14 August 2009
Tok is a very small place with a lot of dogs! It is one of the main dog mushing centres in Alaska and the town reflects this in its names – Burnt Paw Cafe for example. It is alleged that Tok (pronounced ‘Toke’) got its name in 1942 when the Alaska Highway was built by the military and Tok was on the intersection of the Tok Cutoff and the Alaska Highway. The Commanding Officer, Captain McMeekin, led the 97th Engineers whose mascots were a Husky pup called Tok and a black bear cub. This unlikely duo were best friends and kept the men amused during the hard work of building a highway in harsh conditions – apparently the bear cub liked to ride on the bonnet (hood) of the truck like a giant mascot! All the army guys loved the pup and it was unanimously decided that the settlement should be named in honour of the dog.
I met a group of three bikers at the motel I stayed in and they had just ridden the Top of the World Highway – a tough dirt road that links Tok with Dawson City in Canada – but had experienced such thick smoke from the huge forest fires raging in the north that they advised waiting for an extra day to see if it would clear.
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So I took their advice and spent the following day doing chores, wandering about the visitor’s centre and playing with the sled dog puppies... could I fit one in my top box and take it with me? I thought with a few adjustments I could but decided that ‘walkies’ would be a little difficult at 70 mph!! |
Heading out really early the following morning and braced for a difficult ride I settled into the smooth surface of the Alaska Highway until the turnoff onto the Top of the World Highway. I saw many moose with calves by the road side and gave them a lot of respect as I passed – they are a major cause of road traffic accidents up here. Turning onto the Top of the World Highway I was pleased to still find tarmac... this was very short lived as it soon became broken up and rutted from frost heave with large sections of gravel where they had removed the top surface. Suddenly it was a dirt road with large amounts of gravel and big stones – I dropped my speed to about 30mph and realised that I had a 100 miles of this... just as well I started early.
| I rode on and on and the scenery got better and better. The smoke had cleared a little and I could see for about 50 miles or so – this must be one of the most beautiful places in the world on a clear day and I can see why it’s called the top of the world. After stopping for a quick picture at the Chicken sign I rode onto the tiny town itself. |  |
The town describes this as “Beautiful Downtown Chicken” – a cafe, a pub and a gift shop... not a Starbucks in sight. Hurrah! |
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If you look really closely you’ll see that the ‘attack chicken’ is actually a duck... and a rather docile duck at that!!!I tried to provoke it into attacking but it just gave me a funny look! |
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Passing the turning for Eagle I decided not to take the detour but to press on. I stopped at Boundary to take some photos and I noticed that my rear tyre was very low. It had felt like I was riding on marbles but I had put it down to the terrible road surface... apparently not... I had a flat tyre. Hmmm... what to do? I hadn’t had cell phone reception since leaving Tok and I was about 8 miles from the Alaska/Canada border so, realising I had little choice; I rode on very, very slowly and carefully.
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Boundary - not exactly the best place in the world to realise you have a flat rear tyre.This whole place is deserted - all the buildings are boarded up and I tried the gas pump too but it didn't work! Rather amusingly it had a sign that said they took visa cards!!Mind you, just look at the road I'd just ridden stretching out into the distance... beautiful! |
Pulling up at the border one of the guards practically ran out of the building and asked my business... I obviously looked like a major threat to homeland security being a white, single female, alone on a motorcycle with a very obviously flat rear tyre! He was about as unhelpful as you could get when I explained my tyre problem but I followed him into the building and asked the other guard if I could borrow the phone to call Dawson City, 65 miles into Canada. Reluctantly he let me do this and the female Canadian guard grudgingly lent me a telephone book. One of the only two ‘recovery’ services in Dawson City was unable to recover me until the following day and the other said it would be ‘a very long time’ and they didn’t think they would be with me until 11pm at the earliest – if at all that day! The border closes at 8pm and I was quite sure the guards would not let me sleep on the floor of the border office.
So I went outside and swore at the bike for a bit which did absolutely nothing to either fix the bike or make me feel better! I then took all the pannier boxes off the bike and put it onto the centre stand to look at it properly, I carry spare inner tubes and tried to change the tube but I couldn’t get the spindle out.... looked like I would be here for a while! An old timer hobbled over and was trying to make encouraging noises but only succeeded in making me feel more helpless. The guards came out as they were obviously feeling outdone by an 80 year old and they were making ‘helpful’ suggestions. They have such a busy life on the most remote border crossing in North America but they did have a compressor and suggested that I pump up the tyre and try riding 65 miles of bad dirt road to Dawson City – this was such a stupid idea I thought they were joking until I looked at their faces!
Suddenly a white truck appeared at the border. It was an Alaskan man travelling home and he was brilliant! He had a can of ‘fix-a-flat’ which you spray into the tyre and it seals it up enough to get you to a garage (I am assuming it isn’t usually used on gravel roads). He sorted out the tyre and told me to ride a mile out and back to check it was ok. I did and when I got back to him he had pulled about 10 boxes off the roof of his truck to find a second can to give to me in case it went flat again before Dawson City. He wouldn’t take any money for the cans and explained by saying, “You could have been my wife in this situation” however I doubt very much his wife would have been allowed out the house without at least one can of ‘fix-a-flat’ on her person!! I never found out his name or anything else about him other than he lives with his wife in a tiny village by a lake which you can only fly to – thank you again mystery, organised and very capable Alaskan man!!
I crawled at barely over walking pace to Dawson City and was very, very happy to see it. I celebrated by checking into a better hotel than usual and having a very long bath! In the morning I pumped the tyre up as it had gone flat over night again and rode the 2 miles to the garage.
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Dawson City is a very historical town and the capital of the Klondike. It was here in 1886 the famous Klondike gold rush started.The town has changed little since the late 19th century and is delightful to wander about discovering its history. |
The owner decided that he wanted to change the tube for me and we set about trying to get the spindle out. It was quite a struggle but we got there and I realised that there was no way I could have done this at the border. I didn’t bother trying to fix the inner tube and besides it was filled with fix-a-flat so, while the owner was busy putting in the new tube, I gave the bike a once over and checked the chain, sprockets, oil and other stuff. The owner saw me doing this and said I would make a good assistant so I asked him if he had a job for me! He said that he didn’t want me to work for him but he would get a bike and go with me on my travels! I rode back into town and decided that it was too late to leave that day – a fortunate decision as it turned out.
After a visit to the very interesting museum which explained how the early gold miners knew the outside temperature by placing bottles of liquid on the windowsill of their cabins. Each bottle froze at different known temperature. Quicksilver - 40 degrees below |
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I arrived back at the hotel to find my rear tyre flat again... hmmm... I called the garage but it was too late to get it fixed that day so once again, I pumped it up in the morning and headed back out the 2 miles to the garage. The owner wasn’t there so I got the usual tyre fixer chap who was very nice and together we took off the wheel and tube. The owner had ‘pinched’ the tube in two places when replacing it the day before so the new guy put on two large patches and we checked it very carefully to make sure nothing else could go wrong. Again it was too late to leave for Whitehorse 330 miles south so I kicked about Dawson City desperate to be on the road again.
The tyre was looking good the following morning so I set out for the days ride confident all would be well with the world... but it wasn’t....
Tune in next time to find out what happened in the ongoing saga of the Baron’s rear tyre!!