Deadhorse to Valdez

After my trip to Deadhorse I awoke the next day with a distinct lack of enthusiasm to firstly try fix the bike, and then to make my way down that same dreaded road again, however what a difference a day makes. The freezing fog had lifted, the sun was out and you could almost say that it was warm! I felt much better after a sleep and some food that wasn't cooked in a mess tin, so I packed my stuff up to leave, fueled up and even managed to fix the bike fault. I left after doing that standard photo call at the Deadhorse sign post with the intended finish for the day to be back at my camping spot in Coldfoot.
I found the ride back far easier as firstly I think I knew what to expect, but also you get the feel for crappy surfaces and actually become half decent at riding on them. I took many opportunities to get photos and halfway through the day I had my standard mess tin of food for lunch looking over the most amazing view of the Atican pass (see photos if they work!) I must say, I did sit there eating my dried moose hide pasta dish thinking that this lunch even rivaled the joy of the boots meal deal on Tottenham Court Road.
I got back to Coldfoot around 8 that night, and decided to have a beer at the Alaskan excuse for a bar, as I sat there supping moonshine some old goat started ranting to me that crash helmets were not only no safer than not wearing one, but in fact more dangerous.... as he settled on his seat with a deep intake of breath I was forced to accept that I was in for the long haul about how helmets are a big government conspiracy to polish off bike riders, so instead of agreeing to disagree I had to agree with him that he was right so at least he would let me slope off to my tent!
The next day once again brought utter misery with it. I woke up after a shocking nights sleep. I wasn't sure if it was the horror of being told how my crash helmet would eat me alive, or if it were the howling gail bashing against my tent. I settled for the latter.
I thought to myself the day can only get better, but how wrong I was. The riding was OK, then I decided to stop and try and fish. After about 30 seconds on the river bank and a loss of what felt like 3 pints of blood I finally gave into the mosquito attacks and got back on my bike. I was not pleased as I had got a fishing rod and bait to at least try it out once... oh which side tracks me slightly to add I think I had achieved some form of world record, not for enduring the most amount of mosquito bites, or for listening to mad old men talk about conspiracy theories, but for carrying a pot of earthworms the farthest ever. I bought them at the bait stall in WallMart along with my rod, and after almost 2000 miles I have still not used them, and in fact they are still alive and wriggling. I am starting to feel slightly attached to my stinky little pot of worms, and right now they are squirming away out in the car park in Valdez. If only Norris Mcwerter was still alive I would check if any record had indeed been broken.
Anyhow, I digress.... So here I was escaping many well fed mosquitoes when the rain started, and it rained hard. The smooth ish mud road I was on turned into the infamous poo soup I described before. It was shocking, and for another 150 miles I endured this, which also I may add let to 3 temporary breakdowns as the mud had covered my radiator and was overheating the bike. By throwing puddle or river water at the rad with my small cup numerous times i got it clean enough to do another 15 miles, I then had to repeat the process. Tedious. Finally to top off my day the bike formed an electrical fault and decided to stop working. After much cursing I figured out the problem, got it going and plodded back to Fairbanks, where me and the bike enjoyed a well deserved car wash by some red neck who had great pleasure in hosing me down. The electrical fault was bypassed the next day by bike dealership. Ah sweet warranty.
After a night in an overpriced Motel which I'm sure was the kind that normally charged by the hour, I escaped towards Valdez to see some mountains and glaciers, and as it always seems to go for me, in the space for about 2 hours whilst faffing around at petrol stations and asking for directions etc I had 3 offers of places to stay the night, but once again they were all back the way I had just come. Bugger. However I must say that the majority of Americans up here are super friendly and after making the offer of a place to stay, they then give you their details and their friends in the area in case you need any help, so in general I am most impressed. I think it is mainly due to me being much like a zoo animal, by that I mean something of interest in a kind of alien way. This then creates the lust for them to study me further by asking if I would like to stay with them. Anyhow whatever the reasons it is pretty nice really, and hopefully I may find someone who will offer me a place when I arrive, not when I leave.
So last night I camped in a hedge halfway between Fairbanks and Valdez. For some reason I was bricking it most of the night that I was going to be eaten or kidnapped, but clearly neither happened. Right now I am in Valdez after seeing a Glacier and getting mightily cold in the process. It even decided to snow on me.
Anyway, lets see what this town has to offer.
Mendus