The Old Man from Tuktoyaktuk gets the Last Laugh

[Sagebrush]

Besides, imagine if we painted a $25k BMW GS Adventure rainbow colored or permanently affixed purple fur to a KTM 1290...

That probably explains it more succinctly than anything else

[HomeMadeSin]

And I don’t think anyone has arranged dual webers on those new fangled machines. They can’t handle that much character...

[sgwilly]

They can’t handle that much character...

Amen to that!

[Whiskerfish]

SNIP The Goldwings generally get a pass at such an event since it was made in the US from 1980 onwards. We were hoping the chrome loving, knuckle dragging, loud-pipes-saves-lives crowd wouldn’t know that the 1st gen bikes were Japanese. Jeckyll is a big bloke, but we’d be severely outnumbered.

Hope that helps.

Interesting. Having been to Bike week in Daytona on my 78 Wing I found the reception there much nicer than I have at numerous Modern Wing events.

[CYBORG]

SNIP The Goldwings generally get a pass at such an event since it was made in the US from 1980 onwards. We were hoping the chrome loving, knuckle dragging, loud-pipes-saves-lives crowd wouldn’t know that the 1st gen bikes were Japanese. Jeckyll is a big bloke, but we’d be severely outnumbered.

Hope that helps.

Interesting. Having been to Bike week in Daytona on my 78 Wing I found the reception there much nicer than I have at numerous Modern Wing events.

I agree. I have experienced more of a snob attitude at newer Goldwing events then at Daytona, or other events that were dominated by Harleys. That may be changing as it has been several years since I stopped going to WingDing . It had become a platform for the " I have more bling then you " crowd, and I had no desire to play

[sunnbobb]

Cant wait to hear the next leg of this adventure.

[HomeMadeSin]

Almost reached the penultimate portion....two more installments and I’m done.

[HomeMadeSin]

19 June 2018. Dundt, dundt, dundt…Another one bites the dust. Endless gravel, miles and miles of eating dust and proving we are the Weebles in the muck finally took its toll. Both the forecast and current ride reports don’t paint a warm, dry trip toward Tuk with real rainbows and song birds. So Mike informs himself, “You’re Fired!” This is a big shock to all of us. Mike is a supremely capable rider and the fastest of the bunch, but was having some vertigo-like issues and decided to bail when we reached Inuvik. He literally purchased a flight last night for a noon getaway. [In Deadpool 4th wall break mode:] But what about the Barney mobile?!? Save that for later.



While Mike makes way for the airport, we prepare for the final stretch to Tuktoyaktuk. We can already taste the salty air and seal flesh (too soon?). The plan is to flat git’r’dun…sporting (Thor-like) bare chests as we crest the last hill or turn into Tuk. Surely the locals will think the Marvel universe is descending upon them; Hyde as (a pale) Hulk; Mr. Jones as Professor X (accent and all); Kevin as Dr. Strange (enough said) and Troy as the Red Skull (bald is beautiful, or so I hear).



Here’s a pic of my bike, as ready for the up-and-back ride, however long that will take:



As a throwback to the drug war ads, here’s your Weber:



And here’s your Weber on dirt:



As the remaining four of us pass through town, we hit the Inuvik-Tuktoyaktuk highway, aka Highway 10. According to Wikipedia, it is the "first all-weather road to Canada's Arctic Coast" and officially opened in late 2017. Prior to that, it was the infamous Tuk winter ice road – perhaps you’ve seen it on TV.



Did you miss the moose? I mostly did, but he’s there…



Now it was obviously overcast but also humid and chilly. We left late but it was largely hovering around the mid 40’s F (7C) during our ride. The first section of the road was tolerable – light gravel without the annoying dust. Then the rocks got bigger, wetter and deeper and at least a few sections were being maintained by a grading crew. Of course, these sections were the trickiest as it was 4+ inches deep with ruts that again favored the bold of throttle. Few pictures were taken as we continued northbound and I apologize for that. But around an hour and a half after leaving Inuvik, we encountered 4x4 trucks heading south, strongly urging us to stop and go back.

As mentioned, the road is new and was designed for full year round travel. But the weight limit was only 5,000kg (11,000lbs) in areas. With the recent rain and current constant drizzle around Tuk, there was a 20 mile polymerized mud-bog section that was collecting motorcycles like flypaper. The 4x4 that flagged us down barely made it through. Modern, high end motorcycles with experienced riders were stuck upright, defying gravity. Reports of broken bones and carnage prevailed.



It was at that moment, we took stock of our situation. To some, it was a no brainer – turn around and get back ASAP. To the hard headed others (that shall remain nameless but their Marvel alter egos had names with the letter K), it was a big suppository-type horse-pill and difficult to swallow. I think it literally took us about a half hour or more of deep, philosophical consideration. Would turning around now reduce the size of my…ahem…ego?



In this fish story, we were literally a stone’s throw from our destination. In reality, we may have made it a bit beyond halfway to Tuktoyaktuk from Inuvik. Here’s glamour shot of the “East Indian National Pride” at our geographical apex:



The parting gift, as viewed Westward (Goldwings only):



And with the Yammie:



The smarter of the bunch get a head start heading back south. Those afflicted with the K “dumbosome” hung back and gave each other super-machismo glances. We came all this way. All. This. Way. We endured all kinds of mechanical issues, time constraints and intrapersonal drama. Just to fall short of the main goal is a complete failure.

In a nobly vain attempt, that one crazy dumbosome was working furiously inside us, trying to convince us we could do this. We could make a mockery of modern machinery and superior experience to show the world that the corduroy bell-bottomed, 5 inch lapel, 3 piece vest Honda boxer is unstoppable. But alas, no heroes (or fools) today. Just mere mortals.
Fortunately, we had not lost all logical functions. We were still men and our pride (mostly) intact. The Goldwings have absolutely proven to be spectacular machines. And given the abuse we have put these through, I have experienced a level of affection for my Wing that simply will never be broken. Ever. It is truly the Toyota truck equivalent in the two wheel world, in a nod to the infamous Top Gear experiment.

Subconsciously, Hyde and I know the machismo-induced delay would permit a riotous ride back. The pressure is off a bit and it’s time to let it all hang out. This would be a harbinger of another, similar opportunity (later). But my rear luggage rack decides to spoil the fun after a short while and must be removed. Time to make it more naked:



I’m not sure if it was the calm associated with released stress of returning to safety or some magical unicorn farts in the air, but my bike felt like it was reinvigorated. Shed of excess weight (me excluded), the bike absolutely came alive. I’m certain it was like watching a Honda Civic with a fartcan exhaust ripping from stoplight to stoplight, but it was an absolute riot to ride. Perhaps it really didn’t like the bloated, Kardashian-like rear rack. But I’m certain I had a 100-foot rooster tail of rocks thrust from the rear tire as we sped toward warmth. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I stopped to swap bikes with Hyde, because it ran so good I had to share. Fortunately, he experienced the same euphoric spark on my steed that I did. And I learned to appreciate just how stable his bike was. It was good to “swing” for a spell.

As we get back to the north end of town, we meet up with a local bike shop owner and his flatbed heading north to rescue the stuck motorcycles. We hear later that even he got stuck and had to be rescued.

A brief interlude here, to describe a situation we become aware of in the Middle-Earth Moria muck that lay just south of Tuktoyaktuk. I don’t have all the details, so forgive me if I miss important facts. But I hinted previously about a story of the good soul Hi-de-Ho before, and here it is. From what we know, he was one of the many that were stuck in the muck. Like seriously stuck. For hours and hours. Other vehicles passed as he await help, most without even asking if he needed help. I think he literally was stuck for something like 8 hours, without certain medications and eventually got to the point of giving up. He literally posted that if anyone wanted the bike, it is waiting for them – a 2017 V-Strom if memory serves. I think his bike was eventually recovered the next day, but we lost track of what happened since then. I hope he fared better because he is a genuinely good guy.

Now we had managed to work out a deal with the motorcycle shop owner to dispose of Mike’s abandoned bike – AFTER we picked the parts we needed/wanted. So when we get back to the hotel, we start picking:





In short, Kevin’s rainbow ride picked up the purple fuzzy luggage set since his luggage was practically falling off (I think that’s called accessorizing in the fashion world…). My bike got the rear progressive shocks to replace the worn out originals. Hyde’s bike got the battery he needed all this time. We did pull the new C-5 optical ignition since that was a pricey kit but the taker of the free remains bought it on the spot for the original (Canadian) price. At least Mike would net something for his loss.





20 June 2018. What a difference a day makes. If it wasn’t for a couple of uptight wage earners with limited time off and things to do, we could’ve re-attacked Tuk on this day with no problem. Dry and sunny, today would be a stunning day to ride. But we had the D2D Rally to hit for the briefest of moments before hightailing it to Anchorage. And Kevin and I had flights booked on the Saturday night 3 days from now.





From the ferry at Tsiigehtchic to Fort McPherson is about 36 miles of dirt/gravel/etc. Somewhere along the way, Hyde’s cell phone made a run for it. We gas up and split here, sending Mr. Jones and Kevin south while Hyde and I ride all the way back to the ferry. The dust is so tasty and the watered sections so much fun, it’ll be thrice as nice, right? Unfortunately, we did not find it. He eventually rode ahead on the return to Ft Mc to talk with the police in case someone turned it in. No luck. But he did get to ride in the cruiser and help the cops with a stolen motorcycle.

With a 72 mile gap plus the slower pace we took scanning each shoulder of the road, we could put the hammer down for Eagle Plains. And like Thor, hammer we did.



Back in Colorado, days like these were called ego days. Just perfect riding, traction and absolutely no impeding traffic. With a decent battery, Hyde had no more electrical gremlins. Just pure, adventurous Goldwing bliss. It was the kind of riding absolutely on the edge. Truly, truly remarkable. I wish I had GoPro video for much of that ride. No blue pills required…





This time around in Eagle Plains, we have to tent it. Mr. Jones is a one man band, entertaining the campers:



The end of the Dempster and return to asphalt:





Must’ve missed this sign on the way up…



We get back to Dawson and prepare for the following days marathon. Mr. Jones is taking the scenic tour home solo while Hyde, Kevin and I have to scoot to Anchorage, lickity split.

Our accommodations at Dawson:



I finally was able to pick up a K&N filter cleaning kit at the local NAPA store and service the filters. Check this out:



Oi! Who is the big bloke behind the bar?!?

[Jeckylll]

You did a good job explaining the ride back. It was epic. Nearly midnight in the 24 hrs of sunlight a day before the summer solstice.

I can think of maybe 5 rides that were equivalent in time, space, location, sound, smells, temperature, views, and solitude (well except for the kindred spirit behind me).

If my adventure wing blew up the next day it would have fulfilled, no exceeded anything the original designers intended.

[Jeckylll]

Someone asked what would motivate us to make a trip like this on vintage gold wings.

If you were there you would know, it was this 2 hr ride in the arctic on a machine with soul. It is the dragon that we chase that cannot be found 2 miles from home.

[sunnbobb]

Great story. Of course the wing ran better when you headed back, you were heading downhill..

[Whiskerfish]

Absolutely Epic!! And your remedial English course has served you very well!!

[Sagebrush]

EPIC !!!!!!!!!!!!

[sgwilly]

In preparation to my brothers and I taking a bunch of early 80's Hondas around Lake Superior, I half joking told them, "if any one of these old gals breaks down, we distribute the load, pull the plates and keep going". I'm glad to see that actually being carried out. Well done!

m829_0553_sgw.jpg

As it turned out on our trip, while there was near constant electro-mechanical resuscitation being applied to the 750 Nighthawk, it was a much newer bike in the lot that actually crapped out - a 2009 Kawasaki Vulcan 2000. You may notice there are only 5 bikes and 6 riders in that pic. Roll on!

[HomeMadeSin]

21 June 2018. Editor: I skipped the stayover in Eagle Plains and threw in the final leg back to Dawson in my prior haste to wrap this up. But technically, we didn’t get to Dawson until the evening of the 21st.

22 June 2018. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Ride Them (an epilogue). Similar to the just plagiarized author, I can’t seem to stop writing about this trip. But to be honest, we still have something to share on the way from Dawson to Anchorage. On this cold and rainy morning, we quickly went down to the main tent for D2D and picked up the obligatory t-shirt before hitting the ferry across the Yukon River.



Route 9 heading west out of Dawson on this day, to put it bluntly – sucked. The road was slick as snot and the weather was cold. Visibility wasn’t great either, but we mustered on. It didn’t take long before my bike was missing thanks to the typical spark plug wells filling with rain water. I had this issue back in ’15 for the Maritime trip and knew what to do.

It took a while for the weather to clear up but it did just about the time we were approaching the Alaskan border.



Next stop was Chicken, AK. It had been 9 years since we last rode through here and back then, it was quite the experience. We drank with a local who told us of a duck with a grafted chicken leg, alien abductions and more. This time around – during the day – it was more mundane around but we found good food. Unfortunately, Hyde also found reference to a Chickenstock Music Festival and has decided this is a must in the near future.





By and large, it was just peaceful riding past Chicken.



We did find some decent Thai food outside Glennallen, AK…



We eventually made it to a rustic RV camp that evening just a few miles away. After a few libations in the bar with the eccentric owners, we retired early in a cabin nearby. Beware shedding water weight or you could be locked out…





23 June 2018. Sorry Texas, but Alaska is one big state. Brisk and foggy to start the day and I didn’t take many pictures until later in the day.


Moving Pictures, when in a Rush…:





Once we get to Anchorage, job #1 is to get things in order for storing the bikes. First up, give them a bath.





After spending the GDP of modern day Venezuela , the rainbow pride is looking mightily radiant after a hose down…





A hometown friend lives in Anchorage and allowed us to prep the bikes for storage while at his place. We did store them at a storage unit (and hope they are still standing after the November quakes).



Best yet, our good friend treated us to some delicious and home cooked salmon and halibut:





It really doesn’t get much better than this. Eating good food, with good friends by a fire in the summer. After an epic journey. Is Hyde eating while asleep?





That’s it Folks! Until next time…ride safe.

Z