Chapter 21: Up, Down, and Bittersweet

 Chapter 21: Bittersweet

August 1, 1980,  Friday: Zero miles (5950) Rest day in Inuvik

The weather was even colder than yesterday, with a damp chill to it. I put the tire Missoula Gary gave me on the rear wheel, and found a cheap tire in town to use as another spare. I feel home free now, always supposing these cheap tires will take the abuse to Dempster deals. I also repaired my riding shorts using Chris's sewing machine.

This evening I bought food for the return trip. The forecast for the weekend is still lousy - cloudy, some rain, cold... so I'm not sure what I'll do, but I'm feeling itchy to go, so I want to be ready just in case. Buying food was a real eye-opener. Prices here are absolutely unbelievable. A few of my favorites were grapes $2.79 a pound, and OJ $2.99 a quart! Milk was cheap by comparison at only $1.70 a quart. I spent $25. 

August 2, 1980, Saturday: 80 miles (6030) 

It was cloudy as ever this morning, but it wasn't cold and it wasn't raining, so I decided to go for it, remembering the "fish and visitors" rule. Before I left town I went to the radio station and left a message to be read on their little classified feature, thanking Chris and Dale. I left Inuvik at about 1:30. I felt good riding, and I made incredible time. There was no wind, and the sky cleared for a while mid-afternoon. 

I felt strong, rested, and it felt good to be making forward progress again, not doing something that I would have to backtrack later. Going towards Anchorage, my Ithaca. I felt a few twinges of sadness - the Dempster nostalgia I had predicted. Seeing the Richardson Mountains on the horizon especially seemed to spark strong emotions.

 Anyway, I made remarkable time, and got very good food mileage too - better than 20 miles to the meal, and they weren't big meals either. One was just a few handfuls of gorp and a carrot. I got to the Arctic Red River ferry just at 10:00 P.M., as it was coming back for the last time. I didn't care - I wouldn't have ridden much farther anyway, and it worked out quite well. This way I got to stay in a trailer with two surveyors, who were happy to have company just for a change of pace - they're pretty isolated here. We drank tea and chewed the fat till midnight.

August 3, 1980, Sunday: 90 miles (6120) km 478 

 I woke up to see a dense fog outside the trailer, and my heart just sank - another miserable rainy day. I rolled over and went back to sleep, and the next time I woke up... >poof< ... it was a gorgeous sunny day! I replaced the spoke that broke yesterday and by the time I finished, one of the surveyors was up and cooking pancakes. After breakfast, I left to catch the next ferry. I was eager to ride, and made good time, with incredible food mileage - almost made Fort Macpherson on the pancakes alone. I went into town, but of course nothing was open, it being Sunday. I was hoping to buy balloons to make my birthday festive, so it was some consolation to find one red balloon on the ground. (What are the odds of finding an intact balloon on the ground?)

My other reason for going in was to see the old guy who had given me tea and Caribou Stew. He was just on his way to go somewhere, so it was a brief hello-goodbye, which was OK with me; I wanted to ride. I basked in my strength all day - I felt like I was unleashing some pent up potential. I guess it must be visible - lots of folks comment about it: "You've got muscles all over the place."

 I had a powerful dose of "pre-nostalgia" this afternoon. I had just climbed the long hill up from the Peel River to the rolling plain before the Richardson Mountains, and at one particular spot the road rounded the crest of a hill and gave a grand view of the Richardsons, and the road winding toward them, thinner and thinner in the distance. 

I took a couple of pictures and then just stood there, spellbound and deeply moved.

At some point I got a slow leak in my back tire: my first legitimate flat (as opposed to all the struggles with trying to keep tires alive with torn cords) in the 800 miles of dirt road since I put two tires on each rim. I just kept pumping it up rather than stopping to fix it with all the gear on the bike. 

Just as I topped the first pass in the Richardsons, I saw a huge black cloudburst roaring toward me. I took immediate action: I ate frantically, (I don't like being wet *and* hungry!) put on my rain jacket, and generally battened down the hatches. Just in time too, because it started pouring, and it was a cold, cold rain. It didn't last too long, though, and the rest of the ride to my old storm gulch hangout was relatively uneventful. I had reservations about camping there, figuring it might be bad luck, after what happened last time, but it was such an otherwise ideal spot I couldn't resist; I had already gone 90 miles today.

August 4, 1980, Monday: 40 miles (6160) km 410

 It would be hard to rank any day as the worst day of the trip, but this day would have done well in such a competition, at least until 5:00 this afternoon. It was terrible from the first minute I woke up, and heard the rain pouring down. I had decided last night that I would ride today no matter what, because as I learned, the mountains are not the place to wait out bad weather, so although I was slow getting started, I did prepare to move. I wrote, ate, and patched the slow leak I got yesterday, in the shelter of my tent. The rain even let up a little as I was packing - certainly not standard procedure - but it was only saving itself for the fun ahead.

One mile down the road, my rear tire blew out with a bang. Then the rain came down for real. I was in a state of despair and self-condemnation. Why had I ever cut the beads off the inside tire? Why had I pumped the tire up so hard this morning, when I knew it was a cheap tire? In tears, I cursed the tire and the weather and the whole world, at the top of my lungs. The tube was beyond repair - it had blown a huge hole. That meant I had to use the spare tube, which had a leak in it, somewhere, but a tiny one so I couldn't find it without dunking it in water. Again I cursed myself for not patching it this morning when I could do it in the tent. It was too late for that, though, so I did what had to be done. I walked down to a stream, found the hole, and sat on my gear in the tundra, hunched over to keep things dry, and patched cursed thing, put the new Inuvik tire on, packed everything back up, and got going at 2:00 PM. I grunted over the pass into the Yukon, and down the other side. As I got lower, I got below the clouds. 

Just as it was looking like smooth sailing, my strap-steel rack repair broke. That was too much. And of course the rain resumed with a vengeance. Again I shouted obscenities at the world, asking what I had done to deserve all this. I had to completely unpack the bike, and make a new one of my strap contraptions. Just as I finished packing stuff back on, it stopped raining, and this time it didn't start again. Bit by bit I took off my rain gear and wool clothes, till I finally was riding in my shorts and T shirt.

 A couple of kilometers before my old campsite at kilometer 408, I spotted a vehicle parked up ahead. Somehow, long before I could make out details, I knew who it was. Sure enough, it was the Fadums! I was so happy! I've been thinking about them constantly, watching for them and worrying if they were OK, or if I somehow missed them. 

 Gunther and Michael and Kevin were off fishing, so I sat and talked with Maureen for an hour or two. When Gunther and the boys returned, we had dinner and a sort of blueberry shortcake for dessert. Then we set up camp for the night. They lent me a plastic ground sheet and a bunch of ensolite pads, so I can just sleep out and not have to set up my tent, as the sky is cloudless. I lay there looking up at the few stars that were visible - I haven't seen stars for a long time, with it not getting dark. 

 August 5, 1980, Tuesday: 74 miles (6234) km290

 This was the best birthday I've ever had - better than I ever dreamed it could be. Having breakfast with the Fadums was a perfect way to start it - they are so much like family to me now. We had pancakes with blueberry syrup. I was pretty sad when it came time to part. Maureen saw the tears filling my eyes, and gave me a big hug. I picked up Kevin and hugged him, and shook hands with Michael and Gunther, the "men." This time I was ready just before they were, so I left first. It was much better that way - I didn't feel left behind and so all alone. 

I had tied the balloon to my flagpole, but it popped after a few miles. I also got a flat front tire after a few miles - my first shale slice and the only flat I've had on the front with the intact inner tire. It was a clean cut through both tires, severing some cords, which would have been fatal for a single tire, but with two, I was able to offset the cuts, and it was perfectly fine.

When I first woke up this morning it was completely overcast - I thought it would rain before I even got up. It cleared a little by the time I left, but then got cloudy again and looked even more threatening. From the Arctic Circle on though, the clouds got whiter and puffier and fewer, till soon I knew they held no rain. By late this afternoon there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun was pleasantly warm.

 I stopped for lunch at the Eagle River Bridge and got an amazing birthday present. A huge dragonfly landed on my arm, and let me watch while it ate its lunch, which was another, smaller dragonfly. It was one of the most fascinating things I have ever seen in nature. Starting at the head it just chewed the whole thing up and swallowed it, leaving only the wings and two or three of the legs on my arm. It even licked its lips and wiped its face with its front "hand" and then licked its hand. It stayed on my arm for quite a while even after it was finished, and I just watched it in awe.

 I felt as strong as ever on the hill up to the Eagle Plains Hotel, and when I got there I treated myself to a cup of ice cream. I had made a flag that said "Today is my birthday," but I guess no one saw it. The waitress did give me the ice cream for half price - 50 cents - but not because it was my birthday. She claimed it was because the ice cream was frozen too hard, but I knew it was because she was just nice. (And because I'm so handsome!)

 The rest of the day was one tremendous long high. I was unreasonably happy, filled with energy and life and excitement. I was so manic, I just wanted to ride and ride and ride, but at the same time the scenery was so breathtaking, I could have stopped almost anywhere along the way and spent the rest of the day gazing, completely entranced. I did some of both, but my energy was too irrepressible - I couldn't linger in any one spot for too long. As the sun began to set, I became almost frantic - I didn't want the day to end. I didn't even want to waste time eating - I wolfed some gorp now and then and kept going. This return trip is exactly what I imagined and hoped it would be; a reunion with an old lover.

 I found a beautiful place to camp tonight - a moss bed with spectacular views. I had saved a piece of Chris and Dale's banana bread as a birthday cake, so when I stopped for the night I took it out. I even put a candle on it and sang Happy Birthday to myself, and blew the candle out. It was a pretty lonely little ceremony and it made me sad, but that was OK; I'm here to feel everything fully.

I gave myself a few birthday presents today: the ice cream, gorp (with chocolate chips!) whenever I wanted it,  honey on my peanut butter sandwiches, and one other indulgence; I let myself daydream about Laura without any scolding. I thought about the happiest times we shared, and for one day, allowed myself the fantasy that we would get back together.