Route of the Stampede

 

24th September, I wake up and look out the window of the Downtown Hotel in the historic gold mining town of Dawson City. From the second story I can see down on the street below that my bike is covered in a dusting of snow, it's just 4 degrees Celsius.

The previous afternoon I left my cousin's mining camp which is 3 hrs on a rough dirt road. The recent rain and snow flurries had the road in bad shape. Sections had rutted up and I was sliding around in the slop. Although it had been snowing there wasn't much settled on the road itself, however I did have a few close calls in the muddy ruts and it was good to make Dawson without having a face plant in the mud.

Today was all highway riding, no mud to worry about, maybe some snow though and 'just' 500km in near freezing temperatures! Before setting out the usual task of packing the bike is added to by the task of having to put on about a million layers of clothing. By the time I walk out of the hotel entrance I'm uncomfortably sweaty. I have to remind myself that my bags are not empty because I'm forgetting some stuff but It's because I'm wearing as much as possible.

After a while on the bike I'm feeling comfortable and making good ground, there's lots of snow around but the road is clear and dry, the vastness and beauty of the Yukon is a golden yellow as winter approaches. My mind is drifting back on the last month or so of adventures trying to pass time on the long straight boring road sections. Something distracts me though, the section of my brain that has become so acutely tuned to my bike just setts of an alarm! did my bike just miss fire slightly? .....Yep, half a minute or so later and it's coughing and spluttering down the road as if it's running out of fuel, but it can't be, i just filled up the massive safari tank back in Dawson.

 

I'm at the Northern most point of my bike travels and my mind immediately flashes way back to the southern most part of my travels in Argentina. Back then I remember as I descended down into the southern most city in the world of Ushiaia during some very cold rain the DR miss fired a bit and then just starting running well again. Back then I wasn't sure but I put it down to carburetor icing. Could my carburetor be icing up?

I slow down, thinking that a change in throttle opening may help and also thinking that the heat from the engine may be more effective at heating the carb. No improvement, I change down a couple more gears and still no improvement, and then nothing, .... the bike is completely lifeless as I come to a halt. Oh shit, within seconds I've gone from happily nipping down the highway to nothing. It's dead quiet as I sit on the bike in the middle of the road, in the middle of a snow flurry, 100km from Dawson and there's bugger all traffic about, just hungry bears.

I glance around at the surroundings, oh shit, it's not a nice time and place to be stuck, this is not good. In disbelief I just sit on the bike and do nothing, of all the places I've been my bike decides to give me trouble here, in the middle of fucking no where and it's fucking snowing!!! I'm hoping that with the bike stationary the radiant heat from motor will melt the ice in the carb and after a minute or two I will just ride out of this snow flurry.

I hit the starter and the bike starts straight up, blip the throttle a couple of times and it runs clean, I run up through the gears and up the road with out problems, whippie. I'm moving again, but for how long, how long will it take for the carb to ice again? I still have over 400km to go, shit this could be a long day. I decide to keep it below 100km to help but after a while without incident and the endless straight sections of road I find myself back up at 120km and thankfully the only problems for the rest of the day are cold toes, the doubled up socks and bread bag liners are struggling to keep the cold at bay down in my extremities.

Turns out carburetor icing can occur in temperatures above freezing and has a lot to do with the humidity of the air. When the Dr iced up I had just ridden into a particularly heavy snow flurry with large flakes indicating high humidity. Carburetors work on a venturi to draw fuel into the air and that means low pressure which has a cooling effect and hence creating temperatures within the carburetor where the moisture in the air will condense out and freeze.

 

With the bike running well once again I think back on the last weeks, In Whitehorse I replaced the cush drive rubbers in the rear wheel which were well and truly flogged, checked valve clearances and did an oil and filter change. I caught up with friends from my log building days, Ray and his family, Ryan and Molly and their boy Luke, Darren, Dean just happened to drop by and also had a BBQ with old flatmates, Whisky Joe, Moosepacker Luke, and Chiefsurefoot Dave. Had a few good laughs with the boys talking about the good old days a few years back.

 

I also spent some time hanging out with a new friend Kate, among many things Kate works for a mountain biking company in town so set me up with a bike and showed me a few new trails. When it was time to leave I took the long way to Dawson City via the South Canol highway through Ross River. The first section was about 200km on narrow dirt road and didn't see any other traffic the whole way. Would have been a great ride, unfortunately I suffered a migraine half way through. Not wanting to stop I carried on riding through the headaches, almost filling my helmet with spew a couple of times, I finally made Ross River exhausted and slept for 2 hours on a grassy park in the middle of town.

 

Surprisingly after the sleep I felt way better got back on the road again, clocking up over 800km for the day which would have to be the most k's I've covered in a day to date, migraine and all. The next morning at Pelly Crossing I wake up to a flat tyre, not normally a big problem but I can't break the bead and even begin to get the Hiedenau K60 off the rim. I'm frustrated, and feeling beaten but luckily there's a gas station with some tyre repair goo, it's a slow leak and I resort to just squirting some in and it does the trick.

 

I arrived in Dawson City late in the afternoon after doing a side trip up to the historic town of Keno. I still have a couple of hours ride to find my way into Simon's camp way out in the Klondike goldfields. Armed with written directions and a few tracks plotted on the GPS I negotiate my way through a network of rough mining roads and at times feel a little off track and wonder if I'm going to make it but after 130km of rough roads I ride into camp. At times the road traverses on high ridges offering great views of the ranges.

 

1898 or there abouts gold was discovered right here in the Klondike. It sparked the biggest gold rush ever and developed much of the Yukon's history. So for a few weeks I spend some time checking out the modern legacy of that rush 100 years ago. Back then it was all hand work, melting away frozen mud and overburden with hot water to tunnel down deep to the pay dirt sitting just above the bedrock. Gold in the Klondike fields is placer, or alluvial. Must have been incredibly hard working conditions.

 

Next on the scene was the massive steam powered wooden floating dredges that churned up the valley floors leaving huge tailing piles whose patterns lay evident today all through out the area. The wooden carcasses of a few dredges are still dotted about the place too, along with all sorts of mining shit really. There's mining relics everywhere, some old and a valuable reminder of the past, Lot's just rusting rubbish though.

 

Now days it's bulldozers and excavators feeding sluicing plants, getting into tight places that the massive old dredges couldn't and also valley floors that are now economic with modern equipment. It's an enjoying time catching up with Simon and Lil, I spend most of my time helping out with maintenance and fabricating up bit's and pieces. However, I did have some fun attempting to push some muck about with the D9 dozer.

 

One of the most remarkable aspects of the Klondike gold rush would have to be the journey that the stampeder's under took just to arrive. Most took a steamboat up from Seattle to Skagway and then were faced with the formidable task of climbing the Chilcoot Pass. The Canadian officials at the summit border wouldn't let them in without sufficient supplies to help ensure they survived the harsh winter conditions. This amounted to over a ton of bits and pieces and many trips up the steep pass.

 

Once over the pass a boat had to be hand sawn and constructed at Bennett lake for the long float down the Yukon River to Dawson City. Some boats became casualties of the rapids. As I leave the Yukon my own journey continues from Whitehorse over the coastal mountains and down to Skagway to the ferry and then south to Bellingham near Seattle, pretty much retracing the stampeder's route backwards from the goldfields.

Although I've been on the road from Whitehorse over the coastal mountains to Skagway Alaska a few times it was still an incredible ride. The fresh snow on the mountain tops combined with golden leaves was beautiful. I could only imagine how the stampeder's would have felt as they started their own adventure into this incredible landscape. The lady at the border crossing took her job very seriously, just by the way she spoke she seemed grumpy but I guess she is paid to do a job and not be friendly. I hadn't stopped the bike at precisely the right spot, I had to move it forward slightly and then when I dismounted to retrieve my passport from my rear bag I had to remount the bike while the questions came. Just like the stampeder's 100 years ago I had to show that I could support myself, not with a ton of supplies but financially with questions about occupation and length of stay.

 

I ride off with the conclusion that she's so grumpy because she's seen too many people like me traveling around having the time of their life while she's stuck at work. I board the ferry with a little relief, at this time of year a snow fall on the pass could have quiet easily stopped me, and I still get nervous at border crossings, and I didn't have a booking for the ferry either, so it was good to have all that out of the way. The wildness of the Yukon and Alaska is something that I enjoy so I'm also sad to be leaving it behind again.

Catching up with Ryan and Darren back at the log yard in Whitehorse

 

 

The D10 is about to get some new shielding on the massive blade

Helping cousin Simon fit a new roller on the D9

feeding the pay dirt into the screen, just add water, lots of it and you get gold, sometimes

The D9 on the move

The weld connecting the swing bearing to the under carriage failed and the excavator was pretty much broken in two. Once the Hydraulic lines were disconnected the undercarriage was dragged out with the D9 and the welding preparation began

Day of departure from Blackhills

....and it was getting pretty bloody chilly in the Yukon now!!

light dusting of snow in Dawson City

Whitehorse to Skagway Highway

Getting hit by a train would be bad enough, but the White Pass snow clearer would be make a real mess! Skagway, Alaska

The Malaspina, Alaska Marine Highway ferry about to be loaded in Skagway

5 star accommodation's up on solarium deck, the backpackers hangout. I didn't bother with a tent, just used the pool chair beds under the solarium roof. I did this 9 years ago last time I was in Alaska and was pleased to see that the ferry still caters to those on tighter budgets.

Just one of the many beautiful views off the ferry deck