Day 21 - Dawson to Fairbanks, Alaska. 402 miles today. Total from Indianapolis - 4,859 miles

Today's goal was to reach Fairbanks by evening.  Leaving Dawson, at their usual departure time, the guys found the only way to cross the river was by ferry.  There is no bridge.

David and Fred on board the ferry.

Once off the ferry they started onto The Top of the World Highway.  Normally this "highway" is 116 miles of hard packed dirt with a little gravel  thrown in here and there.  On a nice day travel wouldn't be too bad.

The weather was good for about an hour into the trek across the highway.   As the six adventurers climbed in elevation they reached the rain.

They were high enough to be in the low hanging cloud cover.  Visibility was poor.  They could only see about 50 feet in any direction.  

Travel was extremely slow.  The guys were only able to go as fast as 5 - 10 mph.  

At approximately 10:00 a.m. the group crossed the border from the Yukon to the United States.  The border agent didn't seem all that glad to see them returning.  He did take the time to warn the six of the weather and poor road conditions.  They thanked the border agent and headed on.

Just into the United States the guys found an area of road construction.  One of the construction workers, in a pick up truck,  stopped at the group and struck up a conversation with them.  The worker told the guys that the road wasn't good and that the visibility was even worse.  He offered to lead them through the construction.  Taking him up on his offer the guys followed the truck, with its 4-way flashers on, as far as that truck could travel before having to turn off and around.

That worker also informed the guys that within this construction area, there was a one mile stretch of fresh fill dirt.  The fill area was extremely soft with deep ruts and covered with almost three inches of mud.  Riding this section downhill the guys would soon find this to be worse than they had imagined.

Each man was riding in the lowest gear possible and traveling an estimated 3 miles per hour. In an effort to avoid a collision with another one of the guys that had temporarily stopped in that muck, Stu chose to lay his bike down.  Unfortunately his foot was caught and pinned under the weight of the bike.  He heard the crack.

Having helmet headsets the guys were able to work together to get safely to the side of that roadway.  They up-righted Stu's bike.  Next they had to stabilize that ankle.  They found a steel rod in their gear and duct taped it to the lateral portion of Stu's ankle.  

Stu with the makeshift splint

 Being the tough guy that he is, and without other alternatives, Stu gutted out the conditions and injury and went on to ride another 320 miles to Fairbanks.  

The rest of the day the guys rode in steady to moderate rain.  The weather had become terrible.

The guys stopped in the town of Chicken for lunch.

Chicken was a town founded on the gold rush.  Early miners wanted to name the town Ptarmigan, after the bird the frequents the area.  The town residents couldn't exactly agree on how to properly spell Ptarmigan.  So, after some time they decided to just name the town Chicken.

The population of Chicken in the summer is roughly 50.  In the winter, the census drops to 6.

Ron moves Stu, and gear, into the hotel in Fairbanks.  Ron said, "we cleaned him up a little, called a taxi and sent him off to the hospital."  The ER physician did confirm a fracture of the fibula and put Stu in a boot cast.

The Arctic Circle is the destination for tomorrow!