Salmon Glacier Road, British Columbia

There are perhaps a million miles of dirt and gravel road crisscrossing the State of Alaska. All you have to do is pick one and you'll likely end up with an experience you'll remember forever.

With that being said, a motorcyclist could never have a bad time riding their bike across The Last Frontier.

Salmon Glacier Road offers spectacular views of Salmon Glacier, one of the largest glaciers in all of North America, along with beautiful vistas of Salmon River and Fish Creek, and if you manage to get there in July, bears chomping up salmon.

During my ride into Alaska back in June & July of 2010, I stopped into the town of Hyder, AK, located along the southern tip of the Alaska Panhandle, about a 100 miles north of Prince Rupert, BC. Boasting a population of 87 (according to the 2010 census), Hyder is largely a village that attracts motorcyclists making their way up the famed Stewart-Cassiar Highway.

When one enters into Hyder, you get the sense you're entering some kind of lawless town, absent of police, where anything and everything goes. And guess what? That's absolutely what it is.

Except in the three days and two nights I spent there, I didn't encounter any violence. Quite the contrary, everyone was as friendly as they could be. After all, I was their target demographic, a motorcyclist, with plenty of money to spend, and a blog with which I could tell the rest of the world.

I pitched my tent in the back of the Sealaska Inn, what apparently is the town's social gathering, where locals bought me free beer and challenged me to games of pool. A karaoke jockey sang out country songs from the 1970s as I sat at a bar chatting with a few other riders who also happened to be there. The few of the locals invited me to stay for the Summer Solstice party, which I understood to be quite a rave, featuring a full sized roasted pig, home brewed beer, plenty of marijuana, and watermelon trucked in from North Carolina. Yeah, there's actually an old guy who trucks it in each year just to party with these folks.

But Hyder's main attraction is Salmon Glacier, a massive formation of ancient ice that sits about 20 miles north of town, just over the Canadian border in British Columbia.

During the warmer months, the glacial ice begins to melt, causing the Salmon River to surge as much as four feet, allowing salmon to swim up from Portland Canal.

To get there, you take a gravel road that starts in Hyder and follows the river north into the Alaska Boundary Range, a range of mountains at the northern portion of the greater Coastal Mountains that run all the way up the coast of British Columbia. This road is known as "Hyder Road" within the town limits, and then becomes "Salmon Glacier Road" once you leave town. On Google Maps, it's denoted as "NF-88".


I took this road riding my Honda ST1300. Over gravel and dirt, with its street tires (Michelin Pilot Road 2), the ST handled pretty well despite a few pockets of mushy gravel, hard-packed washboard, and occasional drifts in the tighter S-turns. It probably would have been safer on an adventure bike with appropriate tread, but in Alaska it's almost impossible to remain entirely on pavement.

Along the way, just at the edge of Hyder town limits, stop at the Fish Creek Spawning Beds. It's actually a bear viewing area. In the month of July, just as the salmon are running up stream, black bear and grizzly bear walk into the Salmon River to feast. The National Forest Service built a viewing deck where you can safely watch the bears. Unfortunately, I didn't see any salmon or bears.

You'll also find plenty of waterfalls along the side of the road, which you could easily strip down naked and bask in the modest Summer temperatures. There's hardly anyone else traveling up this road, and if they are, it's all motorcycle riders.

At the summit, there's a viewpoint for Salmon Glacier. There's about a 15-degree F temperature drop here. The scenery is stunning.

The absolute quiet, except for an occasional breeze rustling past my ears, combined with the sight of a gigantic formation of ice tens of thousands of years old, might make one feel as if they've ascended to some mythological shrine of a Greek God high upon Mt. Olympus. It seems to remind you of how far you've traveled and gives you a sense of accomplishment.

And that's a big part of what riding to Alaska is anyway, an accomplishment.

All in all, I spent two nights in Hyder. I couldn't stay for the Summer Solstice party, and I really wish I could. My schedule just wouldn't allow it.

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The Coronado Trail, US 191 Arizona

When one thinks of the greatest roads for motorcycling in the United States, names like "Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway", "Tail of the Dragon", and "Bear Tooth Pass" usually surface to the top.

But rarely does "Coronado Trail" ever get mentioned.

Stretching from Clifton, AZ in the south to Springerville, AZ in the north, the Coronado Trail offers 123 miles of twisted two-lane highway running through the Apache National Forest. There are over 400 switchbacks along the way and very little civilization to speak of. Because the road gets so twisted, and takes such a long time for cars to get through, there's very little traffic. According to the AZ State Highway Department, cars on this road are spaced an average of 19 minutes apart.

For motorcyclists, this translates into tons of hard-leaning fun with barely any traffic to get in your way.

The Federal Highway Administration considers this drive to be the curviest road in the nation, offering everything from wide sweepers to 10mph switchbacks. There's a 6000 foot elevation change from the Upper Sonoran Desert to the alpine meadows of the White Mountains. Cell phone coverage is pretty much nil, and the only gas along the way is at Hannagan Meadow, about half-way through the route, as well as the town of Alpine, just further north.


Because of the volume of twisties and no biker bar to be found, many motorcyclists won't even bother riding this.

Officially, the Coronado Trail is part of US Route 191, which stretches from the Mexican border to the Canadian. Specifically within Arizona, it had been previously designated as US Route 666.

The Coronado Trail roughly follows the same route taken by Spanish explorer Francisco Vásquez de Coronado, who in 1540 led a group of settlers over the Mexican border, heading further north over the White Mountains. Today, there's nothing along the highway commemorating the famed Spaniard, much of the road now largely showcases the grandeur of the Apache National Forest.

I first rode this highway in April 2008, returning again in April of 2010. On the first run, I simply rode from Clifton in the south to Springerville in the north. But on the return run in April 2010, I dragged some of my riding buddies along to show them how awesome this road is. We brought our camping gear and set up camp about 1/3 of the way up in a little picnic area dubbed "Sheep Saddle" off the road. The road is so void of travelers, the forest rangers didn't bother to stop to check for camping permits.

After the first night of camping, we spent the following day riding up to Alpine and crossing into New Mexico for a southerly ride down US Route 180, before turning back into Arizona to meet up with the Coronado Trail.  We camped another night before completing one more run at The Coronado.

Road conditions are mixed depending on where along the highway you are. Towards the south, the road runs through the Morenci Mine, and red colored dust is found all over the road. The next 20 miles expect to find loose gravel in the turns. About halfway up, you'll find rocks on the road, having fallen from rocky mountain sides. At one time, I found cattle on the road, having to stop and wait for them clear away. In April there was still plenty of snow up by Hannagan Meadow. Once you pass the town of Alpine, the road tends to become faster, with wider curves.

If you just love twisties, and you hate traffic, give The Coronado Trail a try.

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Moki Dugway, San Juan County, UT

Moki Dugway (photo by Teresco.org)

The bike already weighed 890 pounds wet by itself, and then I had another 100 pounds of camping gear loaded on to it, and yet I was taking it down a 10% downgrade, descending 1,100 feet over three miles of switchbacks all on gravel road.

The truth is that I was excited to ride it, but also nervous. I mean, the bike was damn heavy.

I figured I could just go slow. That's always the safe thing, right? Except when you have other vehicles behind you, waiting to get around you, it somehow makes you want to go faster.

Seems you never know what you're made of until you push yourself to the limits.

The Moki Dugway is part of State Route 261 in south-eastern Utah. It one of those proverbial roads, "out in the middle of nowhere", and now seemingly exists more as a rite of passage for motorcyclists, seeking to test their skills. But at one time, it existed for trucks carrying uranium ore from Fry Creek to Mexican Hat.

You wonder why the State doesn't just pave this thing. But then again, why? It wouldn't be the Moki Dugway without it. Riders wouldn't go out of their way to ride it. And nearby Navajo villages like Mexican Hat would never bring in tourist dollars.

Some things are just better off leaving alone.


It was April of 2009 that I got my opportunity to ride it. I had just spent the night camping in Natural Bridges National Monument, and had awoke to find a layer of frost on my 2005 Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic Electra Glide (the second one after I totaled the first). From here, I would head south-west all day, hoping to reach the little known Grand Canyon Caverns along old Route 66.

But in my way stood Moki Dugway.

As it turned out, it wasn't the twisty, steep, gravel road that made it seem frightening. It was the amazing view.

Moki Dugway starts from atop a massive mesa nearly a quarter-mile up into the sky. You look over the edge and you can see a hundred miles into the horizon, almost like looking out the window of an airplane. When you consider how steep the decline, how narrow the road, and how slippery the gravel can be, it's a humbling experience.

I made my descent, taking it slowly.

But it seemed rather easy, so I increased my speed.

Then I got to the first switchback, applied the brake easily, and found my tires slipping a little. I rounded the turn, and opted to keep the bike in low gear just so that I wouldn't have to rely on the brakes.

 After a few switchbacks, it seemed rather easy.

And by the time I traversed enough elevation, it didn't seem as precarious anymore. I wondered to myself, "Is that it? Is that what other riders have been raving about?"

I guess what's to really rave about this road is the awesome view from the top. I could have watched it forever.  Imagine how amazing the sunrises from here!

Well, once I hit the bottom, and the asphalt returned, I rode into the tiny town of Mexican Hat, where I stopped at the Old Bridge Grill (inside San Juan Inn), where I had a roast beef sandwich on Indian fry bread. An old Navajo guy sat down with me and had some stories to tell. I hardly understood him, but I did a good job of pretending.

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