Month: July 2013

Categories
Adventure Interviews

[Video] Vague Direction People: Yukon River Kayakers

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Back in the late 1800’s, The Yukon River was one of the main transportation routes for the Klondike Gold Rush. Jump to 2013 and nowadays it’s less about gold and more about shredding in a variety of floating crafts. Connor Oliver-Beebe and Lawrence Brennan are two local kayakers, and a few days ago were out for a play in their playboats underneath the Rotary Centennial Bridge near Whitehorse, YK. I tagged along and was in awe of their skills the whole time – it was a blast. Below is a snippet of some of that filming. Hope you enjoy it.

Categories
Prize Giveaways

VIDEOS: Evernote Hello & Vague Direction (plus a competition to win stuff!)

COMPETITION NOW CLOSED – congratulations to the winners – enjoy your year-long Evernote Premium accounts!

[dropcap]Bit[/dropcap] of a different post today. There’s a high chance that you have a small selection of go-to apps on your phone, ones that you use day in day out and don’t really think about. It’s rare to find an app that becomes totally engrained in your everyday life – it’s always open because it’s useful, provides value and is effortless – Evernote is one of those. It’s a second brain where you can safely store your ideas, notes and thoughts. It’s the only tool I use to keep track of everything that happens on the road.

I’ve been working in partnership with the Silicon Valley folks for a while now, and some of that work has presented itself over on The Evernote Blog (read all about it here) and in this commercial about Evernote Hello – which has played a crucial role in this project so far, and is super intuitive & useful when it comes to remembering the people you meet.

And below you can see a video about how Evernote in general comes in handy on the Vague Direction project. It’d be easy to reel off all the ways that the app helps with efficiency in the video, but it’d be quite long, so other highlights that were left out are included below the video.

  • Web Clipper – for any articles or text from the internet, use clipper to copy the articles, then read them offline.
  • Image recognition is built into search. It can read text from photos / receipts / travel tix / posters etc (this blew my mind).
  • Skitch – for annotating photos and maps. Good for marking directions.

If you don’t use Evernote, and want to be more productive, check it out – odds are you’ll never look back.

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

247 – 254: Fairbanks, AK to Whitehorse, YK

Straight after getting back from the Stampede Trail, I spent a while in Fairbanks with some sketchy illness. Water-from-the-river related maybe. Whatever it was, it meant a few days of not going anywhere. Other than recovery on the road being an altogether inconvenience, it wasn’t a big deal because the time could also act as an opportunity to get recharged for the final leg of the journey. Fairbanks is the highest point North on this trip, and the final ‘corner’. It was a weird relief to know this was the last turning point, but still whilst looking over the map I couldn’t help but be hit with a wave of anxiety, which is stupid really after coming this far. The biggest leg is yet to come and it’s a really bloody long way back to the East Coast from Alaska. Obviously it all comes together when you set off, bite size pieces and all that, but regardless there was a wave of intimidation in the air – unparalleled since looking down out of the plane window on the way to start this thing.

247: Fairbanks – Shaw Pond (75 miles)

The ride from Fairbanks followed the Tanana River upstream. Keep going upstream and you don’t have to worry about any other navigation. Simple, if you ignore that following a river upstream inevitably means a lot of hill climbing. The first town you hit is North Pole and it’s not often you find yourself riding down Santa Claus Lane in North Pole. By now the bike started to be getting a bit clunky. It’s gotten easy to spot when certain mechanical problems are imminent, and a skipping chain means a snapped chain is just around the corner. It’s become a twisted challenge now – rather than frustration it’s a game of how long can you make it last? Not very in this case. The repairs have become a game too -how fast can this get sorted? Not very in this case. It was eventually going smoothly though and for the first time, the mountains made an appearance from behind the clouds. Mega.

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Ticked a goal at the end of the evening too which was to find a stealth camp spot near somewhere to swim. There have been places that appear great for swimming but have been glacially-fed / freeze-your-privates-off cold (looking at you, British Columbia). Shaw Pond  was fairly deserted other than a couple of RV’s parked up for the night and deep. And the water was bearable at last.

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250: Delta Jct – Tok Jct (108 miles)

The cycling’s been samey for a while. The odd lake, the occasional roadside moose, but mostly open tundra or tree meadows (a lot of them burnt from the notorious forest fires that hit Alaska each year because of lightning strikes.) Bumped into Javier, a hilarious and infectiously upbeat Argentinian who’s a few days away from finishing an epic 18 month journey from the Ushuaia in South America to the Beaufort Sea in the North of Alaska. From the bottom to the top of the Americas. Hardcore. Clearly 18 months on the road have taken their toll though, because now he wears plastic bags on his feet.

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 251: Tok Jct – Northway Jct (49 miles)

Other than in sections of Texas and Arizona, the actual cycling between towns has been solo. For the most part, other cyclists have been going the other way. That all changed outside of Tok Junction, when in the space of about half an hour, there ended up being 4 riders from 3 separate parties cycling together the same way.

First up there was Busy from Colorado and Michael (blog) from North Carolina, university pals who are on a month long trip that goes Anchorage > Fairbanks > Whitehorse > Juneau. Like any crowd, or sport, or whatever, a minority of the cyclists you meet can be ‘touring snobs’, who judge your gear and route choices and don’t seem much fun. It’s always a million times more enjoyable riding with those who are in it for light-hearted reasons rather than being 100% focused on the act of cycle touring, so I was so glad to hear after a minute of meeting these lot, “Wahey, another member of the say-no-to-spandex team”.

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10 minutes later, there was Wish (or 施暐煦 – his blog here) from Taiwan, who was two days into his trip from Fairbanks to Whitehorse, and then down the West Coast to San Diego. He’d not done a bike trip before and it was easy to relate to his obvious shock of “what am I getting myself into?”. Physically, the first couple of weeks are definitely the sorest, the most intimidating and the time when you learn the most quickly about how it all works.

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252: Northway Jct, AK – Beaver Creek, YK (Canada)

The day started off like most, nothing unusual. Just a gentle ride hoping to get into Canada. It was only 45 miles or so away. A couple of hours and it was the same kind of thing as previous days. A plod on quiet roads through Alaskan tundra. Then it suddenly all went downhill, whilst riding uphill.

There haven’t been any serious prolonged injuries on this entire trip so far. There was a bruised metatarsal in Charleston, SC, but with The Body Rehab’s help, it was fixed in a couple of days. There was a brief 24 hours of knee pain in El Paso, TX, but it was gone quickly. Other than that, nothing. Cut back to the hill climb, and a moment where on a downstroke a tweak shot through my right knee. It was fairly obvious something had happened – pedalling uphill brought on a sharp pain and even walking with the bike was a limpfest. It was clear no more riding was going to happen that afternoon so out went the thumb. A hitchhike to the next town, Beaver Creek, to figure out what to do next.

The first car to pass was the one that stopped, an amazing ratio. They didn’t have any room in the car but were towing a Yamaha in a trailer, which had just about enough spare room to stuff my bike in the back and crawl in amongst the motorbike and the pushbike. In between the departure borders of Alaska and the entry into The Yukon is a kind of no-mans land. You’ve left the US, and are in Canada, but you haven’t been officially stamped in. And the roads are TERRIBLE. Forget paved road, this is a mix of dirt, gravel and sand. The crew in the car didn’t seem to mind, so being in the trailer and bouncing up and down as we hit each pothole was like being on a rollercoaster in a theme park. Loved it.

I was soon at Beaver Creek and ended up setting up a really obvious tent site by the side of the road in between a bunch of statues. When you put up a tent whilst you’re kind of knackered, and then wake up and stumble out of the tent to be greeted by this guy WITH A PICKAXE, it definitely wakes you up fast.

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253: Beaver Creek – Whitehorse

Camping with an injury in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere when it’s raining is crap, no two ways about it. I woke up still limping and decided it’d be wise to hole up in the nearest town of any size. That was Whitehorse, so out went the thumb again and an hour later a huge RV pulled over. Valerie and Joni, along with 3 tiny dogs, were driving all the way to Olympia, WA and were going right through Whitehorse. As you’d expect if they were willing to drive a stranger for a few hours, they were both super friendly but their time in Alaska had been enough (the constant summer light plays havoc with your head and quality of sleep) and they were were excited to the lower 48 again.

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254+ Whitehorse

There’s been a heavy stint of constant rain recently. A couple of nights where it was so intense, that in just the time between getting gear out of the panniers and setting up a camp, everything was soaked. Basically like sleeping in a puddle, so they weren’t the best nights and were more quick rest than proper sleep. The first night in Whitehorse was torrential and ended up being one of the bad stealth camp nights, on the concrete behind a DIY store. Honestly if you’re reading this and plan to do a bike trip in the future, don’t think you need to camp behind home repair stores on the concrete. This was just daft planning and a ‘Urghh, I give up’ late night mentality.

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It’s really hard to be psyched when it’s so wet. Riding just isn’t enjoyable, much of your gear gets soaked, and compounded tent life is draining. It doesn’t happen all that much, but I’ve opted for a few-day stint in a Whitehorse motel. It’s a few days holed up with an iced knee, a raised leg, a bunch of ibuprofen as per physio instructions, gear drying in the corner and the sound of rain tapping at the window. Busy and Michael arrived yesterday too on their way to Skagway so it’s been nice to know people in town and feast on pizza. Strangely, all it takes to be motivated sometimes is a decent kip and dry gear. The rain is due to leave, and after a few nights here I’m raring to go again, so hopefully the next blog will be more upbeat. The ever fluctuating highs and lows of road life!

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– – –

247: Fairbanks – Shaw Pond (75 miles)
248: Shaw Pond – Delta Jct (21 miles)
250: Delta Jct – Tok Jct (108 miles)
251: Tok Jct – Northway Jct (49 miles)
252: Northway Jct – Beaver Creek (45m ride / 15m hitchhike split)
253: Beaver Creek – Whitehorse (277 mile hitchhike)

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews Philosophy

Walking the Stampede Trail to the bus from Into The Wild

To read the no-holds-barred account of Dave’s hike of the Stampede Trail, check out Chapter 25 in his brand new book, Vague Direction: A 12,000 mile bicycle ride, and the meaning of life  – AVAILABLE NOW, on Amazon. [Amazon.com | Amazon.co.uk]

The Stampede Trail is most known for being the trail that Chris McCandless set out on in April 1992 with the intention of living off the land for the summer. It’s home to “the magic bus”, which became Chris’s base during that time. Four months later, in September ’92, McCandless’s remains were found in the bus, where it’s believed he starved to death. His story gained notoriety in January 1993 when Jon Krakauer wrote an article for Outside Magazine, which was later developed into the well known book and subsequent film, Into The Wild.

It’s a divisive story. Many locals view it as a foolish one, where an underprepared dreamer came to Alaska totally naive to the reality of the wilderness and its challenges. Others are touched by the story and flock to the area in a pilgrimage-like way, from around the world.

A few days ago, I stashed my bike and most gear in Fairbanks, and then hitchhiked back South towards Healy. The plan was to walk to the bus, with the hope there’d be a chance to talk to people and see what drew them to visit. I didn’t expect it to be a profound spiritual journey or anything, and I think some of the criticisms are accurate, but it’s a story that it’s easy to connect with on some levels – questioning our conditioning and a desire for a type of adventure – so being in the area anyway, well, why not? If nothing came of it, it’d at least be a break from pedalling for a couple of days and a refresher course in the art of walking.

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The plan was to do the trip in two days, walking to the bus the first day, camping, then walking out. It’s a slow 20 miles to the bus from the trailhead, basically along well-carved rocky trails, through ponds and open tundra, across a couple of rivers (one of which, the Teklanika River, is known as the point of no return for McCandless – the barrier that stopped him from walking back out to civilisation), and through dense and mosquito-infested tree corridors. And then all of a sudden, it opens up and you find yourself at the bus with sore and aching feet.

It’s in a pretty bad way, bullet holes lining the outside of the bus, most windows put through, and the inside has been torn apart and many parts stolen. But nonetheless it was still strikingly reminiscent of the images from ’92. Inside, it’s a mess but still in good condition is the guestbook for visitors to sign. They range from philosophical messages of people who have seemingly been hugely affected by the story, to “thx chris 4 the inspiration“, to “me and my buddies just drove out here in our 4×4’s and made it in 4 hours. Sick trail!“. There’s also some messages from people who have stayed at the bus for several months during the winter. It’s definitely a hardcore place to be based in the depths of a heavy Alaskan winter.

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Camping outside, it was eerie. There were a lot of noises that were probably nothing but definitely sounded like big critters. You know people say you should make loud noises when you’re in Alaska backcountry? Well it makes you go mad, always saying the same thing, like “HUMAN”, every minute or so. It drives you crazy, especially when the mosquitoes are constantly swarming your face in their thousands too. There’s advice that says you should make regular, loud noises, in a deep voice to let animals know you’re in the area. 3am in the tent and there were big sounds outside. Too late to think clearly, the only loud deep voice I could conjure up were the words from Chocolate Rain by Tay Zonday. Imagining it from another person’s perspective, it must have been really, really weird.

Getting ready to walk out again the next day, Eric from Minneapolis walked into the bus site. He’d flown into Fairbanks for a couple of days with the sole purpose of walking to the bus and was aiming for a single day round trip to make the flight back. Hell of a mission that. It was attempt two, after last year getting turned back because the Teklanika crossing was so high. Split into two days was pretty full on, so I can only imagine what one intense day was like. Sore feet I reckon.

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It was a bit of a slog on the way out. Headphones in and painkillers to dampen the plod. The river hadn’t risen, even though the crossing was late in the day, so getting across was fine. All in all, whilst it’s not the most best walk in Alaska, the Tundra is spectacular in places and it’s a worthwhile trip if you’re in town and have ever felt a connection to the McCandless story or other Alaska wilderness tales.

And regardless of your views on his story, McCandless showed wisdom when, whilst in the severe stages of starvation, he wrote “Happiness only real when shared.“

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THE BETA. There’s a lot of misinformation and fear-mongering online about Hiking The Stampede Trail. Here’s some things that I would add to the mix – as of July 2013. If you’re thinking about taking the trip, obviously do all your own research and be safe, the below are only opinions:

  • This piece calls crossing the Teklanika River in July “extremely dangerous”. The truth is it’s luck of the draw – it might be crazy high water, or it could be fine. On the way to the bus, it was waist height and whilst powerful it didn’t seem like an intimidating crossing. The best chance you have is to cross the river early in the morning – think 4 – 6 am – as it’s a glacier-fed river it doesn’t melt as much during lower temps.
  • If the main crossing looks too high, check upstream. There’s places to cross that are easier and the river isn’t as fast flowing.
  • It’s safer and more fun to do a trip like this with other people.
  • Keep it simple when crossing. Make sure you’re not tied into a rope and keep your rucksack unfastened.
  • Use a strong stick, and in high currents face upstream, with your legs wide, and the stick in front of you forming a tripod shape, making small steps diagonally backwards across the flow.
  • The mosquitos in July are hell. You’ll be swarmed. Take the strongest Deet you can get your hands on. Take some kind of mosquito net too, it’s horrible without one.
  • There’s plenty of water, so you don’t need to carry much at any one time. But make sure you take something to make the water safe to drink. Beaver fever sounds awful.
  • Take Bear Bells rather than shouting out every minute. They will save your sanity. 

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

230 – 237: Whittier to Fairbanks, AK.

Moose, big days and Independence Day. It’s been another wet week, most days providing torrential rain sessions. Not unbearable, but kind of frustrating as Denali is totally invisible in the heavy grey clouds. Quiet week in terms of meeting anyone and filming with them – that’s Alaska though I guess. Hoping to backtrack a little bit and head back into the National Park and to Healy in a day or so on a slightly different mission which could result in material. Rather than post about the rain too much, here’s a few highlights.

235: 20m N of Trapper Creek – Cantwell, AK (80 miles)

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Face to face with a moose. Holy smokes. Not many places in the world where you find yourself making eye contact with a moose. 11PM in Cantwell, working up and down Denali highway trying to find a place to setup camp. And there it was, maybe 50 metres away, stumbling across the road with the most unusual walk. It paused. I paused. It moved. I moved. It was awesome in the literal sense of the word.

A few people so far have talked about moose as their primary food source. They say a moose’s meat can last a family a year or more. It’s hard to picture from photographs, but seeing the scale of the animal – it instantly made sense. Still amazed, I couldn’t find a suitable place to camp, so might’ve slept on the floor in a post office. Not sure if that’s strictly allowed but it might have been / was warm, dry and mosquito-free.

236: Cantwell – Healy, AK (40 miles)

It was about 10.30am and I was sat at a table in the corner of a Cantwell gas station. Firing off some emails before setting out for the day. A brief look up every now and then to see whether the drizzle had ceased. Current mileage, zero.

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“That your bike outside?” asked Jeff, an Alaskan native cycling from Anchorage to Fairbanks. A super positive guy who was travelling light, on a racing bike and having a friend following him in a van providing support.

“How far have you gone today?”. Nowhere yet, Jeff! How far have you gone?

“I’ve done 77 miles this morning. Been pretty grim on the road though in this weather.”

77 miles and he was only just stopping for breakfast/lunch. As you do. I was inspired by Jeff’s pre-breakfast epic mission and positive mentality, and left eager to hit the road. And minutes later Jeff overtook me, with ease, on his carbon fibre bike with speed bars.

“Have a good ride!”, he shouted back. You too Lance. Sorry I mean Jeff.

237: Healy – Fairbanks, AK (113 miles)

The longest day so far, by a single mile. And certainly the most arduous for a long time. There are days that look ‘big’ on paper but aren’t. One that comes to mind is the stretch from Van Horn – El Paso, TX. It’s basically 106 miles of downhill with minimal pedalling, and it’s over really quickly. Then you get some 50 miles days that take forever because of the terrain. Today was more like the latter – a long and gruelling hilly day.

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It’s the height of Alaskan summer, so there’s plenty of light. Really the days can be as long as you like. It was a typical groggy morning waking up on a patch of grass near Healy’s only gas station. I cycled up to the centre of town (it’s a tiny town so ‘centre’ is a loose term). It was only then that the celebrations made sense. 4th of July – the USA’s birthday. There was going to be a bunch of floats driving down the main street at 11am, celebrating the day. Not going to miss this. I wondered over to the street and waited, along with maybe 20 locals lining the side of the street. It wasn’t a big do, amusingly small even – a few horses, a fire engine, someone getting pulled along in a kayak by a bicycle, a gorilla mascot – and it was over in about 5 minutes. A late start but worth the wait to celebrate the 4th. Everyone was happy and got free candyfloss. No one was complaining. Sweets for breakfast? Go on then.

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It was a national day off so most people were staying home. Empty roads. The start of the ride was fast. A strong tailwind and mainly downhill for 30 miles. Even on the uphills, the wind would keep you going in top gear. Get in. Then the wind died down, the climbs became consistent, and it started to pour down. It can be alright riding in the rain for a bit. Then it starts to suck. There was maybe an hour or so of heavy rain riding, before cycling through Nenana and finding shelter at the gas station, where these folks all had the same idea.

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For a while there was an inpromptu bike party, everyone sitting out the torrential rain. It eased off after a while though, and it was great to ride with Julia and Hannes from Germany who were heading the same way (see their website). Seems like the majority of other cyclists on long trips aren’t from the US and have been drawn by a grass-is-always-greener thirst for a North American adventure. Thinking back, it’s probably a ratio close to 5:1 International / USA.

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At this point it had been a long day, but there was still 44 miles or so to go. On one hand knowing how much you have left is a good thing, the countdown keeps you pedalling. “1 mile down. 43 left.” etc. On the other, it just can seem never ending. There were so many times, getting to the top of a hill and seeing another hill coming up. It’s torture. But eventually the climbs turned to downhills, and there was a 3 mile full-speed-ahead blast into town. Nice way to end. I pulled into Fairbanks at 11.15pm, dizzy and drowsy, set up the tent near a community centre and that was that.

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Just throwing this out there – what kind of people sum up America & Canada in your mind? There are no pre-arranged Vague Direction People meetings for a while, so I’d love to hear any thoughts you have as to who might be interesting to feature and talk to about their lifestyle. (For example – a clown, ice hockey coach, gold prospector etc). Love to hear your suggestions if you have them in the comment section below.

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Huge thanks to Best Western Chena River Lodge for their amazing hospitality on a rest day in Fairbanks, what a place! Worth a look if you’re in the area.

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Here’s the last week, plus quick map.

230: Whittier – Anchorage (60 miles)
231: Anchorage – Palmer (42 miles)
232: Palmer – Willow (48 miles)
233: Willow – Trapper Creek (52 miles)
234: Trapper Creek – McKinley View Lodge (20 miles)
235: McKinley View Lodge – Cantwell (80 miles)
236: Cantwell – Healy, AK (40 miles)
237: Healy – Fairbanks, AK (113 miles) 

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel

Alaskan Images and Bear Spray Tales

It’s been a ‘refreshing’ (aka soaking wet) morning doing puddle slalom near Willow in Alaska, on the way up through Denali State Park. Hopefully it’ll clear up because there’s not much visibility other than rain clouds. Not got chance to put up an in-depth blog post just yet, so here’s a selection of snaps from the last week or so. They sum up life on the road at the moment.

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Typical sightings on the Alaska Marine Highway.

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Whittier Ferry terminal. Proper Alaska, and noticeably colder.

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Downsized to a Marmot EOS 1P tent. Perfect solo touring tent. Just the right size, super simple & quick to set up, and crazy lightweight.

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Bear spray tales

A hilarious pair called Amanda and Chris were also travelling up the coast on the Alaska Marine Highway, and they had a couple of bear-related tales. Take heed.

Chris (pilot) “I’d just taken off and whilst looking down saw a figure fall to the floor and squirm. I thought they must be having a heart attack. So I banked the plane and landed as quickly as possible. I ran over and it was a guy who was still on the ground. He’d made a mistake and thought bear spray acted in the same way as insect spray. He’d sprayed himself in the face with his can of bear spray!”

Amanda (avid hiker) “We met some other hikers who had been really paranoid about running into bears. They had all the gear – spray and bangers and bells – and set off hiking to find somewhere to camp in the mountains near Anchorage. They were so paranoid about it that they used their bear spray to spray the entire outside of their tent. They didn’t realise that the spray had cayenne pepper in it and were shocked to be woken up by 4 grizzlies licking the outside of the tent for their pepper fix.”

The ferry bit is over, and the game is back on. Best dig out the raincoat.

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