Pavement Ends: 44 Mile Steese Highway 5/27/96
(the white stuff IS snow) Casio QV30 photo
The Starting Point: 44 mile Steese Hwy. -- along the Chatanika River
Though Prudhoe Bay, Alaska (located on the Arctic Ocean and the northernmost location accessible by road in the U.S.) would seem the logical departure point for my trek, almost all of the 400 miles of roadway between Prudhoe Bay and Fairbanks is unpaved and there are no services to speak of, so I've decided instead, to start my journey about 44 miles northeast of Fairbanks at the end of the paved roadway on the Steese Highway along the Chatanika River.
For quite some time, I stood in the road contemplating the scope of my undertaking. I heard a raven caw and saw it land on a tree near the road to look at me. Calling the raven "the bird of ill omen" Edgar Alan Poe wrote a poem about death: "The Raven." Realizing what I had committed myself to do, a chill went down my spine.
There are numerous hazards between here and Key West:
Honestly, before I left home I rewrote my Last Will & Testament and left my wife written burial instructions. If there isn't risk, its not an adventure! I was scared to death.
| I was also overwhelmed at the starting point by the fact that I was about to embark on a journey so long that I wouldn't see my family for months. I questioned myself about the stupidity of my self-imposed exile and forced myself not to think about it. I even tried to convince myself not to call home too often because it cost too much. |
This is the furthest north I can get on paved roadways in North America. After the pavement ends, the Steese Highway goes on another 100 miles to the Yukon River at Circle City, Alaska. Circle City is located only a few miles south of the Arctic Circle and serves as a transportation hub for travel to numerous small Athabascan Indian villages along the Yukon and Porcupine River drainages, resource exploration staging and as a place to truck goods being hauled by barge to villages along the Yukon River, particularly Fort Yukon. For the next couple of weeks, I'll be traveling up the Yukon River drainage system, not expecting to reach the Continental Divide in the Yukon Territory until June 12.Circle City and this road bring back some memories.
In the 1980's, I leased a helicopter to my friend Gordon McDonald in Circle City for use in geological exploration. The lease was mutually beneficial and the business thrived until one day when Gordon walked out to his garage to check the snow load on his garage roof. As he entered the garage, the weight of the snow caused the roof to collapse crushing him to death. Even the simplest aspects of life can be deadly in Alaska.
Back to the bike trip. I got up late (around 8:30 AM), broke camp and packed my bicycle for the second time, readjusting my load so that the front wheel wasn't so loaded. Then I headed North to the end of the pavement at 44 Mile.
As I readied to leave, I was surrounded. The mosquitoes
here are among the worst on earth and this is the time of year
for them, albeit slightly early (there is still snow on the north
slopes of the hills out here and some pretty serious glaciers
in the streams). There are tee-shirts for sale in Alaska proclaiming
mosquitoes to be the "State Bird. "
One time when I was fishing a few miles North of here
on Birch Creek, the mosquitoes were so annoying that I dove into
the river fully clothed. Though I am one of those lucky people
who are immune to mosquito venom, I just can't stand being covered
by them. It is a smothering feeling. I've heard stories of caribou
herds being so disturbed by the mosquito hoards that they were
driven off cliffs. I've brought some repellent and shouldn't be
too bothered as long as I keep moving.
There is some military presence in this area on occasion; typically
arctic warfare training exercises. I remember coming to the White
Mountains North of here one winter to find that a military exercise
had taken place and that about a mile off the road the army troops
had constructed a series of igloos out of snow blocks as an apparent
test of emergency survival techniques. We hiked over to the igloos
and took some family pictures in which we pretended to live in
the igloos. Since some folks in the "lower 48" states
think igloos typify life in Alaska, we thought we'd confirm that
image. Here is our home in Alaska:
The Steese highway is an old road. Like many of the
roads in hilly locations (including most of the Alaska Highway),
the road grade takes you down to every river or stream crossing
and then back up at the other side. You roll your bike repeatedly
up one hill only to go back down and climb another one. Absurd.
As I wended my way down the hill, I could see evidence of numerous
gold placer mining operations. This area is one of the biggest
sources of mineral riches in the world. Just as it was at the
beginning of the Century, the focus of most development out here
off the Chatanika River is on gold mining. There are numerous
little two-track roads threading off into the hills. The signs
say "Trespassers will be shot" and they mean it. I've
been told that north of Fairbanks there are more than 2,500 Caterpillar
bulldozers in use in mining for gold. In addition to gold there
are significant deposits of uranium and tungsten. I've been told
that the uranium ore near here is worth thousands of dollars per
POUND right out of the ground.
One time during a summer rainstorm, I decided to try my luck at
"panning" my driveway for gold. My yard was the source
of a creek that produced millions of dollars worth of gold back
when gold sold for only a few dollars per ounce. In just a few
minutes I found several dollars worth of gold but never got "gold
fever." Years ago, one of my clients rented a bulldozer to
a gold miner for use in a placer mining operation a few miles
from here. The rent wasn't paid and I filed suit seeking damages
and a Temporary Restraining Order (TRO) halting the use of the
equipment. It turned out that the mining was taking place on land
owned by the University of Alaska without the University's permission,
so the University intervened in the case and joined in my request
for a TRO. The judge issued a TRO late on a Friday and asked me
to serve it on the miner. Miners consider their efforts successful
when they recover more than about 80 cents from each cubic yard
("bucket") of overburden (dirt) they mine. Crying that
this was an $80 a bucket claim, the miner actually "showed
me" in a less than friendly manner, his 357 Magnum handgun.
After a couple of minutes with me backing away toward my car,
he calmed down though, let me depart and eventually left the site.
I chalked the incident up to "gold fever." I heard this
week that he was killed last Winter when his truck hit a snow
berm and rolled.
At the beginning of my ride there were remnants of the Davidson
Ditch -- an incredibly ambitious effort in 1928 to pipe water
in 48" steel pipes (for gold mining) from the Yukon River
drainage through the mountains (using a siphoning technique) to
the gold fields in the foothills above Fairbanks.
At 39 Mile Steese, I passed the campground where I
stayed last night and crossed the Chatanika River, where I often
canoed, camped and fished. Nothing has changed. Though this part
of the Chatanika River is a bit overfished because of its proximity
to the highway, I've caught quite a few nice grayling here over
the years.
When we fist moved to Alaska, we used to spearfish
here for whitefish every October/November. In one night one year
I managed to spear about 100 lbs of whitefish which we fed through
the winter to our dog (I'd actually just throw the dog a frozen
whitefish that I'd hung from a clothesline for several weeks to
dry out).
To get whitefish, you fish in the dark with a Coleman lantern
and an 8' four-prong spear. You wear waders and walk in the nearly
frozen water. This area is predominately permafrost (permanently
frozen ground), so the rivers here freeze from the bottom up.
More than once, I've scared myself half to death sliding in my
waders on river-bottom ice toward the deep. I would stab my spear
into the ice to halt my slide toward certain drowning.
At milepost 35, there is a turnout and parking area along
the river. I stopped for a few minutes to contemplate the many
times I canoed and fished there. As usual for Spring, high water
has caused a number of trees to topple into the river creating
deadly "sweepers." Years ago, a neighbor was trying
out his new canoe a couple of miles from here about this time
of year. He veered uncontrollably into a sweeper and was pinned
underwater for a few seconds until the Kevlar canoe folded and
broke. He was lucky to survive. Hitching a ride to town, he enlisted
my help in attempting to recover the canoe. Using a "come-along"
winch, we managed to pull the canoe off the sweeper, but it was
damaged badly by the weight of the water flowing into it while
lodged against the sweeper.
At milepost 29.5 I passed the Poker
Flats Research Range, the only the world's only scientific
rocket launching facility owned by a university. Poker Flats is
operated by the University of Alaska's Geophysical Institute under
contract to NASA and is home to scientific instruments designed
to study the arctic atmosphere and ionosphere, especially the
aurora borealis (commonly known as the "northern lights").
All of today's ride has been in the trajectory of a rocket range,
but I've never heard of any rockets landing on the highway, so
I guess it isn't much of a risk.
At milepost 28.6, I arrived again at the Chatanika Lodge
where I managed to eat 2 breakfasts: 2 eggs, home fries, toast
and an order of french toast. The campground had no water last
night. I was told that the State put in a new electric well to
replace the hand pump, but it didn't work because the nearest
electricity is about 3 miles away. My one remaining bottle wasn't
quite enough for the 20 miles I'd already ridden today, so I was
really thirsty too. I drank about 5 large glasses of water and
6 cups of coffee.
The Chatanika Lodge is decorated with dollar bills stapled to
the ceiling (at least hundreds; more likely thousands). Somehow,
I can't imagine that decor lasting in Detroit.
Across from the lodge is a huge series of tailing piles
and the second largest gold dredge in Alaska.
After dallying at the Chatanika Lodge as long as I
could, around 12:30 PM, I started the long climb back up Cleary
Summit.
For about 3.5 miles, I averaged only 4.2 m.p.h. It
was only about 53 degrees out, but I was absolutely drenched with
perspiration. At one point, the sweat was dripping so hard off
my forehead into my eyes (despite wearing a CoolMax headband)
that I couldn't see and wandered slightly into the traffic lane
causing an Alaska Department of Fish & Game truck to veer
around me.
At the summit, it was windy and cold. For the 3 mile coast downhill,
I decided to don my polypro shirt and raincoat so as not to freeze.
It was now 48 degrees and threatening to rain. As I got to about
30 mph, my hands froze with regular bike gloves, so I braked to
a stop and put on my full-finger Specialized gloves. Leery of
frost heaves and gravel in the road, and my inexperience with
heavy loads, I tried not to let myself get much above 30 mph.
This downhill run on an 8% grade wasn't as bad as I thought it
might be. It sure didn't take as long to get from Cleary Summit
to Fox as it took to go the other way yesterday.
There is a natural spring about 200 yards off the Steese Highway
on the Elliott Highway. I decided to refill my water bottles before
heading back uphill from Fox toward Fairbanks. Years ago, we lived
near Fox and used the spring as our primary source of drinking
water--wonderful clear cold water. One day, while filling several
5 gallon jugs with water to haul to our log cabin, I noticed a
small white strand of some kind in the water. On looking closely
at it, I realized it was alive and swimming. I took the water
to the University of Alaska for analysis. The strand was found
to be a small annelid (worm) that must have been thriving in the
old wooden piping used at the spring. I reported my discovery
to the Fairbanks Daily News Miner and made the front page, precipitating
a big scandal because the state already knew of the problem but
didn't bother to tell anybody. Eventually, funds were appropriated
for reconstruction of the water delivery system and the worms
disappeared, but I never drank the water again. Today the line
of folks waiting to fill 5 gallon jugs with spring water was too
long, so I didn't drink any today either.
Fox is another old gold mining town. Its not pretty; just a big field of tailings (the rocks broken up in mining for gold).
From Fox, I decided to ride up the Old Steese Highway--less
traffic than the "new" Steese I used going north. I
passed Gold Dredge No. 8, an old placer mining dredge that has
become a tourist "trap" (I've eaten there; it is really
quite nice).
From there I climbed about 800' vertical to my old
neighborhood on Gilmore Trail. The house I designed and built
is still there.
There are a lot of memories associated with that house
but I won't bore you with them. It was a daunting prospect riding
a bicycle there. If I turned left as I left my driveway, I went
downhill about 1,000 feet to Fairbanks (about 7 miles away). If
I turned to the right, I would have to climb up about 400' in
a series of roller-coaster hills. It was never easy. Either way,
I had a rough ride. Maybe that is why I didn't ride much before
I moved to Michigan and relatively flat corn fields.
As expected, I was thoroughly exhausted by the time I got to Gilmore
Trail. According to my altimeter, I climbed 4,191 feet between
yesterday and today.
38 miles
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© Ed Noonan 1996, 1997