Update 6

A curious thing happened yesterday. I was sitting in the bar of the Downtown Hotel, Dawson City, and in walked Charlie Boorman, his producer, and a cameraman. Charlie was there to drink the Sourtoe Cocktail, which involves paying 50 dollars to take a shot from a large glass containing a pickled human toe (or replica thereof) to a rousing rendition of an accompanying ditty delivered by the whole bar. "Do it fast or do it slow, but your lips must touch the toe." After the ritual is complete, you receive a signed certificate from the presiding official. He left beaming, certificate in hand, and was replaced by twenty octogenarians who lined up to do the same thing.

My plan for tomorrow is to go as far down the Dempster as I can, and still return the same day. I do not care about Arctic Cirles or Arctic Oceans, so my hope to make it as far as Eagle Plain, after which the scenery supposedly becomes less astounding.

The past day was spent in Dawson City, Yukon. On Thursday I rolled into town at 6:30PM, gassed up and crossed the Yukon by ferry. The ferry runs 24/7 and is free.




I soon ran across a sign indicating that the Alaska border closes at 7PM, and I realized I would be unable to make the one hour ride in thirty minutes. I was disappointed and cursed my inability to leave camp quickly in the morning, but continued on to see if there was suitable camping down the road. Like most travellers, I stoked my hate; of my accursedly complex tent, of my slow-to-deflate sleeping pad, of mosquitoes. Suddenly I realized I was riding down the most astonishingly beautiful and suitably curved bits of highway I had ever seen. It was Top of the World Highway, and I thought to myself, I could just never ride again.

I was heading into the sun, so I ended up following the many disused spur roads to take some shots.




It soon dawned on me what a blessing it was that the border was closed. With no passage at the end of the road, virtually no traffic was coming through. In the two or three hours that I spent riding around, I believe I passed approximately 5 other vehicles, all of which were visible by their dust from a great distance ahead. If not for the music festival this weekend, there likely would not have been any at all.



For a motorcyclist, this road is a transcendent experience. First, it has astonishing views for hundreds of miles in any direction. Second, it is pleasantly curved, and, at sufficient speed, could even be considered winding. Third, is it arranged in a rally-raid format of gravel specials and paved transit/liason sections. The specials are clearly marked by signs such as "Reduce Speed" or "Gravel Ahead," and the exact start of each special is indicated by a pair of striped signs as pictured below. I cannot express how entertaining it was to ride this road at WOT with such scenery as a backdrop. Surely this is in every auto racing video game out there. I'd say I wish I had a faster motorcycle, but even on the WR250R I was reaching insensible but objectively necessary speeds.





I think that every few years I should head up to the Yukon in the most expedient way possible, do this road, then go home and ride the bus the rest of the year with a stupid grin permanently etched onto my face.

And now I have so much to catch up on!