The Rise Up Ride: Day 122-128, Visiting the Kates in the Land of Closed Borders
Date: 22-28 August 2021
Start Location: Haines Junction, Yukon
Middle Location: Atlin, British Columbia
End Location: Haines Junction, Yukon
I woke on Sunday morning in an old Yukon Fire Service wall tent at the Wanderer's Inn Backpackers Hostel with a 700 km hangover, ready to stop pedaling, admit that I was tired and, like Forrest Gump, start heading back home.
Within minutes of sending @kateoffmars an email explaining that I was having a Monument Valley Moment, all the linked gadgets began buzzing, beeping, and blinking as an important message from Atlin arrived. In that instant, trail magic happened so hard that my head spun. A new path, possibly leading into the day's cloudless blue skies, opened in front of me. I was jolted by the real possibility that my dream of soaring up and above this magnificent wilderness might actually happen and that I might finally reach the ultimate destination of this adventure, the Kates' cabin in Atlin. And it all started to happen quickly.
".. stash your gear, get ready to travel as lightly as possible (less weight in the plane the better, but dress warmly!), and get yourself to the Haines Junction airport to meet me."
Kate Harris is legend. She was legend at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar, legend at MIT writing her thesis on the history of adventure, and legend as a writer and photographer on our Earth Negotiations Bulletin Team. Our paths have overlapped in adventures and work for years, out on the Masaii Mara, as her boss at a dozen or more international environmental policy meetings all over the world, and even on bicycles at the Friendship Bridge in Nepal on the border with Tibet where I rode up from Kathmandu to hear the stories first-hand that would soon become her award-winning novel, "Lands of Lost Borders: Out of Bounds on the Silk Road". One February afternoon a decade ago during the Trondheim Conference on Biodiversity I casually asked if she had anything planned after we finished writing the meeting report. "I'm skiing across Norway, pulling a sled." Did I mention that it was February? WTF! Kate is legend.
Kate's plane, LEO (Low Earth Orbit), a vintage yellow, black and white 1957 Cessna 172, pulled to a stop over the rubber run-up pad on the crushed rock runway. The plan was to follow the Alcan Highway to Whitehorse, refuel and head down the Tagish with a detour over the freaking massive Juneau Icefield, land in Atlin, where I'd spend two nights in their Tent Cabin/Writing Room, and we'd fly back to Haines Junction on Tuesday.
Wittgenstein wrote about the insufficiency of words as packages to contain some things, and said, "What can be shown, cannot be said", so I'll attach photos. But neither these pixelated moments, nor superlatives, can capture the wholly immersive magical experience of flying in a tiny plane through this magnificent wilderness. The Juneau Icefield, home to more than 40 glaciers, including Mendenhall, is otherworldly in its beauty. We flew, both of us gobsmacked with awe at how these mountains, lakes, islands, glaciers, forests, sand dunes (yes!), and wildlife rolled in a carpet of shifting colors before us under azure skies. It was a uniquely sparkling day, perfect for flying, and we were sitting in the 4000 ft catbird's seat all afternoon. This day, this homestay, will be brightly seared into my brain as a treasured experience. Thank you so much, Kate²!
Now, back in Haines Junction, I'm plotting the final riding days of The Rise Up Ride, up and over Haines Summit, across the border and back to Haines, Alaska. My ferry sails on Saturday, 4 September, so there's no hurry and I want to savor this stretch of road, often referred to as one of the most scenic highways in Canada. Originally a First Nations trail, it was heavily traveled by the Klondike Gold Rush miners at the end of the 19th century. Improved following the Japanese invasion of Alaska during WWII, when it was used as an additional route over the mountains to the newly constructed Alaska Highway. The Haines Highway was built to help move war materials forward to the Alcan in case Japanese bombers took out the pass above the other deep-water port at Skagway. For a touring adventure cyclist, this route scores bonus points for: a) transiting multiple borders (the Yukon, British Columbia, and the international border into Alaska); b) three days of riding without any services such as stores, hotels or restaurants ; c) good pavement with very few cars; d) mountain passes with a classic long descent at the finish down to sea level; and, e) dangerous wildlife. It's one of my collection of routes, like the Denali Road, that must be ridden. This one could be epic. Further!
