It is here I will attempt to reconstruct, in words, my bicycle trip from Florida to Alaska. This may be something of a challenge as it was over three years ago that I actually made the six-month journey and with nothing but my memory and a journal to guide me, I am thinking that writing about it may be as difficult as the trip itself. No matter, I will try anyway – here goes…
In March of 1996 I was 29 years old and had just unloaded from my life one nuisance of a house. I found myself wondering what to do next and, for the first time in years, had nothing tying me down. It was a chance meeting with a copy of Signposts Alaska highways magazine that sparked my mind had had me thinking “Adventure”. While leafing through this bible of roads of the great white north daydreaming to the pictures, one grabbed my attention – a picture of the Inuvik highway through the Yukon. A massive expanse of pure nothingness. One lone road weaving off into absolutely nowhere, shrinking to a wee hair as it vanished into the horizon. It was like someone had built a road across the bleak terrain of some uninhabited planet. I imagined myself on that road. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to be there. It was like science fiction to imagine myself on that seemingly far away planet. Only this was something reachable. This road was connected to other roads, which were connected to others, which were, in turn, connected to roads, which were connected to my driveway. This was something I could imagine that could also be real. I imagined myself getting to that road on my bicycle.
I decided I would go on an adventure on my bicycle – on the trip, which eventually took me to the brink of the Arctic Ocean. A journey through a real frozen tundra where trees couldn’t grow, paved roads didn’t exist, and where for many miles in any direction you were not likely to see another human being. I started planning for this trip a year before I actually left. I don’t know exactly when I decided I was going to go to Alaska. I knew I wanted to do an extended bicycle tour to those far-off gravel roads which led through nowhere, and which seemed to lead to nothing. My final destinations would ultimately be the Alaska Highway; and then the Dalton Highway – a trail of dirt and rocks, which starts north of Fairbanks, and north nearly 500 miles to Prudhoe Bay on the Arctic Ocean. A road that existed for the sole purpose of transporting supplies to the Alaska oil fields. To a town that existed for no other reason than to house and feed people working the oil and the Alaska pipeline. It was hard to imagine myself actually being there. But with the proper planning and preparation I knew – I would at least be heading in that direction and, eventually would find myself there.
For one full year I planned and researched. I read bicycle magazines and postings in bicycle newsgroups on the Internet from people who had done long bike tours. I asked questions and read about what I should pack, what I should and shouldn’t do, and other advice and suggestions that maybe aren’t so apparent while sitting at home planning. I started obtaining the necessary supplies – a tent, sleeping bag, touring bags, rain cloths, etc. I bought a Sierra wood burning stove which would burn pine needles, pine cones, twigs, or just about anything that would burn. I took along a Sun Shower which was kind of like a big Sun Tea bag only with a solar panel and a spicket with a shower head. I had a pocket saw and an ax! I started with too much stuff and, even thought I ended up sending many things back, still had too much stuff when I got there (based upon what other bicyclists carried). What can I say? I don’t travel light. I took along a bag with safety pins, cloths pins, rubber bands, … I had bike tools and spare parts, bungee cords, and everything I could possibly think of that I might possibly need. Suffice it to say though – all the planning in the world won’t prepare you for everything. A lot of stuff you just have to learn the hard way.
I had originally planned to leave on March 1st, 1997 but ended up postponing it to April 1st. March might still be too cold, I reasoned, and I needed to save up some more money anyway. It’s a good thing I did. As it was, I started with only about $3,000 for the entire trip. I would have to budget to make it last and have enough for any emergencies or unexpected happening. I figured it would take me about four months to do the whole trip. I would attempt to get by on $70 – $80 a week. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do when I got there. My imagination ran wild the year leading up to when I would actually leave. My head was full of pipe dreams.
One plan actually had me going all the way around the world. I was going to have a folding kayak on the back of my bike to cross oceans and other waterways. I would hike across Alaska and load my stuff in the kayak to cross the Bering Straight. Riding through Asia and Europe I planned to break out the kayak for the jaunt to Britain to Iceland to Greenland and then back to the US. I actually had this idea in mind for a few months and did considerable research as to the feasibility of accomplishing it. Thinking back it sounds crazy but I think you have to be at least a little crazy to attempt any type of thing like this.
I then scaled it back to where I would just fly to Japan after finishing the bike trip. The Nagano Olympics were coming up the following year and I figured it would be pretty cool to head out there and check it out. I was at the Atlanta Olympics, have always liked the Olympics and had a dose of Olympic fever. I even took a semester of Japanese in college to prepare me for Japan. When it got close to time to leave and I didn’t have that much money, I planned to get a job in Alaska to finance the rest of the trip. Well that didn’t happen either. I wanted to go to Barrow, Alaska – the northernmost town in the USA. I researched the possibility of walking there from Deadhorse, or to at least charter a plane there. As I neared my destination, however, I resigned myself to just hitchhiking back to Florida. In the end, though, after all was said and done I ended up taking a plane back to Tampa. I guess the point I learned in all this is that plans can change – and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Part of the adventure is not knowing exactly what will happen. It took a year to come up with this. Setting a goal of such great magnitude will yield certain results upon acting on it and with enough planning, effort, determination, and a certain focus, can lead to quite a rewarding conclusion.