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| Ripple Riders Hankerson & Squirrel | Hankerson, Fulkerson & Swanson |
As you may have gathered, if you have read the first three Ripple Riders stories, that late-1970s elite club of snow machine riders was always looking for a new challenge. Whenever they stopped along their usually well-ridden snow tracks for a tipple or two of Ripple wine (Or other types: "Squirrel" Miller was fond of Annie Green Springs and Harry Swanson enjoyed "Mad Dog 20-20," a Mogen David fortified-but-inexpensive wine, or his own home-brewed wines.), talk always ended up with the question, "Whatta we gonna do next?"
The answer to that nagging question seldom was settled on, but suggestions got wilder and more ridiculous as the volume of liquid consumption increased. It may be properly suggested that diminished riding capacity and reduced ingenuity came readily mixed with even the mildest alcohol variety. Still, at least one time, someone hit upon a novel and attractive idea: "Why don't we ride across the Denali Highway?"
"Are you crazy?!" It is 135 miles from Cantwell, near Denali Park on the new George Parks Highway, to Paxson on the Richardson Highway, through central Alaska's most remote wilderness and tundra. There is no open lodge guaranteed along the way in mid-winter, there are 100-foot snow drifts all along that summer-only road, and the chill factor will be well below minus 100 degrees Fahrenheit! That's the dumbest idea yet, except that...."
"Except that...." The idea kind of stuck, and thereafter, at every beverage stop, the new questions were, "Why not?" or "What would we need to do to pull it off?" Before long, an elaborate plan began to develop. Once it was decided who was willing to go, they would preposition as many pick-up vehicles and trailers at Paxson as needed. That alone was a one-way distance of 160 winter-travel miles from Eielson AFB. Just that part of the plan would eventually cover 480 miles for each vehicle used on the initial delivery, the return trip to Eielson AFB, and the final trip home by the group who made it across the Denali Highway to Paxson.
The next parts of the plan outlined what equipment was needed to take the starting participants south on the new George Parks Highway to Cantwell, a winter-road distance of another 150 miles -- an additional 450 mile 3-way trip to get there, return some delivery vehicles, and drive back home for any riders unable to continue or finish the trip. (It was decided not to bother with having non-participants drive any of the delivery vehicles and trailers back to Eielson, just in case some Ripple Riders had to return to the start spot because of some emergency. At the time, we didn’t know how important this decision was to be!) Certainly, just for fuel alone this would be an expensive endeavor, but "nothing ventured, nothing gained."
It was finally settled that the trip participants would be Frank Fulkerson with his new John Deere, Hank Hankerson with his older Polaris, "Squirrel" Miller with his decrepit Polaris, and Harry Swanson with his year-old Yamaha. They would put one machine each in the back of two pick-up trucks and one machine each on two snow machine trailers. Fulkerson's big sled would be added to the back of one pick-up for him to pull which his more powerful, water cooled, "Green Monster." Everyone would have survival backpacks and, of course, the obligatory booze. A big tent, sleeping bags, tools, cooking utensils, and enough food and water for three days would be put on Frank's pull-along trailer.
Soon, everything was arranged and in place. The Ripple Riders set out for their eagerly anticipated marathon cross-country ride and were soon at Cantwell, Alaska in the late morning. Because it was winter in this high latitude, morning light did not arrive until quite late, but it was a brite, no-wind day and everybody was happy and excited to start out, everybody except for Fulkerson who was unhappy that he alone had to pull so much more weight. It was explained to Frank that his track slides were of fiberglass and much better able to glide along with a weighted sled. Also, and this always pleased him, he was again reassured that his "Green Monster" was much more powerful than the rest of the machines.
After considerable wrangling and whining, all four of the riders started out. Initially, the roadway out of Cantwell was plowed, an unusual circumstance, but of no particular concern at the time except to Frank who was uncertain of the amount of wear this would cause on his unlubricated fiberglass track runners.
It was clear, sunny weather but the temperature hovered around minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit. The Ripple Rider routine of "Go like hell, then circle back, stop, drink a little libation, then go like hell again," was adhered to at first. Soon, however, it became clear that the roadway was completely plowed, at least for as far as they could see from the high parts, and nobody was getting any snow lubrication on their track slides. This began to cause a serious problem for Frank who swore his overheated slides were melting and slowing him down. Also, it was getting extremely cold.
They hadn't even made it to Brushkana Creek campground (mile post 105), traveling only a distance of just under 30 miles, about an hour into the trip, when Squirrel Miller began to complain about how cold he was. He began to fall back, and everyone turned around to see what was up. He sat there in the middle of the Denali Highway cursing and shivering, shaking his cold throttle thumb and swearing that he needed to stop somewhere and build a fire. The obvious signs of serious hypothermia were evident to everyone, so they "circled the wagons" so to speak, and started a fire with survival materials brought and dwarf birch growing in the area.
For a good hour the three healthy Ripple Riders tried to get Squirrel warmed up, but it just wasn't happening. He continued to shiver and complain. At least he was lucid. So, the group reluctantly agreed to return to the starting point less than 30 miles away, only about 45 minutes travel time if they just kept going. Swanson tied Squirrels backpack to the back of his machine to make his riding easier. Still, it took longer, because Squirrel couldn't keep his thumb squeezed down on the throttle lever and he kept slowing down. He was cajoled, teased, cursed, and otherwise nursed back to the recently departed vehicles. All the while, the other three were worried that they might soon have an invalid on their hands.
Once they got to the trucks, they hustled Squirrel into one of them and started it up with its interior heater on high. Then they reloaded all of their gear, frequently checking on Squirrel and force feeding him warm liquids. Soon, his shivering stopped, a great relief to all. He appeared to have recovered just fine.
The riders had just about all of the equipment reloaded and tied down when Squirrel poked his head out of the window and sarcastically yelled, "Hey. You guys got all the stuff load up yet?" That was the last time anyone talked to him on that trip.
After returning home, the Ripple Riders learned that the Denali Highway had been plowed by an investment firm that was reportedly intending to reopen the Valdez Creek Gold Mine, an operation originally founded in 1903. The old townsite of Denali at the mine and the mine buildings around it were no longer standing in the 1970s. Tdhe lesson here was to do your homework before you go.
The Ripple Riders never asked Squirrel to ride on special trips with them again, because he was so accident prone. When asked about the Denali Highway trip several years later, Squirrel simply said, "Its a bitch being a pussy, but somebody's got to do it!"