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VKeeping the shinyside uB in the 1996
Alcan Winter Rally-t

BY DOUGLAS

PHoIos aYrlM ELDER

KOTT . . ':!*i ,,rr|

132 no,qo *.rnecx
18+rIO 'l'l ll,lltl.l Wli wcre, licaturc ltdi-

only rccently opcncd to thc ptrblic; a\tXI'Tl;:*['l;'road capablc olt clrcwing up and spitting out tlrc urrw,rry or ill-prcpaicrl.
On this day, cven thc trucke rs wcre;:; ;';',11: li""ll i;i, ll I J;,1, il I;:';;:. flil;

turning back.
Here, close to thc Arctic Circle, thefiozcn
frozerr strctch
strcrch of thethe'ihlt.rnI):tlton Highway.
Highwav.
Actually, "highway" is far too kind-a
description-the Dalton is a notorious
2ll li.-widc, -t4l-milc grrded gravcl
ro:rd huilt tbr thc construction andlandscape starts to change-full-size
pinc trees give way to scraggly, stuntcd

ones in the rolling {bothills of theBrooks rangc, all czrrpetcd in a virginblanket of snow. It's a whitewashEd,
barren rvorld, bathed today in a cold
blue light, and so silent thnt you canhear the snowflakes land and yourmrrintenrnce of the Trans-Alaska

pipeline, puralleling it lrom jrrst norfh
ol'Fairbanks to whirc thc trccless, oilrich North Slope slidcs into the icy
Beaufort Sea. It's a haul road, really,ruled and respected by truckcrs andheart thrrmp irrside yorrr chest.

The stillncss was brokerr bv thelt,'1:,.:1"_-':

ri r.. i ,1,;r iji,'.--i,:: i

voicc of the snowplow driver who had
passed us_minutes before, crackling inover the CI] radio. "There's a treaiherous section ofice over the next hill,"
hc said with gcnuinc urgency. "I suggcst you takc it rcal slow."
It turns out that section had alreadv
clainrcd a tractor-rrailer rig that day,ar omcn that didn't exactly pump ourhearts full of confidence. it-*ouid be
bad form to be tlrc day's secontl vicrim,
I thought, as Arrtly lcd our convoy out
onto thc ice at roughly 15 mph. To
propcrly sct the srage, know thar theDalton's roadbed is raised above thetundra by as much as l0 feer, thoughcube trays and the occasional chilly ski

lift ride-but norhing to p..prr. ,i fo.

lows rhat had plunged to -58 d.grees
Fahrenheit on preuious Alcans."Thesort of cold, we'd heard, that would instantly turn a steaming cup of Joe
thrown into the air to so manv iuffeine-laden snowflakes, transflrm a
car's iubricants and fuel into Jello-likemasses...or freeze human flesh in seconds (aarghl).

So how exacrly did we ger ro rhis
desolatc secrion of the Dilton, andeventually, into the Arctic Circle? En-ter Jim Elder, resident ofJackson
Hole, Wyoming, a 64-year-o1d cold-

weather adventurer with the energy ofa man half his age, a voice lilie agnarled tree branch and a sharp mind

that issues forth endless storiei to re-veal an arcane and increasingly fascinating pasr. ("Years ago, summer of'43, I believe, we were hirding
marmorjust outside of Oslo.") It wai he who
approached Oldsmobile with the idea
ofrunning the Alcan (and our doing astory). Olds obliged. providing tivo
pre-production Bravadas (its version ofthe. Cher,y_Bl azer / GMC Jimmy sportute), one for Andy and me, the otherforJim and his wife, Suzanne.
Our newfound team members
slaved away for nearly a week before
we arrived in Seattle, having theBravadas fitted with sturdy -front

moose bars, PIAA driving and fog-

liglrjr, CBs and the rally-rcquirJd

VHF rwo-way radios (plus a saicllire-

link phone for severri call-in radio
interviews that Oldsmobile hadplanned), and a realiy trick Warnwinch to be srored inside the vehicle
you can't see by exactly how much because of snow'plowed-off to the sides,

flush with the road's surface. Nor is it
obvious where the road's edges end
and the white, fluf$, sruff begins. And
making matters *orr., rnrE sonably
warm temperatures were causing theice to melt, and a light rain madi theroad even more slick.
Without warning, the wheel went
limp in Andy's hands, as if someone
had secretly nipped the steering shafr
in two with bolr cutters. A heirtbeat

Goodyears biting into a welcome, traction-enhancing crust of snow.

The lesson here? No matter how

Andy and T augmented ihe jackers andsweaters that Olds gave us with fleece
pants, expedition-strcngth thermal un-odyssey_ from' Kirklan d,dcrwear and he,rt-retaining hars. For
the record, Andy opted foi the fashionable "Put-the-money-in-the-bag-

Winter Rally, an 8-day,
4400-mile-Wash

ngton,
to Alaska's North Slope and balk toiAnchorage. It's an event that chal-lenges its participanrs with both TSD(Time-Spied-Disrance) secrions and3ud.ggd our-Bravada silently sideways.
It slid, as if on a carper oi loose ballwherever that wasl Andy fought t6 regain what little grip exisied ,id ,o..how coaxed a scrap of adhesion out of
the tires. We exhaled as we reached
the other side, the tread blocks of oursummer events.
We,_of course, were running in winter and had reason to believelt would
be cold. Oh, we Sunbelt dwellers had
encountered Jack Frostt nasty nip before-mostly through empiying ice

bearings, toward the road's edge-

much bravado. Sorry, bad joke.
, And on a pcr5onal .qrip.ent nrt.,

good your equipmenr (tires, all-whecldrive system, reflexes, etc.), you ttill
have moments like this on the Alcan

again_st-the-clock racetrack outings.
The brainchild of rally master Jer"ryHines, the Alcan has b.en run iinc'.
1,984, alternating between winter andlater, the slight crown of the roadbut that could be plugged inro eirher
end oI either Bravada, in rhe eventthat any Bravada driver showed too

and-nobody-gets-hur't" ski mas?,
while I chose the Elmer Fudd stylewith Velcro-closurc earfl aps

At the start of the rally at the Clari-ol Hotel headquarters, we surveyed
the competition, all making last-minute preparations and applying decals. Thc most serit-rus apperrid to be
the two factory-.ponsored Isuzus,
competing in the no-holds-barred, rally-computer class. In one of them were
the defending champs, Johnny Unser(nephew o[ Bobbyr ion ofJeiry) andluNr rwo 135,.}*r*-H5,, '',r'-*&"I A patch ol asphalt occasionally peeks through';rr ;;;iF,U-iffi:.

the ice on the Ncan Highway. At rigltt, Bornhop
digs out lrom a harmless off+ourse excursion.

:ta1

Paul Dallenbach (son of Wally, Indy
Car's chief steward), with considerable

navigational talent in the front passenger seat: Tom Grimshaw. A financial
iontroller turned rally navigator andco-driver, Grimshaw is a man who's
found himself upside-down 13 times,
twice with the car on fire; a man whorode with John Buffum for his lastffi

riui'tUielffii^i":;'*tH *3._'E;

three seasons of competition in theunstoppable Audi Qrattros (in fact,Grimihaw, Buffum and stepson Paul

Choiniere Jr. won the Alcan in aQrattro in 1985). Like I said, serious.
On the lighter side were a couple ofrookies, quick-witted Washington

newspaper journalists Mary Lowr1,and Sally Birks

in a Land!

Bs4

Rover Discovery, teamed with rally
veteran/ice racer Susie Fouse. The restof the 6eld was rounded out by privateers: three Ohioans in a Mitsubishi
Montero; two in a Toyota Camry A11Trac (one of, what, seven made?); ahusband-and-wife team in a ChewTahoe; a boyfriend/girlfriend duo,',in an Audi Qrattro (their "RAC" per-sonalized plate suggested some experience); and three rally newcomers whocame together in part through an Internet address, in a sharp-looking Ford

F-150 Supercab.
It was at one-minute intervals that
we were flagged off from the start, ona journey that.would take us throughsome of the most remote, beauti-ful, unspoiled wilderness

known...er, make that largely

unknown, to man. Up into
British Columbia, the Yukon
Territory, and Alaska; throughtowns with names like Fort
Nelson, Whitehorse, Fairbanks,+l$\-.1ti,,,ri,,r., ,t,, .iTok and Dawson; past craggy
peaks, dense forests, frozen
lakes, glaciers, herds of caribou,:lI lools of the trade for success in SOP(Seat 0l the Pants) clas: Stevens wheel,"-,"-.-'.&Mr.t""9;busty calculatot, stopwatch, assorted
pens, tally instructions and (not shown)
good lortune and proper planet alignment.

N,]X 6 \1 F|.i6 marllr I

136 noao s.rn-,rcx| 1: 'ees!b c 1.r S"* 'r*"*rylIl!|sf*I Iop right, Team Bravada at the Arctic Circlr
left to right Jim and Suzanne Elder, Feature
Editor Andrew Bornhop, the author and video
grapher Rich Christian. Below, Kott hangs it out.

and the occasional spindly-leggedmoose. But first, a mere 80 miles into
the rally we faced our first TSD.
Now, seasoned rallyists know that aTSD is a wicked contrivance whose
purpose is to play with your head andprovide endless joy to the rally master as
he imagines you cursing his very being.
A rypical Alcan TSD is a route about
15 miles long, requiring that you change

your average speed maybe four or fivetimes during its course at various reference points (typically road signs) thatare clearly marked in your route book.

We were given the route instructions
well ahead of time, and with much calculator button-punching and spinningthe dials of the Stevens Ral1y Indicator(sort of a giant rotary slide rule allowedin our Seat-of-the-Pants class), we de-some serious miles-1150 in the firsttwo days. Typically, our stops wereonly for fuel and, uh, relief with meals
coming out of a huge duffel bag we
had stocked with sausage, oranges, appies, crackers and turkey jerky, plus
gallons of Evian water, Gatorade and avitamin-packed chocolate drink cal1ed

had made a mid-rally team swap fromthe Discovery). The scene looked a little like an airplane crash, because as

the Tahoe left the road backward

close to nailing our target time at astop sign. Now is that Mustang aheadof us going to go faster or slower thanmost nights.

our new average speed of 40 mph?

Icy roads negotiated at an average of70mph or so have a way of keeping one's

through the snowbank, down a 20-ft.
embankment and rolled over onto its
side, half its windows shattered andluggage, toolboxes and other provisions were flung out into the snow.
Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt,
the worst injuries being borne by Tim(incidentally, the author of DOS-yes,that DOS-and an employee of Microsoft) with a few minor facial cuts.
Seven or eight of us pushed theTahoe back onto its wheels and in

attention from straying. Speed warn-time, a winch-equipped tow truckings for curves, usually ignored because
they're so conservative for any modern,
decent-handling caq take on real significance in this low-coefEcient world. But
there are those long, straight sections
where you can let your guard down. I

from the town of Tok, maybe 25 miles
north of us, hauled it back onto theroad and into town. With blown-out

termined the exact times we should arrive at these reference points. Scoring isdetermined by how early or late you arrive at hidden "control" points along theway. Sounds simple, eh?
Yeah, thought as we came pretty

I"Punch it and get around him,

Andy," I say, and we fly around him
like madmen, only to jam on thebrakes to bring it down to a nice, even40, despite a nearby 50-mph speed

limit sign. Meanwhile, the Mustang
driver thinks we've completely lost it,
and hangs inches off our rear bumper,
his blood, I'd bet, at a nice, even boil.
At this point, Andy coins r mantrathat will serve us well through the remaining eight TSDs: "Don't worrywe'l1 never see him again."
There's blcssed relief on the transit
sections, with a chance to soak upsome of the rugged, breathtaking terrain of British Columbia and cover

Boost, a sponsor of the event. We
could look forward to a nice sit-down
dinner when we reached our hotel on
Falling asleep at the wheel was not
the problem I had feared it might be.

sense that Andy is bored on one ofthem, as he searches through a bag ofMother's iced animal cookies, trying tofind one shaped like a caribou.

Suddenly, a chilling wake-up cail:"We've rolled!" came the feeble voiceover the rally radio. Indeed they had,
Tim and Penny Paterson in the Chery
Tahoe, along with Susie Fouse (who138 noeo s.t'u,rcr

71

windows, caved-in right-side sheet
metal, a crumpled roof two flat tires, abent wheel and several extra degrees ofnegative camber in the right front sus-

pension, the Tahoe looked to be agoner. And Paterson's homemade rally
computer, the one that had helped put
them decisively in the 1ead, was another casualty. Tim and Penny would go

on to patch their rig with pllwood"windows" secured with duct tape andre-enter the rally, but a 200-point

penalty for not reaching a check-in
point on rime was imposed, eliminat-derland Garv Nixon.

rng^any possibiliry of thei r winning.

pulled into the paddock and were in-_ On the road again, rhrough Fair-banks and onto rh; trcach.rors"Dalton,
where our story began. Like a bad sci-o=ooo

ence-fiction novel about global warming, it seemed to get toastier the farther
north we traveled-the -20 temperatures in British Columbia gave way tcr+43 when we crossed into Alaskr liom
thc Yukon Territory; and when we finally reached rhe Aicrie Circle, it was ahalmy 34 degrees-and rainingl Sadlx
it was ar this point we decidei not topush on to Prudhoe Bay, even though
the snowplow had come through. O-ur
progress to this point had been so rediously snril-like'thar, even if we could
average 35-40 mph from thcre on our,wed be hopelessly behind schedule forthe .rest of rhe rally. So Jerry Hines
made the execurive deciiion'ro rurnback, and it was off to Fairbanks for agood night's rest.
The final day consisted of a transit
to the Anchorage area, a final TSD
and the final racetrack evenr, hosted by
the Alaska Sports Car Club in Wasilla.
And what a fascinating winter motorsports complex they have there, withsome lasting images: shrieking, modified snowmobiles-tearing dc,wn an ice

drag strip; a motorcyclisr asrride aspike-.tired morocro;s bike ripping
around an infield oval, a winter:wonl

The besi was yer to come. We

stantly sprayed-by_a shower ofice crystals from a WV Scirocco, an old Dat-sun 200SX and four or five otherbrightiy painted club racers that hurtled past in varying states of oversreer,around the road course we were to run
on. Rally master Hines had arranged
for our timed runs to bracket the iub
racer's 10-lap main event, and it wasside Whitehorse), but it does say

somerhing about the Bravadas havine
a well-sorted-out all-wheel-drive sysl
tem and a powerfirJ V-6. And *. *Lr.
on non-studded tires!
At the awards banquet in Anchorage, what little tension that had arisen
from competition melted away withfriendly co_nversation and an open

good clean fun to watch a well hookedup yeliow Super Beetle trounce theshowier, but slower, competition.
Time for our own run's. Andy put ina really
tezlly sofid
performance, so the pres_solid pertormance,performance,oressu-re was o{it's my nature to press_Bu1
a bit, so off I charged, trying to brakein a..straight line as much a"s possible
off-line, where the snow offers better!arr- Tfre reigning champions Unser/Dallenbach/Grimihaw were rhe overal1 winners, with the second teamlodeo of John Corser/Greg Bartlett/Revere Jones taking 2nd ov"erall. And
we were more than pleased to take 3rdoverall, 1st in the seat-of-the-pants
class, with Jim and Suzanne in thesecond Bravada taking 7th overall, 2ndin class.
So I'll }ang up my Stevens RaJJy In,.
dicator for now, and Andy wilI undoubtedly tuck that ski mask into adark corner of some drawer, but there's

straight-nail itl Repeat for the next

some.thing that gnaws aw^y at our psyches like so many moths ai orr.rrt-offtraction, and to avoid carrying too
much speed into the corner.'Eaiy on
the throttle coming out-make suie it,scorner. On ice, what feels slow is fast.

Exiting the final high-speed left.hander
in a bit of a diift,'I heard acheer from the crowd. Yes! Turns out I

had just nipped the times of Dallenbach and Unser for a brief moment ofglory. Never mind that they beat us on

the two other racetracks eirlier in therally (a snow-covered quarter-mile ovalin Qresnel, and a 1ti-mrle snowmobile course on a frozen lake just out-

thermal underwiar: We never made it

to Prudhoe Bay. Jerrv Hines is plan-ning another assault'in winter, )000.

Are you game, Olds)

For more information on the Alcan Rally,
contart Jerry Hines, Alcan 5000 Ratly, i5Central Way, #300, Kirkland, Wash. 9-9033,(206) 823-6343.

Internet:

http://www eskimo. com./-jhines/

19gggg3l-Illltttritt on tht ,trotu Drlton High*ry, ror. 20 ,il*, ,orth ol th. Ar.ti. ilrcte, where heavy snow hatted our pr,gress.

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