Not Again!

Not Again! Wiseman, AK

Wiseman, AK

Again – rain overnight has us concerned for the road conditions, now on the return to Fairbanks. The first 80 miles the road was not bad and we made good time, now with several 100 miles of dirt experience, our confidence is high. As soon as we got comfortable, the rain starts again, hard at times, but constant. The mud gets deeper, the road gets slippery, so we spin and swerve in our lane. The truck traffic heavy, mud spray thick. We hit the construction and in pouring rain await the pilot truck. The longer we wait, the deeper the mud gets, the higher our concern. When we do start out, in deep mud, we find the boulders hidden underneath are more than challenging – banging our tires side to side in directions more than felt. The pace care is slow – TOO slow – causing us to run in lower gears than needed in the mud – we try to lay back, but soon catch up again, riding the bumper of the pilot truck. Hand motions for her to go faster are soon ignored. We stand on the pegs, to improve our balance by lowering our center of gravity, feathering the clutch to remain upright in these conditions. The pilot truck stops for construction equipment and Walt goes forward, pleading with the driver to go faster. She explains that she is going as fast as she can, because it is bumpy in the truck (for her) if she goes faster. It seems inronic that the safety of the pilot car and the comfort of its driver completely overrides the safety of the three bikes in her wake. Again, these 15 miles seem the longest of the trip, and we are thrilled when we reach the end, all remaining upright.

Several weeks previous to our departure from home, several of our Harley group members are involved in an accident resulting in one death due to the accident, and another, several weeks later, due to surgeries needed to repair the damage. I discussed with Walt and Lee my concerns of following too closely and we resolve to stay widely apart to learn from these tragic deaths.

As we exit the construction zone, Lee is in the lead, Walt following, and I’m riding drag. Dodging potholes, using the entire road width, we dance on the pegs, to find a smooth, mud-less route. I’m riding in the far left part of the roadway and notice late that the boys are slowing and pulling off to the right; brake-lights and blinkers are obscured by mud covering the lenses. Lee is looking for a place to pull over to celebrate our cheating death through the construction zone. Not wanting to slam on my brakes in the mud, and knowing not to use my front brake in those conditions, I glide by them on the left, just as I approach Walt he executes a U-turn to return to a service road on the left. I narrowly swerve to miss him and his bike, focusing on avoiding the wreck. Now passing him I notice Lee half-way completing his U-turn, and coming directly in my path. Lee notices me late, and in his direct path, and slams on his front brake. I’m unable to stop, swerve as far as I can to the left, and prepare for the wreck. Thinking my right leg is going to be crushed, I lift it high above the gas tank as I swerve: but Lee’s quick action buys me time for my front end to sneak by. My right saddle bag contacts Lee’s front tire in a grazing fashion – my bike swerves, now to the right, due to the impact, trying to recover, I steer right, then left, wildly, nearly high-siding over the bars. We stop, Lee rides up, gives me a fist-bump, and says “nice driving”. I’m not sure if he’s being factious or actually complementary on saving the bike. I sat on my bike, angry at myself, for violating the agreement I had asked the boys to make, about following too close. I couldn’t believe we had survived the narly-est conditions to almost wreck ourselves after. The boys continue with their plan to pull over, but I need some time to myself, so I slowly drive a few miles to a bridge overpass and parking lot, where I check my drawers. It is raining hard when the boys come, and we take refuge under the bridge for lunch. Nothing is said about the near-wreck.

We drain our spare gas into our tanks, again trying to avoid too much water entering our tanks. We continue on, towards Atigun Pass, and the high-point of the road. Its still raining hard when we come up and over, in fog, rain, and wind. As we approach the pass, the dark clouds were ominous, giving us no relief from the south side of the Brooks Range. Before hitting the pavement which would lead us to Wiseman in 30 miles, we find a grader working the road. Even though it had stopped raining, the soupy mixture poured off of his blade, into our lane of travel, adding to the muddy mixture which reached depths of 6-8 inches. We searched for the sweet spot in the road, and found none, swerving, spinning our tires and hoping not to go down in this dark brown mixture. Luckily it only lasted a mile or so.

We can easily see how the rivers have swollen from just two days of rain, since we headed north. Even on the wet roads now, we reach speeds of 60 MPH. Thirty miles from Wiseman, we hit glorious pavement. For the 2nd time, I notice my temperature gauge moving to the HOT side – we pull over at a river crossing, and like we did on the way north, use our water bottles to douche our radiators and engines from the 1-inch thick mud. The radiator is completely clogged and the 1-inch thick mud on the engine has dried to a mortar-like consistency. I notice Lee’s muffler is similarly coated, and when I point this out to him, he is incredulous that the 1-inch opening to his muffler is reduced to the diameter of a pencil. How does the mud fight against the exhaust pressure, and be able to nearly close off the exhaust? I try a gentle flick, with my finger, thinking it will just come off – and find that it is ceramic in nature. We find a large stick, and Lee uses it to bore out the exhaust.

As we start off anew, the temperatures return to normal, and we cruise into our cabin at Wiseman. We eat the food we brought and had left, and walk around Wiseman discovering the preparations for their 4th of July weekend. We stop at the Miners Museum, and chat with the locals, enjoying our whiskey and scotch, celebrating our good fortune.