June 28: I survived!
I survived! The day started off with an exhilarating swim in the Arctic Ocean and ended with a death-defying ride through the most difficult conditions I have ever encountered on a bike. I can’t decide what was more terrifying – trying to stay upright navigating a muddy road through Atigun Pass with sludge covering my face shield, fingers so numb I could hardly feel the handlebars, and my fuel warning light flashing but no where to stop or following a pilot car through five-inch ruts in the mud set in circular patterns with my handlebars viciously shaking back and forth and a semi bearing down on me.
I didn’t want to travel to the end of the Pan-American Highway and not actually touch the Arctic Ocean. So, I booked a guided tour for this morning that allowed me to pass through the oil fields to Prudhoe Bay. I hadn’t known I would be able to swim in the waters until the last minute but borrowed a t-shirt from one of the oil workers so I could submerge myself in the 29-degree temperature water. It seemed a fitting way to celebrate reaching a such a significant personal goal.
The night before had been rather trying. Right after posting to my blog, I went to look at my bike and noticed a nail embedded in the rear tire. I left messages with a few places hoping to get help with the tire in the morning. Then I slept in a hot stuffy room filled with noxious fumes from a leaked gas can where I couldn’t open the window because of the danger of bears.
I was extremely fortunate to find a repair shop willing to help me with my tire in the morning. There were no motorcycle repair places in the remote stretch of land, but Clint, TJ, and Tom at ASRC Energy Services kindly offered to give the repair a try. The nail had punctured both my tire and tube, so they decided to use my repair kit to patch the tube and put it back in the tire. Because air continued to leak out of my tire after the fix, I rode the bike for a half hour, and they rechecked the pressure to make sure the tube itself would hold. I am so incredibly grateful for their help as they normally work on large construction vehicles and had never repaired a motorcycle tire before.
When I left Deadhorse after 1:30 in the afternoon it was cold and rainy, and I knew I faced two particularly trying stretches of road – a 16-mile construction zone with deep trenches in the mud and a mountain pass known to be particularly treacherous when wet. I knew that these areas would become more deadly by the minute as rain accumulated so I decided not to stop to eat or rest until I had passed through both of them.
I’m still not sure how I survived the construction zone. The 16 mile stretch of land consisted of numerous 5-inch slippery, muddy ruts in the road set in circular patterns from large equipment turning around. I was required to follow a pilot car which made it harder for me to keep the traction I needed, especially since my adventure bike does not have knobby tires on it. At one point I was certain I was going down. My bike violently shook back and forth with the handlebars moving wildly and all I could think was – what was going to be more painful? – hitting the ground, being run over by the semi behind me, or having to tell James I dumped his bike. By some miracle of God, I kept the bike upright.
I had hoped the rain might have stopped by the time I got to Atigun pass but unfortunately the weather was even worse. It was raining even harder, the road was muddier, and the temperatures were freezing with snow still on the side of the road. By this time my fuel indicator light was flashing wildly but there was no where safe to stop. By the time I did find a flat stretch of land to park the bike my fingers were so numb I almost couldn’t get the cap off my spare gas can. Hardy, a rider I met last night pulled up behind me a few minutes later. He was experiencing mechanical difficulties because of the conditions of the road, and we commiserated for a few minutes before he continued, and I tried to get my gloves back on my muddy hands.
I had planned to stay in Wiseman tonight to save money but knew I didn’t have it in me to go six extra miles in dirt or mud and was concerned I would run out of gas before getting there. I decided it was worth it to pay for a second hotel room that was closer to gas and safer to drive to. I can’t even begin to describe the exhilaration I felt when I finally pulled up to the gas tank at Coldfoot Camp. I saw Hardy and Mike, another fellow rider I had met the night before. They were both so glad to see I had survived the road. Mike gave me a great big bear hug and swept me up off my feet. I held on to him for dear life, crying with happiness that I had made it. It was wonderful to be welcomed so enthusiastically and I appreciated their kind words about my bravery.
It is absolutely true that I might do a few things differently given all that I learned over the last few days. But I am grateful to have survived nonetheless!
