STAGE 1: ALASKA - THE LAST FRONTIER
Anchorage, 01.06.2009
We have finally reached Anchorage, the largest metropolis in Alaska. After an almost 24-hour flight, a missed connecting flight, visa delays, lively discussions with a non-result orientated character when entering the USA, we stand at the baggage claim and wait in vain for our bike boxes.
They had disappeared for the time being. 24 hours and countless discussions and phone calls later, we are finally able to receive our badly deformed boxes.
Alaska - the tour can begin. Large-engined SUVs and pick-ups characterise the streetscape, WalMart sells hunting rifles and shotguns right next to the household goods department. Honey, please bring me 500g of butter, 3 litres of Coke, a shotgun and nappies.
Our first destination is Tok, 520 kilometres away on the Alaska Highway in the north-east of Anchorage. We'll be back in a few days with more detailed impressions.
STAGE 2: DIFFICULT START
Glennallen, 09.06.2009
"Damn," Christoph grunts audibly. He rides his mountain bike in front of me. As he avoids the huge potholes, his mountain bike sways menacingly. I curse under my breath and hope that the rims and spokes can withstand the strain.
The panniers are stuffed full of equipment and food for ten days, the mountain bikes are completely overloaded. Three jars of peanut butter - spooned neat - serve as a quick source of energy - pasta, couscous and rice with olive oil and parmesan. Plus oatmeal, cornflakes and milk powder for breakfast. Not much really, but the mass adds weight.
It doesn't help that the two-lane motorway has a wide, pothole-free hard shoulder where cycling is permitted. Even the heavily laden lorries and monstrous American pickups switch to the left lane to keep a proper distance from us. The landscape resembles the Swiss Alps, only with much more space. But that is of secondary importance for now. I have to make sure that my mountain bike doesn't start to shake at 40 km/h. "Yes, we need to shed some weight," I try to calm Christoph down.
The tour begins with a few challenges. The American immigration officer doesn't trust the financing of our tour and suspects that we are illegally seeking work in the USA - possibly planning to enter illegally. "What kind of job is it where you can stay away for six months?" the official asks his superior over the phone, who eventually authorises our entry. Of course, not without an urgent lecture. Meanwhile, our connecting flight has already taken off with our luggage. After 24 hours of travelling, we find our panniers at Ted Stevens Airport in Anchorage, but our mountain bikes have disappeared for the first time. "Luggage never disappears with us, you'll get your bikes back", Jennifer - the friendly employee at Alaska Airlines - reassures us. One anxious day later, we do indeed get our Storck Rebel Race mountain bikes back. The tour can begin.
As we glide along the Glenn Highway - wobble would be more accurate - I cross off unnecessary items of equipment in my mind. In Palmer - a small town 80 kilometres behind Anchorage - we send 7 kg of equipment ahead to our destination. The evening meals were bigger anyway to reduce the food stock.
At last, the mountain bikes glide smoothly over the tarmac, the frame lies stiffly on the road on descents at 60 kilometres per hour. Alaska - now we have an eye for you! The vegetation resembles a disorganised Christmas tree plantation - small and narrow. Dense bushes in between. Occasionally a lake and the snow-capped mountains stretch out on the horizon. A mixture of the Black Forest and the Swiss Alps - only deserted. The Glenn Highway meanders in gentle curves through the almost untouched landscape. A cow moose crosses the road with her young and disappears into the thicket. We take our first rest day at the Matanuska Glacier and enjoy the vastness and silence.
Stage 3: REVIEW
Tok, 13.06.2009
"Do you want more coffee, boys?" asks the friendly waitress. Of course Philipp and Christoph want another coffee. With temperatures below 10°C and two days of rain, coffee comes in handy. Cold and wet are just as much a part of a bike tour as sunshine.
Philipp looks out of the window. They are sitting less than 20 metres from the junction of the Tok Cut Off and Alaska Highway 1, the only road into remote Alaska.
Highway is an exaggeration. It's a wide two-lane road, littered with cracks. 30°C in summer and down to -40°C in winter are hard on the Alaska Highway. All around, plenty of space, a few wooden huts, log cabins and lots of wild forest. Heavy lorries hum northwards, supplying even the most remote regions with the essentials. And countless coach-sized motorhomes with small cars attached characterise the streetscape.
Philipp and Christoph, the two fresh engineers, ask themselves a completely different question: "How did this TransCanada Tour actually come about again?". The two know each other from their time at the Weinbacher Wandervogel - for more than 16 years now. They were travelling on foot in the Tunisian desert. They travelled from Frankfurt to Mauritania through the Sahara in an old van - and back. The two of them know each other by now and know when to keep their mouths shut for the sake of peace.
Getting out again after university, starting something big. That was the idea. The economic crisis came at just the right time and silenced all the critics. It was actually a spontaneous decision.
The tour starts in Anchorage. Neither of them had heard of Alaska before, but the name alone is synonymous with adventure, bears and wilderness. They travel southwards through the Canadian Rocky Mountains, through the Yukon Territory to British Columbia and Alberta to Banff and Jasper National Park. Then through the prairies of Sasketchewan and Manitoba - the breadbasket of Canada. Square miles of fields are lined up endlessly. Through the deep forests of Ontario, we travel through autumnal Quebec to the second largest Canadian and francophone city of Montreal. Getting to know the second largest country in the world with all its facets is the idea behind the TransCanada Tour.
"Nice tour" was the reaction when the two revealed their plan to their circle of friends. "Which car did you choose?" "What car? With the mountain bike!" In their eyes, a "still in one piece?" merely a simple "Oh" crosses their lips. The two want to cover 7200 kilometres in just under six months on their Storck Rebel Race. Why, why, why? "What you should really do is everything that makes your heart sing - if not now, then when," says Christoph dryly.
The two of them are now sitting in the Grumpy Grizz Café on the Alaska Highway. The courteous waitress has refilled their coffee for the third time. "Come on, let's order a burger and fries. I finally need something on my ribs." grins the athletically slim Philipp.
Stage 4: Battle against the elements
Whitehorse, 26 June 2009
Is the Yukon Territory cursed? Doomed to remain a deserted, inhospitable and cold patch of earth in the Canadian north-west - for all eternity. Or so it seems. After all, the Yukon is home to just 30,000 inhabitants in an area a third larger than Germany. The harsh elements of the Yukon give the two cyclists a day's respite before revealing their true colours. Rain and a whipping headwind prepare the sun-kissed men for the days ahead.
It's damn cold. There are no more rest days. Why should there be, the chocolate bars and peanut butter are empty. There is hardly any traffic on the frost-bitten Alaska Highway. "If it stays this quiet, this will be my worst year in the last 25 years," says petrol station owner Jeff. He still runs a petrol station-beer shop-campsite in the solitude of Alaska. "No electricity, no water supply, a telephone line from the Second World War, no taxes, 40,000m² of land and a licence to sell alcohol. Let's say €125,000" Jeff offered his business for sale. Philipp thinks about it. The mountain bikers soon realise just how promising a petrol station/beer shop/campsite on the godforsaken 300-kilometre stretch between Beaver Creek and Haines Junction is. "There are two. The rest are broke and abandoned!" says 73-year-old Maggy, who runs one of the two petrol stations with her husband Jim. The petrol station resembles a rustic garden shed. It combines a kitchen, living room, souvenir shop and grocery shop all in one. Their petrol station on the deserted White River is open from May to September.
Like many other "snowbirds", Jim and Maggy spend the rest of the year in their spacious motorhome in the Arizona desert. In the winter months, veritable campervan towns spring up there. Christoph and Philipp buy a 1-kilo peanut butter jar and sit down with the older couple. A wood-burning stove provides cosy warmth. While the bikers savour their peanut butter - expiry date 2006 - the couple, who have been married for 54 years, bicker as they did on the first day. "It's a very simple life up here," says Maggy. But judging by her humour and zest for life, it's also a happy life. As we say goodbye, Jim mentions that the petrol station is also for sale and that the White River has lots of fish. A functioning infrastructure is also so far away here that it tends to be kept quiet. However, there are plenty of bears and moose in the surrounding forests.
Philipp thinks about it. Kilometre after kilometre, always in a whistling headwind, he continues through the lonely expanse of the Yukon. Lost in thought, Philipp spies a brown dog's fur in the ditch. His subconscious immediately alerts him: BEAR! "Bear!" Philipp yells to Christoph, who realises immediately and swerves into the oncoming lane. "Hi bear, are you OK?" Philipp waves to the grizzly, who immediately stands on his hind paws to catch the scent. Christoph rings his bear bell attached to the handlebars. Christoph and Philipp are wide awake. They are not afraid. Rather a joyful anticipation of what is about to happen. Seconds pass. Nothing happens at all. The bear takes another quick look and turns his attention back to his plants. "He looked really cute." Christoph comments on the first bear encounter. Philipp is already annoyed by the rising wind again. Full of anticipation for the rapid descent after the arduous ascent, however, disillusionment follows. A biting headwind turns the mood around. "Yukon, you won't get us down!" they both shout defiantly into the increasingly strong headwind.
Stage 5: North American camping
Grand Prairie, 22.07.09
Let's be honest for once. If we could do as we pleased, we would choose the "big one" in all situations. For example, when we go to the cinema. Big popcorn and big cola. Big enough to last until the end of the film. And not the usual way - after 15 minutes, only the ice cubes rattle in the cup and the unpopped corn sticks stingingly between your teeth and gums. Or let's take the evening classic in German pubs: "A pint [a litre of delicious beer] and a grain, please" orders the formerly athletic gentleman. "But Hans-Günther, you're still cycling and besides, it wouldn't do your figure any harm if you cut down a bit," interjects the caring wife - in a high-pitched voice. "Okay, then just have a bike," resigns the formerly athletic gentleman with slumped shoulders.
You see, we would all vote big if we could. Wondering what that has to do with camping in North American? Camping in North American is like the country - big. Here it is still possible to choose "big". The space available on the roads, the vastness and diversity of the North American continent and, of course, the ridiculously low fuel prices compared to Germany (USA: approx. €0.40/litre Canada: approx. €0.57/litre) make this possible. Moreover, a normal driving licence (Germany: class B or formerly class 3) is sufficient to drive a motorhome the size of a coach.
The camper community is divided into "full-timers" - mostly gentlemen of mature age - and "part-timers". The fulltimers live in their 5-star hotels on wheels all year round. In the warm summer months, the "fulltimers" can be found all over North America. In the winter months, which in some Canadian latitudes begins as early as October, the "Fulltimers" and the "Winter Parttimers" unite to form the "Snowbirds" and escape the northern cold to the warmer southern states of the USA. "Fulltimers" and "Parttimers" have one thing in common - their very large travelling vehicles. Let's start with the smallest type of travelling companion - the motorbike. For the Harley Davidson fan, there are folding trailers with a matching Harley look in which up to two people can spend the night.
The Truck Camper is the next level. The truck camper is a detachable living area that can be placed on the loading area of a pickup in just a few simple steps. It contains a king-size bed, a fully equipped kitchen with oven and microwave and a bathroom - everything you need when travelling. The living space is further increased by extending the side walls.
The "5th Wheel" is the next level up for pickup owners. The "5th Wheel" is connected to the pickup by a saddle plate mounted on the pickup bed - just like on a lorry. The advantage of a "5th Wheel" is its better road holding and more space compared to a truck camper. With a weight of seven tonnes for such a caravan, a powerful tractor unit is of course necessary. Ford is generously offering its vehicles at employee conditions this summer (up to 30% discount). A 350 hp Ford pickup (V10 engine; 6.8 litre capacity; fuel consumption: negligible) is available for around €24,000.
The king of travelling vehicles is the "motorhome". Of course, all the variants known in Europe are also available in this country. That's why we're going to focus on the coach-sized motorhomes. With a weight of up to 30 tonnes, a length of 14 metres and a fuel consumption of 30 litres of diesel/100 km - with an age-appropriate driving style - these travel vehicles represent the premier class. An ordinary driving licence (class 3) is sufficient to drive the rolling 5-star hotels. The limited manoeuvrability of the touring vehicle due to its size is compensated for by taking along a car. This is connected to the touring vehicle via a drawbar.
As the need for comfort increases with age, these luxury vehicles offer everything you can imagine. At least two televisions, a double-door fridge, a washing machine, a tiled bathroom, a king-size bed and automatic height equalisation with hydraulic supports. Whatever you can imagine, the luxury vehicle has it. Truly brave and adventurous owners chase their US$1.5 million vehicle along North America's dream roads during the sunny months. Roads with names like Dempster Highway, Dalton Highway or Top of the World Highway - all gravel tracks. (Click here for more pictures and then on Photo Galleries at the bottom left) So why go "small" when you can go "big". "Oh," says the lady as she lovingly strokes her husband's belly - on which you could already place a glass of wheat beer - "Hans-Günther, today you can treat yourself to something delicious for dinner." The gleam in Hans-Günther's eyes is like that of a child who has just inherited a chocolate factory.
