Going alone in America's last frontier - solo travel in Alaska by roadtrip

I'm sure the bear is not to happy about being there, but any other arrival at Anchorage international should be, as it really is the gateway to the wild. However the problem that struck me was unless you wanted to join the fleet of oppressively colossal RVs which seem to block the crumbling roads of Southern Alaska then what would be the best way to experience the true north?

I opted for an off-road motorcycle, a camping stove and a stubbornness to reach the unpopulated wilds of the North Slope and the oil installation at Prudhoe Bay .

This was a trip to discover the real Alaska , not the pictures you see on glossy brochures, and certainly not to follow in the footsteps of the thousands of other tourists visiting the state, who choose to experience this part of the world on tarmac.

On arrival I promptly caught a taxi to the motorcycle shop where I was to pick up my new machine. On arriving there the experience wasn't as I expected, as the shop keeper handed me the keys to the bike, and waved me goodbye before I could even ask the way out of town. The initial thought going through my head was what I should do now, but without any answers the best idea seemed to be to just start riding.

After a quick supply mission at the local Wall Mart I was off. The excitement is hard to explain as I was genuinely heading into the unknown as far as the guidebooks were concerned. The first days ride was a matter of getting used to the cold, the crumbling tarmac and of course the dreaded RVs which I was preying I could leave behind as the going got tough. The scenery from Anchorage to Fairbanks was stunning, but little did I know this was only a taster of what was to come. I rode north till darkness fell, and decided to set up for my first nights camping.

The next morning it was freezing so with much disgust I hauled myself out of my tent, scraped the ice of my bike, drunk my now vital morning cup of tea, and headed off. The scenery was awesome as I rode past Mount McKinley ; which is the tallest mountain in North America, with its highest peaks still shrouded in the cloud of the early morning cold, and rode on North towards the Denali National Park and Fairbanks .

Not much further on I was lucky enough to witness my first bit of Alaskan wildlife, although the circumstances could have been better. This huge lump of wildlife starting waddling out in front of me, I braked hard shouting various phrases of surprise at what this monster could be. It turns out on much closer if not unintentional inspection during braking, it was a porcupine, and it was a monster of a porcupine to boot, looking more like a very spiky large family dog.

Lucky for both of us it decided to do a swift reverse to avoid me, this of course was a good thing, not only for our self-preservation but looking at the size of its spines it would have been a puncture for sure!

Denali National Park is simply huge, and incredibly stunning. The tours offered are extensive if not a tad on the pricey side, so I chose to ride on mainly due to my budget, but also with the hope that I would get the chance to experience all the park could offer, and more once the road turned to dirt.

I arrived at Fairbanks in the afternoon with the heat of the day feeling horribly oppressive which for me was unexpected considering my close proximity to the Arctic circle, so after much sweating and getting lost I decided to escape the loosely termed ‘urban jungle'. I went north east 70 miles to some hot springs to relax before I left civilisation. It was OK here but the mosquito's once again decided I was there favourite meal so the novelty quickly wore off, however on the way I saw wildlife number two, a moose, or should I say a moose and two ‘mouslets', it was huge, about the size of a large horse! To top that off it also looked rather amusing too.

The next day I planned to set off towards Coldfoot on the Dalton highway, so I bought food, extra fuel and water and off I went. This was a really, really tough day. I covered about 350 miles, of which about 200 were on dirt, and by dirt I mean seriously tough riding. After a few wobbly moments I got used to riding on this surface; however I soon learnt that riding on loose, muddy tracks is a world away from the joys of tarmac, but a thousand times more enjoyable.

The views, the mountains and the Spruce forests were spectacular, probably the most amazing I had seen that day. I was in true isolation but the road was getting worse and worse. I arrived at Coldfoot in the evening to pitch my tent in a hedge near some huskies as I was told they would keep the bears away. I slept like a log.

The next day I got up feeling much better. Today was the attempt to get to Deadhorse on the Arctic Ocean (260 miles of dirt) I left in high spirits and was able to average 40 miles per hour on the dirt, but then the rain came, this made the road feel like riding on a plate of curry! It was awful, sometime I was down to 10mph. Getting annoyed I trudged on, in the dry patches the occasional truck going the other way covered me in dust and rocks, and in the rain it was the dreaded curry sauce once more! Then suddenly I noticed something on my right.... YES A BEAR! A Brown bear to be precise; it was really incredible, and once again absolutely massive! It moved under cover before I got a photo. Looking at it from a safe distance I thought how soft and well tempered it appeared, but I quickly changed my mind thinking that maybe I had been on my own too long! Certainly looks can be deceiving so after choosing not to give the ten foot Grizzly an affectionate embrace I rode off toward the Arctic .

I carried on through the Atigan Pass , which was indescribable in beauty. The view and the landscape was something I could never even explain; truly incredible. I stopped for lunch with about 160 miles to go to Deadhorse, all was good. After some soup and a cup of tea I moved off again.

The new problem with the haul road (as its known locally) is the inconsistency of it, one minute it's OK gravel, then it's potholed tarmac, then it's mud, then it's deep gravel. The concentration needed is immense and really tiring, so of course my speed was suffering.

After reaching the North Slope , which is the flat Arctic plain that leads to the Ocean the temp drop was amazing. I was FREEZING! As I continued getting ever more tired the temperature got lower and lower until the moisture on my visa was actually freezing, thus making it hard to see the holes in the road. I was now deep in the Arctic Circle and the views were ever changing and once again amazing. This was true Arctic that you think you can only see on the television. Massive ice shelves, geese, tundra and lots and lots of water, and even my final species spot, a herd of Caribou!

The final section to Deadhorse felt like forever. The road was horrendous, the worst I had seen, and I was so tired. To add insult to injury my bike stopped. I was in the middle of nowhere and hadn't seen a vehicle for hours. I sat there for a while thinking and fiddling then it decided to start again. By the time I arrived in Deadhorse it had done it 3 more times. A bit of concern for me really but I was too tired to look at it.

Deadhorse looks miserable, in a strangely beautiful and desolate way. The weather consisted of thick freezing fog, piles of snow and lots of ice. There is little choice in the form of accommodation, and it seemed expensive for me on my budget but better than being Polar bear lunch I suppose.

North Alaska has shown me that the true wilderness can not only still be found but it is also accessible for the solo traveller. To add to this, the experiences and the amazing scenery I have been lucky enough to see on the route north are, in my view simply not achievable on a guided tour. The factor that makes this a trip that is incomparable to many others and one that gave me a true sense of adventure is the isolation and genuine wilderness which is so difficult to come by in our modern world. The freedom the bike has given me and the terrain and wildlife of where I chose to travel is, without question a trip which should only be done with a desire for true adventure and knowledge that truly amazing experiences do not come easily. The tough times were without doubt the best times, and my final reward for such an adventure was the chance to dip my toes in the Arctic Ocean , then plan the trip back South. Something I couldn't wait to take on.