Day 36
   
   6/2/01
   Mile 3437
   17 miles s. of Summit Lake.
   
   In a word, ugh. Sopping wet everything. Actually the clothes that I
   was wearing at night had managed to dry out from body heat, but everything
   else was dripping since it was foggy and over 100% humidity.
   
   Originally, I'd planned for a June 28th arrival, with a schedule that
   included 10 rain days. At the last minute, Mike Wood was able to
   change his schedule to arrive a week earlier, so that cut practically all
   slack from the trip. This is a good thing, however, since the earlier we
   start the climb, the greater our weather window will be.
   
   Unfortunately that meant I couldn't really afford to sit in the tent
   and wait for the rain to pass. Time to face the music, 7am.
   
   It was awful. This was one of the worst cycling days I've ever had. I
   was on some of the steepest sections of the Alcan, Steamboat Pass, and
   after that, Summit Pass, the highest point on the Alcan. It got
   windier, colder, and wetter, if that's even possible. I put on both my heavy
   fleece jacket and thermal long johns - top and bottom - the first time
   I had used any of which in the entire trip. I'd been carrying the weight
   the whole time, wondering if I'd ever use them. And I was still cold.
   My shell is Goretex, but even that didn't help for long. I'm amused by
   people who buy Goretex and somehow think they'll be bulletproof-dry;
   maybe if you are just standing around, but not in conditions like this.
   Water will find you and get you, period. Goretex will just buy you a little
   more time than other fabrics.
   
   I had no respite. The temperature was near freezing, and I was soaked.
   Grit gnawed at my chain, but there was no antidote.  The altimeter on
   my speedometer failed (probably from moisture, even though it was
   sealed), and read below sea level. I tried the radio for distraction,
   but I was in a dead zone. The fog got worse, with visibility dropping to 100
   feet, as I was really entering a cloud bank when I ascended. I kept
   trying to find psychological tools to cope. It's just weather, don't
   be a wimp, the pioneers lived through this. And so on - but it was still
   awful.
   
   Shivering, I came to the Steamboat roadhouse, which was listed on my
   AAA map as having a cafe. Ahhh, hot coffee and soup, I thought.
   
   Out of business.
   
   I ate a little from my stores, not really having an appetite but
   knowing I needed fuel. Onward.
   
   This was "misery", but stopped short of "abject misery".  There was
   some risk, I suppose, of hypothermia, but not enough to cause me
   alarm.  I took stock of the situation, inventoried potential problems; after
   all, I could still move my finger and toes, so how bad could it really be.
   Shut up and keep pedaling, I said to myself.
   
   I came across the Tetsa River lodge, and contemplated whether or not to 
   stop. If I did, it would be pretty hard to get going again, and I had 17 
   more miles to Summit Lake. I decided a quick stop was in order. I walked 
   in and the owner said "Sit down and have some coffee, you're going to spend
   the night here anyway.  They just had 6 inches of snow at Summit Pass, and
   the road is closed."
   
   1st thought: should have brought fat tires.
   2nd thought: Hooray!
   
   "Want some stew?" the owner asked, a guy who looked like Willie
   Nelson.  "It's Moose stew, so I can't sell it 'cuz it's wild animal, but 
   I can give you some."
   
   Moose!  How lucky could I get?
   
   It was actually quite good, not much different than beef. I ate a big
   bowlful while I talked to the owner for over an hour. I got a very
   rustic cabin for $30CAD, complete with woodburning stove, and only a
   50 yard walk to the outhouse.
   
   Lo and behold, there was another biker there, who had stayed the
   previous night due to the bad weather and was now staying a second
   night.  Thus, after his shower and rest, he was far more chipper-looking
   than my drowned-cat appearance. He'd left from Los Angeles and was headed
   to Anchorage. We compared notes for a while, and I headed off to wash out
   my muddy clothes and sack out for the night.

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