So day 2 I haul my sore ass into the saddle at 6am, gas up and head south out of Whitehorse. About a hundred miles down is the first of several steel decked bridges on the Alaska Hwy. For anyone who's never riden 2 wheels across one, the longitudinal (yeah, don't think that's spelled right) ribs project from the surface about a half inch and are spaced about 3-4 inches apart. Just enough to trap your tires. No, they don't run straight. They weave to and fro all the way across the friggin thing. So you take em at about 25 and just let the ol scooter wobble along untill you get to the other side. No sweat. Except steel don't offer much traction, and it offers next to none when it's wet.
Getting back to it, I hit the first of these at Johnson's Crossing (Teslin River). It's about six hundred yards long and more than high enough for me. And it's raining. So I pull up to it at 20-25 mph and start across. 20 yards out and I'm in a cold sweat. Things are fine if not unnerving, but the damn thing ain't level, so the bike goes along for awhile in its groove and then jumps over to the next one. Still not a big deal, untill I'm about over to the center line and here comes this big-assed pusher class-A motorhome. This thing's slicker than whale shit on an ice flow and I'm trying to coax the old boy back over to the right while pissing down both legs and trying not to end up as some blue-hair's hood ornament. Sumbitch. Gonna need some more of that blood pressure medication!
Well we survived and rolled into Watson Lake after a time, weather was lookin up for a change. Watson Lake is home to the infamous "sign forest". It's about an acre of telephone poles erected for the purpose of displaying road signs, license plates, etc. from wherever a person has travelled from. Kinda neat, and the housekeeper has shown the Luddite how to post pics so I'll give it a try.
There's a hotel/restaurant/bar in town so I swung in for a burger and beer. Inside, it's just me and the bartender. She looks to be about 21-22 or so, cute little gal. Ask her if they serve food in the bar and she says yes. So I ask her if she's got Pabst Blue Ribbon, and she's never heard of it. Stranger ina strange land man. I gotta get out of this country. "Say, ya got Labatts Blue?" "Sure do, eh?" says she. I'llllll take one. So she brings me a beer and grabs her water glass with a straw and comes around to sit riiiiiight next to me.
"So, you ridin'?"
"Yup, down from Anchorage, Alaska."
Long pause....
Stirs her water with the straw...
"Where you goin?"
"Sturgis, South Dakota."
More stiring...
"You goin to visit someone?"
"No, goin down for the rally."
Looooong pause.
"You've never heard of it have ya."
"No"
"Well, it's a motorcycle rally that's been hosted in Sturgis since 1938. About a half million bikers come from all over the world to this town of 5000 people every year during the first week of August."
"I went to Calgary for the Stampede this year."
"That's cool, I hear that's one of the biggest rodeos in the world."
"Yeah, there's LOTS of people there."
Looooong pause. (At this point I'm beginning to feel like I've been set up on a blind date.) She goes to get my burger, brings another beer, and sits right down beside me again. Strangest damn thing. We make small talk about the weather and such. Man, she's like PAINFULLY shy, and it's time for me to go- I'm beginning to hear the Twilight Zone theme playing somewhere in the background.
"You gonna come back this way?"
"yeah, in about a week an a half."
-It is the only road that one can take, but I don't mention that.
Boy, sure feels good to be back in the wind! How far to America?