Alaska

Alaska, America’s largest state, actually makes up 1/5th of the USA, and is larger than France, England, Spain and Italy put together. Alaska is the most northerly, most westerly and most easterly state in the USA. It is a big place. Most if its population being in Fairbanks, and most if its tourist cruising up the “inside passage”, from Vancouver or the USA.

An hour later we glimpsed our first sight of Eagle. Not many tourists get to Eagle. A small redneck town around 150 people. We expected to be met by a gathering of locals boiling up the large pot ready to get their first taste of English, Swiss, and New Zealand stew!

But luckily we were only met by a customs (I think) guy on the beach, wearing sandals, shorts and a t-shirt - who told us we could come up to his house when we were ready. It’s got to be the most relaxed US border, wandering into his kitchen, he stamped our passports, too busy watching TV to ask us any questions.

We managed to fill the evening, eating at the only café, exploring every street and setting up camp. The store did have showers, but at $4 a go, I bought a loaf of bread instead, and washed in a stream the following day.

A small and very odd town, this place was straight out of some X-files episode, and filled with some very weird people.

It is 165miles to the next town, but the only reason the locals ever go out is to hunt, and buy beer. They hunt nearly everything, probably including tourists.I left on my bike early the following morning, and left Iain and Cat at the side of the road waiting to try and hitch a ride.
After stopping to talk to a couple of very local hunters on a quad bike, I slowly climbed up the rough gravel road, and had nearly made the first 1300m climb to the liquor store (Eagle officially being a dry community) when a pickup passed me, with my two friend in the open back waving bear cans. They had got a ride with three drunk natives going to by more beer.

After a few minutes chat, I set out again, gaining a 40km lead before they passed me again.
It took them a few more rides to eventually make to Fairbanks.

“Our next ride from nowhere, to the town of Chicken was also with some hunters, this time with a husband and wife...they were so lovely, until we saw a moose and the woman said "I just get so excited, dat I have to shoot somethin’" in a real southern accent. ” Iain.I think my form of transport was the better option. At least I knew I was going to make 90 miles a day, and I think there was less risk from bears than with drunk native drivers.
Another freezing cold night, and two more 1400m climbs, I made it into he famous town of Chicken.
A gold mining town, named Chicken, because the locals couldn’t spell the original suggestion of Ptarmigan (A Ptarmigan being a white, grouse like bird common around the this area).

The name really is the only reason Chicken is here anymore, and gives the locals a chance to sell “I’ve been to Chicken” souvenirs to the coach tours that come through.

The best thing about Chicken for me was the fact that the road now became tarmac, and it would remain that way all the way to San Francisco.
Getting low on food and water, I pushed out over 100miles that day, to get to the Village of Tetlin Junction that night. Marked on my map as having a garage and food, I soon discovered that every building here was not just closed, but looked like they had been abandoned for at least ten years.

I was now without water, but luckily the following morning I managed to get some off a friendly German camper van. I was now on the main Alaskan Canadian Highway. Being the only road into Alaska, it was quite busy, having maybe one vehicle every twenty minutes.