Post by Corrine
We biked toward the ominous dark clouds hoping to beat them to the intersection. We heard a rumble of thunder and biked harder. Would we make it?!
We were biking from Wiseman just off the Dalton Highway. We had already gone 25 miles, biking up from the Marion Creek Campground and doing a little exploring on some side roads. We had seen the clouds after finishing biking eight miles on the road to Nolan, which forks off the Wiseman Road, but we were only a mile from Wiseman. The clouds didn’t appear to be moving fast, and we felt like we had to do a least a quick tour of the iconic town.
We buzzed through Wiseman and then headed back to the Dalton. On the way, we could see the clouds, coming from the north, moving closer, too close. It looked like they were bringing rain. If we could just get back to the Dalton, we would at least be biking south away from the clouds. We pedaled hard, making the intersection just before the storm.
Turning south, the sky rumbled again. I picked up the pace assuming Eric would be right on my tail. A few minutes later, I looked behind and couldn’t see him anywhere. But by now the dark clouds were right overhead.
 |
| Those dark clouds are right overhead now!! |
“Sorry, Eric,” I said, even though he couldn’t hear me. “You’re on your own. I love you but I’m not getting wet if I can help it.”
And with that I tucked down over my handlebars, cranked on the pedals as hard as I could, and raced all the way back to the campground. On the bright side, the storm brought a strong tailwind, so biking was fast, even on mountain bikes. (Eric has several excuses for being far behind including stopping to take a photo and having a bike that needs a drivetrain adjustment. He insists it has nothing to do with his fitness level.)
I stayed just on the edge of the storm for the entire ride but got hit by only a few raindrops. I managed to beat that storm back to our campsite. Then I waited for Eric, wondering if the storm had caught him. He arrived 5 to10 minutes later, still dry but barely. The storm had rained on him a bit, but he was able to ride out of it. Whew! We decided to drive the four miles into Coldfoot for dinner, tired and ready to eat.
That was just the first adventure on our Dalton Highway trip last weekend, which had everything from the good to the bad to the ugly. But mostly it was good!
A Trip for Training and Fun
We headed up the Dalton partly because I wanted to get in some more big miles on my bike. I’m training for two races this fall – Rebecca’s Private Idaho gravel race and the Arkansas High Country bikepacking race. The weather forecast looked good, better than Fairbanks or the Denali Highway.
I had already biked the Dalton from the Elliot Highway to the Yukon River and back a couple of years ago. I’ve wanted to bike the entire Dalton Highway, but there wasn’t time this weekend for that. Still, I could do more of it. I checked Google Maps and noted that the distance from Marion Creek Campground to Galbraith Lake Campground was about 100 miles. That also just happens to be the most scenic part of the highway, going over Atigun Pass in the Brooks Range. A nice, hilly century ride.
Eric was game to come for some adventuring and drive the car to Galbraith Lake. Eric had heard there was a couple of road/trails in the Coldfoot/Wiseman area that might be bikeable. And we could check out Wiseman. And Eric wanted to do some hiking around Galbraith Lake.
Day One – First Good Then Bad
 |
| Yukon River |
We left just a little after 6 AM Friday morning. Unfortunately, there were two construction zones that required pilot car trains of about five miles each. Those weren’t fun but considering the poor condition of long sections of the Elliott and Dalton highways it’s good that some sections are getting worked on.
 |
| Waiting for the pilot car to take us through the construction zone |
Shortly after making a quick stop at the Yukon River, we saw a mama moose and her calf. Unfortunately, that was our only large animal sighting all weekend. Our next stop was at Finger Mountain, where we did the official nature walk trail and then followed a sometimes-brushy half-mile social trail over to Finger Rock. Then on to the Arctic Circle sign for the obligatory selfie.
 |
| Climbing on Finger Rock |
After another 75 miles we were in Coldfoot, where we checked out the Visitor Center and got some intel. They said the entire 10-mile road to Nolan was impassable due to mud. They said the first part of the trail to Chandalar Lake was also muddy but then got better. None of it sounded great.
We set up our tent at Marion Creek Campground and then decided to bike north to Wiseman, which is three miles down a gravel road off the Dalton. It would be 12 miles one-way, with nine miles being on pavement. (Several sections of the Dalton are paved). Eric doesn’t like pavement much, but the area doesn’t have many biking options. Wiseman seemed a good goal. Right after leaving the campground, we checked out a gravel side road to some BLM housing and then a mining road that crossed a creek after about a mile. Nothing too exciting, but Eric was happier for it. Then we headed off for Wiseman with an incredible tailwind and so got to the Wiseman Road quickly.
We got to the Nolan Road turnoff, about a mile before Wiseman, and decided to go as far as we could. We were pleasantly surprised to find we could easily bike four of the ten miles before hitting significant mud. (Be wary of all intel!)
 |
| We turned around four miles in on the Nolan Road when we got to this muddy section |
After coming back to the Wiseman Road, we checked out the storm clouds and decided we still had time to check out Wiseman. Neither of us had been there before. It’s a small, funky place with just a few houses and a couple of B&B’s. It has a rich mining history and was highlighted in Robert Marshall’s book “Arctic Village.” Unfortunately, we had time for only a quick ride-through because we had to race the storm back to the campground.
 |
| Welcome to Wiseman! |
The Bad (and the Stupid)
After dinner, we decided to do a very short hike up the knoll behind our campsite before heading to bed. It quickly intersected with the trail to Marion Creek Falls. On impulse we decided to follow it even though we had nothing with us except our rain jackets: no water, no bug dope and no bear spray. I had never been on this trail. Eric had done it many years earlier and remembered the trail as not being very good. Not our best decision.
 |
| Rain jacket on to keep the bugs off. This is a better part of the trail. |
 |
| The hike goes along the bluff above Marion Creek to begin with |
Eric had remembered correctly. The trail is only about four miles round trip, but it is narrow, brushy, rooty, and muddy. To make matters worse, the mosquitoes were terrible. It was hot but we put on our rain jackets with the hoods up as bug protection. We contemplated turning around, but when would we ever be here again? We forged on.
 |
| Nice trail. . . NOT! |
After two miles of skirting mudholes, jumping over puddles, and constantly swatting at mosquitoes, we made it. The falls are nice, but relatively small and not spectacular. Not really worth the effort. Still, we were glad we could check off that box. And BLM had some boardwalk materials staged over some of the boggy areas so the hike should be getting better.
 |
| Marion Creek Falls |
We got back to camp at 11 PM and quickly went to bed to rest for...
Day Two – First Good Then Bad Then Ugly
The next morning was sunny and warm and with a slight tailwind. Perfect for my long bike! I left Eric to break camp and started biking. The 30 miles from Coldfoot to Dietrich Camp are paved so I made great time. Eric passed me just as I was approaching Sukakpak Mountain, an iconic site on the Dalton Highway.
The views kept getting better, and after another 20 miles I started the climb to Chandalar Shelf. I was in the Brooks Range! The climb wasn’t bad, and some cars slowed to give encouragement as I toiled up the steep hill. There was a slight descent and then a long grind up to Atigun Pass. But my perfect weather had changed. Now I had a headwind, and the afternoon clouds were building and spitting some rain. I kept stopping to adjust layers.
 |
| View looking back down after getting up to Chandalar Shelf |
As I was grinding up in my lowest gear to the pass, a solo biker with a heavily loaded bike came by in the opposite direction, followed by another just 20 minutes later. One was headed all the way to South America, the other just to Anchorage. They were both seasoned long-distance bikers from Europe who have traveled around the world. It was fun to spend a few minutes chatting with each of them. We ended up seeing both the next day in Coldfoot and visited with them as we had breakfast. We had also seen three groups of bikers headed south the day prior. It appears that biking the Dalton may be getting more popular.
Some Bad and Some Ugly but Mostly Good
Once over the pass, I had a nice but rougher descent. The clouds kept getting closer and as I was about 20 miles from the finish, the rain started. When I realized it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, I got out my rain pants and mitts. Soon I was soaking wet, and the road – and I – became a muddy mess. Luckily, not too many large trucks came by during this time as I would have been even more muddy than I was. (And I was really muddy!) I was getting tired and a little cold, but I knew I was almost there. On the bright side, the rain ended the huge clouds of dust kicked up by the trucks.
About 11 miles from the Galbraith Lake Campground, I saw a car coming towards me. It was Eric. He was checking to see if I wanted a ride. He is such a great guy! I was happy to see him but, damn it, I was going to get my century ride in today. I wasn’t going to stop 11 miles short of my goal. So, I gave him a kiss and told him I would see him again soon. And I did. After 11 hours and 102 miles and 6000 feet of climbing, I arrived at camp, wet and cold but happy. And the rain stopped just as I got there. Eric made me hot drinks and got a campfire going. After changing into dry clothes and eating some hot food, I was a happy camper, too.
 |
| I made it! |
 |
| Primo campsite |
Eric had had a nice little adventure, too. After setting up the tent, he hiked up to a ridge behind the campground. He wanted to do more, but rain was threatening, and he didn’t have much time after breaking camp, driving, taking photos of me, and setting up the next camp. Have I said what a great guy he is? Eric is the best adventure partner. I am so lucky! He said it was a nice hike and he was happy. Plus, he made it back to camp just before it started raining so he didn’t get wet!
 |
| Eric is the BEST! |
 |
| The view from the ridge above our camp |
Go for the Good, But Be Prepared for the Bad and the Ugly
Biking the Dalton Highway is a mixed bag. It is remote, there isn’t a lot of traffic and much of that traffic is oversized big trucks. It seemed like there was more truck traffic then when I had been on the road two years ago. (Probably due to construction from the recently approved Willow Project oil field.) All the truckers were courteous. A few even slowed as they passed though most didn’t. And I didn’t expect them to as they are on a schedule, but those trucks throw up so much dust. Sometimes it was so bad that I couldn’t see after they went by. I got so much grit in my eyes (even wearing glasses) and dust in my lungs. So if you bike the Dalton, be prepared for a lot of dust if it is dry and a lot of mud if it is wet. And be doubly prepared for mosquitoes, especially in July. We got lucky and had just annoying amounts of mosquitoes but nothing like it can be. Bring bug dope and a headnet.
But if you’re prepared for that, you also get some incredible views and periods of near-wilderness solitude. I’ve now biked 175 of the 400 miles of the Dalton Highway. I’m not sure I feel the need to bike the rest. I’ve done the most scenic part. And the long North Slope part between the Brooks Range and the Arctic coast doesn’t sound that appealing. But who knows, somebody might be able to convince me to do the whole thing. Or the part I just did again. After all, given some time I’m sure I’ll remember more of the good and less of the bad and the ugly.
