August 24, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

With new toeclips on Naomi’s bike (vital parts fell off pedal cleats) and broken strapped and bunjeed panniers on Paul’s, we started south on what is “the most beautiful road in the world”. And they made us pay…a park pass charged PER PERSON, PER DAY, and unlike the cars which take a few hours, it would take us three days for the Parkway plus another two to get out of the parks. So possibly the most expensive road in the world for cyclists at CAN $71 (basically a night in a motel)!

To avoid traffic, we made the very wise decision to take Highway 93A, a wee side road. Hillier it was, but this was an excellent warm up for what was to come and gave us some good views of the mountains we were going to cycle around. We rejoined the Parkway at Athabasca Falls, where we parked up next to a bench for lunch. The falls were very impressive but also teeming with tourists. This was our first experience of being a sideshow attraction ourselves, with people looking at us oddly and a few coming over to speak to us. One particularly effusive American couple cover to say, “Ah think yer just amayzin’, pedlin’ up all them mount’ns!” which was very encouraging for us, but we realised later that this was somewhat of an omen for what was in store for us.

The afternoon brought us some challenging hills; we really started to feel those nine days we’d had off the bikes and morale was not at its best despite the wonderful scenery. The Beauty Creek wilderness Hostel thankfully had what we’d read was ‘a state of the art shower’ (most of these places have no running water). Indeed it was: for a shower, one had to ask the manager, Roger, to put on the ‘kettle’ for 20 minutes; he let you know when it was ready and only 20 litres of water meant a quick rinse, shower off, wash and rinse again (but Naomi was very grateful that she didn’t have to jump in the icy river!) Washing up and brushing teeth took place at the same sink and waste water went into a bucket underneath, which when full was taken to be emptied into pit toilets. We were also very impressed with said toilets, incidentally, as despite all the sewage in them, they did not smell! Well done, Beauty Creek! This is a great achievement after hearing about the old ones, which, at one point apparently had only three inches between one’s backside and the waste (eugh!)

We thoroughly enjoyed our stay there as the atmosphere was very sociable and friendly and Roger and his wife very welcoming. Roger addressed Naomi as ‘my dear lady’, which was a welcome change to the ‘madam’ she’s having to get used to now (whatever happened to ‘miss’??).

After a big pile of fruity pancakes whipped up by our dear Roger, we set off for the Columbian Icefield (actually called Athabasca, we think) but despite being warned of the hill, no one could have prepared us for THAT hill. To make matters worse, just as the gradient got leg-buckingly steep, they decided to come and paint the lines at the side of the road - yes, our side of the road. Each gasp for breath therefore contained a mouthful of noxious paint fumes along with the fresh mountain air. The climb was quite a struggle, N had to walk some of it and ended up having a bit of a dodgy moment with her new toe-clip pedals at Tangle Falls, causing a temporary dip in enthusiasm (the less said about that the better).

Once the road plunged down towards the famous Icefield, we realised we had left the best part of our food at the hostel, so we were at the mercy of the over-priced cafeteria at the Icefield Centre which was brimming with bus-loads of tourists. After paying through the nose for a very simple lunch, we decided to skip the walk to/on the Glacier (it wasn’t much to look at anyway) and try and escape the whole tourist infested area. On leaving, we bumped into another pair of cyclists, Scott and his sister. They were also cycling the Parkway before returning to school the following week and would be our on and off cycling companions for the afternoon (a refreshing change from all the cars and RVs!)

Further up the road, we found yet another misplaced summit (Sunwapta pass), after which the roads quite literally dropped off the side of the mountain, revealing ever more dramatic scenery. Even better, the morning’s low moments were finally paid off as Naomi not only beat her own top speed record , but also went over the speed limit by 5km - possibly one of the most victorious moments for a cyclists. But the cars still overtook!

More than a few rolling hills later, and a whopping climb, we arrived at Waterfowl Lakes campsite, where once again we felt hard done by, having to fork out exactly the same CAN $21.80 as our neighbouring 40-foot RVs and SUVs with five tents around them. The campsite did have hot running water, although strangely enough no showers. After making use of said hot water with a splash around in the sink, hanging up our food out of reach of the bears on the provided cables, and a wee stroll down by the lake, sleeping proved very difficult due to the unexpected drop to sub-zero temperatures at 1600m. We froze, all night.

The temperature had only reached 4C when we crawled out of our sleeping bags, teeth chattering at 9am, but the sunny weather and the 10km haul up to Bow Pass soon warmed us up. Lunch was well-timed once again with an excellent view of Peyto Lake from the overlook (although enjoyed as always with lots of other tourists). More lovely views of Bow Lake and surrounding glaciers marked our descent towards Lake Louise. However, the traffic had obviously decided the attractions were well and truly over and speeded their way back home. Rumble strips in the centre of the road were obviously put there for the added security of scenery-ogling drivers, but unfortunately this meant over-taking traffic (most of whom thankfully gave us some decent cycling space), made this constant farting noise which rendered our last 40km into Lake Louise quite unpleasant. Finally, the frightfully expensive Lake Louise hostel welcomed us with proper showers, proper beds, laundry, internet, food, beer and an excellent night’s sleep!

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August 21, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

The Ferry
Our two day ferry/cruise from Juneau to Prince Rupert was a hive of inactivity. After spending the first 20 minutes casing out the ship’s entertainment options we realised it boiled down to looking through the windows from the front observation lounge, open air views at the back from the solarium, the self-service cafe and the bar. So, naturally, we decided to have a couple of drinks in the bar on our first evening out on the water.
The rest of the trip was spent reading, with only the occasional trip to the bar until we reached what we were promised was the scenic highlight of the trip - the Wrangell Narrows. Also know as Pinball Alley. It is, as the name suggests, narrow. And also long. About 35 kilometres long and a maximum of a kilometre wide although the channel for shipping is only 300 metres wide at most points. We entered the narrows at dusk and saw the twinkling lights stretching in to the distance, in true superlative American style it was labelled one of the most ‘buoyed’ stretches of water in the world with its sixty plus flashing buoys. All very exciting and after the captain negotiated the first few turns successfully, and it got darker and darker we left him to it and went to bed. That was the most exciting part of the boat trip until we hit Prince Rupert the following day.

Manners and the Beastly Train:
The wonderful thing about travelling around isolated parts of North America is that people tend to be very friendly. I don’t suppose this is a particular plus when travelling in cars etc but it is if you’re travelling by bike - after cycling all day and battling the elements, it’s really very nice to be welcomed with a lovely smile and a ‘How are you?’ People you don’t know say ‘hello’ in the street (even in Anchorage - a relatively big city), you don’t need to ask people the way, they stop you and ask if you need help, delays are always apologised for and normal daily transactions are usually accompanied by friendly conversations. In one town a woman even came up and shook my hand and said ‘Welcome to Terrace’.

Unfortunately, this made it all the more shocking when we finally did encounter a nasty man in charge of checking people in at the Skeena Railway terminal in Prince Rupert. We had not received and did not find any information in regards to what food would be provided over the next couple of days and having only provided ourselves with breakfast (assuming, as anyone would, that there would be a dining car on a train travelling for two full days), we decided to ask. This man wanted to know what class we were in - ‘comfort’ (but should more realistically be called ’scum’), he informed us that we better get to grocery store asap because although there was a ‘cart with muffins’, there wouldn’t be enough food for everyone for the journey as the coach was full. I told the man that this information really ought to be advertised on the internet so that passengers could be prepared for the journey, but he made it quite clear that they didn’t do this so that the passengers were forced to buy food on the train and the railway company could therefore make more money with inflated food prices. Furthermore, the practicalities of getting into town and back on a bike, with less than half an hour before the train was due to leave, didn’t interest him in the slightest, but his unprofessional attitude and the pessimistic advice immediately affected my mood and I dreaded getting on the train, especially when faced with going hungry for the best part of the day (the train journey was 13 hours!). All was not lost, however, as a British family nearby overheard our conversation and asked the man the same question as they were equally as clueless as to what food would be provided. It turned out they were in ‘Totem Class’, somewhat more luxurious than scumclass, and had prepared for lack of food and therefore had a spare bag of bagels and a packet of Swiss cheese, which they very kindly donated to us! As it happened, the information provided by this silly man was highly inaccurate; there was plenty of food for the journey, but as members of scumclass, it was indeed only a cart with ‘take-outs’. The train journey lasted for two days (with a break for the night in Prince George); the first day lasted for 13 hours and the second for 9. Apart from the odd stop at a station where we had to go scurrying around for a shop to find food other than ‘take out’, we had no other food available to us (even in Prince George, we arrived so late that we were lucky to find a shop open at 930pm, and left at 7 next morning, before any shop opened). Coming from countries where train distances tend to be a lot shorter, and the availability of food on such journeys a lot better, and going to a country that was equally as developed as mine, if not more so, with train distances infinitely longer than back home, I would have expected some sort of adequate food provision, at least a dining car. But, no, the Skeena Railway wanted ‘comfort class’ passengers to eat their three day old pre-packed sandwiches, or starve.
My other issue with this most snobby of railway companies was access. On the first day of the journey, I was blissfully ignorant of the fact that as a member of scumclass I was not entitled to walk down the whole train, and as a result I did so twice and thoroughly enjoyed the view from the Bubble Car. Although (according to the customer services manager) I knew that apparently we did not have ‘access’ to the latter , no one was there to stop me. This was a strange train as the majority of the people were in ‘Totem’ or ‘Totem Deluxe’ (2 cars) and the minority was us lot in ‘Comfort Class’ (1 car). On the second day, I went for my usual walk, only to find the cart lady asking me if I was in Comfort Class, and on confirming that this was so, I was not allowed to go any further. I told her that no one had stopped me the day before and wondered why she was stopping me now, she checked with the manager, he confirmed that this was so - I was not allowed to go. I went back to my seat, seething with anger at being trapped in the one railcar. Although, on a slightly brighter note, it was noticed that the seats in ‘comfort class’ might actually live up to the name even if nothing else did - more leg room, more recline and perhaps even more comfort than in the Totem Deluxe car.

We were very happy to arrive in Jasper; I think everyone was relieved to get off the train - even those for whom the two day trip wasn’t a desperate search for edible, healthy food. The scenery on the journey, however, was excellent so all was not in vain, and we were now in the Rockies. Apologies for lack of photos, but opportunities for these are much better on bikes.
Recommendations for the future: if you find one day that you must buy tickets on the Skeena Railway make sure you don’t go for the cheapest tickets!

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August 18, 2007 by Naomi.

Haines was the most interesting town we had visited since Valdez - it’s a pretty town with lots of decent shops and lots to keep the visitor entertained - laundry, internet, the library, bars and the brewery down at ‘Dalton City’ (the set of the Disney film White Fang). After sampling the local beer down at said brewery, we made our way to the Fogcutter Bar where, feeling rather adventurous, we invested in $10 worth of ‘pull-tabs’ (basically paper fruit machines). The first one I opened won me $100 and Paul was not far behind winning $102 on the second batch. Luckily, after the third batch we decided to save our pennies for the pool table instead. Pull-tabs are a big pastime in Alaskan bars; unfortunately people rely on them to pay the rent and the sight of so many tabs being pulled, with beer after beer, is quite sad indeed.

Most importantly, though, we were united with Paul’s bicycle fork at the post office. We stayed in a great BandB in the Fort Seward part of town (Fort Seward Bed and Breakfast), with an excellent view overlooking the bay. Afer a day and half relaxing in Haines, it was back on the Alaskan Marine Highway to the capital Juneau. However, the ferry’s departure was considerably delayed by various over-sized cumbersome RVs which had to be reversed very slowly onto the car deck by their drivers. But cyclists never complain…

Arriving five hours later in Juneau under a still blue sky, we cycled down Juneau’s one main road to our hosts John and Stephanie’s house in North Douglas. They’d very kindly kept the delicious salmon off the barbie until our delayed arrival. Their excellent hospitality continued over the next couple of days with Stephanie giving us an off the beaten track tour (away from jostling cruise-ship tourists) of the impressive Mendenhall Glacier, icebergs and falls, and especially arranging for a family of bears to come out for a feed and a few photos (but not without a jostle with said tourists!). It did not stop there; we were taken to a delicious pot luck dinner at a fantastic beachfront wooden house with their friends, and John spent the best part of the following day replacing Paul’s fork. All of which we were very grateful for!

Juneau is a very scenic and small town nestled between towering mountains, although marred somewhat by the continuous and incongruous presence of multi-story cruiseliners coming in and out the harbour. We highly recommend Juneau’s barbers - Paul came out with a very dapper haircut - unfortunately the same cannot be said of the beauty salons, which did not meet Mari’s standard of legwax in Valdezorras (Sevilla) back home; it took twice as long, three times the price and four times the mess with very mediocre results. (Any recommendations for reasonably priced beauty salons with experienced staff further south - Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, LA and anywhere in between are very welcome).

Despite being a dreadful experience for my wallet and my poor legs, the two-hour session gave rise to some very interesting conversation highlighting yet more incongruous surprises about certain American values. She was a lovely girl, aged 22 and half-way through her first pregnancy. Our most interesting topic evolved when she expressed her disbelief that a sixteen-year old girl she knew was going to Thailand (and that her mother was letting her!!) when there were so many earthquakes there. This confused me somewhat as Thailand is not usually famed for its earthquakes. The confusion was rapidly resolved however, when she mentioned it wasn’t actually Thailand she was referring to but a big island with Chinese people (sic) and lots of volcanos on it - oh, Japan! This girl happily told me that she lives in a house full of guns, has three grizzly bears come regularly and feed off her rubbish, and, in all likelihood, her future children would learn to hunt. Not only this, she lives in a state where 165 earthquakes happen every week, and three out of four earthquakes that occur in the world, occur in Alaska. And Japan is scarier than Alaska? The source of this great fear of Japan was…the Discovery Channel. The blatant lack of fear of all the imminent dangers surrounding her, I will never know.

These and other necessities being completed, Paul and I headed off back to the ferry terminal, but not before I bashed and bloodied my ankle with the back of my pedal in one of my usual flappy bouts of stress…

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August 18, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

This was without a doubt the most scenic road we had taken so far, and also the most isolated - luckily we’d stocked up on supplies as a sign warned of no services for the next 203km, and we felt very confident, leaving town under some very sunny skies in t-shirts and cycling shorts.

Now if there is one thing guaranteed to keep a cyclist on his toes (or rather his pedals), it’s an imminent raincloud. After seeing various ‘partly cloudy’ weather forecasts, we interpreted these in the Spanish sense (usually no more than two tiny clouds in the sky) and all waterproofs had been packed at the bottom of our panniers. Menacing clouds appeared from nowhere and bullied around behind us, the rays of sunshine were teasing in front of us - no matter how fast we cycled we could not catch up with them. Nasty clouds that they were, we first got pelted with whopping hailstones (partly cloudy!!!) which were quite painful little bastards, and carried on cycling as fast as we could, desperately trying to catch up with the sun. (No doubt providing great amusement to passing vehicles.) We had a break from the clouds but not for long. After stupidly deciding not to stop until the last minute to get all our raingear out of our panniers, by the time we had digged deep and waterproofed up, our clothes underneath had got soaked anyway (partly cloudy!!!). We eventually found shelter from the beastly rain at Dezadeash Lake Campground, and had a very long well-deserved break drying out clothes, eating lunch and most importantly making our first and much-appreciated cup of tea with the now functioning WhisperLite stove.

Having surveyed the clouds ourselves for our own more realistic forecast, we set off and the scenery became very impressive after Flying Squirrel Creek. Eventually the road climbed towards our last summit of the day at which point we were pursued by yet another very menacing raincloud. Of course we were very prepared for this one, but might as well not have been as it sprinkled us with about three drops of drizzle before heading off west! A steep downhill took us to Million Dollar Falls Campground where the lack of shower facilities was made up for with very clean pit toilets (well-done Yukon, but still a smelly!), a warm dinner made with the WhisperLite and shower wipes (basically wet wet ones). The falls were a short walk from the campsite - the quantity of water pounding down was very impressive - too violent unfortunately to jump in for a wash!

After yet another unsatisfactory night’s sleep in the tent, when we overslept once again and therefore headed off late for our most scenic and most challenging day yet. The prospect of staying at another campground without showers for a second night was enough to convince us that cycling 150km in one day is a good idea. The scenery was fantastic (we’ll let the photos do the talking). We also saw squirrels/chipmunks (please can anyone identify animal in photo?), a lynx, lots of crows and various piles of bear poop along the side of the road. We cycled through a high valley which followed massive glacial rivers, and which eventually took us to two summits, the first of which was sign-posted on the way downhill!! The second summit saw us complete half our journey of 70 or so km and all was meant to be rosy as the rest was downhill (a very silly assumption for a cyclist to make indeed).

When we’d cycled downhill for a good 12km (at last!), much to our dismay we encountered a very unexpected steep hill and arrived at the US border panting and sweating with the hope that this would be the last of the hills. The US border guard assured us, after confirming that we were carrying neither drugs, firearms, alcohol, over $10,000, antlers, furs or horns, that the 60 km into Haines was ‘mostly’ downhill. A very welcome pie and ice cream stop 11 kilometres later (the services promised a day and 203km earlier), provided the energy for us to slipstream our way onto Haines along the valley, with very sore bottoms and very glad that over-ambitious rides were on hold for at least a week.

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August 18, 2007 by Naomi.

After a day of rest and an afternoon in a smelly mini-bus (not sure if smell of BO was emanating from the bus seats or guy in front) from Tok to Burwash Landing, Canada had plenty of adventures in store for us. Due to lack of services at appropriate locations we decided to cover 125km in one day. The fact that it was raining when we woke up made us very reluctant to get out of bed and our early start rapidly disappeared.  Eventually we set out in the drizzle along Kluane Lake, the road we photographed from the plane a few weeks before (see photos 24th July).

Towards the end of Kluane Lake, the weather got better and just as views improved we arrived at some muddy roadworks  where they were widening the road quite literally by blasting into the mountain. We came across our first traffic build up since Anchorage and we did the usual annoying cyclits’ habit of barging to the front of the queue, where we found the ‘flagger’ who informed us we’d have to go through the roadworks in the back of her pick up. As we now had a very valuable 20 minutes to kill, an early lunch was had and we were dropped off 40 minutes later on the other side, giving us very impressive views of the valley at the southwest end of the lake.

At this stage we had only completed half our journey for the day and we faced a good hoof up the hill to the first summit, but one motorist felt it merited a photo, overtaking and stopping to take it as we cycled up the hill!  However, a smooth journey it was not to be. Half way up my clip-in pedals needed a good seeing to, the heat became too much so another stop was needed to strip off a layer, and just as we finally got to the top Paul got yet another flat tyre, just as rain threathened from various directions. Luckily when the tyre was dealt with, we predicted correctly and re-attired ourselves in waterproofs and headed back downhill in the anticipated downpour. The weather cleared quickly and after dodging more rainclouds over many rolling hills, we eventually reached Bear Summit at 1,004 metres. From the summit it was all downhill to Haines Junction but the ever present rain clouds closing in behind us eventually caught us up just out of town, and again we were soaked. Luckily the Kluane Park Inn, its motel room, just-closing Chinese restaurant (hurray - something other then grease and chips!) and sweet Canadian beer was there to welcome us tired and hungry.

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August 8, 2007 by Naomi.

Although we weren’t in Whittier at this point, the weather did indeed get shittier, and this meant our wonderful scenic views quickly became obliterated by low cloud and our sights were limited to black spruce trees, grey road, endless yellow lines and a very infrequent passing RV. We took the opportunity to photograph some fireweed (the Alaskan state flower) instead. Once we got up to higher ground, there were some better views despite the cloud. By the time we reached Grizzly Lake Campground for our first night of camping, it had stopped raining and we managed to set up our tent for the first time without much ado.  Our stove proved more complicated, however, and our second attempt at getting it going was also unsuccessful (the first time it was upside down, but Paul wouldn’t let me admit that!). Luckily, our extensive experience with building fires meant we did manage to get a pit fire going and we warmed up our tinned soup on that.  Luck eventually run out when the wind started howling and the rain started falling and we huddled into the tent for an early night. It was still light (in Alaska at the moment it gets dark at 11pm and light at 4am).

After a most unsatisfactory night’s sleep, a couple of banana and fireweed ‘jelly’ (jam) sandwiches, we set off for Slana in the hope of a hot beverage and some decent food. While the latter wasn’t available, coffee was. While warming up with the coffee, we had the pleasure of meeting Mark, a Law Enforcement Park Ranger who was born in Panama and at the moment is working for a security firm in Afghanistan, although he was enquiring about a job in teaching English in Seville… He was very friendly, and full of useful information and conversation. More bad weather saw us cycle through the Mentasta mountains - also very picturesque, also obliterated by cloud and rain.

At Mentasta Lodge we got our first proper hot meal in two days and we went along to the bar for a couple of beers. We ended up meeting a character called Mike and his friend Johnny. Now Mike had a lot to say for himself - he was a committed felon (DUI just like Paris Hilton), he had seven kids: a five-year old, a three-year old, three one-year olds and a new born baby. His first child was born when he was 16 and he was 25 but born in 1984. Mike’s objectives for the evening seemed to be to drink as many litres of cheap Canadian whisky as possible (he was on number two apparently), to drink everyone at the bar under the table (which he assured us he could do) and most pressingly make us do it with him, ‘cuz we were in Alaska man’! Tempting as it was (!), it took us a long time to make him realise that it was not our intention, nor in our best interests to down a litre of booze with him. Protestations that we had to cycle to Tok the next day were met with offers to drive us there. After about an hour of trying to veer the conversation in other directions, we were finally left in peace after assurances that we would be in Tok Lodge two nights later, and he guaranteed to put $1,000 behind the bar for an all night supply of Jagerbombs (a shot of Jagermeister submerged in Red Bull). Small as Tok is, our hotel and bicycles were situated at a safe distance (and therefore out of sight) from this establishment.

We were very lucky that it wasn’t raining when we set out the following day, and we cycled up and down over the rolling hills towards Tok. At this point, I found that I was starting to see the hills as a challenge rather than an exasperating obstacle I had to get up and was glad to see that my body was finally adjusting to lengthy distances on a daily basis. The scenery was beautiful but once again the rain hit us, this time it was a heavy downpour and some of our ‘waterproof’ equipment didn’t turn out to be quite so effective.  Once the rain finally let up, we stopped for lunch at a nearly deserted state recreation site, where we tinged our bells and talked very loudly to keep those ever-present (but invisible) bears away.

The last stretch of our journey was the complete opposite to the morning - the sun came out, it became rather windy and the road was completely flat and straight - the Romans would have been proud. Just outside Tok, Paul got his first flat tyre (just as the wind became more severe and more cloud threathened rain), due to a nasty staple-like piece of metal.

We loved our motel room which came with coffee-maker, fridge, microwave (this meant I could have tea and cereal for brekkie finally!) and a TV! And we were looking forward to our well-deserved day off after six days of non-stop cycling 260 miles from Valdez.

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August 7, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

What with fork issues and wet fog and drizzle, we left Valdez four days behind schedule. To raise the spirits we had an almost 3,000 foot mountain to cycle up, which would take us panting and sweating into the Chugach Mountains. After a sandwich lunch within touching distance of the very impressive Worthington Glacier, we coasted down for 22 miles and after 62, we arrived at our little doghouse (see photos 1st Aug) at Tiekel River. 

The following day, under an unusually blue Alaskan sky (with a few pink fluffy clouds thrown in), we left the Chugach mountains. A nasty steep hill up from Squirrel Creek and Tonsina Lodge was rewarded with another well-timed lunch and our first view of the Wrangell St Elias National Park and Preserve with the 12000ft plus peaks of Mount Wrangell, Drum and Blackburn (photos still to be uploaded). After a friendly chat with some lovely people from Atlanta (who wondered if we were noolywedz), we made our way downhill to Copper Centre, where we stayed at the old copper mining railway depot and actually slept in a lineshack built in 1914, the only conversion being that a big bed had been shoved in it. For more information on the copper railway see http://www.copperraildepot.com/ (there is also a book available written by owner of the hotel and depot). After dinner at the historic Copper Center Lodge, we went for a few beers in the middle of a big trainset/bar (see photo 3rd Aug) and met a couple from Montana, Mike and Abrei, who were on their honeymoon cycling round Alaska!

The following morning, after an early brekkie of some weird berry bread, reindeer sausage and coffee, we set off for Gakona via Glennallen (for laundry and internet admin). Another impressive day of forests and mountains covered in snow ended up in the tavern at Gakona Lodge (the oldest in Alaska apparently) being regaled with some very interesting tales (see below) by a well-oiled pipeline maintenance worker called James O’Leary.

James was conceived on the Thompson Pass in 1954, when his parents got snowed in in their truck in a snow storm, and for four days they lived on fruit and veg until they were rescued. On Good Friday in 1964 there was a massive earthquake and a series of tsunamis in Alaska that destroyed all of Valdez and Portage and parts of Anchorage and Seward. On this day, James O’Leary’s father was waiting on the dock with his truck to pick up some cargo at Valdez along with some other truckers. The boat they were all waiting for came and just as it did, the earthquake struck, causing the sea to get sucked right down and when it came back, it swallowed everything: ship, cargo, dock, dockers, truck, truckers and most of the surrounding buildings. Three tsunamis struck in a row and after a year of searching, no trace was found of them - not the ship, the cargo, the dock, the dockers the truck, the truckers, the buildings - nothing. So now Valdez stands four miles away from where it was before, a totally new and typically small American mountain town with a very friendly population. For more information on this subject, see

 http://www.valdezalaska.org/history/earthquake.html

and

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valdez%2C_Alaska

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August 7, 2007 by paulandnaomi.

Our three nights in Valdez (which rhymes with sneeze) were very comfortable due to Mandy and Tom’s warm hospitality. Tom gave us a tour of the area, showing us the site of old Valdez (which was totally destroyed by an enormous earthquake in 1964), catching a salmon with his bare hands down at the hatchery, and even arranging for a black bearcub to appear on cue at the side of the road (though unfortunately not for long enough to get a decent photo). We were also introduced to various homemade culinary delights such as moose steaks, caribou sandwiches, barbecued Alaskan sock-eyed salmon, salmon pate made with Mandy’s own delicious pickled green beans and Tom’s beer-laced breakfast pancakes. All of which set us up nicely for the following days on the Richardson Highway.

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August 3, 2007 by Naomi.

We set off from Anchorage in cloudy weather and were amazed that we managed to get all our stuff into our eight panniers after the all the shopping we did. A bikepath took us all the way out of town and we then had to join the main traffic on the New Seward Highway. Although we did have a wide shoulder to cycle on, there were an awful lot of RVs (recreational vehicles - holiday homes), which resemble large buses and are very intimidating to share the road with. I thought RVs were the same as SUVs until I saw the RVs trailing the SUVs - can vehicles get any bigger? I ask myself!

The tide was low in Turnagain Arm (the body of water that we were travelling along) and was all mudflats (see photos for 27th July). Unfortunately, despite warning signs, people have made the unwise decision to walk across the ‘Arm’, and got into quite serious trouble. Apart from the risk of the tide coming back in, the mudflats are made up of fine silt and clay from melting glaciers, and have similar qualites to quicksand.

The road from Indian found us on a lovely cycle path that was a bit more hilly than the road and was surrounded by lots of foliage and berries and all sorts, at which point I started tinging my bell to keep the bears away. As the weather gradually cleared up, layers came off and we got some spectacular views of the mountains and glaciers around us.

 On entering Girdwood we heard a ‘Welcome to Girdwood!’ shouted out from the bikerental shop, and thankfully found our cosy B&B without much ado. After a lovely meal and a couple of drinks at Jack Sprats, we slept beautifully.

The following day brought us some much closer and better views of glaciers, especially on the road leading up to the Whittier tunnel. On our way there, we met a Swiss couple, Tim and Angela, also cycling around Alaska, and they had some very interesting stories to tell, especially from their last trip from Switzerland to Kazakstan (see www.rulatrip.com) although only German speakers will understand the text, the pictures have their own story to tell.

Our arrival at the Whittier tunnel confirmed that bikes were indeed not allowed through the tunnel (it’s only one way and the lane is shared with motor vehicles and the train), which left us with only one option, and that was approaching someone with a large enough vehicle for two bikes who would be kind enough to give us a lift through it. Luckily, we met Dana and Brian (from Arkansas) and their son’s father-in-law on their way for a spot of fishing in Prince William Sound and we swapped some stories during the short journey (see photos 29th July). We got an especially good history of Whittier, a very isolated fishing village on the west side of Prince William Sound.

After a very small tour of Whittier and Begich Towers, pretty much the only habitable building in town, we boarded the ferry in beautiful weather, despite being told that the weather in Whittier is always shittier! Once we got going we had glaciers literally coming out of our ears, but most impressive was Whittier glacier and the one opposite. Further on in the trip we got to see a whale, dall porpoises, sea lions and a fair few (but rather small) icebergs. The weather did indeed get shittier towards Valdez (renowned for being one of the wettest places in the States), where we were met by Mandy and Tom Hale, our wonderful hosts in Valdez. We stayed with them for a couple of days while we waited for the never-arriving new bicycle fork and prepared ourselves for the long cycle northwest to Tok.

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