Oh, I don't think I mentioned how this place got its name. Back in the gold rush days, the miners were heading for Prudhoe Bay to do prospecting and when they got to Coldfoot and saw how difficult the journey had been, a lot of them got "coldfeet" and turned around and went back to Fairbanks. Hence, Coldfoot.
In order to make the tour that Nick had booked for us in Deadhorse, they said we had to leave at 6am. I said, "no problem". They didn't know I wasn't telling the truth. I actually did get up before 6am as I didn't sleep well at all. I got gone about 6:45 or so. Not too far down the road to Deadhorse, I came across Nick and Jen just sitting by the road waiting. Turns out they had mixed signals with Lane and didn't know where he was. He showed up just after I got there and they moved out. I was way behind. No way I could keep up with them.
The problem with the tour was that it was scheduled such that you only had 8 hours to get there. Well, with their late start, they didn't get there until right at 2pm so they made the tour. Meanwhile, I'm still on the road to Deadhorse.
That road from Coldfoot to Deadhorse is beyond description! It took me 9 hours to get there. You can do the math yourself. Nine hours divided into 244 miles gives you approximately 27 miles per hour. TWENTY SEVEN STINKING MILES PER HOUR! The magical part is I made it without any BMW road kill. I was so close several times again and I think the absolute worst part was when I was getting close and a sign came up "Road Repair next 50 miles". On this one they had put down LARGE gravel instead of the smaller stuff I was getting used to. I was ALL OVER that road. That large gravel is the hardest stuff to try and ride a motorcycle on.
The day had started out ok. The weather was clear, no construction and the road isn't too bad. But, not too far down the road after I saw Nick and Jen, I see fog. And this is real fog. I can't see the bottom of the ditch on the side of the road. Then I see a sign "Road Narrows". Well, I'm thinking, "if I can't see anything, how do I know when a truck is coming?". And then the road starts going up a little and it begins to look like something out of those old Dracula movies where you're riding in the carriage along the road to the castle and there's nothing on either side. Spooky stuff. I just motored on and shortly thereafter, I was out of the shadow of the mountains and the fog disappeared. I was so glad too.
Then comes Antigun Pass. WOW! It's high and it's long and it's MUD. Of course they had to be working on it when I wanted to go over so there's the mud again. I hate mud. Especially when I'm looking at all the guard rails along the road and I can't find more then 6 feet or so of rail without some kind of damage on it. That says to me that people have been running into those rails a lot. We're talking two to three miles of rail and it's all damaged to one degree or another. I guess a lot of it could be from snowplows in the winter. Yes, let's say all the damage is just done by snowplows. Now I feel much better. Except for the slipping and sliding in the mud. And looking down, way down, to the bottom of the pass.
I finally make it through the pass and the road is actually paved for a while so I can cruise along rather nicely. I can't get too relaxed though as I might miss a "pavement break" ahead.
About 50 miles from Deadhorse (right about where the large gravel started), I came across two Mexicans working on a bike tire. One was riding a bike like mine and the other was on a KLR. The older one didn't speak much English at all but the younger one did speak a little. I used my really bad spanish on them. "Se Habla Espanol aqui" They said they had it fixed and were going to try and make it to Deadhorse.
I saw my first Caribou today. It was just on the side of the road coming into Deadhorse. Just munching on the tundra and not minding my motorcycle at all. Come to find out that the wildlife are in charge in Deadhorse. It's against the law to try to drive them off or honk a horn at them to get them off the road. You just have to stop and wait until they decide to get out of your way. With Grizzly bears they are allowed to try to "train" them to stay away from humans by honking horns, yelling at them and shooting them with beanbags from a 12 gauge shotgun. But with Polar bears, if one comes around, the people have to leave the area until it is gone. They can't bother the Polar bears in any way. The natives depend on the Polar bears for their livelihood. Strange agreements they have in place up there.
So, I arrive and I am beat. I'm thinking "how can I find someone to put my bike on a trailer and take me back to Fairbanks?" I was in a total funk. It was so stressful getting there and I had to turn around the next day and go back to Coldfoot. I was thinking, "I just couldn't do it". I got something to eat and went to bed.
It gets better. .
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