We managed to delay ourselves until about 16.00 in Whitehorse and then left in a terrible downpour, and as the first few km were steep uphill to get out of the valley, we were feeling down. But the sky stopped dumping water on us and soon we found ourselves going up and down over rolling hills besides more Wonderful Lakes. We had set ourselves a new goal: get to Scott’s Anarchy Farm! We had met Scott in the Potlatch (see previous post here) and he had invited us to visit him when we would pass.

Unfortunately he was not in the Greenhouse: a big plastic covered collection of wonderful smelling flowers and vegetables. We waited outside for some moments and cycled around in the area, but as we did not had the directions to their house, we returned to the greenhouse. The rain started again, and we decided to sleep inside the greenhouse, setting up our inner tent only. It was by far the best smelling campsite on our entire trip.

In the middle of the night we heard some noises and Scott came in. He did not seem to surprised to see us sleeping in the middle of hundreds of flowers and added one more log to the slow burning woodstove, so the temperature stayed above freezing.

The next morning he came back with coffee. A few weeks later he sent us a great poem, please check it out here on his 1000 Americans page. We stayed close to the warm fire all morning and only after noon, we packed our tent and continued riding through the rainy Yukon lake District. The wind was friendly and even with our late starts we did over 100 km, ending up late at a deserted state campground, close to Teslin lake.

August 28 – 30: through the lake District with Mate & tortas

We had promised ourselves to start earlier, and actually managed to get on our bikes before 8 ‘o clock! We arrived quickly at the small place of Teslin, where we spend several hours in the library. We were surprised at the many small libraries we met, there is so much great stuff to see and hear, most offer Internet access and the ladies running them are without exception all nice and friendly, so support your local Library and get your kids to read!

We spend some time in the Teslin Motel, working on our reports and chatting with Heather, who was on her way North, on a big BMW motorbike (see her picture here). We fixed her iPhone for her and chatted with this lovely woman, who was in great spirit.. Do not pass the Motel without seeing the hidden gem: a small museum with stuffed animals in the gift shop (some of Ivana’s images are on Flickr here). This sounds much worse than it is, they have done a wonderful job. Oh, and the Wifi is free at the Motel

Ivana managed to cross the scary and long bridge, which had a steel bottom, through which you could see water below. As with most rivers, we had to climb a steep hill to get out of the valley it had created, but during the climb a van stopped.

‘Hola!’ Ariel & Claudia stopped besides Ivana in their van which was totally covered with pictures of Patagonia and maps. Ivana started chatting away in turbo-spanish, but I reminded her that we wanted to get to a rest area for the night before dark, 17km ahead, so we had to keep going. No problem, they said, we will wait for you there with mate & tortas fritas. These words had a wonderful effect on Ivana. She started cycling faster then ever before and raced up and over hills with a determined look on her face, it was very hard to keep up!

When we reached Claudia an hour later, she was surprised to see us already, but immediately invited us in their van. I heard a hissing sound and noticed that Ivana’s rear tire was making the noise. A staple was stuck in it: our 2nd flat tire! I quickly fixed it and set up the tent together with Ariel, while it slowly dawned on me that he really did not speak any word of English

We drank several rounds of mate and Claudia made her tortas fritas as promised. We had such a great time, they were so happy to travel and see the world and eachother. Ivana was happy to speak Spanish again and drink and eat the taste of home, even though she was so many miles away…

In the morning we said goodbye to them and headed up more and more. Fortunately the wind was still good as we kept on climbing until we actually crossed a continental divide, where rivers on one side were draining into the Arctic Ocean, while water that falls just a mile back makes its way into the Pacific via the Yukon. Logically this meant some downhill as well and we raced towards our stop for the night: a rest area next to the nice Rancheria Falls, where we ate our spaghetti next to a big campfire we managed to get going, though all wood was soaked.

31st August: Frost, bear & Nuggets

We woke up by a strange sensation: a yellow light came into our tent. Sun! I got up quickly and took off the tent to dry off the condensation. When I noticed that some small pools were actually frozen, I checked the temperature: it was only 2 degrees and it had frozen in the night! We had not noticed it in our cozy warm Carinthia sleeping bags, but when outside it was crispy..

We headed out early for probably the first time in, well, almost ever and got rewarded right away; not just with a deserted Highway, but with our first sighting. Ivana and I both heard some cracking noises in the trees left of the Alaska Highway. We stopped and looked. A black bear looked at us, hesitated and then ran up a steep hill, out of sight. Our first Black bear! We had thought that we would be scared, but we were both so happy to see the beautiful animal and had not thought about the usual precautions, though the bearspray was always within reach. We celebrated our first bear with a breakfast in the first restaurant, and as they had Wifi, we – as usual – managed to limit the actual cycling hours drastically by typing and reading..

Soon it got warm enough to take of my jacket, we were in T-shirt again! It was great, with the wind in our back and sun in our face we hardly noticed the many rolling hills and did our 2nd longest day so far: 110km. We ended up at Nugget City, a huge RV campground just before the junction of the Alaska Highway and the infamous Cassiar Highway. The friendly host allowed us to camp for free next to a picknick table in the trees, while the endless line of RV’s (Recreational Vehicles) lined up on the boring, empty and soulless patch of gravel. We have never understood why people need to take such large vehicles: the typical set-up is as follow:

- A 30ft or longer RV (Recreational Vehicle)

- With a Jeep, Truck or similar 4 wheel drive behind (the RV is towing it!)

- With (sometimes) some muddy bicycles on the back of either vehicle, usually too dirty to ride and clearly only dirty from the transportation, not from using it..

- Often a senior citizen is peering over the steering wheel, controlling (?) a 15 meter long combination, for which you only need a regular driving license… We are not afraid of the trucks in North America, these are professionals and know what they are doing, but these RV’s scare us, however friendly the people inside may be.

Some quick calculations tell me that they burn about $1/km, but I need some confirmation here. Anybody know how many calories there are in a couple of Snickers bars and a pound of pasta as apposed to a tank of gasoline? Then we can calculate the relative efficiency of moving two people and their belongings over 100km..

This was our last chance to change our plans as the two roads/routes would only meet up over 1000 km ahead: should we continue over easier ground with much more services or take the road less travelled? Choose the comfort of lighter loads

or choose the chance of more wildlife? What would you do if you were on a bicycle?

Kowalski! Status report!

We had some very nice long days, and the distances seemed not so long as feared. Still quite a few hills adding up to an average of almost 750 meters up and down per day… Almost 3000km on (and off) the road: Kowalski is still puncture-less, Greeny had her second, but otherwise the Santos Travelmasters have no problems!

We woke up to a nice day, which means: no rain Before heading out towards the seductions of Whitehorse, we decided to cycle around in Champagne, which appeared to be a ghost town. We spotted some good campsites near the community hall, wondering why our ‘hosts’ had not pointed these out. Just when we were turning around to start our trip towards Whitehorse, noticed some smoke coming out of a building. We checked it out and found a few ladies cooking in a large kitchen.

‘Do you want some breakfast?’ One asked.

Letmethink-yes!

‘Sit down, you can stay for the Potlatch.’

We had no idea what the Potlatch (often called Potluck) was, but we found out during this wonderful day. It was one year ago that one elder of the Champagne-Aishihik First nation had died. Now, one year later, a spirit house was built on her grave and all friends and family came together for the celebration of this occasion and to remember her.

So during the day a row of people came into the huge community hall, from very young to very old.. We were happy that we could help out during the day. I helped making al the tables and chairs ready for 200 persons and grilled several hundred of ‘Hooligans’: some small type of fish. Ivana helped serving the people, there were many courses. We got fed ourselves as well: from Moosejaw soup to fish eggs to salad and salmon. Ivana convinced teh shy children that she could turn them into animals by painting their faces. We talked with the elders as well as the younger generations. It was all great.

I spoke a while with Yoyo, one of the elders.

‘So you can tell your friends that you were with the Indians and that they all wore feathers and such’, Yoyo remarked.

I told him that that stereotype was not my impression of the First Nation people we had met so far. He looked at me, decided that I was good and started to talk about his past.

‘You know, the younger generation cannot speak our language anymore. I am one of the last ones to speak it. Our language is lower to the ground, closer to the earth. If I forgot my gloves near a tree in a big forest 60 miles away, I could explain a friend where to look for them in a few minutes. In the high speech, this is impossible’.

‘We were happy, but when the white people came, they took our children and put them in religious camps. They had to learn the bible and forget about all that our ancestors had taught them. Most came back broken, cut off from their traditions. Now slowly we get some rights back, but the connection with our past is gone forever…’

‘In our tradition, there is no hierarchy, no rich and poor. We share all things. Some people might have a better harvest, a better hunt or nowadays a better salary. We share all, so everybody can live well. This was forbidden in the Indian Act, as the missionaries said it was ‘non-Christian’  to have no ranks and to share everything…’

During the day the tables in the back were filled with all kinds of things: food, blankets, plastic stuff. It was a bit strange to see all that, but we found out that all items would be given away to the ‘Wolves’. The Indian ‘Band’ was divided in Crows (Ravens) and Wolves, an ancient way of preventing bloodlines to become too limited: a wolf can never marry another wolf etc.

One of the organizers, Ted, gave me a red ribbon and told me to wear it, I was an honorary wolf and therefore would participate in receiving gifts. One of the first things I received was a huge warm blanket. Very nice, but completely unpractical on a bike, so I asked if they could give it to somebody else who might need it more. One of the people in charge came to us and told us with a serious face that it was very impolite to refuse gifts at a potlatch. We got the hint and happily received heavy items, food and other things. In teh end we gave most of it away to some family members who seemed to need it more.

There was a young and very shy couple -of which I am not sure if their parents had kept to the Wolves/Crows code- that was incredible happy with all the gifts. At one point the young man and woman softly spoke a few words that for me summarizes a lot of the people  of Alaska and the Yukon: “Great, now I do not have to go hunting for a week!’. ‘And we can invite all our friends and share this with them’, his girlfriend replied cheerfully…

One of the interesting things is that most relatives donated money. The received amounts were read aloud: Mr x has donated $5. Mr Y and family have donated $250. All donations were received with applause and ranged from $5 to $750. At the end of the day, the money was used to pay off the kitchen staff, for any other costs that had been made, and for the gifts. What was left, was handed out to all people, where the elderly and poorest clearly got their share first. They even donated $10 to me and as I was not allowed to refuse, we came out ahead on this day, but in many more ways than just financially…

Some background information about the Aishihik First nation & Potlatches:

Champagne and Aishihik First Nations

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Champagne and Aishihik First Nations is a First Nation in the Yukon Territory in Canada. Its original population centres were Champagne, Yukon and Aishihik, Yukon, but most of its citizens moved to Haines Junction, Yukon to take advantage of services offered there such as schools. The First Nation government has its main administrative offices there. Other settlements used included Klukshu, Yukon. Many also live in Whitehorse where the First Nation government has offices. The language originally spoken by the Champagne and Aishihik people was Southern Tutchone.

The Champagne and Aishihik First Nations was one of the first four First Nations to sign a land claims agreement in 1992. The First Nation is also pursuing a land claim in its traditional territory in the northwestern corner of British Columbia.

External links

• Champagne and Aishihik First Nations web site
• Government of Canada’s Department of Indian and Northern Affairs First Nation profile

From their website:

In 1993, after more than 20 years of negotiations, CAFN’s rights to the Yukon portion of its traditional lands and resources were finally confirmed with the signing of the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations Final Agreement between CAFN, the Government of Canada and the Government of Yukon. Land claim negotiations concerning the portion of CAFN territory within BC are as yet incomplete, but in the interim, an innovative and precedentsetting agreement between the BC government and CAFN has been reached which provides for joint management authority of the newly created Tatshenshini-Alsek Park.

The road to the Yukon Land Claim Agreement was a long and difficult one. Many Champagne and Aishihik members, beginning with the late Elijah Smith, provided creative leadership in initiating and negotiating an Umbrella Yukon Land Claim Agreement. Elijah organized the Yukon Native Brotherhood and, in 1973, he presented Together Today for our Children Tomorrow, a position paper on the Yukon comprehensive claim, to then Prime Minister Pierre Elliot Trudeau. CAFN was one of the first four Yukon First Nations to conclude their final agreements.

CAFN’s Dave Joe was the Chief Negotiator for the Council for Yukon Indians (now the Council of Yukon First Nations) was instrumental in completing the Yukon Umbrella Final Agreement. The late Harry Allen and Dorothy Wabisca, along with Chief Paul Birckel, were also key players in the successful negotiation of these groundbreaking agreements. CAFN’s Land Claim Agreement provides for the ownership of some 2,427 square kilometers of land. It also continues to provide guaranteed access to fish and wildlife resources. Most importantly, the agreement establishes the CAFN government as co-managers of all natural and cultural resources in its traditional territory. CAFN is now a full partner on the Kluane National Park Management Board, the Alsek Renewable Resources Council and has representation on numerous other regional and territorial boards that make recommendations on heritage, educational, environmental and economic issues. In addition, the self-government agreement provides CAFN with the power to enact laws on a wide range of matters affecting the rights of its citizens.

On September 17, 1998 the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations made history by passing three acts: the Income Tax Act, Fish and Wildlife Act, and the Traditional Pursuits Act. These acts became effective on January 1, 1999. A variety of municipal services, (housing, roads, water and sewer) as well as social services (health, nutrition, employment and training) are fully administered by the First Nations’ government. The Department of Lands and Resources, which also includes Heritage and Economic Development, manages CAFN’s traditional lands and integrates education and training of its citizens. CAFN has undergone radical change in the last 100 years. Not long ago, the Southern Tutchone people of this region lived as part of the land. Today, they are working on the establishment of their own government and CAFN is becoming the steward of its homeland as it builds a sustainable economy.

Wikipedia: excerpt from Indian Act:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_Act

1885: Amended to prohibit religious ceremonies (such as potlatches)^[6]

WikiPedia: Potlatch

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Potlatch

A potlatch^[1][2][3] is a festival ceremony practiced by Indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast in North America, along Pacific Northwest coast of the United States and the Canadian province of British Columbia. This includes Haida, Nuxalk, Tlingit, Tsimshian^[4], Nuu-chah-nulth,^[5] Kwakwaka’wakw^[6] and Coast Salish^[7] cultures. The word comes from the Chinook Jargon, meaning “to give away” or “a gift”. It is a vital part of indigenous cultures of the Pacific Northwest. It went through a history of rigorous ban by the Canadian government, and has been the study of many anthropologists.

The potlatch is a festival or ceremony practiced among Indigenous peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast. At these gatherings a family or hereditary leader hosts guests in their family’s house and hold a feast for their guests. The main purpose of the potlatch is the re-distribution and reciprocity of wealth.

During the event, different events take place, like either singing and dances, sometimes with masks or regalia, the barter of wealth through gifts, such as dried foods, sugar, flour, or other material things, and sometimes money. For many potlatches, spiritual ceremonies take place for different occasions. This is either through material wealth like foods and goods or immaterial things like songs, dances and such. For some cultures, like Kwakwaka’wakw, elaborate and theatrical dances are performed reflecting the hosts genealogy and cultural wealth they possess. Many of these dances are also sacred ceremonies of secret societies like the hamatsa, or display of family origin from supernatural creatures like the dzunukwa. Typically the potlatching is practiced more in the winter seasons as historically the warmer months were for procuring wealth for the family, clan, or village, then coming home and sharing that with neighbors and friends.

Within it, hierarchical relations within and between clans, villages, and nations, are observed and reinforced through the distribution or sometimes destruction of wealth, dance performances, and other ceremonies. The status of any given family is raised not by who has the most resources, but by who distributes the most resources. The hosts demonstrate their wealth and prominence through giving away goods. Chief O’wax̱a̱laga̱lis of the Kwagu’ł describes the potlatch in his famous speech to anthropologist Franz Boas, “We will dance when our laws command us to dance, and we will feast when our hearts desire to feast. Do we ask the white man, ‘Do as the Indian does?’ It is a strict law that bids us dance. It is a strict law that bids us distribute our property among our friends and neighbors. It is a good law. Let the white man observe his law; we shall observe ours. And now, if you come to forbid us dance, be gone. If not, you will be welcome to us.”

Celebration of births, rites of passages, weddings, funerals, namings, and honoring of the deceased are some of the many forms the potlatch occurs under. Although protocol differs among the Indigenous nations, the potlatch will usually involve a feast, with music, dance, theatricality and spiritual ceremonies. The most sacred ceremonies are usually observed in the winter.

It is important to note the differences and uniqueness among the different cultural groups and nations along the coast. Each nation, tribe, and sometimes clan has its own way of practicing the potlatch so as to present a very diverse presentation and meaning. The potlatch, as an overarching term, is quite general, since some cultures have many words in their language for all different specific types of gatherings. Nonetheless, the main purpose has and still is the redistribution of wealth procured by families.

History

Before the arrival of the Europeans, gifts included storable food (oolichan [candle fish] oil or dried food), canoes, and slaves among the very wealthy, but otherwise not income-generating assets such as resource rights. The influx of manufactured trade goods such as blankets and sheet copper into the Pacific Northwest caused inflation in the potlatch in the late eighteenth and earlier nineteenth centuries. Some groups, such as the Kwakwaka’wakw, used the potlatch as an arena in which highly competitive contests of status took place. In rare cases, goods were actually destroyed after being received. The catastrophic mortalities due to introduced diseases laid many inherited ranks vacant or open to remote or dubious claim—providing they could be validated—with a suitable potlatch.^[8]

The potlatch was a cultural practice much studied by ethnographers. “Potlatch is a festive event within a regional exchange system among tribes of the North pacific Coast of North America, including the Salish and Kwakiutl of Washington and British Columbia.”^{[citation needed]} Sponsors of a potlatch give away many useful items such as food, blankets, worked ornamental mediums of exchange called “coppers”, and many other various items. In return, they earned prestige. To give a potlatch enhanced one’s reputation and validated social rank, the rank and requisite potlatch being proportional, both for the host and for the recipients by the gifts exchanged. Prestige increased with the lavishness of the potlatch, the value of the goods given away in it.

Potlatch ban

Potlatching was made illegal in Canada in 1885^[9] and the United States in the late nineteenth century, largely at the urging of missionaries and government agents who considered it “a worse than useless custom”^{[citation needed]} that was seen as wasteful, unproductive which was not part of “civilized” values.^[10]

The potlatch was seen as a key target in assimilation policies and agendas. Missionary William Duncan wrote in 1875 that the potlatch was “by far the most formidable of all obstacles in the way of Indians becoming Christians, or even civilized.”^[11] Thus in 1885, the Indian Act was revised to include clauses banning the potlatch and making it illegal to practice. The official legislation read, “Every Indian or other person who engages in or assists in celebrating the Indian festival known as the “Potlatch” or the Indian dance known as the “Tamanawas” is guilty of a misdemeanor, and shall be liable to imprisonment for a term not more than six nor less than two months in a jail or other place of confinement; and, any Indian or other person who encourages, either directly or indirectly an Indian or Indians to get up such a festival or dance, or to celebrate the same, or who shall assist in the celebration of same is guilty of a like offence, and shall be liable to the same punishment.”

Eventually it became amended to be more inclusive as earlier discharged on technicalities. Legislation was then expanded to include guest who participated in the ceremony. The indigenous people were too large to police, and enforce. Duncan Campbell Scott convinced Parliament to change the offense from criminal to summary, which meant ‘the agents, as justice of the peace, could try a case, convict, and sentence.”^[12]

Continuation

Sustaining the customs and culture of their ancestors, indigenous people now openly hold potlatch to commit to the restoring of their ancestors’ ways. Potlatch now occur frequently and increasingly more over the years as families reclaim their birthright.

See also

• Koha, a related concept among the Māori
• Kula ring, a similar concept in the Trobriand Islands (Oceania)
• Moka, another similar concept in Papua New Guinea
• Sepik Coast exchange, yet another similar concept in Papua New Guinea
• Guy Debord, French Situationist writer on the subject of potlatch and commodity reification.
• Gift economy

We took a rest day in Beaver Creek. It was still raining most of the day and we could use the Wifi Internet at the 1202 motel for free, so we could update the website and do some work. The next day we were off and found that the wind was almost blowing in our backs, hurray! The wind is maybe the biketraveller’s biggest friend or foe. It makes such a difference if the downhills can be done without any pedaling, it makes the following uphill look a lot easier, saving physical and mental strength.

When we stopped at a campground for some lunch we were almost attacked by a very persistent squirrel. He used all possible ways to get on our table and to try to steal our food and when chased away, made angry sounds from the top of a nearby tree! Guess he was also getting ready for winter, as it was still getting colder every day..

A little

down the road we spotted 2 big moose. It is still hard to imagine how tall they actually are; as we stay at a safe distance, we never get the chance to check if they really are about 2 meters (6-7 feet) at the shoulders and fortunately our bikes also do not have to test if they are really about 700 kilos each..

We were warned by the lady in the Beaver Creek tourist office not to stop at the White River lodge, apparently they had been very rude to travellers. When we arrived there, the rainclouds were just about to engulf us with full force, so we stopped to put on our rain pants. Immediately a guy came outside and told us to continue, as the owner apparently hates cyclists!

The rain was unavoidable, so we headed right in and got totally wet in about 10 minutes, when we arrived at a small diner and gas station, called Cook’s. The office slash ‘restaurant’ was a complete mess, filled with all kinds of junk, rocks, canned foods and miscellaneous items. We got off on a wrong start when I paid for the can of Irish Stew and a big 1 kilo package of cookies.

‘Ah, she had coffee as well? That is $1 more.’

‘But your wife invited us for a coffee?! We thought it was free!’. A discussion started about free coffee (everywhere in Alaska), but soon the conversation warmed up a bit. They told us about their life and the hard winters; in the end Mr Cook came out with a roll of tape to try to fix Ivana’s rainpants. It did not work, but we appreciated the gesture. Meanwhile a couple came in, totally amazed about two motorcyclists they had talked to outside. They were going all the way to Argentina! I casually remarked that we were doing the same, but on bicycles and their eyes opened even wider. The man wrote for a local newspaper and wanted to interview us outside.

After the interview I went back in to say goodbye to the Cooks.

‘What are you having for dinner?’ Mr Cook asked me.

‘Spaghetti probably, like every night. But tonight we have this Irish Stew to mix with it!’ I replied.

‘Do you like Moose meat?’

I told that that I wouldn’t know as I had never tried it. ‘Wait a minute.’, e said and stumbled out the back.  A few moments later he came out with a pound of moose minced meat.

‘We shot it a while ago, I just grounded the meat. Here, take it and have a safe trip!’

It was great to see how an irritated discussion turned to sharing food and stories within one hour… (See their picture here on the ’1000 Americans’ category).

Just an hour ahead we stopped at a government campsite. As we are on a budget, we asked the first couple we saw if we could share their spot. We could and we had a pleasant evening with them, sitting around the fire, sharing moosemeat, our travel stories and knowledge of foreign cultures and their life in Alaska and Northern Canada.

The next morning David and Karen even made us pancakes, but I had to take care when eating them as the hungry squirrels were even smarter over here, see this video that Ivana took:

The rain stopped and it turned out to be quite a nice day. The wind was in our back and the hills not too bad. We passed quite a few empty lodges, either deserted for the season and some seemed just totally abandoned. This makes it a lot easier to find a shelter to camp in, but the food and water planning does need a lot more careful planning now as this situation will not change as the season is ending..

We ended up along the shores of Kluane Lake. The friendly owner of the Talbot Arm motel let us camp for free behind the Motel and we could use the Wifi and power to do some more writing.

The ending season is also very visible in nature: some hills look like it has been desaturated in Photoshop: dark green trees turn light green, before they become bright yellow. As different trees are in different stages, a nice colourful palette is created.

The next day we found out that it was good we had not continued a bit to the next camprground as there was a big sign that tenting was not allowed due to bear danger! So where are all those bears, we still had not seen anything…

Just a bit further down the road we got a free ride of 7 km, on the back of a truck. Not that we had asked for it, but we had no choice. At the end of Kluane lake, they were redoing the road and as they were blasting rocks, we we forced to take a break. Unfortunately they did not take us up the long steep hill that followed…

The day was nice though and the evening was actually very sunny, while we were cycling next to the gorgeous Kluane national park, home of Mt Logan, Canada’s highest peak (and 2nd highest of North America, after Denali). We didn’t know if we could make it all the way to Haines Junction though as we had been on the road for long. Also another Biketraveller we met told us that the next 7 km would be uphill. In fact it turned out to be almost 10km of slowly ascending, but then we got a 10km downhill as a reward!. Totally unexpected we zoomed a few hundred vertical meters down, without pedaling once and we arrived in one of the few junctions on the Alaska Highway and the first traffic light since Denali Park…

We stayed at the actual junction, camped behind the Shell station. The next morning we visited the famous bakery. The bread was actually not as nice as anticipated, but the cozy room with free Wifi was very much appreciated! We spend all morning there and after a needed visit to the first Supermarket since Tok, Alaska, it was already quite late before we hit the road..

Before we even reached the airport, located 2km out of town, I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. A huge wolf was walking besides the road in the same direction as me. I proved that I am a better fiancee than a photographer, by grabbing the can of bearspray and not my camera and waited for Ivana, who was 100m behind me. The wolf looked at me, he was beautiful, different shades of grey with big piercing eyes. Before Ivana reached me, a truck passed, stopped and turned back to see -or maybe shoot- the wolf and the gracious animal smartly ran into the bush, Ivana never saw it.. Suddenly we were reminded of the wild we were in. The thin line calledd the Alaska Highway was just a small but deep scar in the huge wilderness where animals and native people had been living side by side for centuries..

We were not quite sure where we wanted to go, but somewhere halfway to Whitehorse, 160km away. Like often, we would just go and see what we would meet on our way. We had noticed that there was a small town called Champagne, which was on the old Alaksa Highway, cut off when the highway was redone a few decades ago. We decided to take the only possible road less traveled and ended up in Champagne. What we saw and experienced there was very special, so special it deserves its own post, so stay tuned to www.worldonabike.com for updates…

Meanwhile here is a picture of a very weird place in the town:

Kowalski! Status report!

The tailwind definitely helped our average speed, which was about 3-4km per hour higher than the headwind days. It made a few days of 100km possible, even when still climbing at least 500m per day, sometimes more. Kowalski & Greeny are still in top shape, Santos rules

It was time to leave our friend named Alaska and meet another partner for the next few months, named Canada. We had so many good times and many bad times. It is funny how even a fictional line on a map can define a relationship. We felt like we had to say goodbye to family…

We had stayed another day in Tok, it was just too perfect to camp for free, behind a 24/7 gasstation and next to the supermarket. We had to take care of our belongings as there was a group of drunk locals nearby. We have noticed this often lately: small groups of native Americans, who walk or sit around with paperbags or just with a bottle of scotch. It is a sad sight and a result of many bad political decisions in a long row.

We met a few other travelers who stayed the second night on the same camp; a young cyclist from Quebec, who was on his way home and a couple from Argentina (www.amunches.com) who were at the end of their 6 year journey. It was nice for Ivana to speak some Spanish and to drink some mate, but also interesting to see that they were clearly tired. Tired of travelling, tired of telling their story. The next morning they left early, but they had left Ivana some rainpants, though they were not really suitable for cycling as we would find out soon..

We left with dry weather, but quickly the hills and the rain started. Ivana’s pants ripped and one leg came off. We stayed at a very wet campground near a lake that probably was very pretty if you could see it. Only a few days later (fortunately) we read the report of fellow cyclists Tim & Cindie, who had seen a bear while camping here. We had been less ‘bearanoid’ as we had simply not seen any bears in Alaska outside Denali park, which in some ways is more like the Serengeti than the ‘real world’…

The next day we were completely soaked again and Ivana was ready to quit and fly home to sunny Argentina… Just in time we passed a visitor centre for the Tetlin National Wildlife refuge. Two ladies, who lived all their life in the native village of Northway and worked as volunteers, came to the rescue. They gave us tea, let us dry our clothes and even prepared a few delicious sandwiches with salmon. Just before we left, they even gave some chocolate. It is people like these that we will take with us in our heart when leaving Alaska..

We passed a small building where visitors have to check in when entering Alaska, but strangely enough the customs office for Canada was another 20 miles away. Or rather, 32km, as we were now back on metrical grounds as we had passed the official border. Somehow we had the unrealistic idea that we could leave the bad weather in Alaska, but alas, the clouds passed the invisible line without needing a visa.

These 30 km in ‘Krakozia’ seemed endless as the rain came down, taking all view away. Moreover we met up with an old friend: the gravel road. Some parts were unpaved. It can be very annoying to see more than 5 signs announcing the gravel patch. Don’t announce it, fix it!

The last 10 km were on a straight road, but we could not see much of it. We were completely and fully soaked when we finally arrived at anothe rbuidling that looked like a toll-booth. There was a STOP sign and tired and wet Ivana did the one thing that Thimble had warned us about not to do: she ignored the STOP sign to park her bike a few meters ahead.

‘Where is she going?’ The lady in the window asked furiously. Great, I thought, now we are going to be sent back. At this point we did not care in which country we would get soaked, but the idea of having to cycle 30km back to Alaska made me desperate. So I put on a charming smile, asked how she was doing and that we were fine except for being cold, tired, miserable and wet.

‘Do you have any arms or weapons’?

‘No’. At least she did not ask about our bearspray. We knew that this was considered a weapon and that you were not supposed to carry it across the border, but we could plead European/South American ignorance in this matter. We needed it and wanted to keep it.

‘Do you have any mace, or pepperspray?’. Damn, she asked it. I do not like lies, so I casually said ‘just bearspray’, while looking innocently down on our passports as I had never seen those stamps and visa before.

She ignored me, which was good, as she did not ask for the spray to be handed in, stamped our passports and told us to continue. We were in Canada!

Beaver Creek was just 2km ahead on the same road, and we entered the first motel we saw. I would have paid for a room as we would need a dry place this night, in order to dry our stuff. When I asked the friendly lady if she knew where the school was (as cyclist Thierry had told us you could camp there), she said that if we really wanted to camp in this weather, there was a better place: the ice skating rink was not in use and had a large roof. We checked it out and it looked perfect.

I had a fight with our stove, when a completely drunk native girl passed by and almost out, but could fix it while mostly ignoring her; and while the rain pounded on the large metal roof we fell into a deep sleep, thinking about the many wonders of Alaska and the empty book of Canada that lay open ahead of us…

Kowalski, status report!

Just some smaller hills, but in total quite a bit of climbing. We passed quite a lot of roadwork and in one section we had to load our bike in the back of a truck, drove for about 2km and we had to get back out! The ride was nice, but we would have been faster just cycling the bit…