off the bike it’s still really heavy, well over 200 kilograms. Wade lifts the back of the bike as if it’s a toy. He lifts and I wheel it towards Sherrie’s truck on the other side of the road. We line it up with the makeshift ramp. With two of Wade’s co-workers’ help we manhandle the bike into the pickup. I use some tie downs to secure it, load our bags into the back seat and we’re off.
Shirley: One of Sherrie’s colleagues, Paul, gets on the radio and finds out a tow truck has been booked to come and get us. Luckily it hasn’t left yet, so he cancels it.
So, we know Ken and Carol got to a phone, now we need to get in touch with them to let them know we’re on our way back to Smithers and not continuing on the road to Stewart.
Wade is dispatched to find them. We haven’t gone far before the two-way radio pipes up with the news that Ken and Carol will meet us back at Smithers tonight.
What good friends. We wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d gone on. We’ve come 250 kilometres from Smithers and were so close to Alaska. To turn around is amazing. They should be heading on to Alaska but they’re coming back for us. It’s a wonderful gesture. We know that to have a couple of friendly faces around will be a big help.
The broken shocker is a serious problem. We don’t know how we can get back on the road or when. There’s only a small window of opportunity to get above the Arctic Circle in Alaska and we don’t want to miss it.
On the way back to Smithers there’s a bear on the side of the road. Unfortunately all I can see is motorcycle and luggage. There’ll be other bears. Well, there better be!
Brian: It takes us about two and a half hours to get back to Smithers. Sherrie knows Steve Graf at the local Harley Davidson dealership. He seems to be very used to bikes being trailered in — bikes that haven’t made it to Alaska.
With the help of the apprentice and a strong ramp we get the bike out of Sherrie’s pickup. The broken bike is slashed onto a pallet and that’s forklifted into a huge storage shed at the back of the dealership. This gives me a chance to check out the bike and, fortunately, there’s no structural damage. We’ve been bloody lucky. It could have speared us off at nearly 100 kph. Once we get a new shocker we’ll be on the road again.
Winter is harsh at Smithers. In summer the dealership is all about motorcycles. In winter it’s all about snowmobiles and they’re stacked out here in the shed.
Steve says he’ll ring a dealer in Vancouver tomorrow morning and get the part flown up. It’s Wednesday today. Hopefully it will arrive on Friday morning and we’ll be on our way.
Sherrie takes us to the Fireweed Motel, which she and Steve assure us is a good, value-for-money place. There’s only one room left tonight. It has two double beds and Ken and Carol are happy to share. It’s like having a sleepover.
Shirley: We need to be on the road to Alaska not trapped here.
Ken and Carol spend another night with us, hoping we can ride off together again on Friday morning. When the shocker arrives it’ll only take half an hour to fit.
There’s not much to do here, but the people are incredibly friendly. Thursday morning and Sherrie swings by on her way to work to make sure we’re okay. She brings some delightful hand-drawn cards she’s made of the bears. A little gift for me because I didn’t see the bear yesterday.
Brian contacts Steve Cramer at Öhlins in Australia. It’s unrealistic to expect them to send a new shock all the way to Canada but they need to know we have a problem.
The news from Steve at the Harley shop isn’t good. The shocker has to come from the US and he’s not sure when it’ll get here.
Bless him, our new friend Greg on Vancouver Island offers to pick up the part and deliver it to us. That’s what the motorcycling community is all about. We’re moved by this generous offer, but refuse. We don’t want to put him out and we don’t know where in the US the part actually is.
It’s Friday morning and we bid farewell to Ken and Carol. It’s clear we’ll be here for a while and they want to get moving, and we don’t blame them. They’re not sure which way they’ll go now. There are two good roads in the far north: the Dawson Highway to Inuvik, and the Dalton to Prudhoe Bay. We plan to take the Dalton up past the Arctic Circle to Prudhoe Bay at the very top of the world, if we ever get the bike back on the road. Ken and Carol now think they might go to Inuvik. Hopefully we’ll catch up with them somewhere.
Sherrie’s on a day off and offers to take us to New Hazelton in the heart of the First Nation area. We travel along the Yellowhead Highway, that’s been dubbed Highway of Tears by the locals. In the past 18 years about 36 women (all but three of them First Nation women) have been abducted and murdered while hitchhiking. They’ve only found half of the bodies. There are big posters on the highway about how dangerous it is to hitchhike — the dead and missing are depicted as angels. It’s all very scary. Hard to believe girls still hitch along this road.
On the way back to Smithers we visit Kispiox, another First Nation community with scores of totems along the riverbank. It’s an impressive sight. On the outskirts of the town there’s a new totem being carved. Men are building a canopy over a massive cedar log. We stop and talk to the chief, William Blackwater. This new totem will tell the story of his clan.
William introduces us to the totem carver who’ll be classed as a master carver when he completes this totem. He tells us the piece of cedar comes from a hilltop 18 kilometres away. There are wonderful trees closer, fallen logs in the forests, but the government won’t let the people take them for totems or fuel. There’s a distinct anti-government attitude here.
On the way home we get a clear view of the Seven Sisters. Smithers might not be the most cosmopolitan town to be stranded in but it’s scenic in the extreme. It’s a harsh environment, even in summer. There’s a hiker missing in the hills outside of town. He went on a day hike a month ago and hasn’t been seen again. It’s bear country — we’ve been warned.
•
Thanks goodness for Skype. With free wifi we spend a lot of time talking to friends at home and others we’ve met on the road. Nicole and Christian tell us they’re heading to Alaska and will slow down so they can meet us in Fairbanks. They think Jens and Kati will be there too. There’s still a chance we can all travel to the Arctic together. This news brightens our day. It sounds like a good plan, as long as we get out of here.
Brian: Another day goes by with very little to do. We buy a waterproof bag to carry our camping gear and will send home the top box. This’ll take 10 kilos in weight off the bike. We’ve heard from Steve that the new shocker is going to cost CAD $1,100 plus tax and we’ll have to pay for the freight.
I’d planned to send the broken shocker home and get it fixed so we can recoup some of the costs. This won’t be happening. Öhlins want to see the broken shocker so they can work out what happened to cause it to seize. We have to post it to Sweden by airmail and they’ll reimburse the postage costs.
While we wander aimlessly through the town we bump into Steve from Harley and he clearly feels sorry for us. He offers us one of the bikes from the shop for the weekend. At least we can get out of the motel room and see some of the scenery.
It’s Sunday and we head off on the long ride to Prince Rupert on one of Steve’s Harleys. The scenery is amazing — mountains, trees and raging rivers. There’s snow on some of the taller peaks, waterfalls cascade down the cliff faces and the reflections in the water are breathtaking.
This is the Skeena River, the river of mist. We stop at Moricetown and watch some of the men fish in the traditional way. First Nation people are allowed to fish for salmon using nets but they can only take fish of a certain size, and no females. There are a couple of rangers watching, keeping a tally of the fish. It’s an incredible process. The water rushes over the rocks with such ferocity if you fell in you’d be doomed. The fisherman is tied with a very sturdy rope to the rocks. He hangs precariously over the edge of the rocks and swings his net at the salmon making their way upstream.
Shirley: When we get back to the motel we’re exhausted. The Harley isn’t as comfortable as our bike and it’s been a long ride. It doesn’t have the screen like the BMW and Brian’s beard is blowing around, driving him nuts. He suggests an elastic band. I suggest a pair of scissors. It’s been a 10-hour day and just over 700 kilometres. It’s been great to get out of the motel and onto the road, even if only for a day trip.
We get a message from Ken and Carol. They’re heading to Whitehorse in the Yukon and having a terrific time. They fact they’ve seen bears just adds to my despair. I really want to be on the road and I know Brian is feeling it too.
Steve Cunningham in Bend, Oregon puts it into perspective: ‘A week in Smithers is better than a week in hospital’, he writes in an email. Despite knowing this to be true we’re both going through stages of deep depression because we’re stranded.
Brian’s second-guessing what he could’ve done differently to make this better. We’re both trying to sort out what to send home to lighten the load. The trip to Prudhoe is an important landmark on our trip. We just have to get there. My desire to see bears is now becoming pathological. Basically I’m pissed off with this situation. We need to get going.
The days roll by. The only thing that breaks the boredom is the travellers who come to the motel, either on their way to Alaska or on their way back.
We meet an American biker who has his puppy in his tank bag. He and Dawson, the American Eskimo puppy, are on their way home from Prudhoe Bay. The pup was only six weeks old when he started his trip. It’s grown and only just fits in the tank bag now. There’ll be some separation anxiety when Dawson has to stay at home instead of going riding.
Middle-aged Australians Brian and his wife, Val, bought bikes in the US and loved their trip to the top of the world. We’re getting very jealous now, and a little worried that the shocker won’t arrive in time for us to make it to Alaska before the weather closes in.
I see a GS in the motel car park and joke that we should get the rider drunk and steal his shocker. David Hand from Florida is on his personal ‘Match.com’ tour of the US and Canada. A mild-mannered divorcee, David’s travelling around on his GS and meeting women from the Match.com dating website for dinner along the way. I can imagine he’d do pretty well in this pursuit. He’s suave in his own way and a pleasure to be with. David ends up having dinner with us because there aren’t any suitable dates in Smithers. He’s a fascinating bloke, on his way to Alaska. David’s meeting his mate John off the ferry at Prince Rupert, and then they’re heading north. It would be great if our paths cross again — if we ever get out of here.
Monday and we’re still in Smithers with no sign of the shock arriving. Tuesday is the same. Wednesday and it’s becoming like groundhog day.
Today we finally have something constructive to do. The top box goes home. The bike will now be 10 kilos lighter and we are CAD $170 lighter in the wallet.
The other good news of the day is the shock should be here tomorrow at 11.00.
Brian: It’s Thursday and if all goes to plan we’ll be on the road before lunch. We pack everything, dress in our bike gear and walk the couple of kilometres to the Harley shop in the blazing sun. Hot and sweaty I stand in front of the fan and eye off all the cardboard boxes just delivered off the plane. Steve comes up to me with bad news — no shock. He rings the bike shop/agent in Vancouver and finds out they put it on a truck. It’s now in Prince George and will be on the overnight transport. Arghhh …
Back to the motel we retrieve our room and wait yet another day. Just to rub it in, the weather turns from the week of sunshine to cloud, rain and thunderstorms.
•
I don’t get much sleep. I’m a bit like a kid on Christmas Eve. Re-packed, I ring Steve and finally there’s an Öhlins shocker waiting for me. Shirl’s as excited as I am. I warn her to be careful, it might be the wrong one.
Sure enough, the shock is for our bike but it’s not the same. The broken one has an upper remote reservoir, which helps keep the oil cooler. This one is just a normal shock absorber and is fitted with a slightly softer rate spring — 59 instead of 60. The spring is also set in its highest position, not wound down like mine. This will mean the bike won’t be as responsive. It’ll sit lower and wallow more in the corners. Despite the differences, this will have to do. We can’t stay here a minute longer.
It takes me a bit under an hour to fit the new shock and re-mount the exhaust system and rear wheel. I borrow a tension bar from one of the mechanics but other than that do it all by myself and with my tools.
Shirl cleans and re-boxes the old Öhlins ready for posting to Sweden.
Steve only charges us for the shock: CAD $1,300. There’s no charge for freight seeing the company botched up the delivery. There’s no charge for labour, no storage fees for the bike and no extra charge for pestering him so much. I donate cans of beer so he and his staff can have a drink on me tonight, and to thank him for lending me the Harley to release a few frustrations on Sunday and for just being a really good bloke.
We ride up to the post office to send off the broken shock. The postal worker remembers us. It’s not everyone who posts a metal motorcycle top box to Australia. He asks what the declared value of the shock is. ‘Bugger all, it’s broken,’ I tell him. He duly writes its value down to under CAD $100. It’ll be at Öhlins in six days. Cost: CAD $146.
Finally back at the hotel we load the bike with its new dry bag full of our camping gear. No doubt it’s lighter but once the dry bag and Andy Strapz bags are on I can’t open the panniers. I didn’t account for the overhang. We’ll have to work around it but it shouldn’t be a big concern.
After 10 days in Smithers, we’re back on the road. We cruise out on highway 37, a road we’ve traversed five times now.
At last we’re on the road to Alaska. It’s nearly the end of July. We hope the far northern summer holds and we make it to Prudhoe Bay.
There’s a plant in this area, the Fireweed, that the locals say forecasts the weather. When the flowers die off, the summer is over. At the moment it’s still in bloom.