Beaver Creek.

After hanging out at Buckshot Bettys I went outside and found a guy checking out my bike.When he saw me he asked if I had ridden through the gravel to get here and so I told him my tale of woe for the day.He then asked me if I was going to ride on to Haines Junction which is a further 250 kilometers away.I said that was the plan and he shook his head.Apparently this guy was a foreman of one of the road construction crews responsible for trying to fix the crazy roads here in the Yukon.He told me that he was from Victoria BC andin all his years working the highways of Western Canada these roads were the worst he had seen.Great!He then continued to explain that the next sections were way worse than those I had just negotiated and that I will probrably have to get a ride of some sort.Double Crap!!Oh well,what could I do but to find somewhere to spend the night and let tomorrow take care of itself.No point worrying about it until then.

The next morning I was having breakfast in Buckshot Bettys and was chatting to a a couple of guys from the road crew and they confirmed what I had been told the night before.They also went on to say that the construction continued all the way to Whitehorse some 400 kilometers away which was news that left me thinking that I was in for some long days hitching on the side of the road.The bad news continued though when they asked me what route I would take through British Columbia and when I told them that I was planning on riding highway 97 they infomed me that it was closed due to severe washouts and that it would stay that was for a couple of weeks.Oh lord,time to get the map out and look for alternatives.This was getting ugly.

  There was nothing for it now but to try and hitch a ride.I had choice of riding to the place where there was a pilot guide,somewhere down the highway or stay here in town,close to the faciities and put the old thumb out here.I decided to stay in town and after assembling all my gear rode to the local information center and parked on the side of the highway.After about two hours worth of rejection from the southbound hordes I spied a cyclist coming toward me from the south.The cyclist was riding a mountain bike and dragging a trailer which was the off-road version of mine.She was decked out in what looked like team colours and was hauling way more stuff than I which didn't seem to bother her at all,in fact one of the first things she mentined to me was how little stuff I had with me,and my bike,she couldn't believe that.A road bike!!

  It turns out that this girl was an Itallian named Michelle and she had been on the road for exactly one year having started in Usuaia Argentina and had ridden through South,Central and now was about two weeks away from completing  the North American leg of her journey through the America's.Truly amazing stuff!!She spent some time in the information center before learning all about the area and the road ahead and afterward I took her to the general store so she could buy some supplies.While in the store we sat down and chatted about her trip over a cup of cheap coffee.She was a very interesting girl but man was she ever scatterbrained to the extent that she seemed almost unable to deal with talking to people for any extended period,She could hardly keep eye contact and was up and dwn doing stuff,checking stuff and generally being very sketchy.I figured that she had been out there on the road alone for so long that she was much more comfortable alone than around people.Maybe she was not only near the end of her journey but maybe she was near the end of her wits.I don't know but it was prety cool to spend some time with her.I helped her repack her bags and with a wave goodbye she was off up the highwat headed toward Alaska.I went back inside to have another coffee,spend some time on the old laptop and hopefully try to figure out what to do with myself.I had a chat with  the store/gas station/motel owner and after she heard of my plight ofered me a killer deal on a motel room which my soft and sorry ass accepte without any need for further promting.I wanted a comfy bed and a chance to watch the Tour de Fance in the morning.She even through in dinner which was very sweet of her.It wasn't much but it was appreciated.

  After an hour or so in my room checking out maps and calculating distances for various routes through British Columbia I noticed,through the window,two cyclists riding up to the store so I went outside to say hello and check out their bikes.They were a couple of Mexican guys who were riding from Anchorage to Guadalajara in Mexico and they were about nine days into their ride.While I was chatting a veritable peleton glided  into the carpark and joined us.It seems that a few small groups had met on the road outside of Tok and they had decided to ride together as a large group for a while.I stopped counting after the first ten  but took a couple of pictures of the mass of bikes lined up against the fence at the fromt of the store.It was an impressive sight and that was easily the largest number of independant cyclo-tourists I had ever seen in the one place.

  On meeting all of the guys a couple of them had told me that they had heard about me from old Jack and a couple of campground operators and were glad that they got to catch up and meet me.I was amazed that the "bush telegraph," as we call it in Oz, was alive and well up here in the northern outposts of Alaska and the Yukon.Seems you can't go very far around here without folks noticing..must be the big Aussie flag flapping behind me on my trailer.We all got on famously and it was as if we had known each ther for ages.It is like that on the road sometimes and I guess it is that kindered sprit thing that applies to all kinds of groups who share a common interest.I told them where the best campground was in town and once beer was mentioned promised to come visit as soon as I finished some blog writing and they had time to set up camp.

  About half an hour later I rode the length of town (all eight hundred meters of it) and found the group in the final process of setting up camp.It made for quite the impressive sight as the international group had transformed an empty campground into a mini tent city.I was pretty cool to see just how much ground can be physically covered by tents,bikes and the huge amount of gear that had,just a short time before,been packed neatly into the rolloing community that these guys had formed.There was crap everywhere and it was great!

Knowing that they were not too far away from dinner I hopped on my bike, rode to the local store,picked up a dozen beers and played forward the hospitality that I had been shown by the motel owner just a short time ago.It wasn't much but the guys appreciated the beer greatly and I hung out with them for around ninety minutes swapping stories and finding out all I could about their individual trips.A coulpe of the guys were interested in my bike and how far I was riding each day and they were amazed that I had ridden in one day,the day before,what they had taken two days to cover.I explained that we were on different schedules and that given the amount of daylight,cvering huge distances was just a state of mind.It was loads of fun and as usual I probrably rambled on way too much but hey,I think they enjoyed some of my crazy stories.After some photo's and exchanged Facebook and blog details I was starting to wish I could change my schedule and hang out with thse guys

  Before we all knew it the lack of a sunset caught us all off-guard and the clock was ticking well past eleven  and it was time to let everyone get to bed so I said my goodnights and told them I would visit in the morning and see them off.With that I went back to my motel and thanked my lucky stars that I had been delayed that day.It was a great chance meeting and a great way to end a day of tough luck, sad news from a friend overseas and concern over what to do to rectify my current predicament.I went to bed with a thousand things going on in my head and sleep didn't come quickly so I was glad of the opportunity to watch some television to take my mind off the worst of the days news.