Day 2: Atigun Pass to Yukon River

197 miles

Wow, I am simply in awe of the natural beauty of this place. I woke up to a glorious view of the surrounding mountains coated with a fresh, dusting of snow. It was quite chilly, my bike computer read 25° at my campsite at the base of Atigun Pass. my sleeping bag is rated to 20° and this was my first time testing it at its lower limit. I stayed warm all night! When it’s cold out I always have a slower start to the day. It usually takes me about twice as long to break Camp when I have to layer up and motivate for a cold start. I woke up at six and wasn’t on the road until over 40 minutes later. I need to cut that way down in the ensuing days. I can sometimes get that down under 15 minutes if it’s warm out. There was a very slight dusting of snow but not enough to really notice at my camp. I immediately been climbing up Atigun Pass. It was a 1600 foot climb and pretty immediately the road was covered and a thin layer of fresh snow. It was cloudy, but the fog rolled off one of the mountain peaks as I neared the pass and a gorgeous view of a snow capped peak emerged, emboldened in rivets of snow down all sides. As I neared the top the road became quite slick with the packed snow. I struggled to make up some of the steeper pitches without sliding out. I was enveloped in a fog bank by the top of the pass but as soon as I begin the descent I dropped out of the fog. Blue sky emerged in the distance over far away peaks. The pass topped out just under 5000 feet, which should be my high point for the foreseeable future. For the next 60 miles the road gradually descended all the way to Coldfoot. As I dropped out of Atigun Pass and made my way down below 2000ft. I came across the most northern, spruce tree. The road wound through wide expensive valley with incredible vistas on all sides. The gravel was very smooth and I was gifted a light tail as the first rays of sun peaked over the surrounding mountains. The first 120 miles from my ride today were undoubtedly the most beautiful I’ve ever ridden. The mountains look like cross between Iceland and New Zealand. Truly stuff out of a movie or a coffee table picture book. I was in awe the entire time and could not stop taking pictures. Around ever bend a new view was revealed much to my pleasure. The beauty rolled on and on all morning and late into the afternoon. At mile 80 I reach Coldfoot. This marked my 240th mile of the journey and my first encounter with civilization since Prudhoe. There’s not much to Coldfoot; the 2020 census puts the population at only 34 people. However, there is a truckstop and a small restaurant which is all I needed. I sat down to dine on some chicken with plenty of servings of soda. I grabbed two cold sandwiches to go, and after almost an hour break, I was on my way again. I was able to get reception and check in with my friends and family back for the first time since leaving yesterday morning. This was a welcome surprise as I was not sure I would have reception until reaching Fairbanks. After lunch the road continued to rise and fall through wide valleys, spruce forest in the valley and tundra covering the mountain walls. The road was about 50% gravel and 50% paved. I thought that past Coldfoot the entire road would be paved but I was mistaken. Luckily most of the pavement in the early afternoon was relatively smooth and fast. The wind died down, and so did my speed as the rolling hills turned into steeper and steeper climbs as I made my way south out of the Brooks Range. By mid afternoon, I found myself constantly climbing and descending relatively steep pitches between 500 and 1000 feet of elevation gain, seemingly back to back to back. At the top of on of these climbs, I met a very nice photographer who took a picture of me as I crested the hill. I stopped to say hello and he asked if he could follow me for the rest of the afternoon grabbing pictures here and there. I agreed as long as he did not provide me any support. He is a photographer who has been traveling the United States for the past four years taking pictures which he plans on publishing in a book eventually. What a fantastic job! He leapfrogged me from me for a couple hours, jumping out of a car here and there to snag a picture before speeding off again. I crossed the Arctic circle and was immediately greeted with a vicious 1000 foot climb. It was a rough and wet gravel climb, causing my tires to sink into the mud. The grades were up at 15% and I felt like I was not moving, like I was pedaling in glue. It was warm now; the 21° snow I experienced at the top of Atigun Pass only 10 hours previously seemed far away. The sun was out tempered only an occasional cloud, and the temperature must’ve been in the upper 40s.  Past the Arctic Circle the road turned to gravel for the remainder of the day. I don’t mind riding on gravel normally, in fact, I usually savor the opportunity to ride gravel. However, in the interest of time and keeping my bike mechanical free, I would prefer less gravel on this trip. The gravel was very loose at times and the road condition surprisingly deteriorated the farther south I got with potholes and hard cobbled sections. The most frustrating thing about the gravel was that it slowed my progress on the descents a significant amount. Not being able to send  the downhills is a huge killer for both the morale and the average speed. I was bombing the descents early in the day—foolishly riding upwards of 50mph on the gravel sections—but I backed off in favor of reason, deciding it was best to take it a little bit slower and safer. There’s no reason to ride that fast when just a careless mistake or a rouge rock or pothole could end my entire trip at 50mph. I had assumed that after leaving the Brooks Range that the road would level off a little bit and be enveloped in boreal forest all the way to Fairbanks. However, this was not the case as the road pitched over rolling hills all afternoon and into the evening. South of the Arctic Circle, there was more tundra landscape than I assumed there would be. The mountains tapered off into rolling hills which leveled off  into huge valleys 10 or 20 miles across. Wide expenses punctuated only by occasional lakes. The many valleys were devoid of trees and were instead painted with yellow, orange, and red hues that are synonymous with the tundra fall foliage. It wasn’t until about 40 miles south of the Arctic Circle that the road became encompassed in the dense boreal forest. I rode a bit past 9:00pm—my chosen cutoff time my opening days, just to keep the legs in check before really kicking off huge days—so I could get to the Yukon River for camp. I rolled in just after sunset. There is a little store and hotel right next to the river. I filled up my water and grabbed a slice of blueberry pie for dinner :)

My legs are feeling a little bit tired after today’s effort which is to be expected. For the past three weeks I have been more or less off the bike because I have been so busy tying up loose logistic end with this trip, finishing up my schoolwork for the summer term and saying goodbye to my friends. My base fitness is still incredibly strong. However, it will probably take about a week for my legs to return to peak form. In the meantime, I expect that my legs will get tired towards the end of every big day—so every day.