Chapter 22: Goodbye to the Dempster, Back to Dawson
August 6, 1980 - Wednesday: 60 miles (6294)
Adding extra spokes to the rear wheel didn't solve the problem of broken spokes, but it did mean that the wheel wouldn't always immediately warp when a spoke broke. Over the last few days several spokes have broken and I've been able to keep riding, but finally today when the 5th one broke, the wheel started to warp. I stopped at one of the best views on the whole Eagle Plain - the crest of the hill just before the road drops to the Ogilvie River. I climbed to the top of a mound there, and sat in the sun and wind, fixing the spokes. It was so beautiful up there that I hated to come down - I was sad to leave Eagle Plain behind.
It's too faint to see in this photo, but the road zig-zags across the image, following the high ground all the way to the horizon. At one point I saw a dust cloud in the distance, and it was fully 30 minutes later that the truck making the cloud passed me. The truck was going at least 50 miles an hour, meaning that the dust cloud was big enough to see from 25 miles away!
Along the Ogilvie River I met two women on bikes, Cindy and Janet, who had ridden from Missoula Montana. They are planning to fly home from Inuvik. I talked with them for quite a while - they were very nice, friendly, intelligent.
With a headwind, repairs, bad road surface, and lower energy, it was slow going today - it took 12 hours to go 60 miles. I made it to the Ogilvie campground, where a couple from Louisiana shared their dinner with me. I hung out with them until after dark. (It gets dark now! This is the first actual dark night I've had for weeks, and I got my first show of Northern Lights - crazy swirls of pink and purple washing overhead!)
August 7, Thursday: 75 miles (6369) km 194-73
A lot of headwind again. The only time I had a tailwind was just as I was climbing Windy Pass, and the instant I felt the wind behind me, I knew it was going to rain - it seems I almost never get a tailwind except as a prelude to a downpour!
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| The Ogilvie Mountains are unlike anything I have ever seen; moonscape mounds of broken rock with nothing growing on them. |
I thought maybe I could use the wind to ride out of the way of the rain, which I did for a while, but eventually it caught up with me. It was just a summer shower, though, not enough to put on rain gear. More showers came and went throughout the day. After I rode through one of them, I happened to look behind me and saw an absolutely breathtaking rainbow. I stopped and gazed at it in awe.
While I was there, a car whizzed by, not even slowing down to look at the rainbow or any of the incredible scenery around. I felt sad for the people in the car and started singing Jackson Browne's song, Bright Baby Blues:
I'm sitting down by the highway,
Down by that highway side.
Everybody's going somewhere,
Riding just as fast as they can ride.
I guess they've got a lot to do
Before they can rest assured
Their lives are justified.
Pray to God for me babe
He can let me slide.
A while later, two lovely women from Ontario, Nancy and Marylou, stopped to chat. They are about my age, and traveling around the country in a Jeep. They were so friendly (and attractive!) that I once again lamented the fleeting nature of human contact on this journey.
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| As I rode through North Fork Pass, I felt sad, nostalgic... my time on the Dempster would end soon. | |
August 8, Friday: 75 miles (6444)
It already seems like days ago that I left the Dempster, and it was just this afternoon. It started drizzling as I left the campground this morning, and the drizzle turned to rain briefly before it stopped. A little while later, I met the two northbound bikers I had heard about. They're nice guys - I don't mind sharing the road with them. While we were talking, a guy stopped to chat and take our pictures. He said he was doing a story on the Dempster for the New York Times.
My 15 seconds of fame! The story didn't appear until almost a year
later, and I got a pretty small mention, with my age wrong to boot, but there I
am, in the middle of the photo! You can read the whole article here.
It started drizzling again as I neared the end of the Dempster, which seemed fitting for a bittersweet farewell. I left a note for the Fadums on the trailer they had left at the junction, and then pushed hard to reach Dawson in time to get my mail. It was worth hurrying because I got several good letters, including one from John. Then I went down the rest of the list of priorities for hitting a town after time in the wilderness: I got something good to eat, treated myself to an ice cream cone, took a shower, (a cold one, since the power was out, but still a shower!) and then went to Diamond Tooth Gertie's.
After catching the first show there, I went across the river to set up camp. On my customary cruise around the campground, I met a group of four women my age - Theresa, Renee, Sally, and Shirley. They were going into town, so I told them I'd meet them at Gertie's. I set up my tent, put all my gear inside, and rode my empty bike back over to town. The foursome were quite jovial, and it was nice to have someone to pal around with. I stayed in town for a while after they left, enjoying the "city life" after so much solitude.
It was really dark when I went back to the campground, and I felt some "End of the Summer Blues," standing on the ferry, with its spotlights turning the drizzle to sparkling diamonds, swirling around against the black night sky.
When I got into my tent tonight, I thought about John's letter. He and Margo are talking about getting married. I already knew about two other friends getting married in September, and it was bad enough to know I might miss their wedding, but I can't bear to think of missing John and Margo's. I started thinking of how I could get back East, including very seriously considering riding back, and trying to calculate the cost, the time, and weighing other alternatives. Thinking about that really complicates my feelings - is Anchorage suddenly only a turn-around point?
August 9, Saturday: 5 miles (6449)
Today started badly, and got rapidly worse. It began with the campground attendant nabbing me for the $2.50 daily fee, even though I was sharing a site with someone who had already paid. I wanted to argue with her, but it didn't seem like a battle I'd win. Money has been tight all along, though, and now with the possibility that I will try to get home as well, on the limited funds I have, I really can't afford to spend money on camping.
Then I went into town, called home, and talked for 20 minutes, assuming that because it was the weekend, the rates would be low. It turns out the low rate is only on Sunday, so that phone call cost $35! It was on Laura's calling card, so it's not money immediately out of pocket, but I will have to apologize and pay her back.
As I was absorbing that shock, I noticed that my expensive Zefal tire pump was gone, its home on the frame of my bike glaringly empty. I wanted to believe that it might have bounced off, riding around with the bike unloaded, but I knew it was more likely that someone had stolen it. I retraced my route, asked everyone I met if they had seen it, and even attached a cardboard sign to my bike, pleading for its return, but I had no luck. The hardware store had one heavy, primitive pump in stock. I hated to spend the $14, but I obviously can't be without a pump. I went back to camp discouraged and depressed, one of the few times on this trip that I have felt like just packing it up and going home.
As I was sitting at the picnic table, I saw the camp attendant driving toward me, doubtless coming for another pound of flesh. I ducked through the bushes and hid from her. Sally and Teresa came by so I walked with them back to their campsite. They started making soup, and we hung out telling stories and laughing.
These four are some of the most fun-loving, uninhibited, unbashful women I have ever met. When the soup was ready, they shouted, "ANYONE WANT SOME SOUP?" so loud that the entire campground could have heard. When that got no response, they went out and forcibly invited people! John and Peter, two Germans I had met on the Dempster, came. They were fun too, teaching us a game we all then played.
At 11:00 P.M. we all piled in the car and went down to the ferry, because the women wanted to invite the ferry workers to come for soup when they got off work at 11:30. One woman did come. Also while we were down there, two Norwegians approached us (after our self-appointed "cheerleading squad" welcomed them to Dawson City!) to ask about a campground. They were promptly invited for soup, of course, and they couldn't really refuse. We sat around the fire all night - it was getting light when we finally turned in. We moved my tent over so that I wouldn't have to pay again.
August 10, Sunday: 5 miles (6454)
The four women went into Dawson this morning, but I stayed behind to finish writing, and then went over with the two Norwegians, Per and Ivan, and guided them around town. I enjoyed spending time with them. They are quick witted, and translating their humor to English was fun and hilarious.
When the women came back they brought with them the cutest of the ferry workers, and two guys who were camped nearby. I had to divide my time between the Norwegians and the women for a while, but then we all sat around the fire together, and this evening we went up to the midnight Dome to see the tail end of the sunset.
I got a chance to talk with Shirley for a while. I learned that she's only 21. For some reason I had thought she was older than me, but as she talked I realized how much younger than me she really is, in life experience - she is full of youthful defiance, her idealism as yet unsullied by time in the cruel world. I carefully avoided any confrontation with that idealism, knowing that it would be counterproductive for me to try to temper it with my imagined "wisdom." It was refreshing in a way, and a reminder to me not to let my own idealism get too tempered.
Kevin the ferryman apparently couldn't resist the temptation, though, and their discussion became uncomfortably heated. I sat by in guru silence, looking at the incredibly beautiful mountains, blue on blue on blue in the distance. I finally gave them an out from the conversation (which was by now an argument) by saying, in good guru style, "beautiful sunset."
Shirley was noticeably tense the rest of the evening. I sat with her for a while, talking and watching the Northern Lights, which have been amazing the last two nights. I gave her a back rub that sublimated a world of longing, and before she went to bed she gave me a hug.
After she went to bed I rode my bike to the ferry, waited for it until 5:30 AM, and went to a payphone and called the Wilderness School. I talked with John about his plan to get married this fall. I told him how much I wanted to be there for that. I also talked with Dan, but when my 7 minutes ran out I didn't put more money in - I had already spent $9. As soon as I hung up I started crying. I felt certain that I would not stay in Anchorage, that one way or another I will work my way home.
I went back to the ferry, and sat on the deck, huddled against the cold and falling asleep. One of the deckhands let me sit in the little heated cabin on board, and I soon fell asleep again there. I guess it must have been nearly an hour before we went across, because I remember it was 7:30 when I went to bed - the sun was already up.
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| This photo is actually from a week earlier on the Dempster, but it fits the mood. |
August 11, Monday
I got up after three hours of sleep because someone Theresa met last night was bringing over some smoked salmon to bake for lunch. We built a fire, and the salmon was excellent. I slept some more this afternoon and then we all sat around the fire again until 3:00 AM. After everyone else went to bed, Shirley and I struggled with how intimate we wanted to get. We were certainly both lonely and longing for affection, but in the end we hugged, said good night, and went to our separate tents.
August 12, Tuesday 5 miles (6459)
Per and Ivan, the Norwegians, left this morning before anyone else was up. I just realized that I haven't written much about them, though they were an important part of my time here. I think they learned a lot of English from us, and especially from me, since I spent more time with them, and since apparently (as Per told me several times) I am a good teacher. There was a tremendous improvement in their understanding and communication in just two days. Per was in fine form at the fire last night, joking constantly and adding life to the party. He and I had become quite good friends, and we teased each other a lot. I was sad when I woke up this morning and realized that they were really gone.
I had big plans of leaving today too, but one thing after another added up quickly. I couldn't get up early after staying up so late. Then I wanted to write to John and Margo, and to my friend at the bank to arrange for the last of my savings to be sent to Anchorage, and with the pace of my writing, that took quite a while. Shirley left without a word while I was writing - it seemed that she didn't want to see me after last night. I thought our decision was mutual, but perhaps she felt I had rejected her.
By the time I finished writing, it was late afternoon. I packed up slowly and mechanically - my heart wasn't in it. As I was leaving to mail the letters and buy food for the next leg of the trip, Sally, Renee, and Theresa said they would take me out to dinner. So I went over and ran my errands, and met up with The Four minus Shirley, at The Lucky Inn. It was 9:00 by the time we got back to camp, so obviously I was not leaving today.
The rest of the evening was badly marred by a guy from Quebec who was drunk and/or high, and barely spoke any English, who invited himself to our campsite, and would not leave. About all he could say was "I hick-a-chiking 2 days here," and "You go university?" and none of us knew French, so there was no conversing with him. At one point he tried splitting wood with Sally's axe, and promptly broke the handle.
Theresa and I went for a walk, just to get away from him. He was still there when we got back, so I went for a walk with Sally. We hadn't gone far when I saw Nancy and Marylou, the women in the Jeep who had stopped to talk with me on the Dempster. It was nice to see them. Sally and I sat with them by their fire, but after a while Sally went back to relieve the others with the intruder, so it was just the three of us.
For a few minutes that is. Pretty soon "You go university?" came by. The instant I saw who it was I tried to warn Nancy and Marylou not to talk to him, but it was too late - Nancy had already said hi, and that was all the invitation he needed. He walked right over, pulled up a log, sat down by the fire as if it were his very own campsite, and started talking away in his incoherent English. We tried to talk with him a little bit to be polite, but he was pretty obnoxious, and took no cues.
Eventually he went over to the picnic table and started to roll a joint. At that point Nancy kicked him out. She said "Don't you have your own campsite to go to?" To which he replied "You toke? You toke? You toke? to each of us. Exasperated, Nancy just said "Please leave. Go away." He got very angry, threw his beer on the ground and walked away.
We had the rest of the evening to ourselves and it was really pleasant. Nancy and Marylou said that they too wished afterwards that they hadn't driven away so soon when we met on the Dempster. We sat around the fire until it became just a bed of softly glowing embers. I hated to leave, but I also felt guilty for not spending time with Sally, Theresa, and Renee, especially after they took me out to dinner.
When I got back to their camp, Sally and Renee were already in bed, and Theresa was just going in the tent too. Shirley wasn't there - it seems she had met some other guy and was sleeping at his site. (Sleeping with him?) The other three decreed that I was going to take Shirley's place in their tent, and I didn't argue, as I was not looking forward to unpacking everything and setting up my tent in the dark. What a gift that was, to feel so welcomed and befriended and trusted.
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