Top of the World
14 July 2018
In which I meet a fluffy dog.
Photos:
As nice as Dawson was, it was time to leave. I had been on the road nearly a month and hadn’t even crossed into Alaska yet. Of course, I could have been there by now had I continued down the Alaska Highway from Whitehorse, but there were a couple of things really worth the detour. First was the Dempster Highway and Tukaktoyuktuk, Dawson was another, and yet another was to be The Top of the World Highway. This is the road that leads from Dawson, climbs into the hills, and follows them to the US-Canada border, then leaves you off in Chicken.
I got up, filled up with gas, stopped for a delicious scone at the bakery, and rolled onto the ferry across the Yukon River. Soon I was headed up the hill on the west side, passing by the first campsite I stayed at in Dawson and leaving familiar road behind. From here on, it felt like the road was climbing quite a bit, but not like the steep climbs in Colorado where you’re squeezing through a narrow canyon. It felt more like I was just going up the side of the mountain, although the foliage on either side really prevented a good idea of what the real trajectory was. It didn’t take long before the road rose above the treeline, and that is when the whole world opened up. Suddenly I was looking down the side of the mountain into a valley below and onward to other more distant hills. I don’t know what the altitude was; probably was not all that high, but it was high enough for the Top of the World Highway name to feel exactly right. The view went on for mile after mile as the road winds its way along the top of a ridge, sometimes giving views down on either side.
As per usual, the Canadians sure know how to maintain a gravel road. It was nicely gravelled, nearly pothole-less, with gentle sweeping curves and and altogether smooth ride. Stack onto that the gorgeous views and perfect weather and it became one of the best roads of the entire trip. There wasn’t a ton of traffic on it, but I was surprised to find a couple groups on Harleys moving along at a leisurely pace, taking in the views. Out of a desire not to be stuck behind a dozen Harleys at the border crossing, I passed them.
Upon arriving at the border, I was second in line. I had been the only one, but then I got passed by a Jeep as I stopped to dig my passport out of my bag. That also gave me a little time to look at the border setup - cameras, radiation detection, the works, this was a real American border!
When I finally pulled up, the guy working the border today was a friendly guy from Jamaica. He didn’t have an accent and had spent most of his life in Florida. He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up here at Poker Creek, the northernmost land port of entry to the United States, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. Evidently the only real complication he had is that anytime he went back to Florida for a visit the heat and humidity were unbearable compared to the relative chilliness of Alaska. After we chatted a bit and he let me through, I pulled over for a picture and to stow my passport.
The first surprise of the day was the most perfect stretch of two-lane blacktop ever created. Starting just before the border station, someone had decided to welcome us all to the USA by putting down this beautiful road. It was nicely banked, perfectly smooth, had perfectly fresh paint stripes and no signs of wear - it was amazing. Even the signs along the wayside seemed like better versions of the ones I see back home. I rode down it gleefully as it was certainly the best road I had been down since somewhere in Alberta.
Too bad it only lasted about 5 miles. Suddenly there was one of those signs that indicates that the road is turning to dirt, and only a little later clunk clunk - I was back on dirt. Not just any dirt road either, a poorly maintained one - with tons of potholes and the occasional washout. It wasn’t a huge deal, the bike soaks up that kind of road pretty comfortably. I also recently gotten lots of practice plotting paths around or through groups of potholes that avoid the worst of the bumps, so I didn’t mind too much. Everyone else did though, all of the RV’s especially. Each one I encountered was crawling along no faster than 25 mph trying to keep from rustling the dishes too much. The road also became much curvier as it came down off of the peaks and into a canyon, twisting around as we followed a creek down. Overall I think I enjoyed both sides of the border equally but for different reasons. The Canadians had the scenery, but the road on the American side was more fun. It probably would have been a different story had I been in something with more wheels.
A few miles before Chicken, there’s a turnoff for Eagle, Alaska. I briefly considered going there, but I didn’t really much about it and had been told there wasn’t a whole lot there. That and the gradually greying weather kept me headed toward Chicken. The more I learn about it though, the more I think I’ll have to go back there at some point.
Eventually the road flattens out and the foliage opens up. Round a corner and suddenly you’re in Chicken! Chicken, Alaska!. My first time ever to be in Alaska, and for some reason I decided to pick Chicken. Evidently, when the town was founded, they wanted to call it Ptarmigan after a bird that was common in the area; except they couldn’t agree on how to spell it, so they went with Chicken. There isn’t a whole lot in Chicken these days, its days as a gold mining camp are pretty much over, but it does have some neat history and a few cool places to stop. I think had I known more about the area before I got there, I might have stayed a day or so. I guess I’ll add that to my list of places to go back to.
My first stop was the Goldpanner, a modern gift shop easily accessable from Alaska Route 5, the main road through town. I parked next to a guy who was just getting off of a Can Am Spyder with a trailer behind it. Its one of those three wheeled snowmobile looking things with the 2 wheels up front like a car but a single wheel in the back. And, it was pulling a trailer. He had also recently travelled the Top of the World Highway, but clearly did not enjoy it quite as much as I had given the look on his face and the complaints about the potholes. I think the biggest problem he had was being on a 3 wheeled vehicle
- there’s almost no good way to avoid any potholes; since the tires are each in their own track, one of them is bound to hit something. Tack on the extra weight of the trailer and you’re in for a bad time. I had to tone down my excitement from having just had a good time on the same road.
I looked around a bit outside - the location had its own generator (which was really pretty common so far, especially for seasonal locations), fuel for sale, cabins for rent, and plenty of parking. On the inside of the shop was a two story gift shop with an entire collection of Chicken related merchandise. As usual, I looked around for the magnets and stickers - I already have more tshirts that I can wear and most of the other knick knacks just aren’t appealing, especially with limited space where everything gets crushed. The lady that worked the register and I chatted a bit, she was a teacher from a small town in Colorado that had come up to travel for the summer. When she got to Chicken, they were hiring and she decided to stick around for a while. Since it was getting late in the season, she expected to start heading south fairly soon.
I had heard that the most interesting part of Chicken is Old Chicken, at the top of the hill. I asked about it, and apparently its only available via a tour, which didn’t work out for my timing. So, I continued on around the corner and down the road to Chicken Mercantile, although I’m not entirely sure thats the right name. Its actually a small collection of shops, presumably all owned by the same guy. There’s another gift shop, a bar, a pen with an attack chicken, and a small restaurant. I started with the gift shop where I found some more stickers. They also had a rubber chicken at the counter in place of a bell to ring. I really wanted to buy the rubber chicken; it would have made a great horn, but it was their last one and they didn’t want to sell it. Oh well, that’s fair way out here. After that I went next door to the little cafe and picked out one of their big and delicious cookies. I sat outside at the picnic table and ate part of my cookie and just as I was finishing up, a van full of German tourists pulled up. They piled out and started to wander around. One of them chatted me up about my bike, and after we were done I decided to head out. It didn’t take long to get out of Chicken, but I’m sure sooner or later I’ll be back.
Part of the reason I decided to carry on was the weather. It was turning to sort of a grey and rainy day, with showers off and on. Since this was a new area to me and I really wanted to make sure I made it to Tok, continuuing seemed like a good idea. The road between Chicken and the Alaska highway is mostly okay - smooth, with the occasional frost heave to keep you on your toes. The rest of the ride to Tok was pretty and relaxing overall.
Once in Tok, I had two things I wanted to find. First was the Eagle Claw Campground, recommended to me a few days earlier by another motorcyclist. Its a motorcycle only campground (although you could probably camp something else there - as long as its small and you ask nicely) on the edge of Tok, Alaska. The other thing I was looking for was a pink food truck, the home of Jen’s Thai Food. Its somewhat of a legend, I suppose, in that its the first pretty good Thai food in Alaska if you’re coming over from Canada. Well, neither one was immediately obvious after wandering around town for a little bit. Luckily, now that I was back in the USA, my cell phone started working again. I pulled up the Eagle Claw Campground on Google Maps, found that it was just outside of town, and proceeded to ride right past it. Then I looked at my phone again, went back the other way, and found the road I was looking for - Borealis, the perfect name for a street up here.
Just down the road was a plywood cutout of a motorcycle marking the driveway. Once off the main highway, the driveway goes through a small gravel roundabout, past a sign with a schedule of the camping rates, and into the campground. This wasn’t an ordinary campground. In addition to tent sites, it was equipped with a bunkhouse fashioned out of an old school bus. Further down the line, there was a couple of small cabins, a teepee, and an old ambulance, all of which were available for sleeping in. This is all very appealing to a motorcyclist, especially when the weather is crappy. Another feature that motorcyclists love is the tool shed. The owner of the campground collects tools and parts in a nice little shed, making it available for all to do maintenance on their bikes.
It was clear that I was not alone here. I recognized the beat up BMW with the spaghetti can gas cap parked in front of one of the small huts; it was owned by the German guy I met on the Dempster Highway.
The owner of the camp wasn’t around, but she had a sign up saying that we should just make oursselves comfortable and she’d be around to collect fees after work. I picked a nice little spot for my tent and got setup. Just as I was finishing up, none other than the Belgians - Jonas and Peiter, rode in. They had come in the day before, and decided to hang out a bit. Their big adventure for the day was going to the small theme park down the road - Muckluckland. Apparently its only $5 and surprisinly fun. I added that to my list for later.
Everyone else was all set to sit around the campfire, drink beer, smoke, and eat. But, I had been craving Thai food since somewhere in Montana, so thats what I sought out. After looking at the internet a little more, I discovered that Jen’s Thai Food was right where it was supposed to be, only now it wasn’t a pink food truck, it was a silver food trailer. Tricky!
I rode back to town and sure enough, there was the silver trailer. It sits across from the welcome center and back a block or so from the main highway, in what might call “downtown” Tok. The trailer is sitting on blocks, wheels removed, presumably to lower the order window to a height that makes sense. There’s sort of an EZ-up tent attached to it, as well as a plastic white picket fence to hide the wheel wells. Aside from being very neat and tidy, it doesn’t stand out.
I ordered a curry, sat at the picnic table under the bench, and waited. It had begun to rain which made me very thankful for the canopy over the table. Other people drove up and picked up orders from the window. Clearly Jen’s mostly did a takeout business. Eventually my food arrived, and boy did it arrive. Not only was it delicous, it was a huge portion. Fortunately, I was really hungry, the last thing I had really eaten was the Alaska-sized chocolate chip cookie in Chicken.
While I ate, a couple showed up who were also travelling through. They had a pickup truck with a kayak strapped to the top, and were just stopping in Tok for the night. They were likewise from the Lower 48 and had also just gotten into Alaska via the Alaska Highway. We chatted a bit about what we had seen so far and what we expected to do in our time in Alaska. Their next stop for the night was at a local hotel, where they had seen a flyer advertising a talk being given by Hugh Neff - the Chicago-born dog musher who called Tok home. I don’t really have a strong opinion on dog racing one way or the other, but its always interesting to hear from people closer to it than yourself, so I figured I’d go check it out.
I had already passed the Golden Bear Hotel a couple times today, so it was very easy to find. Right off the main lobby was a nicely equipped meeting room - complete with a big stuffed bear. I was a bit early, but it didn’t take long for the room to fill up with other curious tourists. Then we were joined by a couple of friendly dogs, and the man himself. He gave a really good talk that gave a pretty good overview of what dog sled racing was about, how they managed the dogs, how they fed the dogs (key takeaway: lots of fish. So much fish.), and whatever other questions people had. Apparently one of the key features they look for in a sled dog is not just being strong, but being able to eat a whole lot. There was more too, but I was super distracted. George, one of the sled dogs, had come over to me and was more than happy to let me pet him. Then he left, and I watched him go around the room to get petted by everyone else. Then he came back and leaned up against my leg, so I pet him some more. Eventually he laid down for a snooze right at my side. Its hard to beat the company of a big friendly, fluffy dog when you’re a little cold and far from home. I was starting to worry/hope that I had been adopted, but nope, when Hugh called his name, he was off again without hesitation. Dang.
After the talk, I went back to the Eagle Claw and joined the rest of the campers around the fire. It was the usual campfire banter, except we had points of view from Belgium, Germany, Alaska, Texas - and New Jersey. Our host and owner of the campsite had come over to offer to fire up the sauna, collect fees, pass out stickers, and chit chat. As we were sitting there, a newcomer rode up on a mid-90’s BMW. It stood out because it wasn’t one of their big adventure bikes, just a nice sporty white one. He claimed the ambulance for the night, and then came over to the campfire. Evidently, he had just come from McCarthy, Alaska after mostly recovering from an eye infection caused by taking a branch to the eye while hiking. He hadn’t been to the doctor, and he was wearing an eye patch. Apparently, he was a tough chap.
Eventually we all wandered off to our beds, and I slept the instant my head hit the pillow. What a great day.
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