Reading some stories Jack London, The writer who drove me to travel to Alaska, I found an idea that I wanted to convey and that had not yet found: "The frost was numbing the spirit". In the great north it is always cold: cold are the stories, Cold is the appearance of these boreal lands and in the cold all the stories that come to our heads develop when we grab the word "Alaska".
My trip began like this: Cold. I had decided to travel for five weeks about 1.000 miles (about 1.600 km) For these lands by bicycle, with no company other than a tent, The atibored foods of food and four pairs of socks that I sometimes used at the same time to battle against the night cold.
I had decided to tour for five weeks 1.600 Kilometers by Alaska by bicycle
I don't want to exaggerate either, Because summers in these latitudes are tempered, even hot in some areas. But on the flooded nights of the Denali Park, temperatures barely scratched positive values. Things would change little by little, With the kilometers and days, until I see me wrapped in mosquito storms that reach the category of biblical plague; the same to which, at first, It was important to know that many travelers covered their heads with a kind of orange mesh to avoid bites. Later I cursed not having achieved a.
When landing Anchorage, The place where this route began that would end in Dawson City, Already in the territories of Yukón (Canada), The first thing that American hysteria recommends is to prevent bears attacks. In the absence of a hand stir, I was recommended a repellent spray of bears. This pepper boat is the most effective. At least that says any alaskeño, Because I only saw two bears. But, A trip through the state number 49 of the United States is not authentic if that fear does not mark your days and, especially, Your nights.
The first thing that American hysteria recommends is to prevent bears attacks: In the absence of a revolver, They recommended a spray
I remember the instructions he gave me Michael, a kind man of snowy hair in the placid town of Willow, When I asked him about the threat of fauna. "I carry it in my chest, Because you can't lose a second ", He expressed me to the second day of my journey. During the rest of the journey, For a mixture of curiosity, morbid and fear, I always asked the Alaskeños about the real danger of the plantigrants: for each one who took importance to the matter, Ten made me believe that at any time I would end. Nothing is further from reality.
My trip was peaceful, From Anchorage to Fairbanks, where the sky holds the sun 24 hours. From there I descended to Tok, A true road crossing. And here I launched to cross the 300 kilometers by the Taylor Highway and Top of the World, two roads that spit me, A few days later, In my final destination.
For every wing that took importance to the matter, Ten made me believe that at any time I would end up devoured by a bear
In between, I was with plane pilots who told me their aerial expertise, With gold search engines that still fill their pockets by destroying mountains; With kind alaskeños who welcomed me with the only interest to see me happy. I met a Gerald Riley, winner of the Iditrod del Year 1976, The famous dog race that travels a thousand miles every year to the town of Nome, at the western end of Alaska. Eskimos, hunters, adventurers and lonely for their passion for an outdoor life: That was also my effort.
Why are there people who live in these wild lands and where the road network reaches a tenth of the territory? Through The Afcan brand, an aborigin of ethnicity yupik Alakanuk that I met in his boat in the town of Nenana, I understood the character of the residents of Alaska: "There are people who say this life is lonely, But I dedicate myself to do things that I like. If I were in the city I would not do what I want. Work in the city, Press buttons on a computer, Put numbers in a calculator ... I would gain weight!”, He told me while his young and shy promised, Chikigak, I watched us without saying anything.
I bathed naked in the rivers, I cooked with the stream water and slept on the fluffy tundra
What surprised me about the conversation about the river was how aware brandom of his words, of your choice. Something that supported the attitudes of the inhabitants and their integration with the environment: In summer they fish, acquired in forests, They row in any of the infinite lakes and rivers drawn in the territory; In autumn they hunt; In the winter ski, They climb, They walk, They invent gadgets to slide through snow ... a life where circumstances are used to live in connection with nature. And in it I immersed myself: I bathed naked in ponds and rivers to dissolve the sweat layers as a result of pedaling; I cooked with the streams of the streams; I slept on the fluffy inside. Even, In the solitude of narrow and surrounded roads of vegetation, I sing to my path to feel that my voice was going to scare the bears that lurked behind the píceas and birch.
Something that knocked down my tranquility was news that I read in Fairbanks. In the Yukón region, where I was running, A wolf had almost devoured a cyclist. He emptied the pepper boat on the beast, But as soon as he distracted a moment. If not for a caravan that passed and helped him, The cyclist would have ended among the fangs of the hungry wolf. What would it be like, I told myself after reading the article, that the animal made man's luggage.
I was uneasy to read that in the Yukón region, where I was running, A wolf had almost devoured a cyclist
From that moment on, I took the dagger from the depths of my saddlebag: You had to see me on the roads of Alaska on my bike and tear the air, as a rehearsal, in gestures more typical of Don Quixote In your night dreams. Although I did not fight with the wine leats, At least I was calmer.
The thing is to cheat. I fooled myself conscientiously, machaconally and with fruition. For example: I tried to sleep in public camping -when there were- where could be close to some caravan. Actually, It was safer to sleep away, In the middle of the tundra, where there was no smell of food as there were in these places of camping no matter how clean. Diligently, Every night I hung my food from the high branches of a tree.
My relationship with the bicycle was very narrow, Although I was unable to baptize her
My relationship with the bicycle was very narrow, Although I was unable to baptize her. I considered the same names as Rafael Alberti For yours ("Double wind rose", "Margarita Bicorne de las Cañadas", "Girl getaway from the dawn"). But I decided that this were impositions that did not do well to their character, that the bicycle was an extension of me and that his name would win it over time.
And that the obsession with the "now" is the only command of such a trip.
