Why did you choose a single cylinder motorcycle?

No engine configuration is more elemental than a Single -it’s simplicity is irreducible- and the thumping power pulses of a Big Single harken back to an earlier era. I asked myself, "How many cylinders are required in order to succesfully transport a human being from California to the Arctic Circle and back?" The answer was simply,"One".

Why did you choose a KLR?

Many people (most of whom, it should be noted, are either current or former KLR owners) consider the KLR 650 to be the best all-around motorcycle ever made. It has a broader scope of capabilities than virtually any other motorcycle. While it doesn’t do any one thing better than all other motorcycles, it can be argued that the KLR 650 does more things competently than any other motorcycle made. It is at it’s best as a long distance tourer for a solo rider on bad roads, such as a ride to Alaska or South America. The KLR is basically unchanged in 20 years of production, has an intensely loyal cult-like following, plus an enormous supply of aftermarket bits offered by a whole cottage industry that has sprung up around the bike. The KLR is one of the least expensive full-sized bikes sold, and has probably the highest smile per buck ratio ever. Remember how you felt when you rode your bicycle when you were nine years old? How it was perfect exactly as it was? That’s how most KLR owners feel every time they go for a ride. It’s an ugly, underpowered dog with bad brakes and most owners report that they have never enjoyed a motorcycle more. People have been known to give up ZX-11s after buying a 38hp KLR. Go figure. Personally, it’s the only motorcycle I’ve ever owned that never once left me wishing I had a different bike. If you can understand why some people hunt with a bow-and-arrow instead of a rifle, you can understand why people ride KLR 650s to the Arctic. However, if you like your motorcycling experience less rough around the edges, the smoother and heavier (but still agile) Suzuki DL650 Wee Strom is an excellent alternative.

Motorcycle riding has pretty much always been a solitary endeavor for me. I did have a friend who wanted to go with me when he found out I was preparing to make the trip, but he flaked out. I wasn’t disappointed because it has been my experience that when you ride with others, one person always ends up having to ride either faster or slower than they really want in order to accommodate the other person’s pace…and inevitably one or both are dissatisfied. I mentioned this phenomenon to a KLR rider in Destruction Bay, Canada and he said, "Yes, and you can imagine what it’s like for us—we have five riders in our group!" Riding the whole way alone also just seemed more challenging to me, and I believe it was. The feelings of loneliness and isolation were very intense and, to my surprise, proved to be more of a challenge than the physical difficulty of riding 10 to 12 hours a day for weeks on end. Although there were times when it was frustrating to have no one along with whom I could share experiences, I am glad that I went alone. I wanted a challenge, not a vacation, and that’s exactly what I got.

I would make it a vacation instead of a challenge. Having already successfully faced my Alaskan challenge I have no desire to recreate it. I would save time by flying up to Alaska, then rent a bike and spend a couple of weeks sightseeing through the parts I missed, such as the Kenai Penninsula, Anchorage and the glaciers on the way to Haines, Alaska. I would ride no more than 200 miles a day, and I would stop often to sightsee, take pictures and meet people. I would build into the schedule several of days to relax and not ride. I would not push myself, I would just have a relaxing vacation. And then I would fly home.

 
Why didn’t you go on all the way to Prudhoe Bay?

Originally, I hoped to. But by the time I reached the Arctic Circle I was tired, beat up from the Haul Road, and that road sign showing another 300 miles of even worse conditions ahead was daunting. I remembered the words of my late father, who once advised me to "quit while you are ahead!", lol. I weighed the risks of forging ahead against the benefit of almost riding to the Arctic Ocean (you can’t ride past the oil company gate, which is seven miles short of the Arctic Ocean), and I decided to call it an adventure. There were still 3600 miles of Alaska, Canada and the western United States ahead of me to get home. I have great respect for those who have gone on to Prudhoe Bay, or who have ridden the Dempster Highway all the way to Inuvik, but for me reaching the Arctic Circle was enough.



Why would anyone WANT to ride to the Arctic Circle?

This question is invariably posed by non-motorcyclists. I have always struggled to adequately explain something that is immediately self-evident to riders, but baffling to civilians. The best explanation I have ever seen comes from John Clarke, a BMW rider who rode up the Dempster to the Arctic Circle in 2003: "Driving a motorcycle alone, on unfamiliar roads in remote areas, is exhilarating and frightening. It puts the rider at the edge of the safety boundary. Deep down we know that motorcycling is possibly the most dangerous way to travel. And yet, we seek out the road trip knowing the danger. We know that the long hours in the saddle will test our stamina; the rain and cold will chill us to the bone; and there's the fear that one poor decision or one momentary lapse in concentration will spell disaster. The road trip allows us to face that fear, challenges us to overcome it and allows us to experience the unique satisfaction that comes from completing it."  John's excellent trip report can be found at: http://clarkejohn.com

What did you learn from the trip?

I learned that preparing for a trip like this is really more difficult than actually taking the trip. Unless you are independently wealthy, a motorcycle trip to the Arctic will likely take at least a year of preparation, even more for most people. Friends and acquaintances that know nothing about geography or motorcycles will tell you that you are crazy. Your family will be frightened and concerned for your safety. The desire to go will burn inside you, but when at long last you actually leave you will suddenly wonder "What the hell have I gotten myself into?!"

I also learned to respect the effort, not the result. Every year people crash and have to be airlifted out of the Haul road or the Dempster. That does not diminish the achievement of making the effort. I know a person who rode all the way from Pennsylvania to Alaska, only to turn back 16 miles short of the Arctic Circle. Even giving up does not diminish the effort made. Although I vowed to die before I would repeat his experience, after riding out on the Haul road in the rain I can fully understand how a person could chose to turn back short of the Circle. What’s important is to make the effort, to not be defeated before you even begin.

Do you have any advice for others who might be thinking about making this trip?

Yes. What’s important is to make the effort, to not be defeated before you even begin.