This entry will contain our entire trip from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay, and back again. The elapsed time was exactly 40 hours for the entire journey; from 0500 Saturday morning to 2100 Sunday night, so I am just going to treat it like one long day, which it was. One loooong day! Consequently, this will be one loooong read!

No, really! A really long read, like get a sammich and a beer long read! Not on your lunch hour, cuz you'll be late getting back to work!

That little map to the right is a little messed up too because it looks like we went from Prudhoe Bay directly to our next destination, it doesn't take into account our return to Fairbanks.

We got back to the mo'tel around 2200 from Pike's Landing, me with a tummy FULL of cold seafood. I actually had a doggie bag of shrimp but the thought of eating them for breakfast made me a little sick and I wasn't going to let them sit for 2 days either, so I gave them to the appreciative cabbie. Sadly he did not drive any less crazy to show his appreciation. With me in the backseat for the 5-minute ride, I was a little car sick by the time we got home.



I suppose I should address the elephant in the room, yes I get car sick very easily, my whole family does. When I drive for business I either have to drive or sit in the front passenger seat, anywhere else and I am sick within 30 minutes, even on straight roads! I also have an extreme propensity for dry heaving at the slightest provocation; such as smelling the inside of the dishwasher, catching the slightest whiff of the garbage can or anything to do with doggy poop.

My ever patient wife Eryn cuts me a tremendous amount of slack in these 3 areas, relieving me of duties that the man of the house really should do, but she prefers not to have to listen to me drive heave. Thank you BabyGirl!

So why is Mr. Tender Tummy about to embark on a journey listed on the Dalton Highway Express website as 16 hours each way? Well, I don't have a good answer for that......



While I do not personally embrace the term Bucket List I have been to the Easternmost, Westernmost and Southernmost points in Continental North America, so that only leaves Northernmost! I did the East & West in 1992 on a bike trip called 'Screamin' Lou's One Lap of North America'. That was about 26 000 km in 6 weeks on a V-Twin metric Cruiser. The Southernmost point was achieved 2 years ago in Key West, FL. I guess you could consider the Four Points to be a long term project!

I did, in fact, try to drive the Dalton Highway in 2004 on my trusty old 1988 Suzuki Intruder 1400, there is a blog under construction on this site about that trip. Not to be a spoiler but I was stopped at the halfway point Northbound with a flat tire, and came out on a hook, through a forest fire. It is a good story, plus I had great hair color back then! It'll be worth a visit, once it is done.



So on our non-riding day in Anchorage after I had purchased new gloves, we went to a Walgreens where I bared my soul to the Pharmacist and he laid out a 3 pronged solution for me. Non drowsy Dramamine, drowsy Dramamine and Gravol oral strips. I start taking the non drowsy pills that day and yes they do not make me sleepy which is good as we have 500 kms to drive to Fairbanks tomorrow. I take the recommended dosage every 6 hours to bring up the Dramamine levels in my bloodstream.

I am holding the drowsy DM in reserve for when we are actually en route as I wish to be sedated for long periods. I keep the Gravol oral strips for emergency rapid delivery if I get sick while underway.

If was very hard to find accomms in Fairbanks for under $150USD per night, factor exchange, and the fact that we were going to keep the rooms for 3 nights, but not stay there on night 2, they were pretty pricey. Eventually, using Trivago, I was able to find a mo'tel only minutes away from the Dalton Highway Express for $92USD per night just off the highway.

I was fanatical about not sleeping in, the ramifications would be forfeiting many dollars and the chance of a lifetime. The DHE only goes up twice a week and we wouldn't be able to wait for the next one. I had alarms set on my iPhone, iPad and laptop. I am leaving nothing to chance! Bill was in charge of local time, so as to calculate and determine when The CoB is on any given day, but as of late, inquiries regarding the current time seemed to be more guesses than anything accurate.

I usually will wake up 2 minutes before my alarm no matter what time it is set for, what time I went to bed, or how much sleep I was getting or had got. My internal clock let me down this morning though as, near as I can tell, I woke up at 0210, over 2.5 hrs early. This was OK though, it gave me some time to prepare my cameras and devices and it ensured I would be sleepy during the day.



Our schedule for the next 40 hours was going to be; 16 hr bus ride > 7.5 hrs sleep > 30 minutes at Arctic Ocean > 16 hr bus ride. Circadian rhythms be damned! I regretted not bringing my inflatable neck pillow and my wife's silk blindfold (don't ask!). The clock was ticking so slowly, but eventually it was 0500.






I called a cab and asked the dispatcher to ensure the driver knew where the DHE departed from. I missed a bus in Edmonton once because the driver took me to Greyhound when I asked to go The Red Arrow. I am leaving nothing to chance!

The cab comes and the lady knows right where to go. I had programmed it into Siri as well to monitor her progress. I am leaving nothing to chance!

The Dalton Highway Express is a small shack on an old unused runway at the Fairbanks Airport. The cab drops us off and outside we see a midsized luxury bus (mutually exclusive terms?). The counter lady checks us in and asks for our ID. She wants me to take my drivers license out of the clear window pocket in my wallet but I refuse, it wrecks the wallet, that's why it has a window! Perhaps my refusal was a bit harsh! She reacts badly to it!



Now I am not a morning person, I have been a night owl my whole life. I always try to schedule business meetings after 1000 in the morning because I simply do not function prior to that. By noon I am OK, and by 1400 maybe even charming, but at 0600? Catatonic! I had my Passport with me as ID as I knew it would be required for security clearance in Prudhoe Bay, I gave her that instead. Bill had his California Driver's license so he breezed through as a trustworthy fellow 'merican!

There was a bit of time to kill so we chatted up a couple who was there that were going on a flight aboard a tundra plane into the back wilds of Alaska. As we visited Bill had a coffee and I filled my pockets with energy bars from the coffee wagon. I topped up my water bottle and took 2 of the drowsy Dramamine!

Next we met our driver, Carol, who was over the top gushingly super eagerly friendly. You know the type, the type you want to punch in the head repeatedly until their mood matches yours. Now I am not saying I wanted to punch Carol, but that type of super exuberant morning person is extremely annoying to us Night Owls! She called all aboard and we came out front to see a 10 passenger Ford Econoline van, not the Blue Bus we'd seen earlier. There has to be 8 pax or more for them to use the BB.



We found out that we'll be in a Ford van as our max passenger count will be 7 people. Bill is not happy about this news!














There was a guy in the front seat already, his name was Jared and he was heading to the Deadhorse Camp where we were staying tonight, but he was going there to cook until January next year. Bill and I sat in the first row, which would seat 3 across, but we piled our ***** in the middle as a chaperon to discourage shoulder sleeping uponing and all the drooling that typically goes along with that.

We departed DHE but first had a pickup in Fairbanks at a residence. Long time married couple Bob & Sue, with daughter's Melissa & Andrea. During conversations with Bob & Sue they expertly let slip that both girls were Doctors. Much later in the day we found out they were PhD Avian Researchers...............essentially Bird Doctors. Now I am not judging, but they sure aren't brain surgeons! The whole family was on the DHE to the halfway point at Coldfoot where they were embarking on a 10 day 65 mile backpacking trip to their bush plane pickup point. Now that was impressive, especially as I put Bob & Sue in their 60's, and Bob had a bad cough, he also has a seriously furrowed brow in this video as he had never seen a HeroCam before!



These four piled into the mid and back seats, 2 per each. Now we were off for real, heading north out of Fairbanks on the Livengood Highway. 12 years ago I was on my metric cruiser and this highway was fresh, virgin pavement, utterly devoid of traffic in either direction and full of twists and turns. The highway was managed by the Livengood Coal Mining Company. The passage of a dozen years did not go lightly on this road, it was broken and patched in a variety of ways just like driving on Yukon roads.

I was right behind the driver's seat with one hand on the seat back and one hand on the 'oh ****' handle conveniently provided by the Ford Motor Company for the passenger seating position. What they didn't conveniently provide was a way to open my window. I was not doing very well, but I had focussed my gaze on the seat back and I was trying to block out the scenery flashing by on both sides. I needed fresh air!

What made it worse was Carol's driving style is not what I would call smooth. At times we might get to 50 mph, but then as we would come up to a broken section of pavement, or a stretch of washboards she would jam on the brakes down to maybe 20 mph so as to maximize the shaking and extract every bump possible out of the road damage. Often the braking came right on top of the texture so as to amplify it even more! She would also swerve sharply frequently as she thought it looked smoother on the other side of the road. I was praying for the Dramamine to kick in.

Driving The Dalton is not about staying in your lane, there are no lanes, just concentrate on keeping it between the ditches. Here is a mash-up of the various types of roads we drove on.





















About 45 minutes outside of Fairbanks we came to the Yukon River Crossing which is the only actual bridge over the Yukon River on its entire length. There was a spot where you could go right down to the river at, but I elected to go into the 'restaurant' and we are being generous calling it that, and getting a large nap-inducing cookie and some ginger ale for my nausea! Upon our departure, Carole told us a story about a bear breaking into the camp building during the winter when it was closed and making a bed out of T-shirts and other merchandise. A State Trooper shot the bear and it was removed, but in the spring they had a very successful 'Bearly Used' clothing sale!



At the 75 mile mark of our odyssey, we came to the actual start of the James Dalton Highway aka The Haul Road aka The Hell Road.

You can read all about it here. I see the passage of time has also not been kind to the sign here. 14 years ago it was a pristine road sign, now it is covered in stickers and gunfire damage. They even added a second sign which is equally covered in stickers and bullet holes.



Just around the corner, maybe 100' from the official start of the JD is a wrecked car on the side of the road, an obvious multiple rollover. I hope this guy was just starting his drive, it would have been a bummer to have driven 1605.5 km of 1606 km and then wrecked just short of the goal! Also on the way back I saw a pickup truck in the other side ditch with a 25 MPH Slow Curve sign wrapped around it, kinda tells the whole story all at once.

The first short section is paved and just around the corner and up the hill there is another, much more decorative wooden sign. This one gets some respect as it is not covered in stickers, graffiti or gunshot wounds. We stop there for many photo opportunities, my opportunity is to stand perfectly still and concentrate on not throwing up, hoping our stop was going to last for a very long time. I took a couple of Gravol quick dissolve strips hoping for a miracle. All too soon I was crawling back into the van and resuming my death grip on the seat back.



Carol announces our position and intentions of the van on the CB Radio at every move, almost every vehicle on the Dalton has a CB and uses it. There are many blind curves & hills, one lane bridges, steep hills etc. The CB's range is maybe 3 miles tops so if you can hear someone announcing their position or intentions, there is a good chance you are going to interact with them soon.

About an hour later we stopped at a primitive log cabin that used to be a gift shop. We were just there for the outhouses, I passed, I didn't think the odor of an outhouse was going to be good for me in my condition. Carol mentioned that we could rotate into the front seat so as 'to get another perspective on things'. No one bit and although I didn't want to be singled out for special treatment, I also didn't want to woof my cookies, so I spoke up and got moved. Jared was kind enough to give up his seat and as we departed I was riding shotgun, with a window I could open!



We'll switch to Bill's comments here & there, his text will be italicised, such as this:

We all gave up our chance to ride in the front shotgun seat cuz the big guy gets car sick and who wants to have someone get sick on you?

Bob & Sue, and the Birdie Docs were getting off at the halfway point, Coldfoot, so everybody had lots of room for the second half of the journey and I got to keep the front seat. Shortly after we got underway again either my Dramamine or Gravol finally kicked in and I slept for some time. Jared was in the bench seat behind me and I didn't want to press my luck asking if I could recline my seat, at least not so soon after kicking him out of his seat!

I woke up to Carol talking about the actual pipeline, she had a headset microphone connected to the van's stereo system and would often talk about points as we would drive by them. Just to be clear, though, the DHE is not a tour company, they are a transportation company, the drivers are knowledgeable and share when they can, but we are being driven to Deadhorse, not on a guided tour. Anyway, the story and the back stories about the Alaska Pipeline are fascinating and worth looking up, after you are finished reading my blog, of course!

Here are a couple of options to get you started:

The story of the Pipeline

Construction of the Pipeline

The one stat I remember was that it was originally budgeted at $900 million, but eventually, cost $8.1 billion! Despite the huge cost overrun, they made back their ROI in less than a year. Also, the pipeline is exactly 800 miles and 1700 feet long.

They bought the actual pipe from Japan almost immediately for a cost of $1 000 000.00. It then sat in Valdez for the 5 years of litigation. Initially, the purchase was criticized as being financially irresponsible, but by the time the costs had escalated 900% it ended up being the deal of the Century!

Bill chimes in:

I don't remember much of the 14 hour trip from Fairbanks to Dead Horse (Prudhoe Bay) because I slept a good portion of the way.

The trip itself is 800km but because of the shape of the roads and construction we were lucky to make it in only 14 hrs.

Sleep, as a form of escapism, was fundamental to maintaining your sanity on the Dalton. Also after sleeping for about 90 minutes I was almost completely relieved of my motion sickness!

Having been on the road at this point for 15 days, I had seen my fair share of trees, mountains, lakes, etc. I was OK missing more of these. The actual pipeline was our constant companion, usually on our right, but occasionally it would pass under us and run on the left. Sometimes it was 50' off the road, sometimes so far as to be out of sight.

There is a one lane maintenance road that runs right next to the pipe that has been traversed over the years by trail bike, quad, cross country skis and, most notably, by Ned Rozell with his dog Jane who walked the entire 800 miles of it. You can read about his book here.

Here we are driving beside it as we approach the Atigun Pass.














Next, we stop in at The Arctic Circle. When I was here in '04 on my Intruder spirits were still high, when I passed by days later on a flat deck truck I remember thinking, 'I'll be back, don't know when, but I will!" In addition to the Arctic Circle sign, 66 degrees 33 minutes north, there were 4 signs denoting the seasons and explaining precession, the tilting of the earth that creates them. What was the most amazing was these incredible Orange mushrooms, known as Agaric, growing wild and deadly poisonous. We stayed for about 20 minutes, then loaded up and left.





Being in the front seat, and being heavily sedated means my motion sickness (sounds more grown-up that being car sick!) has completely gone away. I announce this to my van-mates and they unanimously agree I should stay there. While I agree the view is slightly better from that seat, it is not very comfortable as the engine's doghouse extends into the cabin and leaves little room for my legs. We stopped for a bathroom break at Gobbler's k*** and yes the jokes write themselves here. Gobbler's k*** is actually named for the profile the mountain and ridge form as seen on the other side, apparently a turkey in flight. We shall see. Carol demonstrates (the shape of) the Knobblers Gob.



We depart again, next stop Coldfoot, which is a construction camp at the slightly more than halfway point. Coldfoot is the only place to get a hot meal, a bed and gas for a long, long ways in either direction. Predictably everything is very expensive, and the service absolutely sucks. Their Mission Statement probably reads: "What, you don't like it? Tough titty, as the Kitty was purported to say! What are you gonna do, go somewhere else?"

I woke up a few miles before we got to Coldfoot because we hit pavement, that's what jars you awake, the switch from vibration to smooth. The haul road itself is 426 miles long of which exactly 101 miles is paved in one form or another. The pavement varies from Yukon quality busted to ***** seal coat right up a 20 mile stretch just south of Coldfoot that looks like it was lifted from the pages of a motorcycle magazine. If the whole thing was paved like that 20 miles there'd be Grandma's in mini-vans going to Deadhorse!



We turn into Coldfoot Camp and the memories coming flooding back. It was here in 2004 that I was unpacking my Intruder after 10 hours on the Dalton and I heard a hissing sound coming from my back tire. Upon further inspection I found a split in the center of my tire about 1 cm long. Suzuki used tires with inner tubes back in those days so the tube failure wasn't necessarily where the tire damage was.

Long story short I went back to Fairbanks that time on the back of a flatdeck, driving through a forest fire. Ironically I had come across a DHE van on that trip too, south of Coldfoot, and had referred to the passengers as '*******'. Who's the p**** now? I made a DVD of that trip that year and I am in the process of migrating the DVD to this blog site. I will try to finish it this fall.

Bill and I walked across the muddy camp to the Slate Creek Inn which is just a bunch of ATCO trailers pushed together. There was a common area passing off as the lobby, and the beige payphone I remember I spent so much time on with the auto club arranging my tow. We walked down the hall to see if any of the guest rooms were open and a few were. The rooms are maybe 10' x 15' with 2 twin beds and a phone booth sized bathroom.















I remember when I was there last a tour bus arrived (Princess Tours? Coldfoot is not a place for Princesses!) and about a dozen elderly couples trickled into their rooms, then expressed surprise and shock when they saw their accommodations. They all kinda strayed back to the lobby to commensurate with each other how bad the mo'tel rooms were. One lady wasn't going to stand for this and told the group she was going to find the Concierge to straighten this out. I remember thinking 'good luck lady' You are at least 275 miles from the closest Clef D'Or. I never found out what happened to them, My guess is they got treated to the Coldfoot Camp Mission Statement! I was in the bar drinking $4.75USD Yukon Reds (in 2004 that was pretty pricey, plus exchange was 23% at that time!).

Our stop in Coldfoot was going to be about 30 minutes, enough time for some hot chow and some food to go. We were dropping off Bob & Sue and the birdy docs, Apparently, they were gonna backpack about 65 miles to their bush plane fly out rendezvous point, pretty ambitious! We were picking up a couple from the Ukraine that were going to a Island in the Beaufort Sea.

We ordered the Special of the Day, Pork Stew, greatly anticipated but 3 mehs out of 10 in my book. I had a couple of buns as well to help with my anticipated afternoon nap. The sammich to go was better, I had it about 5 hours later.



I saw a guy on a Yamaha Virago 1100 at the gas pumps, I was hoping to talk to him to see if he was coming or going, but I lost track of him. His ride was pretty clean so I can only imagine he was Northbound, although we never passed him when we left.

Carol topped up the tanks and then it was time to go. The new couple sat at the very back, Bill, and Jared each got a bench seat, and I stayed in the front. Bonus, I could recline now too! The spectacular pavement continued north of Coldfoot for about 15 miles. Carol didn't take advantage of this by putting the hammer down, she stayed at her comfortable speed. I found out later she was paid hourly so no real motivation to get there sooner! If I owned the company I would pay by the trip! Damn the Torpedos, full speed ahead!

About 15 miles north of Coldfoot our return to potholed, washboarded, gravel road coincided with my return to REM sleep. I am not sure of the duration of the nap but I woke up just before we pulled into a turnout at the base of the Brooks Range. I shot this video but perhaps at the time I was either underwhelmed by the scenery or had been overloaded by the same. I vocalized that I wasn't impressed and was chastised a bit for that by Carol. I guess I had been spoiled by too much spectacular scenery!



We left the turnout and started to enter the Atigun pass of the Brooks Range Mountains. The further we drove the better the scenery became, the mountains really were spectacular! The pipeline is buried through most of this area, it crosses under the highway at one point and then dives underground, not to be seen for about an hour. Of the 800.3 miles of TAPS (Trans Alaskan Pipeline System) about 320 miles is buried.

Where it is above ground was typically in areas to preserve the Permafrost. Once PF is melted for any reason it destabilizes the immediate area and can take years to refreeze. Although Alyeska had virtually none of the special interest and environmental hurdles to contend with in 1977 that they would have today, they were still almost fanatically focused on preserving areas of permafrost. You can find some more fun facts on TAPS here.

As we drove through the Atigun Pass there were many howitzer mounts for avalanche shelling during the winter time. As well as there are these triangle metal plates next to the howitzer mounts, that turned out to be azimuth reference markers for sighting the guns. Sounds like a fun job, although I can only imagine how rugged that area must be in the winter! I retract my first comment, the Brooks Range Mountains really are beautiful. These pictures are not mine, I am not that talented!













After about 45 minutes we passed out of the Brooks Range and the land started flattening for its 200 mile run to the Beaufort Sea in an area called The North Slope. I let the warm angora blankie of processed flour sleepyness descend upon me and napped on and off for the next 3 hours. Apparently there was a doldrums of outhouses for that duration and our driver Carole was suffering. Finally there was a roadside turnout with a couple of pieces of heavy machinery parked in it, giving her something to hide behind for a quick pee. This video is of the White Cliffs, not of her peeing!



Underway again I glanced at the van radio and it said 623. I was wondering if that was the time or a AM radio station, but soon it was 624 and then 625. We had been driving for 12 hours! I usually get grumpy after 30 minutes in a cage, but we were at the half day mark! I guess being heavily sedated by both white flour and Dramamine really helped.

The last 100 miles were the toughest! We are on a broad floodplain with the road flanked by a river they call the Sag, short for a mouthful of a native name (Sagavanirktok). The Sag floods every spring, and had done so, so severely for the past 2 years, it had washed The Haul Road out, isolating the communities at lands end for weeks at a time. You can read more about the flooding here. Some pictures from that website showing the degree of destruction.































As a preventive measure they were raising the road bed 8' with this loose mixture of graded gravel mixed with calcium. Until the mixture was completely compressed and then (ironically) flooded with water to set the calcium, it was a loose quagmire of marbley gravel that vehicles would sink into if they lost momentum.

They were doing it in 2 sections, about 40 miles each, that you had to follow a pilot car through, which we did at a veritable snails pace! Carol had to be careful she didn't get too close to the vehicle ahead so that if they slowed and we had to slow too much, we wouldn't sink. A fellow driver had suffered that fate the week before and had to be pulled out.



I could only imagine some poor SOB on a motorcycle, having come all that way towards their goal and then encountering this mess. We hadn't done our time on the Top of the World highway yet at this point, but as I write this now, 2 weeks later, I wouldn't wish that nor this road on any fellow motorcyclist. The JD is completely flat at this point and while foggy, it wasn't raining, but the van was plowing and fishtailing the whole way. It would be a nightmare on a bike, or................a scooter!

As this was Carol's first trip the whole way to Deadhorse, the furthest she had driven before was an Arctic Research station south of DH that we would stop in to on the way back, she sorta didn't really know where she was going. The good thing about The Hell Road is it only goes one place! Although it had been sunny about 95% of the way as we approached the coast it started to get foggy and wet. Suddenly, out of the fog appeared Deadhorse Camp, painted monkey banana vomit yellow, portrayed here a dismal sight, but at the time...........an oasis! The Waldorf Astoria of 70 degrees North!



$219.00USD a night! Well, it is in a construction camp on stilts, with rooms on the second floor and third floors and a shared bathroom! here is what Bill says about it:

Lou and I had to (got to/LD) share a room with the washroom one floor above. My half of the lovely and spacious room that I shared with Lou. Furniture and fixtures from Ikea.



Other than being only slightly bigger than a jail cell, (so I have heard!) it was comfy, and all the benefits of home, except free wifi! The camp cook, that was already there, not the one we brought up, kept his pans hot for us and made sure we got a hot meal. After dinner, with literally nothing to do, wandering outside was discouraged due to roaming bears, Bill went to bed. I found a big screen TV with 1000 satellite channels and watched a movie. That pretty much summed up our day; eating, sitting and sleeping.



Here is Bill again; At the crack of Bill we were escorted by a Security Guard onto the job site and to the edge of Prudhoe Bay.

Before 9/11 you could take your private vehicle into the oil production grounds and all the way to the Arctic Ocean, but since that day, that will live in infamy, you can only go to Deadhorse and then take a guided tour, where the tour guide is a ginormous security guard. My first interaction with him was in the hallway where he demanded to see my Passport. I was worried if I wasn't fast enough I would have to do push-ups for him. I'm not very good at push-ups! He was rough, tough and all business. He will make a charming tour guide!



Apparently we are his only guests, Carole thought she might join us, but elected to sleep instead, a decision we all support since she will have driven 27 hours out of 40 by the time we get home. The tour vehicle is the same type of van as the DHE so I ask if I can ride up front, but I am gruffly rebuffed.......due to security issues. Dave, The Special Services Black Ops Marine Commando Tour Guide, also, curiously, hands out eye protection that we have to wear INSIDE the van, when we go through security. I am told I cannot video record until we clear security as well.

We pass through the security checkpoint and Dave makes sure we know that that is his usual job, Security. You would never know it with his multi pocketed jumpsuit and utility jacket with SECURITY emblazoned across the back shouting out in Capital letters! Once Dave got warmed up speaking-wise though, he never shut up. Although he did tell us some interesting facts about the surroundings, he also told us many, many, MANY stories of his personal life, in what I would call; EXCRUCIATING detail! We heard about, with detail at the granular level, the following fascinating stories about Dave;

• How to tip a presumptuous waitress
• How to kill mice in your house using a variety of methods
• What threat level holster he prefers for his Glock 9mm (why is our tour guide packing heat?)
• How his boss offered him the tour guide job, but when he got called to his office he was worried he was going to be disciplined for an excessive force incident

I surreptitiously recorded this video of Dave at full speed talking about his mouse problem in his home. Charming topic for a tour! (Personally, if I had a mouse infestation in my home, I wouldn't be sharing that!) Bill is able to put in an occasional 'yup' or 'OK', but you can see he is glossed over with a 1000 yard stare. Spending time with Dave has that effect on you, you are alternatively shocked and then reduced to catatonia. The look on Bill's face is priceless.



He offered me the front seat after we cleared the security shack, but I was starting to get the feeling I wasn't gonna like this guy, so I stayed where I was. We never went faster than 30 MPH anywhere, anyway.

We drive around in the fog for awhile and look at a bunch of Atco trailers and rusting equipment. A couple of times Dave says "I am not supposed to show you this, but then he does'. Some security guard, eh? The special secretive spots are nothing great, one is this crude metal structure that represents the 6 companies that came together to build TAPS. Right next to it is the very first wellsite drilled in the Prudhoe Bay field.



Then we came to a set of Jersey blocks (concrete barriers) and beyond that was a gravel spit, bordered on 3 sides with.................The Arctic Ocean, Beaufort Sea to be exact. We had made it. Bill and I walked out to Boca Chika (Land's End). Bill says: Lou came prepared with a towel he had borrowed from our motel in Fairbanks and got to wade in the water.

I wasn't going to have come all this way and not get the full experience so I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants legs and walked in. I expected it to be, well, Arctic, but it really wasn't, it was a bit shocking at first, but I got used to it quickly. Ed, you asked on my Facebook page if I got my swimsuit from the Franklin Expedition? The answer is no, I got it from Ernest Shackleton! I picked up a rock from out of the ocean to take home, looking around, I think they can spare it.



I came out of the water after a few minutes and used the mo'tel towel to dry off and get dressed. Bill had had enough and started the 1/4 mile trek back to the van. I was reluctant to leave. I am pretty sure I won't be back here again in my lifetime. As a curious aside it was 2 years less 3 days since I stood at The Knob, the Southernmost point in continental North America in Keywest, FL.



I took the long way back, we had 30 minutes allocated to the visit and I was gonna use every one. Eventually I was back at the van, and upon entering it I immediately felt bad for leaving Bill alone with Super (talker) Dave as he was wearing his 1000 Yard Gaze of Catatonia. I found out later, after reviving Bill with smelling salts, that most of the time was spent with Dave talking about how tour guides deserve to be tipped!

Dave had a great expectation that he was going to be tipped. Personally I wasn't going to, and I am a generous tipper, but I didn't want to spend my tour hearing about mouse traps and gun holsters!

As we departed the area we came up on an area that we needed to wait for a pilot car. Fer chrissakes, we can't escape construction even in here? All it did was give Stooper Dave more time for his monologue! We were a captive audience, he was a willing orator. The wait was interminable as Dave talked and talked and talked. If he wasn't built like a brick s***house I might have had the courage to have said 'enough' or something similar. I think he took our silence as approval and encouragement for him to continue.

We also talked about motorcycles for a bit, he wanted to know what we both rode, I think he may have had a Harley, I dunno, I had my notch filters firmly engaged. I answered his questions about The Rocket perfunctorily, but I had no interest in egging this guy on. He didn't need any help, I guess he feared silence. When we got to the security shack to check out we didn't have to wear the eye protection for some reason, the rules had changed!

Dave noticed his fellow officer had a Threat Level 2 Glock holster, but he confided to us that he preferred Threat Level 3, as it's harder to get your weapon taken from you! Again I say 'why is our tour guide packing a 9 mm?' This set him off on another tangent where he spoke, somewhat cryptically, about his excessive force incident he alluded to early. I left the yups and OK's to Bill, and just hoped I wasn't gonna get pistol whipped when I didn't tip him!

When we got back to the Deadhorse Camp Inn we hopped out of the van and Dave followed us saying he wanted to see our bikes, apparently he misunderstood that we hadn't actually rode here on them, he was disappointed they were not there. I was not going to tip him and Bill didn't have any US money so he gave Dave a Canadian $5 bill, after exchange worth about maybe $1.47 US? Dave accepted it graciously, so graciously I am sure he didn't fully comprehend exactly how worthless it was to him! By the time he'd have figured that out there was gonna be 500 miles of gravel between us!

We climbed the stairs back up to our (gently swaying) rooms and found Carole in her impossibly enthusiastic morning mood, ready for the long drive back home. Bill & I were both shocked that the DHE did not employ driving teams but it would be pretty hard to fall asleep at the wheel on the Dalton without white flour and Dramamine! We asked Carole about this and I guess due to the distances between things in Alaska the commercial transportation industry had long ago negotiated much longer driving hours than the lower 48. Carole was ready to split as soon as we were, so I packed up my bag, took 30 seconds, put a couple of breakfast pastries in a take-out box, and we departed in a couple of minutes. It was just Bill and I for the first leg so I took the front seat and Bill got the whole first bench.

The driveway out of the mo'tel was right on to the Dalton, but we had to wait for the pilot car as the road grade raising was happening right there. We were behind 2 other vans identical to us, but as the pilot truck drove by us southbound they didn't move. Carole called them on the CB and they were going north so we went right around them and caught the tail end of the piloted stream. Maybe a signal light next time?

There was a short paved section between the loose gravel and as we approached the second piloted section, the pilot truck was just leaving so we cleared all the gravel in about 2 hours. Compare that to our northbound passage through the area where we missed both pilot vehicles and had to wait 45 minutes at each section. As I write this about 3 weeks later I think my durations of some elements may be off, my perception of the passage of time was prolly skewed from spending so much time in the van. Let's just say, nothing happens quickly on the James Dalton!

We are in an area known as Happy Valley and Carol is Happily looking for a place to pee. That is a pretty much a continuous process on the Dalton, driving from one bathroom to another. I think all the shaking rattles water molecules out of your cells and increases the frequency of Number One, while the sheer terror of driving the Dalton suppresses Number Two!

Too much information? Sorry!



I am trying to counsel Carole to drive a bit faster, I tell her about a Myth Busters episode where they tested driving a car over washboards at different speeds and proved driving faster was better than slower. Driving slowly the wheels react to every texture, reaching a faster speed the wheels skim over the top of the wash boards. Same with small pot holes, go slow and you drive into and then out of each one, speed up and you float over the tops. Maybe float is an exaggeration, but a couple of times I glanced at the speedo and saw she was doing 60 MPH! Then she would catch herself and slow down to the unofficial JD speed limit of 50.



We drove out of the fog and gun metal grey sky in about an hour (a JD Hour!) and back into the Blue Sky. I never got a chance to actually touch the TAPS, I sure wasn't going to ask Dave to let me out anywhere! I negotiate with Carol to stop if she finds a convenient spot, which she does a few minutes later. We get up close and personal with the TAPS for a few minutes.



Our next stop was the Toolik Arctic Research Station about 136 miles (3 hours) from Deadhorse. We picked up a student from Atlanta named Megan who had been there for a week studying Arctic bushes! The Toolik Station supports many types of equally fascinating research topics.



They are also fanatical about preserving the permafrost and one way they protect it is the latrines are built on stilts and empty into tanks they call honey pots. Apparently, warm pee is a permafrost buster! These tanks are trucked into Fairbanks every couple of weeks. Imagine driving the Dalton with a payload of latrine contents sloshing around behind you? Eeeeewwww, gross! That is dry heave inducing just thinking about it!

We interviewed Molly, the Toolik Station Field Operations Assistant, who was about as charismatic as the research being performed there.



Megan is nice enough during our brief meet & greet, then she installs herself in the bench seat behind Bill and we are off to Coldfoot, 4ish hours away. I sleep for at least 2 hours of that leg waking up just before the Atigun Pass through the Brooks Range Mountains. It is equally beautiful in the opposite direction. Despite this being Sunday there is considerable truck traffic out today, typically 53' semi's going like a Bat Outta Hell! I am pretty sure these guys aren't paid by the hour like our driver, they have the Hammer Down. Luckily they are constantly broadcasting their position on the CB so you don't get blindsided by them as they come around the corner at 70 MPH!

Carole tells us we may be picking 4 more people in Coldfoot, we are going to lose our cushy seating. Well Bill & Megan are. Carole is not even going to offer the possibility of a front seat rotation. After we drive out of the Atigun Pass we have a bathroom break at some roadside outhouses and upon resuming our travels I put myself to sleep for 90 minutes. My borderline narcolepsy is coming in handy today! Again I am awakened when we hit that 20 mile section of blissful blacktop just north of Coldfoot.

As we are now familiar with the service levels at the Coldfoot Diner we know how to expedite our dinner which consists of 2 cheese burgers with fries, and 2 sammiches to go. The burgers come with a huge amount of fries, of which I share some with my sammich for 5 hours later. Carole can't find her passengers so she tells us she is going to the Wiseman Airport to look for them. You mean you can fly here?! Just kidding, we knew that. If I was in the same tax bracket as Bill we could have done Prudhoe Bay by Helicopter and also gone on a boat to an island in the Beaufort Sea. We were doing it on the 'cheap' because of me, although Bill can be financially sensible (frugal) at times as well!

Carole returned in about 30 minutes with the van absolutely stuffed with 3 guys and a young lady, and backpacks and duffel bags and gun cases and camping equipment! They had been rafting for 10 days I think? I missed most of the introductions but there was Dad, his 2 sons and I think one son's fiancee. We later found out the Dad was a fish lawyer and the girl was about to pass the bar as well. Megan moved up to Bill's bench and the family took the 2 back rows. I kept the front seat because, well, I am selfish when it comes to not wanting to projectile vomit! We were off on the last 2 legs, only 275 miles to go, about 6 hours!

Here is 30 seconds of travel on the Dalton with no camera stabilization.



I think everybody had slept about as much as they could that day, we were all resigned to being awake for the final run to Fairbanks. We had much-spirited conversations about the perils of internet dating, how she and her current partner met, about sled dog racing and numerous other topics. Thankfully it made the remaining time go by quickly. As we approached Gobbler's k*** from the north side Carole challenged the van to make out the profile of the Turkey in flight, but no one could. I guess they had better imaginations back then in the days before the web, and TV and Motorcycle Blogs! The circled area is the profile in question.



Carole was slowly but surely taking my advice about driving faster and it was working. She mentioned numerous times that it seemed smoother going the other way. I think it was a combination of revised expectations about road quality, and a firmer foot on the go go pedal! We were making, by her estimation, great time, which made us happy but was gonna cost her a couple of hours of pay.

That's when the conversation over pay came up, well, I brought it up! I asked if it was appropriate to tip our tour guide (Thanks Dave!) and she replied she wasn't a tour guide, but merely a driver. I disagreed as she had offered us a lot of info and history about a myriad of topics over our 40 hours together. Also we as vanmates had a bond from shared adventure and adversity. During our last bathroom break, back at the place with the closed gift shop and lemonade stand, Bill and I discussed our tippage and decided on $20.00 US each, about $0.5 cents a mile!

The Dalton Highway Express offered pickup and drop off service at $15 a head each way, but Carole did it for us free of charge, prolly to delay her return to base when she would go off the clock. We dropped the family of 4 off at a DT ho'tel, and then took Bill & I to our place. Carole unloaded our modest luggage and I gave her the $40 bucks, she was extremely appreciative. I hope that made up the difference my urging her to speed cost her. I do not know if anyone else had tipped her, I hope so! I gave her a hug and she was so thin I could wrap my arms around her twice! Carol left to take Megan to the airport for her 0200 flight to Atlanta.

Bill and I both stumbled, zombie-like, straight for our rooms mumbling good nights, I had proposed a night cap, but there were no takers. There was a note taped to my door to come to the office when I got there. I did and the front desk guy launched into this long story about how he had transposed the numbers at check-in and charged me $18 too little. I gave him my AMEX and told him I didn't really care about the details. He apparently felt obligated to tell me the details again and I looked him straight in the eye and told him I had been driving all day and just wanted to go to bed. He looked offended, but I was beyond caring. Business handled, I went to my room and went right to bed.

The adventure was over! I wish it was just starting! When it was all said and done it took about 14 hours to drive there and 13 hours to return. Again I apologize if the math in the body of my story sometimes doesn't work out, it was 3 weeks ago and my overall perspective of the passage of time during that span was distorted!

Having arrived in somewhat good time Bill and I had agreed upon a 0900 departure time as we started our long trek home. It was a good thing too as we did the Top of The World highway that day and that was a long ride.

If you made it this far, well, thank you for coming along for the very long ride and the very long read! While the adventure was 40 hours, I estimate I have about 80+ hours in writing this one submission, sorting the pictures and editing the video! truly a labor of love.

Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay and Back
1606 today (DHE) 6927 total
40 hours in many saddles