North.. about as far as we wish to go

I can't begin to tell you how relived I am that this part of their adventure is over.
It was always a worry two up, big bike and fully loaded too, It was not as I imagined or planned, well I hadn't planned a damn thing which was part of this sorry tale.

This was meant to be the start of the adventure south. A big event. A milestone and something to be proud of. WRONG again!

We hung around Fairbanks for a few days looking for a good weather window and one faithfully came along. So everything packed (first mistake) we set off. We wanted to get to Coldfoot (or as we later called it cold sore) which is about 250 miles north and marks the half way point to the sunny sea side resort of Pudhoe bay. Now I have read lots of encounters about ?the haulage road?, how people have sailed up and down, and indeed met people who where doing just that, so at first I felt really confident about this part of the trip (second mistake)

The haulage road or Dalton highway was built to construct the 800 mile pipeline from the oil rich environment discovered at Prudhoe Bay, and named sometime later as the Dalton highway. HIGHWAY! This is a ridiculous name for a selection of mud and dirt tracks (I feel a letter to the Times coming on) Anyway I digress.

The journey started from Fairbanks in thick fog which quickly cleared as we increased in altitude. The shed purring like a very purry thing. Everything going well so far. i even managed a smile . Unbeknown to me they would be few and far between in the next four days.

As soon as the 'highway' splits at the Elliot highway point the road falls apart and the rot sets in. The road is marked in MP which are mileposts and they are a constant reminder of how little distance you have traveled and just how many endless miles you have to go.

Mixed surfaces from just compressed mud to gravel to much bigger gravel and another surface which I have a very rude name for which I kid you not is like riding on a mixture of ice and 20/50 motor oil.

Anyway we are still in good spirits at mile point 56, the Yukon crossing, a very important bridge that allows trucks the size of small ocean liners to move along the length of the Dalton without taking a hover craft which they used to have to back in the 70's. Hey, a restaurant and fuel kept also kept spirits up.

It was then more different surfaces until you reach MP 115 (remember thats about 180 miles from Fairbanks) which is the Arctic circle and you stop and get a photo for the record. It should be mentioned that the scenery is just wonderful, but if you're focused on the next 100 meters of road in front of you , you see little of it.

We titter to one another as we passed Gobblers Knob. This is where you can see the midnight sun if you climb a hill and wait till midnight. Of course, neither of these things filled us with passion so we just giggled at the name.

Camp one was at Coldfoot, well about five mile north in Marion Creek. This is a basic site with no services, but very very beautiful and incredibly quiet. I loved it there.

We slept well packed everything up again (mistake number three) and headed straight off. No food, no planned stop or refreshment with us except water in the camel backs (mistakes four and five). I started to feel tired straight away and this concernd me. The night before we met a couple of chaps who had reassured us we did not need knobbly tyres for the next part of the trip. TheY had a couple of fully kitted up BMW GS's with, you've guessed it, knobbly tyres. Mistake six was tyre choice

Now I would put myself in the enthusiastic amateur when it comes to off road riding. I am not good but can manage. This was a totally different kettle of fish.

Different surfaces again . Big climb outs, which in themselves where not a problem, but the 250 miles we had to do had me sweating and getting very very tired. Those of you who ride bikes will know you get good and bad days. Days when the bike feels like part of you. Nothing can or does go wrong. You are at one with your steed. I was at odds with mine as I struggled to get any sense from it or myself, Confidence was dropping and I am afraid to say I let Sandra and myself down where at one point I could not even manage another sodding milestone post. I was completely knackered. Arms, legs, head all stopped working properly. Pulling over to give myself a damn good talking to with 40 miles to go I realised I had not got off the bike, not for one moment for over seven hours, (mistake seven).

Anyway the talking to kinda worked and we struggled the last 40 miles to reach Prudhoe Bay. Now, given what we had gone through , Prudhoe Bay was never going to get good press from either of us but I can tell you it's a dump, and all we could think of was why the hell are we here? Some official bandits ripped us of for the hotel room, we took the picture and went to bed.

More talking to myself to make sure we did not repeat the mistakes the day before, Tyre pressure reduced to the lowest I could hope for with the tyre still remaining on the rim. Lots of chocolate and a hearty breakfast, and of we set.

What a difference. The last 60 miles were now the first and we just blasted through it. Confidence almost restored we did OK.

Back to Coldfoot campsite and pitched our tent, smiles returning (well almost) to our faces. Now if you think we are crazy (and to be honest you would get no argument from me), you and we would be wrong because we met a chap at Coldfoot camp who was doing what we were doing but on a 50cc moped. From Japan, Shunsaku rides alone and carries my highest regard, but he is as mad as a fish. We both wish him well.

Uneventful night at Coldfoot we had the last section of the trip ahead of us and all went well except for a rather major tank slap and a front wheel washout that nearly had us over. I would like to think it was my lightening fast reactions, but my reactions were on a par with a small slug with shingles. It was only luck that saved us.

Anyway we are back in sunny Fairbanks, and chilling. I cant believe how wonderful that wife of mine is. Not one compliant and no, well not anything other than full and total support, THANK YOU SANDRA.

It should be written in the record that Prudhoe bay simply is not worth the trip. Yes an adventure, no doubt about that, but the final destination, God knows why anyone want to ride there other than its a long way north. A bit like John o Groats, but not as nice. It's just a point on a map and a milestone completed. I have no desire to return. Should you be daft enough to embark upon a trip like this, stop at the Arctic circle, climb up Gobblers knob and look at the sun at midnight if that floats your boat, but forget Prudhoe Bay......... Bonkers.
Well actually all is not lost, and a very odd thing happened on the way back at the Yukon crossing (remember that on the way north), In the line for fuel we met Bruce a tough looking ex marine, who had the same thoughts about visiting Prudho Bay as we now feel, and said the Circle was far enough from him, we chatted about all sorts, and Bruce filled his tank and without a word filled ours also, What a surprise and very generous, ?....We both started to smile again