2010 Dust to Dawson Adventure
Participants: Phil, Annette, Wym, Marty, Norman, Bill, Derek, Brenden
Wednesday, June 23rd
We met in the MotoQuest Tours parking lot at around 8:30AM. The riders came from all over the United States, with only one representative from Canada. Three of the riders had never been to Alaska before. The skies were overcast and the temperature hovered around 60 degrees.
Our goal for the day was the town of Tok – some 340 miles away. It would be all paved for the entire day, and we would be passing through or by 3 different mountain ranges.
Wym and Annette are from California, U.S.A
When starting the tour, there are many odds and ends to be done: Adjust clutch and break levers, break lever and shifters to fit the clients. Talk about the buddy system. Hand out the daily route maps. Talk about the ride out of Anchorage and our first rally point. Take pictures. Tell stories. Wonder when the first motorcycle will break down.
After an hour, we were finally ready to start our journey. Our destination: Dawson City, Yukon Territory! We would be participating in the ADV Rider motorcycle gathering “Dust 2 Dawson”. After that, we were scheduled to head south to Whitehorse, take a ferry from Skagway, Alaska to Haines, Alaska, and then finish our tour by crossing the Denali Highway back in Alaska on our way back to Anchorage. In all, we would do a large figure eight in Alaska, the Yukon Territory and British Columbia. 10 days of riding: Should be great!
We pulled out of Anchorage and were on the highway without incident. I lead the group to our first rally point, Mirror Lake, about 20 miles out of town. It always seemed to be a welcomed stop about 20 miles after each tour started. A good time to adjust your bike, get rid of some coffee, and talk about the ride.
Bill is from Toronto, Canada
As we pulled into the Mirror Lake parking lot, Derek, from Twisted Throttle, who would be sweeping for most of the trip, was shaking his head. His bike had cut out. Although it was a 2008 Kawasaki KLR, it had been giving us trouble, and we thought we had fixed it. Not such the case. So, we left Derek in the parking lot with the tool kit, and the expectation that Jason, our mechanic working back at our shop, would bring out a replacement KLR for him so the show would go on.
The rest of the group headed east on the Glenn Highway. The roads were dry as we took curve after curve alongside the Matanuska River. After a while, the Matanuska Glacier appeared below us in all of its grandeur. Although I was born and raised in Alaska, the site of a glacier always amazed me. This glacier in particular packed a full punch. This massive moving river of ice serpentined its way out of the mountains before us. Distinct lines in the glacier produces a racing line effect on the massive creature. The lines were contrasts of ice verses gravel that had been ground up, and carried away with the advance of it. You could see where the glacier had deposited a large mound of gravel, the terminal moraine, and had receded from there. Somewhere out of sight, high in the mountains, snow had fallen and over time compressed to form compact ice. The ice then slowly inched its way out of the valley due to the push of gravity. This glacier, if you were able to speed up time, was flowing in front of us, but melting at a faster rate than it could advance. From our perspective, it was standing still. In geological time, it was flowing like a river.
Derek is from Massachusetts, U.S.A.
We sped on towards Glennallen and the road flattened out. Dark clouds loomed in the immediate distance, so I pulled over and the group put on rain gear. I was hoping that this act alone would stave off the clouds, but to no effect. The rain started and kept up for most of the rest of the day. Pity, as we were passing by the tallest mountains on the continent in the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. The park itself is the largest national park in the united States. Coupled with the Kluane National Park, just on the Canadian side of the border, the two parks make the largest National Park in the World. Wrangell-St. Elias boasted 9 of the 16 tallest peaks in North America. Big volcano country. Ask any experienced bush pilot where their favorite flying is, and they will not hesitate: Wrangell-St. Elias provided unfathomable raw natural scenery beyond compare to anywhere in Alaska. And this is a state where untouched nature starts as you step out of the airport!
Marty is from Florida, U.S.A.
Sheets of rain stopped the group at the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park information center in Slana. As I pulled up I had to laugh. More riders from Anchorage were hunkered down out of the rain. All day, we had been passed by adventure bike after adventure bike, loaded down and headed to Dawson. Though not an exodus by any means, you started to understand by the trickle of riders passing or being passed throughout the day that there was something special that was going to happen. I had been told by Alaska riders that the Dust to Dawson motorcycle gathering was an event not worth missing. It was so far removed from the main stream and it combined adventurous riders of Canada and Alaska. Many riders were from all over the world. The town of Dawson would be turned upside-down by motorcycles for this two day event. This would be my first time, and I was excited. Many riders from Alaska had been going to this gathering every year. I wanted to see why.
Norman is from North Carolina, U.S.A.
We rode as a group into Tok that evening. The rain let up, the roads dried, and the Mentasta Mountain Range started to show off. We passed no buildings for long periods of time. Nature overwhelmed us. We pulled into Tok and got our rooms. We stood outside our rooms in the warm sun, taking in the moment and sipping on beer. The group was starting to get familiar with each other, and stories were being told and you could feel them all start to relax. The day had been a good one, and tomorrow would be even more fun, as we were headed into Canada!
Thursday June 24th:
We woke to clear skies and 70 degree weather in Tok. And as we crossed the parking lot to Fast Eddy’s, I looked up into the sky and knew it was going to be a great day of riding. Already, there was a small group of adventure motorcycles gathered in front of the restaurant, all covered with dirt and with knobby tires. Mostly BMWs were represented, after that, KLRs.
Most of them had Alaska plates. Dust to Dawson has been going on since the 90's, when it started as an informal gathering of friends who just headed to Dawson City to have a good time. Now it attracts nearly 200 riders, and the center of Dawson is cordoned off and taken over by this growing number of adventure riders. The organizers were quick to point out that this was NOT a rally. There were no fees to be paid, no vendors selling wares. Rather, it was a small group of volunteers hosting and organizing the event. This one was not for the mainstream, and it clearly came from the heart.
Downtown Chicken, Alaska
Throughout the day, we saw more and more riders passing us and being passed. As we pulled onto the Taylor Highway, we stopped at an overlook. KLRs and Beemers wizzed past in twos and threes. You could feel the excitement building….these riders were all headed to Dawson City.
The ride itself was nice. Unobstructed views of the Alaska Range in the far distance, and a carpet of greenery in all directions as far as the eye could see. The road made its way along the hill tops and I felt as if I was going out to sea….entering an ocean of wilderness.
We pulled into the town of Chicken, and you could feel the excitement building. Adventure bikes of all kinds littered the town center. Chicken was named so because nobody in this far away gold rush outpost could spell Ptarmigan. There was not much to Chicken save for a couple of buildings, run way, gas pumps, t-shirt gift shop, a bar and a small restaurant. An abandoned dredge stood silent, watching it all.
By now, I recognized many of the riders, since we had been leap-frogging all morning and the day before.
Taylor Highway, Alaska
After a while of riding out of Chicken, we came to the Canadian Customs, showed our passports, and officially entered the Yukon Territory. The time change was one hour ahead. The skies were still clear and the ride on the Top of the World was extraordinary. Every vista presented unfathomable vastness.
Waiting in line for Canadian Customs
After about 30 miles of riding, we came upon a turn off for Clinton Creek. It was a road that I had wanted to ride for some time, and since it was still early in the day, we decided to explore. I had been told about this by several riders, and I wanted to see this long forgotten piece of Gold Rush history for myself. The road descended for 20 miles to the shores of the Yukon River. An old asbestos mine was on one fork of the road, and the old town of 40 Mile was on another. 40 Mile was the original place that gold was discovered in the Yukon. It used to be a thriving little community, and now it was lost in nature. It sat at the confluence of the 40 Mile and Yukon River.
Downtown 40 Mile: Watch the soft parking lot!
We hit the Yukon and followed a four wheel track about a mile to the town site. The Canadian government was investing in the restoration of the town, and tools and fresh cut wood paneling and beams and tools were spread around. The grass had been cut. Only a few buildings remained, and no one was around. There was a cabin with a guest book for signers. We walked down to the confluence, and there were several picnic tables, tents sights and grills under a canopy of birch trees. It was quiet. “So this is where it all started” I thought to myself.
We backtracked to the main road and blasted into Dawson. After so many miles of nothing but wilderness, it was strange to see all the building nestled together along the Yukon River far below. The ferry was free, as are most the ferries in Canada, and we boarded and crossed the mighty Yukon. Soon, we were in downtown Dawson with its boardwalks and false-fronted buildings…it was like another time. Add to this the excitement of having so many dual sport motorcycles parked down the main street, and it was just plain fun.
We parked in front of the Downtown Hotel amongst a long line of motorcycles. The peanut gallery was up and running on full cylinders, and as we were unpacking we listened to their light-hearted banter. Many of the participants of Dust to Dawson had been coming for 10 years running.
Bill and Annette look on to Dawson City from the ferry.
That night we got nestled in at our hotel, ate some dinner, and recounted the day. So much had passed, and we knew it was only just the beginning.
Dawson held a magic that few towns did. It was started as a supply and commercial center for the surrounding miners before 1898. It had also been an entertainment center since its inception. In short, Dawson city has and always would be a party town. Though it was spread out and quiet, there was some kind of electricity in the air. Young people drifted around the streets, live music was being played by impromptu accordion and banjo players…older tourists poked in and out of gift shops. Police were seldom seen and laughter could be heard on the wind. Set on the banks of the mighty Yukon River, Dawson was the place to be.
Dust to Dawson was not just a motorcycle gathering, it was a brotherhood, a family. Many of the riders knew each other already and those that were new faces soon became new friends.
Friday, June 25th.
The day started with a late breakfast. We signed up for the poker run which was held on the 60-mile loop road around King Solomon's dome..the very area where the first gold strikes happened near Dawson. We were all handed a piece of paper with a picture of all the cards in the deck. We drew the first card upon sign up. Volunteers were stationed at certain points along the route, waiting with a deck of cards. As you walked up to each checkpoint, you were asked to split the deck and then choose one card. This was a great way to have some fun while riding the most historically significant part of the Klondike Gold Rush.
After a couple of hours we were back in Dawson and the town was buzzing! Adventure motorcycles of all sizes, shapes, and makes littered the streets. Walking the long line of bikes only got you more excited to go on an adventure. Though most bikes were from Alaska, many had Canadian plates. Some had come as far as Europe.
Poker Run Lookout
It was evident this was a different kind of motorcycle event. In total, 177 bikes made the journey. Having just come from Americade , where the majority of the 60,000 participants where riding Harleys and Goldwings, this was another animal altogether. During the entire week at Americade, I had seen just a handful of adventure motorcycles. Now, they were in all directions!
The atmosphere was open and inviting. Riders visited quietly in the streets. Tourists strolled by, looking on curiously. Dawson City, with it's false-fronted buildings, live music drifting through the streets, and the constant buzz of motorcycles passing through, this far-away crossroads scratched the adventure inch.
That evening the riders gathered in the main hall of the town for a sit down steak dinner. This was the biggest building in town, and it would hold 136 hungry riders. Since 1898, this entertainment hall had been hosting events. It had a stage up front and three levels of seating. We all sat on the main floor while then organizers held the show on stage.
Awards were given out: One for the rider who had ridden from the farthest point (Florida won out over Australia, since the Aussie started his ride with his bike from Los Angelas). There was an award for the rider who had the biggest oopsy. The master of ceremonies, Dennis, told us that Dust 2 Dawson started as a group of friends years ago, and has turned into something else. He had us offer a moment of silence, in memory of friends who have passed away, and could not be with us. As the evening progressed under the lofted ceiling over the hall. We were in the heart of the Yukon. You could not help but think you are a part of community, a family. Everyone there went WAY out of their way to be there. Many had been coming back for years. Friends, solo riders, fathers and daughter were all in attendance.
After the dinner and a long string of prizes handed out, the banquet was over, and the riders flooded into the street. Next order of business was the biker games. Front and center of the Dawson Downtown Hotel, the team pterodactyl boys were setting up the playing field. Downtown Dawson was roped off. The Dualsport Olympics began. The Slow race, the blindfold distance competition, the ball throw, the weenie eating. All in good fun and on all sorts of bikes set up for long distances on gravel. Knobby tires were everywhere.
The games lasted for 3 solid hours with many laughs the entire evening. At 12:00pm, the group gathered for a photo by Jim. Direct sunlight added a twist as we all cheesed. Indeed, 177 riders gathered so far north and off the grid, What a bunch we were!. At the bar, riders were drinking the drink of their choice poured over a dead guy's toe.
After the event, we strolled over to Diamond Tooth Gernies and had a drink. Card tables, a stage, full bar....it felt authentic. Dawson always did this. After Gernies, handing out beers for motorcycle stories seemed like the right thing to do.
Saturday, June 26th
Not a cloud in the sky as we rolled out of bed for a 330 miler. We got a late start arranging a plan b, but thanks to mike and team pterodactyl, we were out of town around 10:30am. We kept a steady pace throughout the day. The mountains never stopped. Enough was riding out of Alaska, and always seeing sharp mountains everywhere. But now, after two more days of riding into Canada, they were never ending. The paved two laner breezed past lakes and through miles of untouched forests.
We arrived in Whitehorse sun-tanned. The Yukon River had been our traveling companion since Dawson. There, the river was choked with silt from glacial runoff. In Whitehorse, the river ran clear with a swift current. The mighty Yukon River. The thread that bound a network of villages. A mighty highway in summer and especially in the winter. Salmon travel the river. They enter the river's mouth in Alaska over two thousand miles away, and make their way to Canada (technically an illegal border crossing), to spawn. Amazing journey that, as salmon stop eating when they enter fresh water, and somehow hone in on the very water they came from.
Sunday, June 27th
We pointed in the way of Skagway, And cracked the throttle open.
Dropping into Skagway, Alaska
We were constantly leap-frogging other riders from Dawson. At one point we stopped at some sand dunes at Carcross. They looked curious, being so far north. One of the other riders decided to cross the dunes, and jumped on a Honda Transalp and climbed up to a distant saddle. On his way back, his image was shifting through heat waves. With the dunes in the background, you could not guess by a picture alone that we were in northern Canada.
The skies were clear and the temperature was around 70 degrees. The Californians were getting a tan. "I can't believe how warm it is!", commented Annette.
All the mountains were out as we crossed the pass into Alaska. Rugged rocks and inter-locking lakes danced at the feet of snow-capped mountains. The pavement was dry, smooth and banked, making the ride a real treat. We crossed back into Alaska, and enjoyed the last few miles into Skagway. A thick canopy of trees lined the roadway until we hit town. The itinerary was only 120 miles, so after we checked into the hotel, several of the group wanted to exploring. We backtracked out of town and followed the road to Dyea.
Road to Dyea, Alaska
Dyea was the jumping off point for those going over the Chilkoot Pass during the Gold Rush. The town site was located in a marshy part of the bay, and so supplies had to be shipped to the town of Skagway, a deep water port, and hauled overland to Dyea. This day, almost nothing remained of the town but the cemetery. This was where many lost their lives during the disastrous avalanche of 1898, which killed hundreds of miners climbing the trail.
Out on the marsh flats wild Irises abounded. Hundred of purple peddles wagered in the wind. Trails led in all directions, and we rode around what felt to be a KLR play ground, complete with mud, single track bridges and water crossings. Annette strolled around the flower beds taking pictures while Wym, her husband, crossed streams on his Suzuki V-Strom 650. Both had big smiles on their faces. Was this paradise?
We stopped at the cemetery. I contemplated what it would have been like to be a miner back in the day. What excitement and tragedy they lived. Not many of the the tomb stones had dates after 1900.
On they ride back to Skagway I could do nothing more than smile. The weather was excellent and we could see mountain tops to the distant horizon. The road skirted the ocean. Steep mountains exploded upwards all around us as a bald eagle flew by. Yup, we were in Alaska!
The group overlooks Skagway
Monday, June 28th.
We had to get up at the 6:00AM to catch the ferry to Haines, Alaska. It would be a short trip -about an hour- but very scenic. There was a group of about 20 motorcycle lined up ready to board the ferry when we arrived. Most of the riders we recognized from the Dust to Dawson gathering. By now, we had met them at so many points along the way, it was like a big group of friends.
We board the ferry at Skagway
The narrow passage to Haines was short and unforgettable. Snow capped peak after now capped peak glided silently by. The wind was non-existent. Glaciers came and glaciers went. We were lucky with the weather and this presentation of glaciated mountains was astounding. The Alaska Marine Highway ferry really came through. We hooked a right turn and we docked in Haines.
I had an old riding friend named Steve who lived in Haines. He had a Triumph Tiger with full knobbies. He used to race in upstate New York, moved to Alaska, and has been up here ever since. He had a couple rides in mind, and, with a couple of extra friends from the D2D gathering, we followed Steve on his favorite rides out of Haines. First, we headed south to the Chilkat State Park, home to the Chilkat River. This was a very special river, which hosted the largest concentration of bald eagles on earth. Within 15 miles of river, some 3,000+eagles called the Chilkat River valley home. They came looking for salmon during the winter. The Chilkat had a super late run of Chum Salmon in winter. This type of late run of salmon is very uncommon in the area and brought food and eagles along with it.
As we rode south along the delta, over 20 Bald Eagles could be seen, hopping around the tide line. We stopped for a while at the State Park. It was a sight to see: directly opposite us a hanging glacier, with a cascading waterfall. The air was incredibly clear. The shriek cry of Bald Eagles could be heard from a nearby tree. The air had the scent of fresh salt. An impressive sight. Still the screech of eagles...I looked over to see three: two juvenile eagle and one mature eagle, frolicking in a tree. This place is so alive, I thought to myself.
A couple of the riders did not join us for the morning ride, but opted for a glacier flight instead. We called Paul over at Mountain Air Service, and he took three riders for an hour and a half jaw-dropping flight over Glacier Bay National Park. When we picked up the riders after the flight, they all said it was magnificent - one of the best experiences of the trip so far.
Haines, Alaska
Steve led us up the Chilkat River Valley. The sharp peaks jumped out at us from across the river as we took in the sweepers. Dogwood Cotton floated like snow through the air. Every once in a while, one of them would work its way in a nostril, starting a fit of itching. It had been raining the days before we arrived, and so the air was incredibly clear and fresh.
We stopped for a brief moment at a fish wheel. Steve explained that this particular one was used by the fish and game to monitor the population of the salmon run. The wheel was comprised of two large chicken wire baskets which were propelled by the push of the river current. They acted as big scoops, plunging deep into the river, scooping with the current. When they caught a fish, it would be carried out of the water, and funneled into a holding pen. The water of the river was very silty, so the salmon could not see the scoop coming down at them. Fish wheels were used historically by the natives in Alaska for generations. They could still be found in some rivers.
Derek looks over the Chilkat River
After the pause, we took a logging road up into the mountains and after about 20 minutes, we popped out on an overlook. Below, the Chilkat meandered through the valley. It was wall to wall trees, and the thick forest gave the impression of green velvet. So thick and lush it was...we were truly lucky to have a clear day in an area that obviously is used to hosting rain clouds.
Monday, June 29th:
We had over 400 miles to cover, so we got on the road at 9am and started our long journey. We would be leaving Alaska for Canada, only to be returning to Alaska by the end of the day. Our goal was Tok.
Again, the weather was excellent. (One of my favorite jokes is to say the good weather is a result of good guiding.) We climbed out of Haines surrounded by a cacophony of mountains. Sharp peaks and glaciers went on and on. We rose above the treeline, and an ocean of mountains was there to greet us. This ride was truly spectacular. Not a building or any other man-man structure was in sight. The ribbon of road stretched through this vast and endless pristine landscape. We stopped once in a while to stretch our legs, take pictures, and comment of what we saw. At one point, we passed a bear cub off to the side of the road. In all, our group saw 4 bears during the entire trip.
The mountains outside of Haines, Alaska
Off to our left (west), Kluane National Park escorted out group. Kluane National Park was on the Canadian side, and Wrangell-St. Elias was on the Alaskan side. These parks were enormous. But put them together, and you had the largest national park in the world.
It was a long day, and though the weather was great, we had to keep pushing to get to our goal. By the end of the day, we were looking into the sun, which seemed to sap your energy. We pulled into Tok without incident, checked in, and made our way to "Fast Eddy's", the best (and only) restaurant in town. The portions at Eddy's would never leave you hungry, that was for sure! Outside of the restaurant, there was a scooter that said something like: Hello from Italy!..Indeed, this rider was taking Alaska (and who know where else) on by scooter. That is what I loved about those two-wheeled adventurers...they just never stopped, even at 35MPH!
Tuesday, June 30th
Yep, you guessed it, sunny once again. Tok was a "T" of two major highways in Alaska. That is to say, an intersection of two country roads. It was spread out, and had no real downtown area, just buildings off the main highway.
We rode the last section of the famed "Alaska Highway" to Delta. It was, arguably, the most non-notable section of road the entire trip. Flat with perhaps one hint of a turn. But, it was best for us to do this, because it set us up for a great scenic venture through the Alaska Range.
Once we left Delta, the mountains came to meet us once again. The two-laned paved road was in great condition, and we slowly wound our way into the heart of the tallest mountain range in North America. There were hints of rain, but nothing seemed to catch us. We stopped for a rest at the Alyeska Pipeline. There were some informational signs, and the riders were able to learn more about this petroleum artery. It spans over 800 miles and supplies nearly 20% of the domestic supply of oil for the United States. For the rest of the day, we would be riding along with this monstrous work of man.
Isabel Glacier, Alaska Range
The ride through the Alaska Range at Isabel Pass was a delight. Wild rivers, glaciers, tundra...it offered the riders the chance to experience quintessential Alaska. Breathtaking views were everywhere. We rode until the town of Paxson. Now, on the maps, Paxson has big block letters, signifying that it is a fairly large town. But, when you got there, all you saw was a single gas station/lodge with bullet holes in the sign perched on top of the building. You could almost hear the banjos playing somewhere off in the distance....
We pulled onto the Denali Highway, and could not help but smile. This highway was one of my favorites, and for the next 123 miles, we would drop off the pavement, and back to nature. The entire highway paralleled the Alaska Range, and was largely above tree line. It featured the same ecosystem as the Denali National Park, without the stringent rules of entering the park.
Denali Highway, Alaska
Our last 20 miles to our destination were gorgeous. Broad sweeping views of the Alaska Range, the Wrangell Mountains, and miles and miles of pristine nature. Awe...you could just exhale and relax out there!
Tangle River Inn was a conglomeration of cabins and bunk houses. It offered a full bar and restaurant, off the grid. It also had spectacular views of the Delta River head water lakes and surrounding mountains. Nadine, the proprietor, was in full color that evening. She was a real character, regaling stories. For her service at the USO, she was given a mountain in her name by the US government. She is one of the only living persons to have such an honor.
That night, we did the tradition: had fun. We brought a potato gun with us, a sack of potatoes, some break clean, two guys that knew how to run it, and the entire group of people on the tour down to the lake for some shooting. Potato guns are arguably immature and dangerous, but there is no unabashed laughter out there than the kind summoned by a potato gun. It could bring a village together. So, we passed the gun around, shot it out in the lake, laughed, passed the gun around....Everyone commented that it was one of the best moments on the entire trip. Now, we didn't advertise this, but it would be rude not to do it!
Potato Gun Fun
Wednesday July 1st:
Finally, it was a bit overcast as we hit the highway, bound for the town of Cantwell. It would not be a long day, with extra miles for those who wanted to enter the Denali National Park. Our goal was a set of cabins just south of the park entrance. Most of the group, after so many days of travel, were happy to get a late start, and just enjoy the day slowly.
The dirt portion of the highway started almost immediately. We passed Swans swimming in lakes. Clear streams meandered on both sides of the road. The traffic was nearly non-existent. We took a spur road off the Denali Highway to see what we could see. Aside from some fun stream crossings, we saw a caribou. Most people can't believe that they don't see more wildlife when they are in Alaska. The fact is, the area is big, and the animals are not so abundant. During the day, especially, the animals tend to lay down and not move around. So, if you ever have a chance to see...anything...then it is your lucky day. It is not uncommon for a person to drive for a week around Alaska, and not see a single animal until...they drive pass a moose grazing at the airport!
We ended the day at the Perch Cabins, just north of Cantwell. There was a little hidden secret of a restaurant there with great views and excellent food. Their bread was made fresh. We recanted the day, and the sun bathed itself on us, allowing us to dine outside. It's funny, we were going to send the Californians back to San Diego with suntans!
That night, we went to a little pizza pub on the side of the highway. Though there were no buildings for miles, this little oasis attracted a fairly young and lively crowd, since there was a youth hostel and camp ground across the street. So, we enjoyed the rest of the evening watching a blue grass band, bean bag throwing and ax throwing.
Thursday July 2nd:
Our last day, and I let Brenden ride the group back to Anchorage. They took the Hatcher Pass Road, which took them for over 40 miles of dirt through the mountains to the backside of Palmer, Alaska. I drove Jethro to Palmer to meet up. We were going to have a barbecue at the shop that night, and I love to cook, so I picked up some steaks, asparagus, and salad fixings. We were gifted Copper River Red Salmon from Nadine, and had potatoes left over from the launching fest.
World's Largest Igloo
That evening, we set up tables in the shop, surrounded by all the motorcycles. Candles, wine and videos of our last week and a half together. There were many laughs throughout the evening. The food was terrific (If i do say myself) and there were smiles all around.
I can't say enough about the trip: the scenery was magnificent, the group was great and the Dust 2 Dawson event was unforgettable.
Dust to Dawson Picture
