Had just about as perfect as a last night in Talkeetna as I could have possibly envisioned, and rested my head on my pillow feeling bittersweet, for as awesome as it was, I’m leaving this town in the morn. But no worries, as hours of smiles and gaiety await me in Anchorage and surrounding areas 150 miles down the Parks Highway.
Turns out the roads in Anchorage are paved with Fool’s Gold.
Sporadic rain washes over me the entire way, and I now have a shiver I can’t seem to un-shake. I already miss the laid back atmosphere around the Latitude and that feeling is heightened when I mingle with the afternoon rush hour in the heart of the city.
5 hours later, after a really crappy dinner at an overcrowded bar, I felt the most alone I have ever felt in my life. I couldn’t wait to get back to my room and erase this day. After a restless night sleep, the next morning greeted me with more crappy weather, and I had ZERO desire to ride South to the coast. Deciding to give Anchorage a few more hours to reveal something worth sticking around for, I grab some breakfast at Gwennies Old Alaska Restaurant, crossed the street to grab a T-Shirt from the Harley Dealer, and headed back to pack my stuff up. The sun was peeking out but my spirits were staying dark, so I decided to get the hell out of Dodge. I didn’t know where I was going to go until I saw the sign pointing to Tok Alaska (near the border), and I reset my instrument dials North.
When you leave a funeral, that drive is as important as any stretch of road you’ll travel on. You get a renewed appreciation for life.
Took me 6 hours of riding, a nice dinner and a comfortable night sleep in the quiet town of Tok to get my swagger back.
A high like my last night in Talkeetna should never tried to be immediately followed by anything else. The crash is substantial.
The sun was brilliant today, and I feel like a million bucks. As much as I’m going to miss my girl Alaska, I had to leave her prematurely and what I believe on good terms. I hope we remain friends.
I make it to the Alaska/Canadian Border with no issues, grab another Snickers and snap off a few more pictures, one with my face actually in the frame, mostly to prove that I did this trip.
A lot of gals think I’m of rough looking character, and taking more pictures aint gonna help sway their opinion. Let’s face reality here, if you saw me walking past your kids playground, you wouldn’t even wait to roll down the window before opening fire.
I get passed by a blast of BMW and Dreadlocks while I’m looking through the lens of my Nikon. I roll back Kai’s grip and get a mile down the road, crest the slight incline, and all I see is a cloud of dust and broken BMW parts hither and yon. Dreadlocks got in some thick gravel and had a bit of a tumble.
I help him collect his thoughts, senses and his things, and soon I am guiding him to Buckshot Bettys for some lunch to help settle his nerves.
His name is Avi, 23, born in Queens NY, flew to Juneau to hang with his brother a few years ago and has lived in Fairbanks the last couple years, figures he’s gotta get out now. Bought a used BMW, has only 2,000 miles under his belt, and he’s riding to Michigan.
And people think IM crazy.
He reminds me of me at that age.
As I know, and he is proving, if you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun!
I admire his pluck, and I’m his wingman for the next 200 miles, trying to help him navigate the most horrendous stretch of the AlCan.
I assume he did fine, lost him around Deconstruction Bay, but he knows I’m staying in Whitehorse, and I know his route. I hope I see him around the trail.
My night ends up back at the Airport Chalet in Whitehorse, and I have no idea why I’m here, as this room is like an abusive relationship. Full of promises of good times, but when ya show up, it always lets ya down, but yet I keep coming back.
Sturgis, Daytona, Myrtle Beach, Laconia. I’ve been missing them all these last few years to prepare for this moment. Bike Rallies so heretical to the immediately of the easily digestible and the immediately fileable. I prefer trips that you grow into, and that grows around you. I have the thirst for the shock of the new and trips that reward total absorption. Trips that are inherently difficult to market to most, but have a pull on my soul way beyond the ride to the local Hooters.
This road is where myths fade to legends.
Avi and I are going to be just fine.
Peace Grease and Beats
Peace Grease and Beats
