The Denali Highway.... The Quietest of all Highways....

There is a bicycle under that lot!

It was 3pm on Thursday afternoon.  The road was rough.... rougher than I could have imagined in fact. Stones varied from one inch to four inches, I graded them on their sharpness.... Some I feared were as sharp as my saddle!

My first down hill on the freshly grated surface sent my bike in to a very unhealthy speed wobble.... I yelled, 'No No Noooooo Nooooooo!' as I felt the handle bars and frame swerving beneath my body..... This could be a disastrous start. My front wheel decided to take it's own course towards a ditch full of large, jagged stones over a three foot steep slope at the edge of the road. I applied my rear brake as gently as possible.  The swerving and wobbling intensified. Where had I packed the first aid kit I wondered as the edge of the road got closer and closer. A millisecond later the swerving and wobbling slowed, my heart beat reciprocated. I brought the bike to a gentle halt and breathed a deep satisfying sigh of relief.  First lesson learned. No speed whatsoever. Riding with this much weight over the back wheel was like riding a two wheeled tank.... This set pay to any idea of timescales as the slow up hills were no longer being levelled out by fast free wheeling decents. Ah well not to worry, I'm uninjured and I'm wiser.

The road improved... Honest this was an improvement!

I encountered a hill.... A hill long and steep enough to break any cyclist.  Matters were made worse by the slippery rough cut surface and the 60lb of equipment on the back.  After sweating for 10 minutes I succumbed to failure and dismounted.  As soon as my weight was removed the bike wheelied in to the air.  Getting it back on to two wheels took great effort.  Walking the bike turned out to be tougher than riding, the pedal constantly hitting my leg, as I wrestled to keep the front wheel in contact with the gravel.  I named this ascent 'Bitch Hill'.

Four hours later after some grueling riding I arrived at a little unopened campsite. I set up my tent, unpacked some food and made a hot chocolate. I had a feeling it was going to get cold. I put all my clothes on and slipped in to
the sleeping bag that John hoped would be okay for the trip.  It was a very, very long, cold night. I managed to maintain a body temperature that remained above hypothermic and packed in a wondrous couple of hours of frozen and broken sleep. I clambered out of the tent at 5.30am deciding that a 'lie-ins' aren't what they're cracked up to be when the temperature outside is cold enough to freeze both the water bottles on the bike. Brrrrr. Hot oats and tea for breakfast and I was off again.  On my way out of the campsite I stopped and asked a guy if he had water to spare.  We chatted for a few minutes in the icy air.  He told me I would encounter a hill around the 60 mile mark which he called, 'Son of Bitch Hill'.  I laughed to myself.

The surroundings were simply beautiful. Caribou appeared at the side of the road, a moose with twins was stood in the road as I reached the brow of a long climb and a porcupine sat nibbling grass from the verge. I was headed straight in to the mountains. I saw 2 vehicles the entire morning. So peaceful.

Spot the Caribou?

Then at 12pm I happened upon a couple of hunters from Florida. I'd just watched them landing in their little aeroplane, returning from their trip. 'Herntin' Grizzle' he told me. Said he loved cycling. When I told him where I was from he moved on to Mark Cavendish. I was impressed! I asked if he got any bears, sadly he did. He showed me the pelt and skull of a seven and a half footer he'd shot the day before. The carcass remains in the hills..... I don't get it, but lots of folks here do and that's why there's so many hunters up this way. It's well managed, but I still don't like it. It's a personal thing I suppose. Different strokes for different folks.

I rode on to Alpine Creek Lodge just shy of the half way mark. Here I filled up with water.

'Are you the guy riding to Valdez?'

'I am.'

'Two 'hurnters' left just a while ago, said to expect ya.'

'I'm glad I didn't disappoint.' I said with a smile as the kind lady filled my bottles.

I stayed and chatted for ten minutes before returning to the saddle.

Six miles down the road disaster struck. I suddenly heard a heavy rubbing.

To cut a long story short, my brazon (there are two brazons, they hold the frame in place which is the structure that holds all the bags in place, that and the bungee cords) sheared. Snapped in two.... This was something I was not prepared for. What would I do? I tried to tie it over and over with parachute cord, with heavy wire (thanks John) and every few miles it would slip due to the weight. I took the bags from the broken side and mounted one on the handle bars, and loaded the rucksack on to my back. Not ideal, not ideal at all. At 8pm after 5 long hours of struggle I spotted a beautiful ice covered lake. A beaver swam between the holes diving under the ice covered layer. I decided to set up camp. 

I met two mountain bikers, Dan and Amy who were heading 8 miles further. They left me with three zip ties to see if they would help.

I lit the stove and heated up a large pot of water. I diced up a carrot and added some noodles and fresh spinach to finish it all off . I washed it back with a large cup of hot chocolate before experiencing yet another freezing night.

The next morning I enjoyed an energy packed porridge breakfast with green tea. My eyes were heavy and I was exhausted. I retrieved my bags from the trees 50 metres away (bear precautions), then tried the zip lock repair. All three snapped unable to support the weight. I hit the road at 8am parachute corded and carrying a bag on the handle bars and one on my back again. This was slow progress indeed.

Each time I spotted a vehicle (every hour or so) big enough to take me, the bags and the bike I'd flag them down. Problem was I saw none suitable for the job. 

At 10.30am the rubbing started again for the third time. I stopped and unloaded all the bags (this had to be done every time to allow me access to the brazons and to hold the bike, there's nowhere to lean your bike on the Denali Highway), balanced the bike pedal on my knee to keep it upright and got to retying. A camper with a Swiss number plate pulled over. The driver and his wife got out. They'd been travelling for 5 years across Europe, South America the lower 48, Canada and now Alaska!!!  He went and grabbed his tool kit which was full of power house zip ties and pliers. He spent twenty minutes fixing my bike up to the best of his ability. Which may I say was awesome. He even lay across the frame showing it would support his full weight. One of the zip ties rubbed on the disc brake, but this was the least of my problems. I was fixed!!!

My personal Swiss Army Tool!
Legend!

I had a new lease of life. The skies were blue and I was able to go much faster now that I'd taken some of the weight from over the back wheel deciding to carry the backpack instead. I had much more control, and I was becoming one with the bike. Feeling any little movements which hinted at an escape of the front wheel.

I had mountains surrounding me, it was truly beautiful.

At 12pm I slipped in to the McLaren Lodge to fill up with water. I chatted with Matt for 20 minutes about fishing, and another lovely fella who'd popped in for a beer in the middle of an ongoing cycling race! He gave me his details and told me I could stay at his if I was ever in Anchorage. Hospitality or what?!

Not sure how I cut this picture up..... Pity!

The next hour was a climb. A real tough climb. One of the toughest I've ever experienced. The rough gravel surface and the 60lb load wasn't helping. Eventually I reached McClaren summit 4,026 feet.... and the view was indeed stunning.

By 2.30pm there seemed to be a haze building.... the mountains were appearing ghostly and distant.

At 3pm two guys in a car pulled up alongside me to chat and ask how I was going. They'd been fishing. Tom & Jay were from the South. They stopped and we got talking about fishing etc. They topped my bottles with water.

Couple of pictures that Tom & Jay emailed a couple of days later.
Great guys.

Windswept...

At 4pm I bumped back into Dan and Amy on their return journey. They'd decided to eat at The Tangle River Inn and turn back rather than heading the extra 15 miles to Paxton (where there's nothing). They told me I'd hit pavement (tarmac) in 2 miles. I could have wept with joy! We chatted for 10 minutes then headed on our way. I stopped to celebrate the smooth sensation of black marble beneath my tyres at said Inn and dined until I was satisfied. I was invited to Join an Aussie called Brad and his two French travel companions Lucille and Ewan (don't know how to spell it but that's how it sounded). They were doing a similar cycle tour, just in reverse. We exchanged stories whilst I guzzled down a rather large burger (had a hanckering for meat, it's rare, but I felt I needed something big hearty and warming) washed down with a bottomless mug of coffee.

Yeeeeee haaaa!!!!

Snowy & Smokey....

As I free wheeled haplessly down one of the many steep decents I watched a golden eagle soaring one side of me, whilst a bald headed eagle perched proudly in a large tree to my right. A vast lake opened up ahead. Spec-tacular.

The climb back up was similarly spectacular.

This became my favourite road sign!

I exited The Denali Highway at 7pm.

I heard a vehicle slowing behind me.... Then heard, 'If it's not Mark Boyd!'.....

Tom & Jay had caught back up with me. We stopped to chat and exchange details. They kindly filled my water bottle again, and gave me jerky and fresh baby carrots.

Two truly wonderful fellas.

I decided to cycle until I found a place where ice didn't cover the lakes.

At 8.30pm I pulled over on a little side track leading to a small lake. I set up camp, cooked food and slept better than the previous two nights. Although it was still very cold.

Camp.  No, not my appearance!

After breakfast, packing down camp and reloading the bicycle I saw a sign with the name of the lake.  'Dicks Lake'. I smiled, how apt.

The morning was finger achingly fresh and I had 60 miles to cover before reaching Glenallen. It was a long day. 

Twelve miles before Glenallen I car pulled over ahead of me. The driver shouted 'Mark? Mark, John's friend?'

'Yes, hey, hi Nat!!!'

A Thai guy that had been at John & Kathy's three weeks earlier had remembered and spotted me. If he hadn't had a full vehicle I'd have been throwing my bike aboard and joining him on his journey to Valdez which was still 127 miles away! Nat filled my bottle with water and off they headed.

The mosquitoes were brutal. Whenever I stopped to take a photograph I would literally be covered within seconds. I feared stopping could lead to a serious amount of blood loss.

I decided to ride until the temperature dropped, hoping the mosquitoes may disappear..... That ride turned out be a very long ride indeed. I simply couldn't find anywhere to pitch my tent. My legs were in bits my arse was in tatters (I'd fashioned a seat cover from stuff sack jacket which made it bearable) and I was exhausted. I'd covered over 100 miles and was absolutely done for.

At 8.30pm I wobbled in to a closed campsite. I found a very pretty pitch under a spruce tree and set up camp. I woke up the next morning had breakfast, closed up camp and reloaded the bike. This time I made a big sign to attach to the back pack. 'INJURED BIKE. VALDEZ PLEASE!'

I cycled for half an hour visualising myself in a comfy vehicle, smiling and happy.

7 miles in to my journey a couple of big campers passed by. Nothing.

Then as I rode on towards the brow of the hill I spotted one of the camper vans. Had they pulled over to sight see? As I approached the driver, Brian stuck his thumb out the window. Boom!!! I unloaded the bike which Gary, his buddy, helped me carry in to the huge luxury camper. We chatted all the way to Valdez. On reaching the campsite Brian returned saying he'd sorted me a passcode for the shower, laundry and wifi costing $5.00. I went to pay him, he said no worries. The second of his very kind gestures. Two delightful lunch time cans of Bud Light followed as Brian, Gary and I chatted around our picnic table.

Bicycle becomes passenger....

I headed in to town to check my ferry time for tomorrow. The guys were outside a bar having a beer. They shouted me. I sat down and joined them, ordering a pint of the blonde stuff. They told me the shrimp was amazing, and then Brian went ahead and ordered me a bowl. He paid for the beer and the shrimp. As I said this travelling thing is about the people you meet. The kindness and generosity of Brian & Gary was simply beautiful. Thanks to Gary and Brian for saving my ass, literally, it was  starting to fall apart. The hot shower was the best hot shower of my life. Almost five days without a shower really helps you appreciate the simple things such as hot flowing water!

Valdez seems to be mosquito free, and the surrounding vistas are wonderful.

Tomorrow morning I head off to Whittier on the ferry. Then on to Homer, cycling and hitching as I go.

Florida Support -  Bryan & Gary

I decided to remind myself that this journey isn't about self destruction, it's not some sort of physical challenge, so rather than putting myself through so much pain I've decided to enjoy myself a little more getting from place to place! The entire journey from the beginning of the Denali Highway to Valdez was 545 miles. I fell short by 75 miles before treating myself to a free ride. I decided I deserved it!

Thanks all. Miss you all and looking forward to catching up in the Summer.

Two hours later....

It was 8pm, I was just typing up the blog when Brian came and found me.  He said, 'We're all goin' for dinner, wanna come along? As my guest?'  What a man.

I've just returned after a main of seared halibut with lemon and capers with a side of spinach washed down with two pints of blonde beer. What a man! His generosity knows no bounds.

Tomorrow morning I'm on the ferry at 7am from Valdez to Whittier.

From Whittier I need another ride as cyclists and pedestrians cannot pass through the portage tunnel.  The tunnel consists of a single railway track.  Vehicles pass through on the hour heading out of Whittier and on the half hour returning to Whittier.... Nice!

Hopefully I'll find a ride!