Finally, the answer we've been searching for all these years!

I woke up this morning excited to begin the riding portion of my adventure. Heading west out of Haines, Ak, I was to follow the highway up the Chilkat River for 39 miles before crossing from Alaska in to British Columbia. On my way to Haines Jct I would cross into the Yukon Territory and traverse miles of highway through the mountainous area adjacent to the Tatshenshini Alsek and Kluane National Parks, both in the Kluane Range of extreme western Yukon.

As I cleared the town of Haines I wondered what the trip would be like; how much wildlife would I see, how many scenic overlooks would beckon me to stop and take pictures?

I didn't have to wait long for answers; to these or another timeless question.

About 17 miles outside of Haines my attention was quickly drawn to a very large brown object in the low grass immediately adjacent to the shoulder of the road. Depending upon where you are from it was either a grizzly or brown bear, sitting on his haunches, watching the food choices pass in front of him.

I may have a difference of opinion about the color of my bike (yellow or orange?) but I can tell you this: I was quite pleased that my bike is not salmon colored! Even in his sitting position his head was five feet off the ground. I hope that the reader can forgive me for not stopping to take a picture. I did however stop and take a picture of the river as soon as I felt it safe to do so.

The Chilkat River, about ten miles upstream from my first bear sighting

I noticed also that over the course of the next 20 miles there was bear scat in the road every 1/2 to 1 mile. 

This means that a bear may sit in the woods but he shits in the road!

I had some concern also about fuel. Depending on the source referenced it was anywhere from 140 miles to 185 miles between Haines and Haines Jct, with but one available fuel stop between. My cruising range has been as low as 160 miles per tank and as high as 240 miles per tank. This meant that I either had plenty of fuel or barely enough. And that one fuel stop? It was only 33.3 miles outside of Haines! Not a lot of help.

I pulled into "Mile post 33.3" and looked around. I saw no one there; only a "self serve only" sign. I did what I had promised myself I would not do - I forewent the chance to refuel and decided to "risk it", although by this time the distance (in kilometers) times the metric conversion factor... Carry the one... told me that I had pretty good odds of making it. Besides, I was only 16 miles beyond that bear sighting!

At about 39 miles outside of Haines I was expecting to see a border crossing shack. I came to an official looking facility but saw no signs, or guard shack, or people being held at gun point. I stopped anyway, only to discover that it was the U.S. Entry point. 

Q: Why did the Frog cross the road?

A: To go to the wrong Customs Office :(

 I was told that the check point for entering Canada was 600 meters ahead. Now this hardly seemed fair! I was still in the U.S., why should I have to do the conversion? The only thing I can relate 600 meters to is that, I believe I once heard, grizzly bears can run at a top speed of 600 meters per second when you wave something yellow under their nose! The response to orange has never been documented.

So I took this picture because I didn't see one when I got off the ferry:

I then proceeded 600 meters down the road, was questioned but not frisked, documented but not inspected (nor did they go through my luggage). 

They did ask if I was transporting any hazardous materials however, so I listed items of dirty laundry. Apparently that is not illegal in Canada as I was soon on my way into British Columbia.

I found myself climbing along a wonderful highway to ever higher elevations. As I climbed the temperature dropped. The terrain changed from tree lined river banks to flat high country running between mountain peaks. It reminded me of the Lincoln Highway between Laramie and Rawlings, Wy.

Somewhere along this highland area I came upon this sign:

I was now in the Yukon Territory for the first time.

As I continued north the threatening skies began to leak, as the temperatures continued downward. At one scenic overlook I talked to a couple traveling in a rented mini-home/RV. They were from the Netherlands and were marveling at the scenery

They also marveled at the temperature, taking me aback with a report that Anchorage had a temperature last night of 3 degrees. I quickly confirmed we were not using the Fahrenheit scale! Whew!

The drizzle picked up so I stopped to add rain pants over my jeans. I was miles down the road when I looked in my mirror and saw the top lap f my rightaddle bag flapping high in the wind. The very same saddle bag from which I had removed the rain pants. The same saddle bag that had held the lightweight rain coat that I carried. It was laying on top of everything else and I was certain it was now laying in the middle of the highway somewhere or, perhaps worse, it was being eaten by a high speed bear that was still in hot pursuit of breakfast. I stopped and, to my delight, found the coat still laying loose on top of the contents of the bag!

It was then a race to Haines Jct where Highway 3, the Haines Highway, would meet the AlCan Highway #1.

It was at Haines Jct. that it all came together. I was hungry, I was wet, I was cold and I was low on fuel. It's nice when things work out like that.

I pulled into the Pub and Grub, choosing to get warm, dry and fed before fueled.

As I stepped back outside after accomplishing two out of three of my objectives, a pretty blue H-D rumbled past, two people aboard, headed for the gas station.

"How many blue Harleys could be coming from Haines today?" I asked myself rhetorically.

I had stumbled upon my new friends Chuck and Bobbi at the restaurant in Haines the night before. Now here they were again!

I pulled up to the adjacent pump and shut the engine off. They too were cold and wet, perhaps a little more than I as I suspect that the rain had been chasing me up from Haines, I just ahead of it, they on the leading edge. Bobbi especially was freezing. I felt sorry for her as I watched her stand there shivering.

I recommended the Pub and Grub for warmth and dryness; I could not attest to the quality of the food in general. I then pulled away, heading North by Northwest on the iconic 75 year old AlCan Highway, perhaps to bump in to them again some day. I had a reservation just 65 miles ahead. They were pushing on toward Beaver Creek, a 180 mile jaunt in less than ideal weather. Bon Voyage!

I made quick work of the next 105 Km (that's 65 miles if my French is accurate).

My stay for the night is at the Talbot Arm in Destruction Bay, both names I'm sure having a story.

The only one I could find an explanation for was Destruction Bay. It is on a lake and when the AlCan was being constructed the truckers had rest stops built every 100 miles. This little area was subjected to strong winds which damaged several buildings and scattered supplies across the area. The workers referred to it hence as Destruction Bay.

Footnote: 

According to Google a Talbot Arm is an extinct white hunting dog. It became extinct because it had no purpose in life and needed constant care. Unfortunately for the Talbot Arms of yesteryear, the endangered species act had not been invented yet when the last one blew away in a big ball of white fur at a Motel 6 down the road!