Whitehorse, Dawson, and Top of the World
I left Watson Lake still heading north on the Alaskan Highway. There was road art of a sort
words on the side of the road.
The views were nice too.
When I got to Whitehorse I headed right to the visitor's center to ask about camping options.
There were only a couple, and they suggested Robert Service, which was more of a tent hostal than campground. And there was a housing shortage in Whitehorse when I was there, so the campground was almost full with long term residents. They had all the good campsites too.
The Whitehorse visitor center wasn't afraid to recommend somewhere to eat, and when I got there I ran into Jeremy (VFR, Isle of Man) again. He was in town looking for a new tire. I needed an oil change, but I was going to the Yamaha dealer, and he was planning on the Honda shop, so we had dinner than said we would see each other later.
The next morning I rode over to the Yamaha dealer and asked if I could do my own oil change, if I bought their oil and paid an environmental fee for disposing the old oil. The guys there just laughed, surprised I wasn't just going to dump the oil somewhere. I didn't think about it until later, but I have to hope they didn't just dump the oil somewhere themselves.
I did make a bit of a mess on the cement, which bothered me but no one else. Jeremy showed up, the Honda dealer didn't have a tire for his VFR (which really isn't their fault – how many VFR's are going to Alaska?). The Yamaha place did, and stopped other work in the shop to get his bike sorted. We also got coffee, cookies, little folding knives, and free internet. Nice place, if you are in the area and need something.
With the bike sorted I got lunch
then went to look at a paddlewheeler-turned-museum, the Klondike
It was the last paddlewheeler to work the Yukon river, and the biggest. I took the walking tour.
After dinner in the campground and another night sleep I was back on road. The Alaskan Highway kept heading to Fairbanks. That was the direction Jeremy was headed, but I wanted to go to Dawson City and the Top of the World Highway.
On the road north, the Klondike Highway, the weather turned against me. Cold and rain. I stopped in the city (store, hotel, gas station and a couple houses) of Carmaks for fuel and to warm up. There were a couple of fellow American's headed south after a speed run up the Dempster. They apparently did it in a day, which is impressive and didn't sound like much fun. Once I was ready to go, the bike was dead.
I decided this was the bike telling me to stop, so I got a room in the hotel, took a long hot shower, then poked around to try and figure out what happened with the bike. This didn't really work. After bump starting the bike ran fine, the right amount of power going to the battery, the battery seemed to be holding the charge. I had turned on my heated liner on the road to Carmaks, and thought something was wrong there, but it was still charging even with the liner turned all the way up.
With a mental shrug I spent some time online, eat an above average meal in the one restaurant, and went to sleep.
In the morning the bike needed to be bump started, but after running for a while it was fine again. And the weather was much nicer.
I can understand the charm of Dawson, with wooden sidewalks and dirt streets, fascades on some of the buildings, it does a much better job of capturing the feel of a rugged frontier town than the ones in the lower 48 like Dodge City. It was small too. There was no bridge over the river, so you had to take a ferry to cross, and all the tent-friendly camping was on the other side. So I was off to the boat.
At least it was free.
There were two camping options, private and public. The Private campground, a tent hostal, claimed wifi and hot showers for $2 more, so I went there. The wifi router was broken, and the hot showers were actually heat-the-water-yourself hot sponge baths. I was still tempted, but passed.
I did spend some time walking around Dawson. Unfortunately most of the stuff was closed. There was a museum still open and other odd sights to look at.
One hundred year old wall
Eventually I headed back across on the ferry and to my tent. The sun was setting very late, and I could still read outside at 1030pm. Still, falling asleep was easy enough.
The morning was chilly, but the sun was out and I was pretty sure it would warm up.
Top of the World Highway is entirely gravel, which is why Jeremy had passed on it. But the gravel is in excellent condition, at least on the Canadian side, and I made good time.
With lots of stops for pictures, of course.
I stopped for lunch in a small pull out
after after my spaghettios the bike was, again, dead. No idea why, again, and no convenient hill for bump starting. Still, I tried it a few times, then decided to flag down passersby until I got a jump.
A got a lot of people to stop, but no one actually had jumper cables. But eventually we all managed to get the bike running again with the help of some Australians, and I was back on the road, determined not to turn the bike off again until I got to Chicken, the night's destination.
Back in the USA. Cranky border guards ruined any joy and being 'home.'
One of Chicken's dozen or so buildings. If you get gas here, you get to camp for free. The pavement returned not long after Chicken, and it is a popular place to stop.
I camped with two other motorcyclists, and a bicyclist. The pedaler had a cracked rim, and was worried about how far he would have to go to get to Tok, the closest place he had a chance at a repair. It was only 70 miles or so, but that was pretty far for a bicycle.
In case you ever wonder why the place is called Chicken-
And the cafe had excellent food.
We made an earnest attempt to burn all the free firewood, then called it a night.