For those of you who aren't familiar with geography
in the Northwest and Alaska, the Cassiar Hwy. is a road that runs roughly parallel
to the Alaska Hwy. (or Alcan to us old-timers) and joins it about 11 miles north of
Watson Lake, about 625 miles from the Alcan's origin at Dawson Creek, B. C. Although
it was completed as a gravel highway in 1972, portions of the Cassiar remain unpaved, and
what pavement there is, is not always up to standards found farther south. As of this
writing there were four separate sections of the highway that were still gravel, totaling
nearly 70 miles. Some is well packed, so that it resembles rough asphalt paving, and
some has loose gravel on top, making it a little squirrely for a motorcycle. In the
rain, any of it can be miserable.
Aside from saving nearly 135 miles for a traveler between
Seattle and Fairbanks, the Cassiar offers miles and miles of scenic wilderness, with
abundant wildlife to be seen if you keep your eyes peeled. (On the way to Hyder, I got
to see a rare Kermode black bear - a white [like a polar bear, not an albino] phase of
the ubiquitous black bear). An added attraction is the 46 mile drive off the Cassiar to
the towns of Stewart, B. C. and Hyder, Alaska. The road passes very near Bear Glacier,
and numerous waterfalls, streams, and a brief canyon, before reaching Stewart.
Alaska's orphan town of Hyder is just a couple of miles
around the bay from Stewart, and I think of it as a mis-labeled piece of British
Columbia rather than part of Alaska. Hyder children go to school in a foreign country
(Canada), Canadian money is used as the coin of the realm in Hyder, Hyder's electrical
power comes from Stewart (B. C. Hydro), and since there is no police force in Hyder,
Canadian R.C.M.P.'s are called when there is a serious problem. It's a strange
arrangement, but the neighboring towns get along just fine.
Being that Hyder and Stewart are located on the coast, at
the head of Portland Canal, rain and moderate temperatures are common. So it was the day
I arrived in Hyder to participate in the annual celebration of Ron Ayres' record-setting
completion of 49 states in 7 days and 20 minutes, back in 1997. Since the pavement ends
at the Canadian border, Hyder in the rain means mud. A particularly abrasive type of mud,
since much of the topography is covered with glacial silt.
Hyder has two streets in the town, for a total of perhaps
4 or 5 city blocks worth of rush hour traffic, as whenever there is more than one vehicle
at a time moving about. It seemed, however, that in traversing the same few blocks several
times trying to find a good place to eat (I ended up riding back over to Stewart - having
to go through Canadian Customs each time I made the trek) my brake pads were worn down
enough that when I applied the front brakes, my lever easily touched the handgrip until I
had pumped the brakes a couple of times. The rear brake showed similarly alarming behavior.
The end result of all this was that when I left Hyder the next morning, headed on home to
Alaska, I could hear an unpleasant grinding sound coming from the front end whenever I
applied front brakes. However, this did not concern me, as I was now in a hurry to get
home, and brakes only serve to slow the bike down. So away we went, Annie and I, east to
Meziadin Junction and the Cassiar, thence northward Ho! Having slept in on this cool,
restful Sunday morning, I stopped at Mez Jct. for a plentiful breakfast, as I now planned
on Iron Butt'ing it on home, nonstop. Only 1200 miles to go, and I was needing to be there.
Did I mention an added ingredient in this little drama? The mud
had also done in my speedometer drive, and the speedo needle was beginning to indicate zero mph
at random intervals, and the odometer was no longer keeping up with the mileposts. Fortunately,
I had my gas stops mapped out in advance, so no surprises like finding out that I had run out
of gas when the trip odometer showed only 180 miles on the tank.
It wasn't too far after breakfast that I had to slow down
rather suddenly - bad brakes be damned - as a large silvertip grizzly ambled across the highway
in front of me. After he went into some brush and then came back out to graze on the lush grass
growing beside the road, I was able to get several good photos. Astraddle Annie, and with the
engine running. From 0 to about 25 mph, there's not a motorcycle made that can beat a charging
grizz.
Nor was nature through with me yet. Shortly after leaving
Meziadin Jct. the rain started again, and in time to create more slimy mud in the first stretch
of gravel I came to. Finally, getting wise to this game, I did the one thing that never fails
to bring the sun out - I stopped and donned my rain gear.
Within 20 miles I could see sun shining on the peaks a few miles
ahead, and the rain quit before I even got out from under the clouds. Never fails. Although
the temperature had dropped to 37° F at the north end of the front, it was now time to turn off
the Widders, put on the lighter gloves, and start to make up for lost time. It didn't take long
to reach the Alcan.
Wanting to take some photos at the famous Watson Lake Signpost Forest,
I turned south first to accomplish that little chore. Once done, Annie's nose (festooned with
an abundant sampling of Canadian entomology) was once again aimed toward the Alaska border. A
stop at Rancheria Lodge to gas up and enjoy my last sit-down meal of the trip, and I was back in the
saddle, with Whitehorse as my next stop.
This stretch of highway is fairly recently realigned and repaved,
resulting in a fine two-lane roadway. As most RV'ers seem to retire from their arduous task of
blocking traffic rather early in the evening, I seemingly had this beautiful piece of asphalt to
myself. If I mention that the next 150 miles, including a couple of stops for photos, were covered
in two hours, do you get the picture? (No pun intended.)
From then on it was "sit there, twist that". Whitehorse at half
past midnight, miles and miles of construction (and more gravel), then Kluane Wilderness Village at
4:45 AM for gas and snacks, Pine Valley (also open 24 hours during summer) for some delicious pastries
and coffee, then U. S. Customs at Alcan around 6:30 AM. A little ways inside Alaska, my eyes
started going to half mast, so I pulled over for 30 minutes shut-eye. Waking up refreshed, I pressed
on to Tok where I got my last gas of the trip at 8:30, then boogied on home, arriving before noon
even with stopping to look at a job along the way.
Aside from losing its brakes in the mud, the Connie took the Cassiar
as well as any bike I have ever ridden. With the suspension mods I made this spring (Race Tech
cartridge emulators & springs - dialed in for a smooth ride) Annie handles gravel with aplomb.
Really loose stuff, I hold down to 35 to 45 and keep my weight on the pegs, but for even semi-hard
packed, 75 or 80 and she's as solid as if she were on rails. Still another facet to the Connie's
do-anything character. Part of the credit goes, I'm sure, to the Michelin 90X radials I have on Annie.