The Victory Grin
A few miles south of Tok, when the clock shows 24 hours since leaving Fort
Nelson, I check the odometer and confirm that I've done a bit over 1000 miles again, but no cigar.
That's all right, as the ride is reward enough and the sun has warmed things so that it's much more
comfortable than what I'd experienced coming through the Shakwak construction north of Kluane Lake. Thanks for traveling with me - a good journey is always best when enjoyed with
friends.
As I pass the Nabesna Road at MP60 I am tempted to turn and ride up to my
house to check how it has fared through this past winter. But it's time I face the inevitable
conclusion of this ride and put it behind me, so I continue on toward Glennallen. Entering the
town, I spot familiar vehicles with familiar faces peering out from inside. Under the coating of
Shakwak mud, neither the Concours nor I are recognizable, so my waves go unreturned. Still, it is
good to be home, if only to give me the opportunity to prepare for a future trip.
Pulling up in front of the apartment that I've referred to as my temporary
home for the past seven years, I start removing luggage and accessories, and carry them inside to be
sorted through over the course of the next week or two. There are many little, seemingly
insignificant souvenirs of the past 5 weeks in there. Each one, as I pull it out, will evoke
some memory of a place, person, or time that I will savor. Most will have to be deposited in the
round file, but for a few moments they will serve a higher purpose.
Long before I got back here I knew that this experience was too good to
let it be the only one like it, and while riding along I've been planning for future trips. Maybe
a Four Corners Tour starting in Maine in December? The 48 states plus Alaska in 10 days ride, but
with a start at Alcan, the U. S. Customs station on the Alcan Hwy. at the Yukon border? And another
Crawfish Boil - definitely! While I may or may not ever do another long ride, there's nothing to
stop me from dreaming.
Most who read this understand the passion that drives a rider to continue
when most others would stop, or at least look for a place to spend the night, waiting for conditions to
improve. The hardships, the discomfort - they're all a part of the whole experience of long distance
riding. Why would someone want to leave out an important portion of his experience? As with
most men who live by choice in rural Alaska, I love the outdoors. Travel is one of my main passions
as well. Motorcycle touring gives me both of these things in abundance.
A couple of weeks after returning to Glennallen, I rode the Concours in
to Anchorage to get a damage estimate done for the insurance company. The temperature
felt warm when I left home, around 60°F, so I only wore a long-sleeved cotton tee shirt under my
Roadcrafter. Going through the Eureka area in Tahneta Pass, I noted the temperature had dropped to
50°F and it felt pleasantly cool. I knew I was back home.
As I've grown older, and hopefully a bit wiser, the realization has come
to me that the mighty deeds we do are really of little consequence. But what we can inspire others
to do by our own actions is. If my ride, and this recounting of it, can inspire other riders to
say "If that old duffer can do it, it'll be a piece of cake for me", then I will have accomplished
something worthwhile. The United States, along with our neighbor to the north (for most of you),
Canada, offer some of the very best riding to be found anywhere in the world, along with great people
to meet along the way. Keep your priorities in their proper order, and look after your families
first and foremost. But once those responsibilities have been taken care of, get out there and
see the world. You won't regret it.
The Victory Grin
