We headed south from the mosquito-infested township of Inuvik and readied for the worst. We weren't disappointed. It was just as bad as yesterday, loose gravel all the way. Stay in the truck tire tracks or die. Well, maybe not die, but it will be dicey.
We stopped in Fort McPherson on the way back for a hydration/potty break. It's about half way between Inuvik and Eagle Plains. Leaving Fort Mc Pherson, we rode through a thunderstorm and got some rain, but not enough to make the dust lie down. We dreaded seeing a semi-truck coming toward us because it meant surviving another dust storm where visibility is reduced to zero for a few brief seconds until you emerge from the other side, hopefully not entering a curve in the road. The fine dust is choking. It's gets everywhere. It permeates everything. Your very being and all of you belongings are covered in dust. Our clothes are covered with dust. Our face plates on our helmets are coated with dust limiting visibility. You can feel it in your eyes and mouth; your teeth grind it. I hate dust!
After traversing the thunderstorm, which was not sufficient to wash any dust off of us, I made the mistake of saying, "Well, at least it didn't hail on us." You have to know what happened next. Yep, it hailed on us. Ouch! Hail hurts when you are on a motorcycle.
After two ferry crossings and too many miles of loose gravel we pulled into Eagle Plains with great relief. In Eagle Plains we met friends from California, Ron and Wendy Wilkerson. We gathered in the lounge with Ron and Wendy and other Dempster riders and swapped stories and told lies of great motorcycle adventures. It made it all worthwhile.
No comments:
Post a Comment