Stuck in the mud… literally

The Rise Up Ride 2022: Days 84-86

Stuck in the Mud… Literally

Date: 14 July 2022

Start Location: Ft Macpherson, Northwest Territories 

End Location: Eagle Plains, Yukon Territories 

Distance/mode: 183 km / bike and hitching 

Latitude: 66° 52′ N

Today fell somewhere between Murphy's Law and the saying, "In everything the Gods hath made, there is a little crack". You can plan for almost everything, gear up for the worst weather, pack all the precautions, and then take that leap of faith, hoping that any one of several unpredictable showstopping events might not take place. It could have been a pulled muscle, a Grizzly bite through a tire in camp, or something more serious like the rental RV driver who didn't realize how far that right side mirror stuck out. It was not one of those. It was "gumbo."

Like many extreme events at the mercy of the weather, timing is everything. Assaulting big peaks, sailing through perilous seas, or pedaling across a vast wilderness down a sketchy road, all have limited windows of opportunity when the winds, temperature, and rain are favorable. I'd always feared that there might be a freak combination of conditions that might bring the expedition to a grinding halt. One of these possibilities was a lot of dust on the roadbed that got doused with rain, producing mud or worse. 

The Yukon and Northwest Territories have been suffering from a prolonged drought and heat wave, resulting in hundreds of fires, road closures, flash flooding from snow melt, choking smoke, and really dusty dirt roads. We needed the rain, and it arrived in buckets. 

Last night I camped at the Rock Creek Campground, just inside the Yukon, because I knew that they have a screened-in cooking shelter with an iron woodburning stove and picnic tables. I've slept indoors before at the Yukon Million Dollar Falls Campground cooking shelter and I knew that it was the best place in a storm. 

Yesterday's riding was raw, cold and windy. I rolled right on to the Peel River Ferry, off on the far bank, and started climbing, which turned into pushing, which turned into unhappiness. When Mike Knox pulled up in his truck to say hi, I was susceptible. He and I had met on Sunday when he was out flying survey drones outside of Tuktoyaktuk, mapping out a new fiber optic cable route. I asked him for a lift to the top of the pass. We talked fiber, mapping software, and about his hometown of Winnipeg. Mike saved me some climbing and pushing. Thanks. 

The weather was really closing in and visibility dropped to under 50 meters, particularly as the road disappeared upwards. I was questioning my life choices by the side of the road when Salome and Konrad pulled up heading my way. They are the lovely Swiss couple who rescued me in the deep gravel on Sunday south of Tuk. They pulled up waving and halloing and asking right away if I wanted another ride. I beat the storm to camp thanks to them and avoided about 1000 meters of gnarly 7-9% climbs. 

Things were going well. I was in camp early and since the entire campground was empty, I occupied the cooking shelter, which was a screened in almost bugfree zone. After five minutes using two mosquito coils that space was safe and I'd collected left firewood from the campsites. And then the rain started. The blessed, hoped-for rain that would put water in the rivers, extinguish the huge fires, and get rid of the darned dust. 

Erik pulled into the campground, on his personal journey of exploration and escape, but car camping. We sat by the roaring fire, in perfect buglessness, telling tales of long-ago international travel, fancy hotels, and highliving. He offered to schlep my bags 78 km down the road to the Eagle Plains Hotel (and vehicle towing/repair shop) called "An Oasis in the Wilderness." My bags were here waiting for me after Jordan and Mary, my new friends on the road maintenance crew, dropped me off at the "power washer" so I could get my wheels turning again. It has been one hell of a fucking adventure today but I'm safe and warm in the hotel now. 

The one thing that I couldn't plan for, the weather window, had closed. Last night's storm had dropped millimeters of rain on the accumulated dust to create a type of mud that they call "gumbo." I was riding south from Rock River, without panniers, banging up and down the hills in about 6° temps when the road surface shifted from a brown sharp shale gravel to long slick sections of mud. As much as I tried riding around the slick spots this crap started building up on everything close to the wheels. And just like that the whole operation ground to a halt. 40 km north of the Arctic Circle, on the shoulder of a really bad road as far as possible as you can get almost anywhere in the world, with my gear 44 km away, and it is now storming again. 

I used the Garmin InReach Mini 2 satellite messaging transponder to send Pam my GPS coordinates and the message that I had broken down and was going to try and hitchhike to Eagle Plains. Minutes turned to more than twenty minutes and no cars were heading either direction on the Dempster Highway. What I didn't know was that the Peel River Ferry had broken down earlier this morning, blocking all traffic coming south from past McPherson. Word was spreading on the CB channel and folks were stopping in Eagle Plains rather than get stuck up the road. After about an hour with two cars who stopped but had no room, the Yukon Highway crew loaded me and my inoperable bicycle into their truck. They dropped me at the only tool that I needed to fix my bike; fhe power washer at the vehicle maintenance area next to the hotel and restaurant. 

That high-pressure washer obliterated the gumbo, a process that I oddly enjoyed. I blasted away three months of gunk, all of the grime and lubricant on my chain (relubed), and every bit of that sticky brown cement wedged into every space around my fenders, frame, racks, and into the derailleur (relubed.) 

I checked into the Eagle Plains Hotel and changed my reservation from one night to two. I'm tired and need a break. I'd like to explore this historic place full of photos, taxidermy, good food, electricity, wifi, running water and a good place to sit tomorrow and examine my options, looking at the weather and gathering reports on the condition of the road. And, if I don't have the right tires, am carrying too much gear for the upcoming mountain passes, or might encounter more gumbo, here is the spot to arrange a lift to Tombstone Campground.