Canada & Alaska

2005 Canada & Alaska

August, 2005

4,300 miles riding on Kawasaki KLR 650

Overnight locations

Started in California

In August 2005, Mr. and Mrs. Knobby embarked on an epic 4,300-mile motorcycle adventure, riding their Kawasaki KLR 650s through the Pacific Northwest, Canada, and Alaska, though they began by trucking the bikes from California to Portland, Oregon. From Portland, they hit the road, rolling through Wenatchee, Washington, and crossing into British Columbia, where Kamloops and Prince George marked their steady climb north. The KLRs thrummed along as they reached Smithers, British Columbia, and then Hyder, Alaska, a remote outpost that felt like the edge of the world. This initial stretch blended smooth highways with the thrill of the unknown, setting the stage for the wild northern miles ahead.

The journey’s core unfolded across the Yukon and Alaska, a rugged tapestry of gravel and grandeur. From Dease Lake, British Columbia, they rode to Ross River and Dawson City in the Yukon, steeped in gold-rush lore, before crossing into Alaska at Delta Junction. The ride through Denali, Palmer, and Glennallen showcased towering mountains and endless tundra, the KLRs kicking up dust on unpaved stretches. After hitting Tok, they looped back through Burwash Landing and Whitehorse in the Yukon, the crisp air and vast solitude sharpening every moment. Each overnight stop was a brief pause to recharge amid a landscape that dwarfed them, the bikes proving their mettle mile after mile.

For the return, they rode to Haines, Alaska, where rugged fjords met the sea, and instead of riding south, they loaded the KLRs onto a ferry bound for Bellingham, Washington, letting the coastal waters carry them through misty vistas. From Bellingham, they rode back to Portland, then trucked the bikes back to California, the final leg a quiet close to a roaring adventure. Over 4,300 miles, Mr. and Mrs. Knobby had woven through cities, forests, and frontier towns, crossing borders and braving the wilds. The ferry ride offered a reflective pause, but the hum of the KLRs—and the memories of an untamed north—lingered long after they rolled home.