Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Two years on…

September 2nd, 2011

Ken with map - medium

Two whole years on the road. Across Europe, northern Turkey, Central Asia, China to Hong Kong. Down Australia’s entire east coast to Melbourne. Three continents. Bit ahead of the blog, in the midst of my fourth and most challenging. North America. Already ridden through Alaska, the Yukon and presently heading south towards Seattle through British Columbia.

Approaching the Azerbaijan border

There’s been a few dramas. Detention by border guards. Bouts of illness. Loneliness. Oppressive heat and humidity. Bitter cold. The odd cyclone, flooding, even a couple of minor earthquakes. And coming up in North America? The search for Grizzlies. Wild camping in bear country. The odd crippling dental abscess. Glaciers. Tough mountain passes. Night spent in an old bus. And a genuine French crêperie in Canada’s remote Yukon Province…

In China!

So, if you’ve enjoyed the story so far – all absolutely true of course, as faithful an account of life on the road as I can make it – please do think about making a donation to The Outward Bound Trust – just click on the Donate tab to do so safely and securely. Help yours truly and Emma, my trusty steed, mark two years on the road in suitable style!

ThreeGuardsmancamp (1)

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Linda’s place

September 2nd, 2011

How Linda kept track of everyone I never quite understood. There’d been over three hundred guests in the last year. One evening there were nine us all told, six visitors, her partner Angie and Lewis the lodger. This, she explained cheerfully, was a little more than the norm. Split between three tents in the garden and three bedrooms.

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Warmly greeted by Linda as I’d emerged from Arrivals at Anchorage airport, I’d been dropped off at the house before the other guests had risen. Not yet seven. Lewis first to appear, disappearing off quickly to work. Then Christine, a robust but friendly German. And fellow cyclists, Amelia and Tracy, camped in the garden. Lastly, Chloe. Hers was an adopted name, which pleased me as her Taiwanese one was quite unpronounceable.

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Hectic it might have been at times, chaotic it was not. For there was an order, gently imposed as befits someone with many years experience working as a nurse in Corrections. And never ceasing to give everyone her full attention, to make you feel like a long lost friend. An impromptu birthday party on evening. Cake and candles.

[Ken found Linda thorough very reputable US website www.warmshowers.org – a forum for hosting fellow cyclists]

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Bear facts

September 2nd, 2011

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"Brown bear lie down, black bear fight back"

"Brown bear lie down, black bear fight back" explained host Angie. A simple mantra I thought. I could remember that. But you do need to be able to recognise what sort of bear you’re dealing with, for colour isn’t a reliable guide. Facial features the key, together with the fact that the brown bear has a grizzled look. Hence why they’re often referred to as the Grizzly. Think bit of a bad hair day. Which, incidentally, is what you’re likely to have if you encounter one close up.

You’d be forgiven for thinking the Grizzly – or brown bear – is the most dangerous. Sounds aggressive. Whilst you’d probably be wise to avoid attempting to give it a tummy rub, it’ll usually leave you alone unless it feels threatened. Unlike the black bear, who’s curiosity means it may well approach. Especially if it thinks it can find food. And there’s quite a few more black ones around than the brown.

Seems the best way to survive a bear encounter is to avoid it if you possible can. So, no surprising them. Or coming between mother and cubs. Like most creatures, they are likely to attack if they feel threatened. Make lots of noise, but avoid rhythmic sounds as this may make them curious. You can buy bear bells – not for them to wear but for you to carry – but I do wonder about their usefulness. Other than to give the hairy critter a spot of indigestion. Whistling’s probably out unless you want to sound like one of their smaller furry staples.

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I’m also guessing they have exclusive fishing rights for salmon, so be very careful near rivers. And look out for their droppings – scat. Especially if it contains bells. Half eaten hikers are also indicative of the presence of bears.

When camping, keep nothing in your tent but yourself, sleeping bag and some bear spray. Always thoroughly wash yourself, ideally with unperfumed soap, before turning in, and never sleep in the clothes you wore when cooking. Everything else gets suspended for a tree, out of reach, and a reasonable distance away. It’s not just the smell of food that can draw a bear in, it’s any unusual odor. Especially if it’s one associated with the presence of humans.

If you do stumble upon a bear, back away slowly. Never run. Never. They can reach forty miles an hour. And sustain it. Make yourself appear big, rather than a tasty morsel. Wave your arms in the air. That sort of thing. Avoid shooting at the creature. Chances are, short of a howitzer, you’ll just annoy it. More. People do carry handguns into the wilds, but they’re far better suited to incapacitating your travelling companions so you can effect an escape. Playing tapes of Sarah Palin speeches remains an untried option.

If the bear does attack worth remembering a couple of things. Brown bears usually bluff charge, veering off at the last minute. The operative word being usually. Seeking refuge up a tree is probably futile. Two reasons. Black bears, with their smaller claws, can climb them. Brown bears can’t. Probably don’t need to, being able to just fell them. Better to rely on your handy can of bear spray. Doesn’t cause any permanent harm to the creatures if that’s your thing. Not sure I’d be too concerned with animal welfare during an encounter.

And, assuming you don’t end up as lunch, important to freshen up afterwards. Bathing in the nearest salmon river probably not a good idea. But you’ll no doubt need a through scrubbing. If only to remove all traces of the bear spray that’ll be lingering on you and your clothes. For, after a little while, it starts to act as a bear aphrodisiac. And that’d be a horrible way to go…

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The Anchorage Plan

September 1st, 2011

The first few days in Anchorage had been pretty frenzied. Rewarding, a good deal being achieved, and enjoyable to boot. But it was time now to take stock, ensure that I got done what really needed to be done. First snows weren’t that far away.

There’d always been a plan for Anchorage. Not the detail I’d been obliged to devise for the on-move from Australia. More of a check list of things that had to be done. Service and re-assemble my trusty steed. Get to grips with bears, understand the threat and how to deal with it. Seek local advice for the most sensible route into Canada and then south to Seattle.

There was also some PR to be done. And, just as important as the other tasks, be sociable. For two reasons. Firstly, I love to chat with people. And secondly, I’ve come here to learn about Alaska and Alaskans. Closeting yourself away with a tube of lithium grease hardly strikes me as consistent with this. Of course, there are jobs that must be done. And done they shall be. Question of balance.

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Around Anchorage

September 1st, 2011

Providence Hospital, Anchorage. Small coffee shop, caught just before it closed. In need of caffeine. I’d not slept for more than four or so hours in the last forty eight, the seemingly perpetual daylight thwarting efforts to rest.

Second day in Alaska. First mostly taken up with recovering my trusty steed. I’d ventured into the city, eager to introduce myself to John at the Bent Prop Inn Hostel. He’d offered to help with some PR. I’d inadvertently gone to the wrong site, for there were two hostels, Downtown and Midtown. I’d headed to the latter, but it didn’t matter as he happened to be there.

He recognised me before I he. Soon dropped off at a nearby outdoor equipment shop, then lunch at a downtown bar. Joined by hostel owner and former US Marine Corps helicopter pilot Ben. John had a few things to do, so I headed off with Ben. Driving around the city for a while on a few errands. Hazy memories but quite sure I’d been introduced to a woman who’d survived a machete attack. Finally parting company at the US Geological Survey offices so I might find a decent map of Alaska.

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City that never sleeps

September 1st, 2011

Unable to sleep I might have been, but entirely aware of my surroundings I wasn’t. As if in a dream, although a fairly lucid one at that. A voice. From where I wasn’t at first sure. Then the slow realisation it was from someone I felt I should recognise, for it seemed they were addressing me. A greeting. Yes. I remembered suddenly. Tracy. A fellow cyclist also staying with me at Linda’s house. We’d been introduced earlier.

It was very late, close on ten pm, but I’d decided to go shopping in a nearby supermarket. Thought I might as well do something useful whilst I wrestled with jet-lag in what seemed like almost perpetual daylight. In the summer Anchorage having as little as four hours twilight. Tracey and friend Amelia had ridden to the outlet, whilst I’d opted to walk. My trusty steed yet to be reassembled. Besides, I’d have been a danger to myself if I’d tried to ride.

I’d landed much earlier in the day, around five in the morning, a screaming child depriving me of even a dose on the overnight flight from Hawaii. Met by host Linda at the airport, I really had planned to sleep when she’d dropped me off at her house. But it wouldn’t have worked. Neither sufficiently tired to do so or, for the most part, alert enough to do anything useful. Instead, drifting about like a small boat parted from its moorings.

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