Chapter 23: The Urge for Going

 Chapter 23: The Urge for Going

Dawson City to Fairbanks 

 August 13, Wednesday: 53 miles  (6512) 

I was up, packed, and writing before Sally, Renee, or Theresa got up. After breakfast, I went down to say goodbye to Nancy and Marylou, but they were gone, so I left them a note. By the time I got back to the campsite, Shirley had returned, and the other three were gone. Shirley was very cold and distant, only saying that the other three had gone to the ferry. I didn't have it in me to try to talk it out with her to get to a better place, so I just wished her a good life, and went to catch the other three before they got on the ferry. We had a nice goodbye, and then I started up the 10-mile hill in the blazing sun and the clouds of dust. My heart was heavy with thoughts of home and friends and Laura. Several times I just started crying, for no specific reason, but just because I was so homesick and lonely. 

 My mind and spirit are in a complete shambles with so many conflicting thoughts and feelings about the trip, wanting to go home, feeling that I can't go home, not knowing how I would get home anyway, worrying about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life, or with all my tangled feelings for Laura.

 At a pullout overlooking the town, I stopped, though I wasn't physically tired, and I wasn't hungry. I just sat at a picnic table, almost in a daze or a trance. I finally forced myself to start riding again, because I began feeling that if I didn't keep moving I would soon just want to go back to Dawson, perhaps to call the whole trip off.

 My spirits improved a bit by late afternoon, and I even stopped to pan for gold at a little culvert, because I'll be leaving the Yukon soon, and it doesn't seem right to have not panned for gold at least once! Of course, I got nothing. A few miles on, I got a flat tire that turned out to just be a previous patch leaking, so I fixed that, and it started raining just as I got it back together. I put on my rain jacket and rode on, but when I found a little sod roof cabin right next to the road, I pulled my bike in and enjoyed being out of the rain. I cooked a can of chili I bought days ago, added some things to it and had a nice dinner - the first time I've cooked on my stove in a long time.

 I listened to Gordon Lightfoot singing "I'm not supposed to care" on my little tape machine, and wrote down the words so I could sing it to myself. Laura fills my thoughts. For months I have pondered what I could give her for her birthday, and now it's just days away and I haven't sent anything. I haven't even written to her for almost a month. I'm so confused and troubled by my feelings for her that I can't seem to find it in my heart to write.

 August 14, Thursday: zero miles

 I didn't feel like leaving the sod-roof cabin, to ride in the all-day rain, and anyway, I needed a chance to recover from the emotional whipsaw of going from weeks of extreme solitude, to four days of intense social interaction in Dawson, and now back to complete solitude. More importantly, I needed some time to wrestle with the reality that I'm nearing the end of the trip, at least as I originally imagined it.

The trip can be judged both a success and an abysmal failure. While the goal of reaching Alaska is now just a few miles away, the goal of getting over Laura seems no closer than when I started. That wouldn't matter so much if I were staying in Alaska, but now my thinking about what I will do next has shifted suddenly and dramatically, with news of John and Margo's wedding plans. 

Feeling overwhelmed with the jumble of thoughts, I abandoned my careful, measured journal-writing style, and filled four pages with frenetic, stream-of-consciousness scribbling, writing as fast as I could, whatever came to mind, hoping some order would emerge from the chaos.  

 August 15, Friday: 37 miles (6594)

 It was still very cloudy this morning, but the sun was peeking through, and it didn't look like it was going to rain anymore, so I decided I would ride. I took my time packing up and left my little home at 11:30. It was only 11 miles to the border, but it took me two and a half hours - some tough hills and bad construction, but mostly just a lack of energy on my part - a lack of mental energy that is. I just wasn't at all excited about getting to Alaska. I went through customs uneventfully, and didn't even stop in the little town of Boundary to celebrate or anything - I just kept riding along listlessly.

My first glimpse of Alaska; the white building in the distance is the US Customs station.

 The one bright spot in the day was that Marylou and Nancy came by! They were friendlier than ever, and gave me their addresses, and some cookies, lemonade, and bites of their sandwiches as well. They seemed as happy to see me as I was to see them, and it boosted my spirits considerably, though I was sad to realize that it would be the last time our paths could cross.

I stopped at the BLM Campground beyond the town of Jack Wade, though I had plenty of light left for riding - I just felt tired and unmotivated. I ate, set up my tent, worked on repairing my front rack, and went to sleep. I had intended to write to Laura, but I didn't have the energy to even do that. 

 August 16, Saturday: 14 miles  (6563)

Damn! I'm feeling scared now. I'm in Chicken, Alaska. I hadn't gone 15 miles when it started looking like rain. In fact, it looked like snow for a while, or felt like it almost could. At the Chicken grocery store I heard that the weather's bad all around - Fairbanks airport is shut down, and I met a local pilot just back from an aborted flight - he said it's socked in thick beyond Mount Fairplay, where I'm headed. I didn't want to ride in the rain, and I especially didn't want to get caught up on top of Mount Fairplay in a storm. I almost went for it anyway, but decided I'd at least check out the shelter at the airport that the storekeeper had told me about.  

At the airport, I found some locals, and I stood with them while they talked. Most of them are gold miners with claims nearby, packing up for the year. It was fascinating to get a glimpse of their world. The talk was of 4 inch, 6 inch, 8 inch dredges, paydirt, nuggets, sluiceboxes, Cats, overburden... It was depressing though; it seems like everyone had a bad year, and they're all heading south with their tails between their legs. One was waiting for a helicopter that was bringing his equipment back from the bush. He was chagrined, watching more of his summer earnings evaporate as each minute ticked by, because the helicopter cost $400 an hour. 

Listening to them talk is what got me scared. Several different times I heard remarks about this being "about the time that most people get out of here." Suddenly it feels like summer is gone and winter is just around the corner - it was certainly cold today, and I seem to have no resistance to it. A few nights ago I was in my gym shorts and nylon shirt and the cold didn't bother me at all, but my spirit feels broken now - I had to put on my wool shirt even in the cabin. All my thoughts are of home. Riding my bike home seems impossible - I don't even know how I will ride it to Fairbanks and Anchorage.

August 17, Sunday: 98 miles (6661)  Pavement!

 Still really cloudy and sprinkling this morning but showed signs of breaking up to the south, so I went for it. It gradually did break and got really nice just as I reached Mount Fairplay. A treat.

 A while later I saw a Canadian Camping Adventures bus like the one whose crew I had camped with in Dawson before doing the Dempster. I waved, just on general principle, and much to my amazement, it turned out to be Rick driving - the same tour leader, but with a different group. He stopped, gave me OJ, vitamins, and a balloon for my flagpole, and said they were going to camp at Moon Lake, 17 miles beyond Tok. I told him I would try to make it, though it was still a good 50 miles away. I cruised the last 25 miles of dirt road, and got to Tetlin Junction at about 6:30. I flew on the pavement to Tok, bought some food, and sped on to Moon Lake. It felt good, in spite of the light rain. (I should have known it would rain - I had a slight tailwind from Tetlin to Tok. I swear every single time I get any tail wind, I get rain immediately thereafter.) It was well worth pushing too - I got a warm welcome, they fed me, and we all sat by the fire talking and singing.

 Being on pavement made me realize how much finer control I have over the bike, after dodging rocks for 2000 miles. I can ride the white line seemingly for miles. It was also nice not to have to duck my head every time a car went by!

 August 18, Monday 61 miles (6722)

A bit of a late start. Got up, had breakfast with the tour group - a huge French toast  / all-I-could-eat / finish-the-leftovers type breakfast. Great! Then they left, and I still had to pack and also replace two broken spokes.

I don't remember having much of a good time riding today. Had a lot of headwind, it was chilly, and it rained this afternoon. I rode in the rain for a while, and then saw that it would pass soon if I waited it out, so I got under some good-sized spruce trees where it was fairly dry, and waited 45 minutes. It did pass, but I kept my rain jacket on the rest of the day just because it was so cold. 

I found a rest area at milepost 1393 of the Alaska Highway, and decided that was far enough. I was going to sleep under the picnic shelter so I didn't have to set up my tent, but by asking for water, I met a Swiss couple, Hans and Mary, who invited me to stay with them in their motorhome camper. They gave me salmon for dinner, and we talked all evening. 

Most of my thoughts today were of home, of John and Margo, and of Laura. I felt more and more certain that I will just take a bus home from Anchorage, and I imagined what it would be like, and looked forward to it. 

 August 19, Tuesday 65 miles (6787)

A better day. Slept in a bit, didn't have much to pack up, had cereal for breakfast with Hans and Mary, and hit the road. I still had my usual constant headwind, but at least the rain wasn't as heavy as yesterday - it just sprinkled off and on. I'm convinced that the sun never shines in Alaska.

I saw the Alaska Pipeline today, where it crosses the Tanana River.

 At one point I came upon a woman whose Jeep had broken down, and I got to be a knight in shining armor. Her distributor rotor had broken, so I glued it back together with super glue and she was on her way! 

I saw more and more trees with their leaves completely turned and some even with their leaves already falling off. I also saw vees of geese heading south, and I got a strong urge to be doing likewise. 

The warriors of winter give a cold triumphant shout
And all that stays is dying, all that lives is gettin' out
See the geese in chevron flight
Flapping and racing on before the snow
They've got the urge for going
And they've got the wings to go

They get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down,                                                                                                                            Winter's closing in.

Joni Mitchell 

As certain as I was yesterday that I would just take a bus home from Anchorage, still today I was back to seriously thinking about riding home. This evening I was imagining doing it almost like a race to see how fast I could make it. I don't know when John and Margo are getting married, though... probably too soon to allow for even the quickest ride home. Still the idea of it was exciting enough to keep me awake for a while after I went to bed this evening.

 August 20, Wednesday 65 miles (6852)

 It rained this morning, lightly at first but then hard enough to put on my rain jacket. My moods and thoughts about riding home seemed to swing with the weather. I tried to temper my enthusiasm with a little realism. It would be a daunting undertaking - it may look all downhill on the map but I know better. And I'm sure that though I have had a headwind almost all the time on the way here, still the wind would find a way to switch completely and blow out of the SE for three months if I turned around. 

Somehow the thought of packing the old bike into a box is depressing, though, and my latest feeling is that I'll at least start riding back, because that decision is always reversible - I can take a bus at any time, or I could go down and catch the ferry.

I had a fairly enjoyable ride today and made good time to Fairbanks. I went first to the post office, and was surprised to get a letter from Laura. Really nice to get mail, but it also stirred up some emotions I might rather not deal with... "I'm not supposed to care." Confuses the issue of going home. 

While I was in the post office I ran into Dan Moore who I had met on the Dempster. He was with his friend Denise and they took me to dinner - a good sub sandwich. Then I called Bill Scherrer, a guy I met on the ferry in Dawson before I went up the Dempster. He invited me to his house, and I spent the evening with him and his wife Leslie. 

August 21, Thursday: rest day

 The weather was nice - I should have been riding, but I spent the day with the Scherrers in Fairbanks, doing laundry, and finally writing a letter to Laura. This evening we went to a couple of Local Institutions: The Howling Dog Saloon, and Clinker, Dagger, Bickerstaff and Petts.

 I felt discouraged about biking home when I looked at the big map the Scherrers have on their wall; that's a long way to ride.