My body doesn’t do well in 41 degree temperatures. About an hour ago the group took a little Artic tour bus ride, to do the polar bear plunge in the northernmost parts accessible by roads. I slept all the way there. And since there was no boat to jump from, I just didn’t have it in me to walk into near freezing waters but, others did.
And just when you start to think that you’re a bad ass doing something like; I don’t know, swimming in the Arctic or maybe even riding a motorcycle with friends to the northernmost parts in Alaska, we stop and meet a guy like Asushi from Japan. He is walking from Prudoe Bay to the furthest point in S America. And at another flagger stop a group of bicyclists came up the road on their way to Valdez. And did I fail to mention that the road is still frozen? At least near the path parts are melting I’m coming down a long 7% grade slipping and sliding on melted mud and from the corner of my mirror I spot Todd. He blows by me without so much as a nod or a wave. His total concentration had to be on that semi truck that was barreling up the hill and into his line of travel.
On the road to Prudoe Bay: And speaking of road flaggers I was the only one stopped with an African American flagger when we got into a long conversation about many subjects. He seemed starved for conversation. He told me across the bridge up ahead I would spot muskox and that caribou herds were due in two weeks. That last week there was five inches of snow on this very road. He’s from Fairbanks and wouldn’t live in Anchorage as it’s getting as bad as LA. He initially arrived in Alaska at age two as a military brat. He loves it here and his daughter is due to graduate college. Life is good and cold sometimes.
Coldfoot: John from Canada and I walked the road looking for his lost room key. I soon point to motorcycles and tents along a grassy area and we quickly forgot about the lost key.
I pointed to a small Japanese and American flag flying on a little trailer. John’s wife Jane is originally from Japan so it suddenly surprised me when he rattles off something in Japanese to the closed tent. Before I could swat the next horde of flying mosquitoes out pokes a surprised face. Asuchi is 28 years and he flew to Alaska, caught a ride to Prudoe Bay to begin his walk to Ushuaia (the furthest point in S America.). We met up with him in Coldfoot. Today we covered that same distance in about 5-6 hours by motorcycle. Imagine doing that on foot?
“Our riders today started out in Manly Hot Springs. Gregg aka Al Pacino bid us adios and headed back to Anchorage.” We miss you, get well and till next time.
Coldfoot is where we spent the night in a huge trailer partioned off into individual rooms. About $250 a night per room. Option B is outdoors in a tent with the mosquitoes and bears nearby. Option C is? Well, there’s no other options.
The entire area of Coldfoot was founded in 1898 when thousands of stampeders rushed the area in search of gold.
Originally called “Slate Creek,” the village’s name was then changed to “Coldfoot” when some prospectors got “cold feet” about staying the harsh winter in the area and retreated South.
It lies at Milepost 175 of the Dalton Highway, formerly known as the North Slope Haul Road. It lies at approximately 67° 15′ N Latitude, 150° 11′ W Longitude. And 250 miles from here is Prudoe bay our next destination where $160 per night will get you something a little bit better.
In its earlier hay-day prospectors that finally reached Coldfoot needed tools, such as picks, pans, shovels, rockers, and sluice boxes, to pull gold from stream deposits, or out of the ground via shafts sunk into the bedrock and quartz through the frozen, top permafrost layer.
Water for “placer mining” was used to wash away the dirt and heavier rock to expose the gold as flakes, dust, or nuggets. Any gold collected was then stored in long bags they called “pokes” made of either leather or buckskin.
John aka Johnny Steele is picking up outstanding road karma on account of yesterday fixing Decklands Craigslist Alaskan Dakar motorcycle, that developed a short. John helped me zip-tie my front fender and then he changed Gpskevin’s flat tire (twice) in addition to helping out the Japanese guy walking to S America by letting him have a nice shower.
Steele is perhaps the best known member of the North West Mounted Police whose fame stems from the establishment of the mounties.
There’s so much more that happened but, I just can’t keep up. Like for example Todd and the water truck and Karen the flagger ice road truckers-drama.
If you look on the back of my little Klondike. You will see a saw I picked up in Circle. It’s an ornamental saw. It’s been riding on the back of my motorcycle atop my red spare fuel canister.
A Motoquest motorcycle Alaska tour has been shadowing us recently. We first met them at the only fuel stop for over 150 miles. Todd inserted his credit card in and we all lined up to fuel up at $7.75 per gallon. The minute I turned away my bike falls over with the hose sticking out of my fill tank. My gps atop my tank bag flys off. I pick it up and it falls back down again.
The woman doesn’t care about the bike falling she just wants to know about why I carry a saw. I say it’s because we’re all on the lookout for road kill. The only thing we haven’t enjoyed yet is Caribou or muskox. Damn you Americans are tough she said.
End
Trawlercat Chronicles 