A Little Note on Roadside Love

It takes a very long time to travel between places in Alaska. It used to take even longer, and so a multitude of roadhouses existed between the few and far between stopping points. These were places intended just for weary travelers, and the some of the ones that haven't burned down still are. They offer a hot beverage and a place to rest, some have a shower and a camping spot. They are perfect for cyclists. Spaced about 40 miles apart, it is the perfect end to a day to arrive at one of these stopping spots for some real, live Alaskan hospitality. When it's good, there's nothing like it. We stopped at a cafe in Sourdough for our first experience. After being kicked out of the cafe, we realized Sourdough may not be the best place to rest. We moved on, and quickly this one lukewarm experience was rectified by two over the top lovely experiences.

The first was the Gakona historic lodge, about 5 miles past the Gakona junction that starts the long road to Tok. The first thing to realize is that in this region of Alaska there are not towns, there are Census Designated Places. These CDPs have maybe 30-100 people living around them, and are supported by perhaps a gas station and if you're really lucky a bar/restaurant. The Gakona Lodge has just that, and the man who runs it, Greg, is one you would be lucky to meet. Upon seeing us he introduced himself and welcomed us to wait around until he got over to open the bar. We did just that, and after enjoying some delicious cheese sticks and a burger, Greg invited us to pop our tent, free of charge, next to the river. We followed him up on his offer and spent a very pleasant evening sipping from a 6-pack and listening to the Gakona river rush by.

The next day we hit the road after hearing that the next town about 30 miles down the road had a small grocery and a fun to say name - Chistochina (also a CDP). We were also flagged down by a man in a red pick-up who offered us camping at his lodge. When we arrived at the lodge to the delicious news of showers, laundry and a $5 breakfast, we were sold. We were invited to attend this nice man, Richard, to the grocery in his pickup after we set our bikes next to a table in the lawn. The grocery wasn't large, but it wasn't overpriced (everything is relative, remember) and it was clean and friendly. We returned to clean up and cook a large pasta dinner for ourselves. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm...Red Eagle Lodge receives the current first prize for showers in Alaska. The bath house is unequaled in its size and beauty. We went to sleep clean and full, two things that can be rare to an adventure cyclist.

The next morning we tromped in for breakfast and ate, drank cup after cup of coffee, and stayed way past when we really should have left. If any of you have any desire to travel to Alaska, please consider staying in one of the completely reasonably priced cabins at Red Eagle Lodge, they are real cabins that have been redecorated in the most beautiful, cabiny way. Well, we have already stayed too long, so I must be off to search for more roadside love...

Pre-Adventure Warm-Up

We don't remember whose idea it was to go to the sand dunes. It was one of those half-baked schemes that seem like a good idea at the time, and then the closer it comes the less that good idea seems so good. Other people who had promised, even sworn to come, realized this fact and cancelled their plans, but the bummer about being the person who plans the half-baked scheme is that once you have committed to your plan, you have to follow it to its completion. So, Team Krusti, with 3 days left before the Grand Adventure departed to go camping together before going camping together for the next four months. We called our friends and they were pondering showing up, so we packed up the Miata (remember this, it's important later) for our 5 hour trek down to the dunes. About 3 hours in to our trip, after temperatures hit about 100, we called our dear friends who had left slightly after we did to ask for directions to the dunes.

We should have known to ask someone else when they sent us down highway 69. After driving through the quaint town of Gardner (3 bars, 2 churches, 1 school, no gas), and being informed by the gas station attendant that there was no gas there, but if we were heading over the pass (**sizes up car**" it's a dirt road, you could make it in that") we should find some gas, or at least the dunes, in about 40 miles. I figured we had about 75 left on the tank, so I wasn't too concerned. And that's when our pre-adventure began.

First we took a wrong turn down the wrong, very very rough dirt road that dead-ended at a hiking trail we had taken the year before at the dunes. Choices: hike down to the dunes or turn around and try again. We took the second option because it would have been difficult to carry both the tent and the beer down that trail. So back down the dirt road we went. Another 15 miles down the road was another dirt road, complete with lots of signs about staying off of property and the dangers of bison hunting on private land. We turned on that one. A rougher dirt road. With less gas. In a Mazda Miata. But, thankfully, a tough Mazda Miata. So we roughed it up that road until we saw a sign. The sign had pictures of vehicles that were allowed on the road - an ATV, a dune buggy, something else with large tires and four wheel drive. None of the pictures were of zippy sports cars. So, after a close-to-full-on mental breakdown, we headed back down the dirt road. With less gas. In a Miata. At this point we had not seen a gas station in about 60 miles, we were in the absolute middle of nowhere, and without a clue. Thankfully that's when we met Eldon. Eldon had a big old jalopy truck, a Busch, and a tank of chainsaw gas (she'll smoke a lot, but it won't hurtchyer engine!). Thanks Eldon! We were able to make it another 20-30 miles down the road to the only gas station with gas on that side of the mountains.

As we found out at that gas station, unfortunately the sand dunes were on the other side of those mountains. We had two options. We could backtrack 60 miles the way we came, or we could take the long way there. We opted to backtrack after sipping a beer and eating a sandwich and watching a gorgeous sunset over the mountains, and imagining how beautiful it would be if it was over the dunes. Then we climbed back in the car and backtracked 60 miles before finding the road that actually leads to the Sand Dunes.

Rusti gets behind the wheel to pull her in for the last long haul. It's dark, it's late, we've been driving for 10 hours now. He's cruising along at 65 mph, going over the pass on the other side of the dunes, when all of a sudden the windshield fills with green eyes and a giant head. An elk, felled by a semi in the middle of the road in front of us. Split decision: try to swerve or hit it dead on and hope to catch some air. Rusti went with option 2. And all of a sudden we are airborn over this dead elk. And then we smell it. Eau de Dead Elk all over the bottom of my poor, poor car. But, it seems to be driving alright and we don't seem to be dragging anything, so we pull her on in. Granted, I was in what I would call a terrible mood at that point, and not cheered up by the sight of a giant piece of plastic hanging off underneath my car and every surface covered in elk fur. But, Jenny and Rachel had made it safely, finding different directions since theirs were less than accurate for people not in four-wheelers, and we cracked some beers and made up.

The next day it was really really hot, we went to the dunes for about 2 hours, tried to sleep, it rained in the afternoon, I freaked out because I had wasted 2 of my last days in Colorado far away from my family and kitties, we went to bed early, woke up early, and left the dunes.

So, next time you have an idea, remember to fully bake it. Use a toothpick to make sure it's done. Half baked ideas will waste your time and leave you wondering: why were we acting like such retards?