Day 6: Burwash Landing to Whitehorse

182 miles

All night I listened to the wind ripping through the trees around me. I kind of figured it wasn’t going let up, but it was still disheartening to see that my fears were true. I slept well despite the wind and woke up feeling ready to tackle whatever mother nature had to throw at me. Well, she decided to throw just about everything she had. Upon packing up I set out and was immediately confronted with the harsh reality that the wind had not gone anywhere. It had quieted down a little bit from 30 miles an hour to maybe 20 miles an hour, but it was clearly here to stay. I did everything in my power to think of other things than the wind, but it was all I could think about. It’s all anybody would’ve been able to think about. It ripped by my ears causing a deafening noise. Everywhere I looked the trees were bending, leaves were flying, there was nothing to see except for the wind. It’s incredible that something as abstract in imagery as wind can have such a visual effect on the world. I simply turned my music all the way up and hoped for the best. I slogged my way over long gradual climbs and down long gradual descents, although even the downhills felt like uphills. After a couple hours of riding, I made it to Destruction Bay. Mentally, it was incredibly helpful to get off the bike and walk around. I was also able to restock on food, and check my messages. Yesterday I was out in the middle of nowhere with no reception in very little traffic. I truly felt like I was battling the wind all alone. It helps to have people to complain to, to tell about my troubles, to reason out my decisions with. It sounds so childish, and it is so childish, but it really does help to talk and complain a little. it’s not that I need other people to reaffirm my suffering or validate my frustrations against the weather. I think it’s just more the fact that I know I have people cheering for me even from a distance. I feel less isolated and not as alienated. In a weird way I get a lonely feeling biking in the strong headwinds because it hurts to see cars blaze by. Unaffected by the wind, they speed on like it’s any other day. It seems stupid, but it’s just what my mind thinks about. Maybe I have too much time alone with my thoughts. Complaining is a talking point. A reason for me to carry on my conversations.

At Destruction Bay a driver approached me and told me about his bikepacking experience across the continental United States. I was happy to have someone to talk to even for just a minute. I stocked up on food and sent back out to battle the wind. The early morning sun was slowly, giving way to increasing cloud cover, but there remained significant breaks in the sky. All morning I was working my way south east down the shore of the Kelauni Lake. The road skirts the foothills of the Kelauni National Park. Huge peaks rose straight from the shoulder of the road. The summits of many of these monstrous peaks were obscured in the clouds, but I could tell their statue was grand. I couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of these behemoths. My entire field of vision at times was taken up by the large peaks covered in fresh snowfall. The beauty allowed me to push the headwind out of my mind for brief moments. I finally reached the end of the lake and had to cross the inflow river. I entered into a massive valley, incredibly steep sidewalls on all sides that gave way to a pan flat wash at the bottom. The riverbed stretch two kilometers across, dead flat entire way. Where the river ends the mountains, waste no time in climbing straight up. The weather was nasty here with some of the strongest gusts of wind of the day. A foggy cloud cover that was descending from the peaks overshadowed the sky and great dark storm clouds boiled over the tall mountains. I could not even see up to the snow line, but I could just tell these mountains were huge. Glacial seracs were cascading into the valley from all around, peeling off the steep mountain walls. The river water was a dark, saltry, slate grey color. It almost looked like there was too much sediment in the water for it to be a liquid, like is should stop flowing as water and instead freeze as if it were q stone carving. There must be some massive glaciers up that valley. My suspicion was confirmed by multiple billboards advertising flights in which prop planes will take you up to the glaciers and land right on top of them. Across the valley I briefly turned north across the great span of riverbed. The wind sliced down the valley ripping over 40 miles, an hour sustained bringing with it sand and sediment the river has left behind over the years. Sand dunes splayed out across the valley and the wind carried fine particles of sand so rapidly that it stung my face. There was so much sand that visibility became low, and dunes were forming on the road. I attempted to capture videos of it, but the sidewind was so strong I could barely hold my bike up. What little footage I did capture you’ll have to wait to see in my mini documentary at the end of this trip. Upon crossing the river, the road turned north west, and I was gifted two miles of incredible tailwind. I didn’t even peddle, I just zipped along at about 20 miles an hour, carried by the wind like a ship with her sails out. What a glorious experience after fighting the wind for so long. To have it on my back even for just for a minute was a relief. The road eventually rounded out of the valley and turned back south east. I was confronted with a 10 mile one percent grade climb with winds that attacked me with renewed vigor. There was a little bit of sun left in the sky, but it was quickly disappearing. Dark storm clouds bloomed on the horizon, waiting for me menacingly at the top of the climb. For the next two hours I slogged up and over the climb onto the flatlands above. I could only manage to average 7 miles an hour for two hours straight. It was incredibly demoralizing to ride for 30 minutes and look back and still be on the same straightaway. But what can a boy do? Keep pushing. I had cell service at the top of the climb since I was looking down into Haines Junction. I checked in with my Dad and confirmed with him that Whitehorse should be a good place to stop for the night. 45° rain was pelting me and all my camping gear is already wet. I’ve been on the road for six days now and I’ve camped every single night. I eventually need to start stopping in hostels and hotels at night to charge my battery packs and allow my gear to dry out a little bit. I decided to make for a hotel in Whitehorse. I’ve made it through some of the most remote sections of my trip, and from here on it should be a little bit easier to find lodging at night if I want it. So far this trip there hasn’t been a single night where I’ve been anywhere close to civilization, even if I did want a hotel room. That will change very soon. For the next week, however, I will remain in the relatively unsettled wilderness that comprises the Yukon and British Columbia. A 1,200 foot descent led me into Haines Junction where I was able to stop at a small market and regroup. I wasn’t eating enough food the first couple of days in large part because there was just nowhere to stop. I had food with me, but it was all cold SPAM and a 3 pound bag of raw cashews. I had the calories if I needed them, but as you can imagine, I wasn’t too excited to dig into cold SPAM on the bike in the middle of the day. Now that I’m coming across town every 50 to 100 miles I have multiple places to stop every single day. It’s much easier to re-supply and make sure that I’m eating enough. It’s almost impossible for me to truly eat enough, and I think it is impossible for me to eat truly healthy food. If I were supported, this would be a much different matter, but carrying enough food on my person to last even a couple hours can be difficult. In an afternoon I’ll blow through 5000 calories easily. Sometimes when I stop I consume 4,000 to 6,000 calories in one sitting. Over the past year and a half I’ve been able to train my body to get used to consuming these massive feasts then hopping on the bike and keep riding. It took a while to get used to, but it’s a necessary skill to have. I can now get away with eating no dinner no breakfast and just consuming one massive meal in the middle of the day. This isn’t the best fueling strategy, obviously. I try to avoid it if possible, but when necessary, it works. It’s a good skill to have for this trip. When I arrived in Haines Junction it was after 2 o’clock and I had over 100 miles to go to Whitehorse. Normally, 100 miles after 2 o’clock wouldn’t be a big deal at all. That’s a pretty typical day actually. However, due to the wind and the rain, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it 100 miles. Regardless, I took some time to stop and regroup. I knew that if I went into the afternoon in such a shaky mindset that I would never finish regardless of the wind or the rain. I sat down and ate a solid meal. I was able to get some high-quality food for the afternoon, fresh, bananas, chocolate, covered raisins, good drinks, and plenty of granola bars. The wind was absolutely wearing me down, but at this point with my third day of it attacking me I was becoming a little bit desensitized to it. There’s still times when I want to yell and get mad and I’m constantly frustrated, but it’s impossible to be mad forever. It’s only a waste of energy to get mad at these things I can’t control. I’m trying to learn how to slowly accept things for what they are on the bike. It’s definitely something I need to work on. I still find it difficult to take these variables in stride at times. Miraculously as I left Haines, the rain subsided inland the wind all but stopped. I still had a 5 to 10 mile an hour headwind, but compared to what I had been in the morning that might as well have been a strong tailwind. I was so so happy. Being able to look down on my cycle computer and see double digit speed numbers again was incredibly uplifting. Even with the 10 mile an hour headwind, I could tap out 15 mile an hour average pretty easily. Given that that was twice the speed that I was going before lunch, I was pretty excited. At Haines I made a slight turn to the east opting for a due east direction instead of the southeast direction I have been going in. This change of course steers me away from the large mountains. The tall peaks must’ve been funneling tropospheric winds down into the valley because as soon as I left the foothills of the large peaks the wind became significantly more manageable. The rain stopped and I even saw blue sky. An hour and a half out of Haines I stopped to take off my rain gear and grab a little extra fuel for the last 80 mile push to Whitehorse. I tied all of my rain gear onto the bike bag on my saddle so that it would have a chance to dry. I was now heading due east in a valley embroidered in beautiful, yet much smaller mountains than before. These mountains were more mellow. Instead of jagged snow capped peaks, these mountains had rounded summits still covered in alpine vegetation. This is not to take away from their beauty, but rather to contrast them to the rugged crags of the Alaska Range that I have been cycling through the past three days. Since the wind was coming from the south east, and my valley ran out to thenEast, the winds were now oscillating in between a head wind and a side wind. Every time the wind turned—even for just a minute—to my side, my legs came alive and my speed ramped up dramatically. I found myself cruising at over 30 miles an hour on the flat sections. After 48 hours of struggling to reach 10 miles an hour, when, given the chance, my legs were more than happy to open. I slowly dragged my average speed from 11 1/2 miles an hour all the way up to almost 15 by the time I got to Whitehorse. At 2 o’clock in the afternoon getting to Whitehorse by that evening seemed like an impossibility. I was incredibly happy that I was able to make it after such a grueling day. In my mind the headwinds of the past three days present themselves as the first of many tests this journey will challenge me with. I may not have passed with flying colors as I did plenty of complaining along the way, however, I am glad to say can I have weathered the first storm, metaphorically and literally. As I came into Whitehorse the sun sank behind me and I was treated to one incredible sunset. The clouds lit up and every shade of pink and oranges exploded in the sky over my head. It really felt like someone was taking a paintbrush to the sky. As I slowly start to leave the mountains behind and enter into the Great Plains, one type of beauty will be replaced by another. While the sky is now confined by the upper reaches a 15,000 to 20,000 foot mountains, I will soon be out in the wide-open, and the sunrise and sunset will become all that more magnificent. This is not to suggest that I’m out of the mountains yet. I am absolutely still in the mountains and will be for the next couple of days. However, if all goes smoothly, I will be in Calgary in less than a week. I unfortunately cannot afford the luxury of taking Icefields Parkway through Banff and Jasper national parks. I am of the conviction that Icefields Parkway road is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen in my life, however, I will have to wait for different time to cycle it. For sake of speed, I have elected to go further east, around the mountains and to the plains. As long as the wind doesn’t hamper my progress too much it will be significantly faster from a distance and speed perspective. Looking at where I am, I can’t help but be happy with my progress, even if I wish I were further along. I know that I have what it takes. The past two days have been unfortunate, weather wise, but as soon as the stars align I am poised to make my mark. My fitness is there, the execution is there, the mental determination is there, and I am ready to get after it. At mile 59 today I officially hit 1000 miles on my trip. Although I would ideally be about 80 miles ahead of where I am right now, I know that if I hadn’t had such brutal winds the past 2-3 days, I absolutely would be ahead of even my most ambitious schedule. It’s useless to compare my progress against the world record for the time being. There are multiple reasons for this first being I honestly do not care about the world record. I have set a goal for myself of breaking 84 days and that is much more important to me than breaking any record will ever be. Secondly, it is way too early on to be comparing my splits to anyone else’s. This journey is so long and has so many different aspects that until I get at least 3,000 to 5000 Miles in I think any comparison is a waste of time. I will use my first night spent in a bed instead of a sleeping bag to recover and reset for tomorrow before heading back out into the Yukon wilderness. I still have several days of fighting through remote regions and sparse settlements, and if you believe the forecast, I am not done with the headwind.