Just two short weeks ago I optimistically sent a brief blog post from my phone announcing the start of this summer's bike tour. Here's the rest of the story.
The Dream
Sharry and Mandy’s grand summer adventure was to be a self-supported bicycle ride from Fairbanks to Wasilla along the Parks Highway, beginning with a ride on the Alaska Railroad from Wasilla to Anchorage. The train ride was very successful.
The Tuberculosis Ward Rides
It was pushing 90 degrees as we rode the first day (more about that in a minute), and achingly dry. My throat felt as if it were being seared like moose meat about to go into a pot of stew. By the end of the day, my vocal cords had been stripped clean and I had no voice. Even my lung-rending coughs were coming out as feeble squeaks, with the added spice of a bit of green goo.
Mandy was starting to feel crappy, too. Our joint energy levels were dropping, and we decided a rest day was already in order. Actually, if you have to spend a day lying around camp, Nenana’s not such a bad place to do it. Just don’t look at the water you’re drinking – it looks like weak pee, but tastes okay.
The third day, Mandy was starting to cough, too, often in counterpoint to my hacking. We kept calling ourselves the tuberculosis ward. When a friend texted me that I was an iron woman, I said that “iron lung woman” was far more appropriate. At least we had a sense of humor. We decided to press on. I kept hoping that continually flushing my lungs with fresh air would clean them out. It was a nice idea.
The Road
Ester Hill had loomed large in my imagination for weeks thanks to my dear hubby. He’d ridden the Parks Highway as a high school senior (oh so many, many years ago), and said that the school’s Century Club had chosen to ride out of Fairbanks the night they got in on the train so they could get past Ester Hill. I figured once we made it past that hill, we’d be past the worst for a while.
I was so wrong.
We rode 53 miles the first day, and about the first and last four were relatively flat. The middle 45 were anything but. I’ll have to check a map sometime, but I’ll bet a crow would only have to fly 25 or 30 to cover that same 45 miles of road. There was not a flat spot in that stretch, and much of it was quite steep. The worst was the hill on which Skinny Dick’s Halfway Inn is located. Not surprisingly, this haven of pornographic kitsch and alcohol sits halfway between Fairbanks and Nenana, and near the north end of a three-mile long hill. I think I walked 2½ miles of it. I guessed that I ended up walking 5 – 6 miles that day as I just did not have the energy for powering up the steepest hills. Mandy, as always, was a vision of dogged determination as she kept on pedaling, although the Skinny Dick’s hill defeated even her.
On the third day, our second day of riding, my pleas for flat land were answered. The highway south out of Nenana is wonderfully flat for about 30 miles. Our legs pumped, and pumped, and pumped. I had the lyrics from Deep Blue Something’s “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” running through my head hour after hour. Of course, I couldn’t remember all the words, so it was just the chorus:
And I
said what about "Breakfast at Tiffany's?
She said,
"I think I remember the film,
And as I
recall, I think, we both kinda liked it."
And I
said, "Well, that's the one thing we've got."
I have never been so sick of a song in my life.
To tour on bicycle, you really have to enjoy the actual riding, pedaling mile after mile. This day was the first time I’ve ever been bored on my bicycle. I found myself wanting, for the first time, my iPod to distract me. It didn’t help at all when the wind started blowing. A headwind, of course.
In short order,
our pedaling, pedaling, pedaling was only propelling us forward at 6 – 7 mph. After
lunch, our progress was further slowed as the road began to gently climb into
Healy. My energy waned and I became, as I had been yesterday, more demoralized
with each hill. I found myself stopping at the bottoms, taking a moment to
“remoralize” myself before starting the climbs.
The Last Straw
So, let’s recap for a moment. Mandy and I were both coughing and otherwise not feeling well. To exacerbate my problem, I had no appetite. Every time I tried to eat, I could hardly force food down my throat. Not a good situation when we spent 12 and 9 hours a day riding.
About 9 miles out of Healy, we entered a construction zone. Rough gravel road wending uphill with traffic not slowing much. We were both walking. Blessedly, a pickup truck came by and stopped as soon as I thrust my thumb out. A lovely family from Ruby was happy to give us a ride to the McKinley RV Park. Thank god.
Unfortunately, the campground left a lot to be desired. The tent camping spots were tiny and close together, and the toilets were up a hill in the building with the minimart and laundry. I would not recommend ever staying there.
It was Solstice weekend and there was quite the party going on at the 49th State Brewing Company just up the hill from the campground. We went there for a fabulous dinner and a Belgian beer, and enjoyed a little live music. Music that continued until 2:00 a.m. The young people at the campsite next to ours were loudly enjoying their own beer-and-buds party. About 1:00 we picked up our tent and moved across the campground in search of a little peace and quiet.
When we finally got up at 7:00, I’d had about two hours sleep, and Mandy just a few more. It was not hard for us to decide that we were done. While we might have been able to continue, it would have been only to prove that we could, not because we were having fun. Having fun was supposed to be the point, right?
We called Tom, Mandy's husband, for a rescue ride, and caught a shuttle into Glitter Gulch, the scary array of tourist traps right outside the Denali Park entrance. Ensconced in a comfortable chair at the Denali Princess Lodge, I took a nap.
The ride home smooshed into the cab of Tom's little pickup trip was delightfully easy. We saw a black bear, the only wildlife of our trip, and more fabulous views of Denali. The only interruption was the symphony of coughs Mandy and I orchestrated.
The Lessons Learned
I refuse to think of this trip as a failure. Mandy and I agreed that we’d ridden the hardest part of highway, and I was really quite happy with my performance. While I was tired and lacking in energy, my legs did quite well. I only felt a twinge in my knees once; other than that, my legs never got tired.
This trip was the first time I’d ridden fully loaded. I carried four full panniers as well as a tent. I didn’t weigh my bags, but I’d guess they were about 30 lbs or so. I was a little concerned about how well I’d handle them, but I had no trouble at all. I don’t think riding unloaded would have made climbing those hills or battling the winds significantly easier.
The ride may not have turned out the way we planned, but I know more now than I did before, and I have more confidence in my abilities. That’s not so bad an outcome. I'm not done with this highway, yet. Next time, I want to ride north from Wasilla to Denali Park. Hopefully I'd have a tailwind, and it would be fun to plan a couple of days to play in the park when I'm done riding. Soon, I hope.
