"7:00 PM Whtehorse 4002
! 61298 8.65l @ $10.86" I was exhausted. Siggy wanted to buy a rain-suit. Dave and Scott kidded him about the rain being over. But it felt like it was going to get cold. Really cold. I wanted to keep going but Dave wanted a hotel with a hot tub. We stopped to make some phone calls and I fell asleep leaning on a garbage can. Nobody took a picture but if they had, I would have looked like a total bum, a drunk, some kind of mental case.
I tried to chat-up the receptionist at the hotel but she really wouldn't have anything to do with me. On the other hand, she gave some good advice. We asked her about the road to Dawson, and from there to Chicken. She said it was good. She said she does it every summer. She said she camps on it. "What about bears?" I asked. "Oh, I just take my shotgun," she said. Well, we didn't have shotguns, we said. "Oh," she said, and right there I lost. No shotgun? She looked at us like we were total idiots, loses, trouble-makers who would just need to get rescued. We decided not to ride to Dawson. It was an almost fatal mistake to NOT ride to Dawson. For Dave, anyway.
From Whitehorse to Fairbanks first we had cccccold. Siggy was glad for the rain suit. Construction along Lake Tulane (sp?) was brutal. Deep gravel. Guys on Harleys were hating it. I was hating it. All we could do was up-shift, shift our weight back, and hope.