All the great old glaciers up here have receded, leaving behind the bare mounds you see below. This was the Matanushka glacier, which I gather is accessible by road but I didn't see a way and didn't want to wander around too much. The next photo is of an airfield backed by the Wrangell mountains. If I recall, the mountain to the right is Mt. Wrangell itself, an active volcano that's heating up. Ice and snow continue to melt off its sides as molten rock below warms the surface. It was extremely windy and I didn't see any air traffic, but there were many interesting cloud formations, including various kinds of disc-shaped lenticulars. The last stretch of road into Tok was a real drag strip. The straightest, flattest road I'd see on the whole trip.
At the Eagle campground I sat down by the firepit and joined a British couple riding around the world on their BMW R1200GS. They were an amiable pair, both young for their years despite being smokers. They had fallen in love with travel. The bike was home for them now, and when the money runs out they planned to sell their home back in England and keep going. If they were to move anywhere, they said it would be Argentina for its diversity of natural environments and good food. They mentioned that some provinces had free wifi everywhere. Sounds like a place I need to visit!
We were joined by a young man in an enormous black cowboy hat and boots. He didn't introduce himself and seemed to alternate between studying the ground and spitting as he hid under his hat. A "howdy stranger" got him talking, and in an fake Irish accent he said he was from North Carolina. His was extremely drunk and had difficulty talking. He said he had been pulled into a ride with a bunch of his buddies from the Army, to learn how to be normal again he figured. They were on leave from Afghanistan and he couldn't get his bike for the ride, so he drove the support truck. It was kind of his job anyway, he drove the broom wagon for convoys back in Afghanistan collecting all the broken vehicles. I talk in an Irish accent when I'm drunk, he said. I get drunk every day, he added, in a voice too tired and slurred to be boastful.
His buddies returned with an enormous cooler full of Coors Light which they shared and we talked for a while about nothing in particular. Apparently they'd been off in town playing drinking games. The told me a new one, the Dollar Game. They'd somehow number all the drinks in the bar and read off digits from the serial number on their dollar bills and make a drink with whatever came up. Apparently some kind of truth or dare game was involved as well, and the young fellow claimed he'd never gotten so drunk he threw up. He sat in the background, spit drooling from his mouth.
One of the men was accompanied by his wife, and he told a story about how he got back home 3 hours before she gave birth to their son, "you cut it close that time," she said. As we conversed he'd look at the ground from time to time and frown. His wife seemed to hover over him protectively and hold him closer. We got to talking about bikes and debated the merits of trikes. The wife said they were stupid, you may as well get a car, a notion I'm inclined to agree with. A few of the guys maintained that they would get one when they retire, if they're not too broken to ride anything at all once they're done. They talked excitedly about riding the mountains outside their base (Jalalabad?) once they get back, going from sea level to 10,000ft in a few miles.
Thinking back on the time I spent with them I can't help but feel very sad, particularly for young fellow who drives at the back of convoys and collects broken and mangled vehicles. I can only guess what he must remember, and then try to forget.
I studied my rear tire again at the Eagle's Claw campground and found the worn spot to be totally bald. After pondering for a few hours and perhaps trying to regrow the tread by thinking about it, I decided to make way to Whitehorse for a replacement. From Whitehorse it is a short jaunt down to Skagway for the ferry to Prince Rupert.
I ran into this rig at the Tok gas station where I stopped to fill up and eat breakfast. It was driven by a young German couple with no crew. They filled up with over 150 gallons of diesel, causing an enormous problem at the cash register. After 20 minutes on the phone they figured out that the only way they were going to be able to run the transaction is by splitting it into $200 increments. His lady partner hid in the cab, uninterested in conversation but the fellow was all smiles and said he was exploring, going nowhere in particular.
I am very skeptical of this particular rig. 99% of the terrain that they will cover could be done in a passenger car, and on the other 1% they're going to be the biggest thing out there with lots of fuel and lots of weight to get stuck in a very inconvenient spot. Where are they going to find a 6x6 MAN or Kamaz to recover them? The rig looks enormous and beefy but it doesn't even have portal gearing in the hubs like a Unimog would. I've seen equally large tires on heavy-duty Ford pickups, which probably weigh half of what this monster does. I asked the driver what he does if he needs to change a tire; does he have a hoist? He said the wheels weigh about 300lbs and he can lift them if he needs to, but he admitted that if an axle goes, he's screwed. For a two-person luxury expedition I think a Rover or Jeep 4x4 with a beefy off-road camper trailer is more sensible.
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