Chuck:
What a glorious morning. The sun is hitting the mountain tops above the still turquoise water of Muncho Lake, the blue sky is clear and the crisp cool air is invigorating. The road continues to be flat as it hugs the lakeshore; the lake is about 11 miles long. It gets narrower toward the SE end and is fed by Muncho Creek which flows out of the mountains. The Alaska Highway follows this creek up-stream as it winds through beautiful spruce forests, over a ridge, then back down alongside a small stream that becomes the Toad River. At about the half-way point, I met Betty for lunch at a small gravel turnout. While eating we heard a loud crack, similar to a .22 rifle shot. I knew instantly it was a blow-out on my bike which was just outside the door. Later, I found that the side-wall of the front tire had blown out, so neither the tube nor the tire was re-usable. My last mountain bike tube goes into a new tire. Now, I have no spare new tubes for the mountain bike and none for the road bike either. I do have a patched tube for each and several new tires for each. Plus, as a back-up, I could always ride Betty’s hybrid bike; I have plenty of tires and tubes for it. While repairing today’s blow-out, a small camper pulls up beside me and a slim, young guy gets out and offers to help. With a heavy accent he said, “I know something about bicycles”. I find that Roger is Swiss and mountain bike racer. He and his young family have taken a year off to tour North America and ride mountain-bike trails where possible.
Ok, on the road again. Even though the highway follows the Toad River downstream, it is constantly up and down. At the small community of “Toad River”, Betty has hooked up to an RV site and is nearly through with the last load of laundry. This is the roadhouse with all the hats on the ceiling, now at 8,328 hats. We stopped here for fuel on our way North. It is a cool, quiet evening.