Stuck.

The next morning I was up early to watch some of the Tour de France and as usual, seeing those great cyclists really inspired me to get out on the bike and ride.It started me thinking about the road ahead and wondering just how bad it could possibly be so I pulled on my warm cycling clothes and rode out into the chilly morning glad to be riding free of the burden of the heavy trailer behind me.It was my plan to ride down the highway and check out the next few sections of gravel and see if the stories I had heard of the worsening conditions were accurate.It didn't take long for the confirmation of the stories to rattle loose my good mood .

The first section of gravel was only about  two kilometers from town and,of course,was an uphill section.It wasn't too bad though and although I did have to slow down considerably my bike skipped over the loose surface with ease.The smooth asphalt section that followed,combined with the unladed bike gave me way too much confidence and I cranked the speed up and nearly wiped out as I hit the next gravel section.Luckily I held it together and managed to remain upright but noticed something very new but something that I was all too familiar with,corrugations!!Shit!

Now,anyone who has driven any distances on dirt roads (especially Australian dirt roads) will be familiar with the washboard like surface that graded dirt roads soon develop when subjected to heavy traffic volumes on straight,fast sections.This was definately the case here and my handlebars were soon shaking my forearms and shoulders like I was holding onto renegade industrial dryer.Oh lord,what would this be like with the trailer attached?I rode through that section and on to the next before realising that this was a lost cause and turned my bike around feeling a bit dejected about the whole situation.At least there were a couple of photo op's so I stopped and snapped off a few pictures to add to the ever-growing photo album documenting my trip.

I rode back to town and headed for the campground where the group of cyclists had spent the night and found them all sitting around the a  table in the RV park's laundry.They were all at different stages of enjoying breakfast and so I sat down and had a coffee while we made small talk as they gradually summoned the motivation to get going.Soon enough they rallied and the international peleton of cyclo-tourists were on their way south to continue their collective adventure.I rode north back to my motel to figure out what to do next.

When I got back to my motel I went into the cafe to have something to eat and moaned to the lady there about my situation before packing all my suff and heading back out to the Information Center to start my second attempt at hitching a ride.After a couple of hours of vehicular rejection I went inside to use the washroom and on the way back out had a chat with the girl manning the Info Center.She was pretty sympathetic with my plight and then suggested that I call the bus company that runs a service three times a week from Tok back in Alaska to Whitehorse.Wow,a bus,that would be awesome so she gave me the number and I called them straight away and was told that the bus would be passing through the next day and that I should be able to hop on no problem.Then she told me that I could catch the bus driver at mid-day the next day as he drove north and confirm with him.Oh well,it was one days delay but at least I would get past the dirt roads and be back on schedule,so it was back to the motel and another night in Beaver Creek.

I settled back in to my cheap-ass room and to celebrate went for another ride,this time it was a speedwork session which consisted of laps of the five kilometer stretch from the immigration hut at the north end of town to the start of the dirt at the southern end.It was interesting to get some speedwork in and it made me realise just how little speed I had.All that pulling the trailer at a slow pace might be great for my endurance training it had done nothing to develop any speed at all.I'd have to figure a way to sort that out over the next two weeks.For now though it was time for a resistance band session and a bad movie on the televison.

The next morning I was excited with the prospect that I would be in Whitehorse that night and a further 400k down the highway.I didn't mind so much not riding that stretch but I did want to get back out there and continue my smash training for Ultraman.It is totally the wrong way to go about it but the plan was always to get fit enough and lose enough weight to finish the race without suffering like I had the previous two times I started (and failed to finish) the event.I don't care at all about how I place in the field,finishing happily will be enough.I watched the Tour de France and then to fill in some time I went for a run and was happy that my knee didn't hurt.Now I had to pack and get ready to meet with mid-day bus and speak to the driver.

Shortly after noon the bus,for want of a bettter word, turned up and my enthusiasm waned.It was tiny!I presented myself to the bus driver and told him I was the guy with the bike who made a booking the day before.He said that he knew about my booking but that I wouldn't be able to go as he was picking up a load of extra freight in Tok and the bus would be full.I could go if I wanted but not my gear.But,I had a booking!It didn't matter,I was screwed and the best he could offer was to be back here at 6pm to see if he had some no shows on the return trip.Oh shit,looks like I had to wait,so back it was to the cafe for an afternoon on the verandah Facebooking,blogging and trying to convince the passing tourists to give me a ride.No such luck and that luck continued six hours later when a fully loaded bus pulled in from the north and the bus driver should his head.I felt like wringing someones neck but all I could do was head back to the motel and check in again.I felt like shit and just wanted to have a shower and go to bed.

The next day I awoke to a bleak,wet morning and delayed my departure form the motel for as long as I could before heading back to the highway for my third attempt at hitching out of town.I knew that standing there in the rain was a waste of time as it is the rare motorist who picks up a soggy hitch-hiker but there I stood wallowing in my misery and wondering if there was any way I could feel more dis-spirited about this whole situation.I was rapidly heading for a all time low for the trip and I wasn't happy about it at all.My mind started to fill with doubts and I just wanted to chuck it all in and hide.

It was about them that the girl from the Info Center came out with a coffee for me and suggested that I give up hitching  for the day and that she would call the bus company herself and try to get me on the next days bus.I was so miserable that I just went along with her and sat there as she spoke to someone at the bus company.She handed me the phone and it was the bus driver himself on the phone.He remembered me and after I told him I was now going into my fourth day stuck here in Bever Creek he relented and said that if I broke down all my gear as much as possible he would find a way to get it all on board the next day.I thanked him and wanted to give the girl from the Info Center a hug in thanks but I was far to wet to do anything more than tell her she was a little lifesaver.She told me to go find a room and dry out and I dutifully followed her orders and went back to the motel and shut myself away from the world for most of the day.