Jusrex's Wayward Blog

Praise: The People of Egypt Have Spoken!

2011-02-11T17:18:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to the people of Egypt and to the thousands who supported their peaceful protest.

Although the overwhelmingly peaceful protest was not without the loss of lives, one has to believe those protesters who paid the ultimate price would gladly offer their sacrifice for the goal achieved.

The success of the Egyptian people is unlike anything I have witnessed my lifetime. Now however, the ultimate test is: can the people of Egypt formulate and preserve a form of democratic government that insures freedom and equality for all of Egypt?

The world awaits the answer, but in the meantime, I for one salute the perseverance of the Egyptian people and hope for their success.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-26T09:35:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas and here is hoping this season finds everyone in good cheer. Attempted to post this belated message before Christmas, but my computer shut down for an update and I had to run.

It has been a long time and I'm still working to put the house back together after the flood caused by the rusted out water heater.

The repairs are nearly completed and the plan is still to put the house back on the market and hope for a quick sale. The present mortgage payments are out of sight and only a glimmer of hope of that changing in the near future.

My motorcycle repairs are completed, but until the house is sold there is no hope of continuing my travels. In the meantime I will try to do better. What more can I say?

Best Wishes to All!

Back Again

2010-11-01T18:38:00.000-07:00

Nearly six weeks without posting a blog, I guess apologies are in order but, what's point? I regret my failure to keep abreast of my blog and now its time to try to resurrect what ever remains.

For the past several weeks I've been busy power washing the deck (until the power washer puked), rewiring the downstairs after the flooding (caused by the rusted out water heater), replacing the insulation and hanging drywall. During this time I was also researching the replacement costs for all of the personal property lost due to water damage. This effort resulted in a total value an astounding $42,000, of which I received (after depreciation) a little more than 33% of the value; still, not bad considering that many of the items were long forgotten.

Now I have contracted with a plasterer to finish and paint the board which should be completed by some time next week, ready for the finish carpentry, new ceiling tiles and carpet (there's a hint of - "light at the end of the tunnel").

This Saturday, my brother Don is hosting his son's 50th birthday party in Newnan, Georgia (it's amazing
how old Greg has gotten!)

As a result, I'm planning to make a quick trip down and give my congrats.

I must be getting soft after the nearly two months without riding the motorcycle except for a few miles somewhat disastrous miles of local riding (more on the "disastrous part" shortly). I first planned to ride the bike, but after riding 20 miles to breakfast and enduring the 37 degree temperatures I decided that the hardship wasn't worth the $200 I would likely save. I'll still take the Harley, but it will be the 2003 Harley Davidson Ford F-150 and not the bike.

It is just as well since the motorcycle needs to go into the "fix-it-shop" to have the front forks and
fender replaced.

I stopped to visit a friend at (ironically) his body shop when, as slowed down to stop (for the second time in less than a year) my clutch cable broke! Concentrating on keeping the bike upright, I herked and jerked my way to a stop - ALMOST! In an effort to hit the kill switch, I inadvertently twisted the throttle and accelerated through the open garage to the body shop, narrowly missing another vehicle before colliding with the stone wall to the side the garage. Embarrassed, I picked myself up while simultaneously explaining to startled onlookers that my clutch cable had indeed broken.

The Return Trip

2010-09-14T12:25:00.000-07:00

Cook Inlet

It has been three weeks since my return from Alaska and I still haven't completed my account of the return trip; and so, belated as it is, here goes.

The return trip from Seward, Alaska back to Michigan was (as I said before) not the way I like to travel; but - "A bad day of traveling on a motorcycle is still better than a good day at the office!"

The weather throughout Alaska continued to be mostly overcast with intermittent light rain. Just enough to require rain gear (rain gear that actually felt good in the high 50 degree temperatures).

The dim side of my headlight had burned out, making it necessary to stop at one of only two Harley Davidson dealerships in all of Alaska, "House of Harley-Davidson and Buell," in Anchorage (and of course I couldn't leave there without buying a long sleeve T-shirt).

Even though the weather was still not very obliging, it didn't stop me from making one final attempt to capture the rugged beauty of the Cook Inlet.

House of Harley-Davidson and Buell in Anchorage

It was hard to motorcycle past the Matanuska Glacier without stopping and to walk on the surface of the massive glacier (the Matanuska is one, perhaps the only one, of the glaciers which one can freely walk on the surface of the glacier without fear of being punished for doing so). I knew, however, that if I continued to stop at every site along the way the trip would be extended for days; instead, I opted for a couple of photos and somewhat begrudgingly continued on my way.

I had hoped to travel from Tok, Alaska northwest along the Taylor Highway to the "Top of the World Highway" (the same Top of the World Highway that I had missed back in March, when the MichCanSka snowmobile riders trekked to Tok). It was no longer a reasonable option. Record rains had raised havoc and now the Taylor Highway was only open for twice a day trips led by a "pace vehicle" which guided a caravan of vehicles along the one-way road. Once again, given my sense of urgency, I didn't have time for that kind of slow travel and therefore chose to repeat my previous route of travel through Beaver Creek, Yukon Territory.

Four days after leaving Seward I arrived in Watson Lake and was surprised to hear people complaining about the heat. I, of course, was aware of the warmer temperatures, but was surprised to discover that the temperature had in fact risen to 90 degrees Fahrenheit; for me it was PERFECT!

For the first time since leaving New Orleans back in April (some 17,000 miles ago) my motorcycle was a "concern". It was mysteriously shutting down on me for no apparent reason. Thus far, each time the engine had quit it restarted without incident - but, what if it suddenly chose another option and stranded me in the middle of nowhere?

Matanuska Glacier

The motorcycle problem had first started in Watson Lake, but it was still a concern as I rode, now miles to the south, in Fort Saint John British Columbia. Clearly, it had to be checked out.

Safely making my way to Grande Prairie (where I had been advised that there was a thriving Harley-Davidson dealership), I was greeted "royally"; stopped adjacent to a busy Grande Prairie intersection by the Grande Prairie Police. After thousands of road miles without incident, I was pulled over because my license plate was hidden by my "luggage".

I advised the officer that I had traveled through 26 states and 5 territories and that - "This was the first time I had been stopped." He, of course, could hardly care less, and most likely considered that fact a compliment; but, fortunately he let me go and only advised that when I load my gear on tomorrow - "find a way to strap your things in place in such a way that will allow your license plate to be visible."

I appreciated being given a break, but nonetheless can't help thinking that he knew that his advise would be shamefully ignored; after all, it had not been a problem for all these miles, and it was not a safety hazard.

The Harley dealership in Grande Prairie disposed me of $190 and advised me that there was a computer related electrical problem that was advising the onboard computer system that the engine was overheating and therefore needed to shut down. I was told that it was likely a loose or abraded wire that was causing the problem, but the "guilty" wire could not in fact be found without further research and (obviously) further dollars.

I decided to put wallet back in my pocket and depart - POST HASTE!

All is Well in the Land of OZ

2010-09-10T08:36:00.000-07:00

Relax - Everything is Going to be Alright. All is well in the Land of Oz. On Tuesday (after Labor Day) when I went to the bank it do was revealed that the impending foreclosure was indeed stopped in time.

As best as we could figure the transaction crossed in the mail or perhaps even in cyberspace (is that even possible?)

I have a lot of work to do to catch back up on the "Wayward Blog" and to clean and repair things around the house, but for the time being at least - the house is secure.

We still have a few weeks of moderate motorcycling weather before the snow hits, and even though it is true that my wings have been clipped (as a friend of mine would say) "I'm endeavoring to persevere." If I can't fly, perhaps I can "flutter" enough to do some exploring around Michigan, the neighboring states or even Canada.

It would not be a motorcycle trip, but perhaps, I could manage a short trip in October to see the polar bear in Churchill, Manitoba and take some wildlife pictures (something that I have wanted to do for years).

My Wings Have Been Clipped - Plus, the Horror of Horrors

2010-09-06T20:11:00.000-07:00

Fortunately I was able to keep my home from going into foreclosure, but not without the help of my family and not without significantly draining my already marginal reserves; also, my wings have been clipped - there is no way (for the time being at least) to continue my motorcycle travels.

Not to belabor the point (well, perhaps a little), I "owe it all" to President Obama's plan - "Making Your Home Affordable" (see my previous blog).

Now my mission is to find a way to refinance my home, get approved for the Obama plan or find a similar plan to bring the monthly payments into the range of affordability.

If I fail in all of the above efforts, my only remaining option is to sell my home. I don't want to sell, my home is my sense of security, a board to cling too in a "sea of turmoil", a comfort zone - the nest I can return too when all else goes awry.
_____________________________________________________________________

The above was written on Saturday before I had opened my Saturday mail. Today (Monday) I went the mail box and returned to the house to check out what Saturday's mail contained.

Horror of horrors - the blood drained from my face as I read that the checks I deposited on the 1st of September didn't clear in time and MY HOUSE HAS GONE INTO FORECLOSURE!

The money had to be deposit by the 2nd of September and although, it was in fact deposited on the 1st, the funds were not "available" in time to cover the transaction.

When I deposited the $24,000 on the September 1st, I told my banker that - "there was not any way that the funds (from the deposited checks for $24,000) would clear in time to cover the $21,711.79 required to keep my house from going into foreclosure."

My banker assured me by depositing the moneys into my account he would be able to make sure that my account would show the required funds as being available in my account and therefore guarantee that the payment would in place to cover the required $21,711.79.

Needless to say - "that didn't happen!"

Tomorrow is another day, but as it now appears I have not only lost my home (and approximately $180,000 in equity); but another $21,711.79 which was apparently - uselessly spent.

Obama's "Making Your Home Affordable" Program - May Cause Me to Lose My Home

2010-09-02T19:55:00.000-07:00

I'm Pissed! Months ago, after having lost my business and having gone thousands of dollars in debt in a failed effort to save the business, I bought into the "administrations" program to help struggling home owners to save their home - "Making Your Home Affordable".

Here's what happened. Sometime around last September or October I received a packet in the mail encouraging me to apply for the "Making Your Home Affordable" plan. Under this program, the letter explained, I was told that if accepted the plan would substantially lower my mortgage payment and allow me to keep my home. I was, of course, eager to accept an offer to substantially lower my $1780 monthly mortgage payment, and therefore, submitted the application.

After applying, I was accepted into the initial program on a trial basis (which lowered my monthly payment from $1780 to $725 for a trial period of three months).

At this time I was led to believe that the initial approval (while not official) almost assured acceptance. It would "take 3 months" in order receive full approval; and in addition, I was told that during the trial period the payment amount (although not official) would most likely change very little from the final approved payment plan.

My first payment under this plan was made in January of 2010 (by this time I was already two months behind on my mortgage payment (since I was told not to make any additional payments while awaiting to be approved into the trial program).

Three months later I was still waiting for approval!

The reason for the delay in my approval was that they were "backlogged" with so many applications under the plan that they had not been able to complete my application in the required three months. I was told to, "just continue make the $725 payment."

After four months - the answer was the same!

The same scenario repeated in May - five months into the program. All the time I believed that I would eventually receive approval and therefore the delay did not greatly concern me. Once approved, I was told, the back payments would be tacked onto the end of the loan.

When I tried to make my June payment, they lowered the "boom".

I was told that they would not accept any payment and further added, "That I would need to reapply for the "Making Your Home Affordable" program since it has gone on for six months without my receiving approval (And whose fault is that?)

I reapplied and was told that in the meantime I could not make any mortgage payment, but (again) if approved, the payments would be tacked on to the end of the loan. Seeing no reason to doubt that I would eventually be approved, I didn't care (foolish me).

On the 25 of August I called PNC Bank to find out the status of my "Making Your Home Affordable" plan and was "shocked" to hear that my application had been declined. I was told that I had one additional form (not initially required on my original trial plan) that had not been received by the deadline date of August the 24th.

When I told them that I could send the remaining required document to them on that day (the 25th of August), they told me that it was too late! They added, that now my home was going into foreclosure on the 3rd of September unless I could payoff the entire eleven months of past due payments - a total $19,582.53!

They told me that I had been advised about the deadline in the body of one of the letters of correspondence and I have no reason to doubt that this was a true fact.

Although they could not complete my application (that was required to be completed in three months) within the three months, or even four months - five months, even six months; because I was ONE DAY late, I am out of the program and now in danger of losing my home.

The irony is that Barack Obama's plan to help struggling homeowners to save their home in these
difficult economic times might in cause me too, in fact - LOSE MY HOME!

Seward Alaska

2010-08-28T21:00:00.000-07:00

Sea Lions and Birds of Resurrection Bay

The morning was clear and slightly overcast (kind of an A-typical day of late), but by noon I found myself once again begrudgingly donning the rain gear and riding through a cold 55 degree mist. It was still raining when arrived in Seward an hour later.

A fair size community by Alaskan standards, Seward has a population of 3016 year-around residents that jumps dramatically in the summer when Seward becomes a main stop on the Alaskan circuit.

The "Spires" of Resurrection Bay

The main attraction is, of course, the Resurrection Bay and the associated: fishing, humpback and orca whale watching, sea lions, eagle and bird watching; together with the camping and hiking in the nearby (less than ten miles) Exit Glacier and the trail to the Harding Icefields, there is no shortage of things to do and see in Seward.

Kenai Fjords National Park - Bear

Glacier

The small tourist ship (100 passengers) I took was affordable, fun and featured an all you can eat prime-rib buffet. Although no whales were sighted, we did see eagles, mountain goats, stellar sea lions and puffins and other birds.

Before leaving Seward I hiked the short trail to Exit Glacier. A barrier blocked the trail leading to the edge of the glacier, but it looked to be safe and appeared to lead to the very edge of the glacier.

Exit Glacier

Seeing no park rangers in the vicinity I decided to slip through the barrier and walk down to the glacier's edge.

I touched the glacier and verified that it was indeed ice, but resisted the strong temptation to walk on the glacier itself. Thinking that - in the unlikely event that I would slip on the ice and somehow injured myself - I would be in real trouble, I returned back to where I belonged; only to be confronted by park ranger.

Blue ice viewed from - Up Close and Personal

He asked in a voice loud enough to be heard by the other tourists standing nearby, "What are you doing crossing the barrier and going into the secured area?"

"I just wanted to get closer to the glacier," I replied".

"Do you also want to pay a $5,000 fine and spend six months in jail?" he asked.

"No, I didn't read the penalty," I replied.

Now lowering his voice he said, "That's alright, I like to break the rules myself - I just had to say something for the benefit of the others who saw you." "Just be careful." Park rangers are real people too!

View From the Edge of the Icefield

As I thanked him and departed, he spoke to the crowd and said in a loud voice, "I guess I got him straightened out;" and turned back too me with a smile!

I spent 3 days in Seward and could have easily spent more. It's a casual town that hosts a friendly easy going environment - it's hard not to like Seward Alaska.

Hope Alaska - Lost in Time

2010-08-26T19:30:00.000-07:00

Still on the road heading back to Michigan; it's fast travel and not much time for fun - not the way to travel. All of the following preceded my departure from Alaska.
________________________________________________

After breaking camp from the Chugach State Park in Eagle River I made a brief stop in Anchorage at the local Harley dealer "House of Harley-Davidson" to replace a burned out headlight (thought I might need that!)

In spite of what other travelers had told me, Anchorage seemed to be a very livable city, not seem at all like the center of mass confusion that I had expected.

The started out with clear conditions, but by the time I left the dealership it had returned to what was beginning to seem like the norm - varying between overcast skies, misty rain and 50 degree temperatures.

Given the conditions, what was a truly beautiful area was made less so and offered greatly diminished photographic opportunities; but, despite this, I was surprised to see two hardy souls windsurfing in the Cook Inlet.

Motorcycling in the rain has become such a norm of late that it is not all that unbearable anymore, but when it is combined with cold 50 degree temperatures it becomes hard to tough it out and the frequent stops to warm up make for a long day.

Instead of heading directly to Kenai City, I had already decided to add Seward to the agenda, but although it was only 35 miles to Seward, I was cold and eager to stop; and so, when I saw the sign, Hope 12 miles, I decided to add Hope, Alaska to my itinerary.

An old mining town which predated the Klondike strike that led to the Alaska gold rush. Hope at its peak had a population of 3000 and nearby Sunrise boasted more than 5000 residents, but Hope survives yet today and claims approximately 130 year-around residents; whereas the town of Sunrise has ceased to exist.

Many of Hope's old miner cabins have been salvaged and turned into year around homes and the Hope-Sunrise Museum features an entire miner camp of log buildings including a blacksmith shop and bunkhouse.

My unscheduled stop in Hope was on the day when they were hosting 125 mile cross-country mountain bike race. The bikers continued to pedal to the finish line past the Seaview Cafe and Bar under the applause of awaiting revelers late into the evening; their faces muddied, they looked more like coal miners than bikers. By comparison, despite my complaints, they had endured hardship that far outweighed my meager endeavor for the day.

Hope was once voted "Alaska's Most Friendly Town" (Alaska Magazine, August 2001); and I can only attest that they seemingly "a different lot," and you are more likely meet hardy souls who are searching for adventure than perhaps anywhere else in Alaska.

Trekking to the Kenai Peninsula

2010-08-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

Tranquil Scene South of Denali

Over the course of the past week, after leaving Denali and heading for the Kenai Peninsula, I made two stops of interest before arriving at Hope in the Kenai Peninsula.

The first was at a campground just south off the Parks Highway - the Mat-Su RV Park. The park is neat and clean, has showers and laundry failities and at $17 is a bargain.

Owned and operated by Therese (sic) Jankowski who originally hailed from Idaho. She moved to Saugatuck, Michigan 13 years ago and after ten years there she said, "She missed the west."

Typical Alaska Village

In order to rectify that problem she bought the Mat-Su RV Park three years ago and with the aid of her son has spent the past three years bring the park back to nearly pristine condition that is today ("nearly" - only because she says there is more work to be done).

An engaging personality, she loves Alaska and in her words she repeated a comment I heard for the second time, "It's warmer than Michigan!"

My second stop was at the Chugach State Park: Eagle River Campground. Just a short distance from Anchorage the park (like most state parks) lacks any facilities beyond an outhouse, but at just $15 a night, it is a worthy of the investment.

The best thing about my experience at Chugach was meeting "Silver." Silverio Ruiz (who goes by the name of Silver) is a Native American Inupiaq Eskimo and justly proud of his heritage.

The Mat-Su RV Park

We met as I was in the process of setting up the tent when he wandered up from his tent site across the way.

He offered to help me set up tent and after seeing that I had only a small shelter half for protection against the rains (which appeared imminent), realizing my despair gave me an extra tarp (which appeared new and unused) that he had.

I offered to pay him for it and he appeared insulted; I thanked him and said no more - that was the nature of Silver.


	Therese		Jankowski

Later that evening we set around his campfire with his wife Delores, son a grandson (Zeb a Chris respectively) and re-fried the precooked caribou sausage that had been given to me by Kurt when we went airboating.

Silver told was a school teacher and ex-basketball coach who talked with intensity about the game and his days as both a player and coach. His love for the game was obvious.

Having lost his mother at ten and his father three years later, he was raised for the remainder of his adolescent years by foster parents. He told me that his father had wanted him to be a doctor, but smiled proudly, when he told me, "...but, I don't think he would be disappointed."
________________________________________________________________

Silver, Chris and Zeb

I'm headed home! When I left Michigan I pretty much locked the doors to house, had my mail forwarded to my sons house and departed.

That is just not the way to do things; torrential rains have flooded my (finished - walk-out) basement and grass has grown out of control (arrangements were made to have it mowed, but I lost communication and the plan went awry).

Original plans were to go to Kenai City, Homer or Valdes and I was probably just 10-12 days short of - Mission Accomplished; but I have only myself to blame.

In addition, I'm now in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory and still have to complete the blogs for Hope and Seward in the Kenai Peninsula.

Perhaps in another year I can ride to Vancouver or Seattle, load my bike on a ferry, take the Inland Passage to Valdes and finish my quest.

For now I have an alternative plan of action, but will need to set things right at home first.

Airboating and the Denali National Park

2010-08-10T17:55:00.000-07:00

Rich and Kathy

Back in Fairbanks once again, I was trying to explore some of the things that I might missed the first time around when I ran into Rich and Kathy Stone outside of the Silver Gulch Brewing & Bottling Company. Rich was formerly from Michigan's UP (Upper Peninsula) and in spite of the fact that they were out to celebrate their sixth anniversary, they asked me to join them for dinner (I didn't want to intrude on their special occasion but they insisted).

Over dinner Rich (a welder by profession) told me that he had just finished building an airboat for a friend and asked if I had ever ridden in an airboat; my answer was - never.

As result of our conversation I spent the night at Rich & Kathy's (pitching my tent outside, out of respect for the special occasion); and the next day we went airboating with Kurt (the owner of the airboat) and Thomas (one of Rich's co-workers).

Kurt, Rich and Thomas & the Stone Built

No small boat, the "Stone Built," is a 19'- 6" airboat with a 456 cubic inch Chevrolet engine that has been stroked to 496 cubic inches and puts out 600 Horse power. It is a beautiful boat with 1/8" thick side walls and 1/4" on the bottom which is covered by approximately 5/8" of plastic (neoprene?) which protects the boat from abrasion and reduces friction in the shallow water. Rich is justifiably proud of his work.

We put in on the Chena River and boated around for about three hours over water that at time was less than six inches deep; but it was no challenge for the "Stone Built".

Cruising the Chena

The Chena is a sizeable river at the point where we put in and there are a number of year around homes that lined the banks for short distance off the highway, before the service access roads gives out and the river becomes the only link back to civilization. Still there were a number cabins providing temporary housing for those who favor the solitude provided by the limited access. For them their small cabin in the wilderness is their own little "Peace of Heaven".

After packing up and thanking my hosts, Rich and Kathy, I departed for Denali National Park.
From Fairbanks it is over a 5 1/2 hour ride to Denali and I hoped that the clear and sunny skies would hold together for the entire distance, but such was not the case.

However, I rode in and out of the rain and arrived in Denali with clear and sunny skies once again.

Cabin on the Chena

As expected, Denali has the look and feel of the major resort it is, but surprisingly, I was a able to find a campground for $8 a night (plus four dollars for a shower) - an unexpected bargain. The Denali Outdoor Center is located on the west side of the highway just to south of the town of Healy. The only drawback (a minor one) it is about ten miles north of Denali; but it is neat and clean and provides the added perk of whitewater rafting directly out their facility without having to go anywhere.

The half day rafting adventure on the Nenana River was less than $90 and well worth the price. You can choose between either the scenic trip or the canyon whitewater route - or take them both for about $120. Having been told that the scenic trip was more or less just a float trip, I went for

Load it Up!

"the whitewater adventure."

Riding in the front of the raft, I was glad for the protection that the dry suit provided from the icy waters fresh off the glacial melt. The class 3 & 4 rapids through which we passed were not life threatening, but were nonetheless, truly a "BLAST". With "Thirsty" (one can only guess how he got that "moniker") at the helm - barking out orders - we roared our way through the rapids; whooping, yelling and "high-fiving" as we went.

The Winding Nenana River

Despite its monstrous size (6.2 million acres - about the size of the state of Massachusetts), Denali is only the third largest of our national parks. Wrangell-St. Elias National Park is the largest and the second largest is the Gates of the Arctic National Park. The four largest of America's national parks are all located in the state of Alaska (Less you have to Google it - #4 is the Katmai National Park).

I had been looking forward with a great deal of anticipation to going to Denali National Park, and it truly is a very special and spectacular place; nonetheless, I was disappointed.

In my anticipation, I had perceived riding through the park and enjoying the sights and sounds at my own leisurely pace, but it was not to be.

Of the ninety miles of the only main roadway leading into Denali, only the first 12 miles are accessible to the general public by a wheeled vehicle of any type. For many of us, Mt. McKinley is the focal point of the park, but is more than seventy-five miles (as a crow flies) from the park entrance. Wonder Lake, some 80 miles into the park; one is still 25 miles from Mt. McKinley.

Motorcycling Along Denali's First 12 Miles

Despite what I've said, Denali (which derives its name from an Indian word meaning "the Great One") is surprisingly accessible to anyone who has the time, energy and inclination to explore its environs. Even though Denali is the habitat of black bear, grizzly bear, moose, wolverine and caribou, hikers and bicyclers are free to roam the park (seemingly uncontrolled).

Unfortunately, for the greatest number of tourists, who are traveling by vehicle are limited to the first 12 miles before being "herded" aboard one of the multitude of school busses turned tour-bus. Their best hope is to just get a glimpse of wildlife with the aid of field glasses and looking out the pulled down bus window.

Dall Sheep Rams

We saw a number of animals over the course of the our eleven hour bus ride, but I was less than excited by the bear and caribou that I saw from about 400 yards away and even the Dall Sheep that were at least worthy of a photo shot (the photo would have been great with the proper lens and tripod). For the most part, however, I was dismayed for the loss of photographic opportunities(mostly scenic) over which I had no control.

In fairness, it must be said that one is free to get off the bus at any point along the route and get back on another bus going in either direction. Sounds fine, but I for one would rather travel along the roadway at my own pace, stopping and photographing, hiking or just relaxing at will; harboring no feelings of guilt for bothering the other passengers.

Foothills of Mt. McKinley

The park service claims that the reason for not allowing the general public free access to theentire ninety miles of roadway, is there desire to control the traffic flow. Forgive me for being suspect, but I had no difficulty motorcycling along the first twelve miles of roadway; my suspicion is that its - "All About Money".

The park service, no doubt, receives (as well it should) a healthy stipends from the privately run enterprise which holds the right to run busses through Denali National Park.

Discretionary Move

2010-08-06T13:18:00.000-07:00

Home on the Range (note tent)

Coldfoot with a population of 13 year around residents is a busy place during the summer a
population of, perhaps, 10 times the year around residents. The "Sourdough" gas station,
restaurant, bar and hotel is the focal point of the community.

Although the camping is free, it all works out in the end - the showers are $14 plus $5 per towel
(yesterdays T-shirt, works just fine). The food and drinks are equally exorbitant (not the place
to languish away your time).

Christian (left) & Jon

Riding north from Coldfoot and hoping that the clear skies would hold on, while at the same time
doubting that Mother Nature would be so kind, I began once again my quest to reach Prudhoe Bay.

The further north I rode the more in doubt the situation became, but the rain was holding off for
the time being; and so, there was no point in stopping.

About 90 miles north of Coldfoot it began to rain, ever so lightly, but I knew it would take very
little rain to turn the Dalton into an "ice rink".

Sure enough, I began to feel my front tire get "squirrelly" and almost immediately pulled to the
side of the roadway - I just could not (I told myself) afford to lay my Harley down.

Soggy Buddies

I waited astride my Harley, kick-stand down, helmet off and hood of my rain suite over my head;
resting and even striving (to no avail) to sleep - what else was there to do?

Not wanting to give up and knowing that I had no business on the Dalton Highway (AKA - "The Haul Road") in the drizzling rain; I decided look for a spot along the side of the Dalton to pitch my tent. It didn't look good; the river flowed barely forty feet from the highway and between it and the roadway was mostly a mixture of shale and rocks.

Nonetheless, I found a spot, and while erecting my tent a solo rider, traveling south on a Honda,
stopped to inquire as to my situation; and so doing informed me that he had laid down his
motorcycle, wiped out a running light and added "character marks" to the side of his bright red
Honda - I knew I had made the right decision.

I asked him if he had an extra bottle of water I could buy. He gave me his last bottle and refused
any money, and quietly went on his way.

Even after seeing the results of trying to conquer the Dalton, I was beginning to question just
what I was doing; but, as the rain commenced once again, I returned to finish setting up the tent.

Comfortably laying in my tent and listing to the patter of rain and the bubbling of water from the
near by creek bed, I rested for perhaps an hour before realizing that the rain had stopped;
although it was clear that the sun had not made its presence known. And so, I continued resting,
knowing that the brief repose from the rain was not enough to allow the Dalton to dry out; but my
guilt was getting the best of me, and I bailed out of the tent. All the while knowing what to
expect, but hoping for some kind of a miracle that was not to be.

Scenery on the Slippery Dalton Highway

While standing on the roadside, anguishing over my dilemma, a truck bearing pipeline lettering
pulled up and handed me a Gatorade and a couple of snickers - another motorcycle rider had asked
him to give it to the "biker in the tent at the side of the road" (my Honda "friend" whose name I
never knew).

The driver asked if that was all of the food I had and handed me a couple of energy bars and
another water- more, kindness without question.

Sprinkling once again, I retired back to my meager abode; only to be alerted once more by the sound
of a motorcycle pulling off the highway. The sprinkling was now a steady drizzle.

This time it was another Harley, also northbound, but accompanied by a Jeep with a lone driver.

Beauty in the Haze

The three of us conversed for a while, each of us offering his assessment of the situation and
coming to the same conclusion. It wasn't worth the risk!

Jon on the Harley and Christian driving the Jeep were on separate journeys, but after bumping into
one another repeatedly they decided to go tandem. Strangely, Jon from New Hampshire and Christian
from Missouri were both tattoo artists; a fact, that almost certainly brought them together.

At this point, we were about 35 miles from Atigun Pass and only an approximate 150 miles from
Prudhoe Bay. There was so much "scuttlebutt" about the Dalton; some said that "once over Atigun
Pass you had it "made," and others claimed it mattered not - "it was all the same."

The Mountain & the Pipeline

I thought that perhaps Christian could be talked into throwing together with his "compadres" and
the three of us going the distance to Prudhoe; but even with his Jeep - he had a fear of the Dalton
Highway and wasn't buying it; despite my persistence.

Nonetheless, they agreed to wait for me to break camp and pack my gear; I was grateful to have some
accompaniment.

When we arrived back at Coldfoot it was after 2:00 AM and dark enough to tell that you had your
lights on.

Coldfoot stays open around the clock, selling gas, rooms, cold sandwiches and coffee. At this

Overcast & Rain on the "Haul Road"

point, food was food and coffee - was the order of the day.

Jon and Christian were still drinking coffee when I left the restaurant to set up the tent once
again. When I awoke in the morning they had already departed (as planned) and I returned to
Fairbanks, pleased to have a day without event.

They say "Discretion is the better part of valor"; but that doesn't lessen my disappointment for
not making it to Prudhoe.

Inside the Arctic Circle

2010-08-05T16:15:00.000-07:00

Too Close!

With a new accessory added to my Harley motorcycle (a 2 1/2 gallon gas can) I was ready to depart for the Arctic Circle and beyond, or so, I thought. I had barely gotten on the Steese Highway when I came to a sign for the turn-off to Chena Hot Springs; remembering a conversation I had at the
Boatelo (a local watering hole) where a patron had advised me that only 58 miles from Fairbanks, on
the road to Chena Hot Spring, "...you're likely to see moose and possibly even a bear."

Taking him on his word, I rode the 58 miles and found that his advice was sound. On the way I
indeed saw two moose and was able to get close enough for a good photo (probably, once I was again

Thankfully - On the Opposite Bank

closer than I should have been.) I approached cautiously (or so I thought) and snapped off about
four quick shots of the large cow; she looked directly at me (seemingly undisturbed by my
presence).

Apparently, such was not the case; as I turned to walk away, I suddenly was alarmed by the sound of
rustling water, as if an entire bathtub of water had suddenly been dumped into the creek. Turning
back around, already fearing that I was being pursued by the huge animal, I was relieved to find
her already standing on the opposite bank with water streaming from her body. I knew immediately
that I had gotten "way too close". If the beast (and a moose is indeed a beast) had decided that I
was somehow a threat, and had came my way instead of towards the opposite bank - I could never have
escaped.

Days later I was told that moose kill or injure more people than bears; mostly due to the fact that
tourists seeking to capture a photograph have less fear of a moose than a bear and approach (as I
had done) - way too close!

My reason for going to Chena Hot Springs was simply in hopes of seeing wildlife and having succeeded I had no interest in swimming in the hot springs or continuing my stay and therefore departed.

From Fairbanks to the Yukon River bridge is a distance of on hundred and thirty miles, and my side
venture to Chena Hot Springs had assured me that I could not make it that far before the late in
the evening (not that it mattered - it would still likely be daylight, whatever the time.)

Pipeline Going Underground

Despite my eagerness to get on the road I couldn't resist stopping at the Alyeska pipeline (Alyeska is the service that installed and services the Alaska Pipeline) viewing station along the Steese Highway just north of Fairbanks. Although I knew that the pipeline closely parallels the Dalton Highway, I wasn't sure if there would be other points with such easy access. Actually, there no shortage of opportunity to view the pipeline as in snaked its way across the frozen tundra, burrowing underground and passing under bridges and over mountains.

Having loss more time and still wanting to put some distance between my final stop for the night
and Fairbanks, I continued north. The hope was to at least make it off the Elliot Highway (itself
a picturesque ride along a winding roadway with roller coaster mountainous terrain) and onto the
Dalton Highway. If only for purely symbolic reasons, it marked (for me at least) the start of the
trek to Prudhoe Bay.

Motorcycling north ever mindful of that schedule that didn't exist (old habits die hard) I couldn't
resist stopping to photograph the wondrous beauty. At times the mountains take on a surrealistic
quality - looking more like a painting than an actual photograph. I found myself repeatedly
examining the results of my efforts; only to confess in the end, "Yep, that's what it looks like!"

Although I had still not made it to the Dalton Highway and it was (of course) still daylight, I
pulled off the Elliot Highway. The Dalton Highway would have to wait until tomorrow. What the
sign had indicated to be a campground was in truth nothing more than a pull-off - in any case, it
was home for the night.

In the morning, hungry and un-cleansed, I continued north for Coldfoot - today's destination.
It wasn't long before the Elliot reached the Dalton Highway; a bit of misnomer by normal standards,
but this is Alaska and the Dalton is indeed a "highway," albeit gravel (or mud) in many parts.

Yukon River Bridge

A 140 miles north of Fairbanks, the road crossed over the mighty Yukon, the fifth longest river in
North America, and the only gas stop between the Road House (16 miles north of Fairbanks) and
Coldfoot.
Impressive as the bridge is, it was impossible not to question - "how it was not a formidable
problem to cross the wood beamed roadway when it was heavily laden with winter snow." Even with
sand on the roadway or chains on the tires, it's hard not to wonder just how well it works.

Surreal Photo

Between the Yukon River Bridge and Coldfoot lie two major points of interest - the Arctic Circle
and Finger Mountain.

The first one - Arctic Circle - marks the northern most point of the summer solstice and the
southern most point of the winter solstice. In other words, it is that line of latitude at which,

Finger Mountain

during the northern summer solstice (June 21St) there is "at least" one day when the sun never
sets, and during the northern winter solstice (December 21) "at least" one day of total darkness.

Finger Mountain, the second major point of interest is not much of a mountain at all, little more
than a hill to the normal eye, but it is an anomaly to the region; formed from lava outcroppings
300 million years ago when rock pushed though the earths crust and changed the landscape forever -
it is a unique feature of the artic tundra and stands out, "like a sore - FINGER!"

Haines Junction to Tok and Fairbanks Alaska

2010-07-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

Beauty of the Canadian Rockies at Haines Junction, Yukon Territory

It's been a week since I left Haines Junction, Yukon Territory for Alaska, but you're just reading of that fact on yesterday's blog.

I am now in Fairbanks where I've been for the last five days. From Haines Junction I traveled northwest to Beaver Creek the western most community in Canada, near the Alaskan border and then went west to Tok, Alaska.

The road from Dawson City, Yukon to Tok, Alaska (closed as result of the floods) was opened the day after I arrived in Tok, but I understand that it is still slow going and definitely sub-standard conditions.

Kluane Lake, Yukon Territoty

From Haines Junction to Tok, Alaska continued to be a thing of beauty. As it past the region of Kuane Lake the scenery took on a new and different, but still beautiful look.

After a day and a half in Tok, I departed for Fairbanks having remained in Tok only in an effort to avoid the threats of rain.

The road to Fairbanks was excellent, although, devoid of any scenic beauty. At least the weather had warmed up considerably and I arrived in a dry condition.

Surprisingly Fairbanks actually receives very little rainfall; with just 11 inches annually it almost qualifies for desert classification (by definition a desert receives less than 10 inches of annual precipitation).

Kluane Lake, Yukon Territoty

Fairbanks has all of the amenities of a big city without the typical big city congestion. With a 2008 estimated city population of 35,132 that swells to a metropolitan area of 97,000. Fairbanks also lays claim to the widest temperature spread of any city in the world, from -66 degrees to 99 degrees Fahrenheit.

This past week Fairbanks has been celebrating its Annual Golden Days Celebration which is accompanied by the World Eskimo and Indian Olympics (complete with events such as the ear pull, blanket toss and two legged kick) and included a Saturday morning parade.
______________________________________________________________

Many years ago the popular saying of the day was various versions of - "I just need time to find myself". It seemed to be most commonly repeated by the young restless souls who were struggling to find their place in the world.

Kluane Lake, Yukon Territoty

It was never a comment for which I ever felt a kinship; I thought it was too much of an escape from the realities of life. I always believed (rightly or wrongly) that I knew what I wanted to be and where I was going.

However, today I find myself harking back to that yesteryear and finding a new reality, a reality with which I am still not all that comfortable.

Like it or not I am a bit of a lost sole; not in a sad or lonely way, but in a sense that I am searching for new meaning and purpose in my life.

Strangely, and somewhat incongruent with what I've just said - I love my wandering ways! I just feel a need to bring a meaning or purpose, into all that I do.

Blanket Toss at World Eskimo-Indian Olympics

No matter how much we tell ourselves that, "I don't care what other people think;" the reality, for most of us is - that we really do care! We need that moral support (or at least we need to "feel" that it exists) in order to carry forth with our daily lives. Perhaps, I should not be so bold as to presume what "others" think or believe; when I say "we" it is used only in the context that I believe that their are others of you out there, with whom I share that common bond.

And so I continue my quest to "find myself," - but I don't like it!

I would like to travel north to Prudhoe Bay, but that is a five hundred mile trek on mostly gravel roads with miles between gas stops. I don't know how far I could go on my Harley; most motorcycle riders who go that way are riding BMW's, Kawasaki's or Yamaha's with tires designed to handle the gravel and mud terrain.

Golden Days Parade - Fairbanks

Maybe if I got fitted with pair of "knobby tires" on my Harley, in order to handle the gravel and mud, it would an attainable goal. Even then, however, I would need a bit of luck; but then, - ...luck is very thin wire between survival and disaster and not many people can keep their balance on it." ("Author's Note by Hunter S. Thompson" - "Fear and Loathing in America").

It would probably be stupid, absurd or even a little insane just to try the trip on a Harley - Got to Go!

_________________________

The above was completed yesterday (7/25/10) and deliberately held for posting today; but now, today is here and I have received more information - both good and bad.

Some say that the belt drive won't handle the abuse of the Dalton Highway, others say that there are a lot of Harleys that make the trip, all say - it's a beautiful trip.

It's 499 miles from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay with the last half being all gravel; I'm heading north and at least as far as Coldfoot (which I've been told is all paved and the approximate halfway point).

Haines Junction Yukon Territory - At Last

2010-07-25T13:34:00.000-07:00

Mike Howard and Sockeye Salmon

Still determined to make to Haines Junction, I nonetheless, stopped in the Chilkat Bald Eagle Preserve to check with a fisherman there.

Mike Howard, originally from Palm Springs, California, has been living Alaska for twelve years. Gregarious and likeable, with a shock of white hair and beard, he characterizes himself as a subsistence fisherman (which has a legal precedence in Alaska). By law he can gillnet up to a limited number of fish (depending on the breed) for his or his families own consumption.

On the day I was there, he was busy cleaning his catch of sockeye salmon (which he had already gifted to a friend).

Three Photos From Klukwan Alaska

He had a small contingency of friends who kept dropping by (possibly because he apparently made it a practice to give away part of his catch).

Proceeding on my way to Haines Junction, I passed a sign indicating a left turn to Porcupine. It was still early in the day and Haines Junction was only about a three hour ride and the road towards Porcupine was paved. And so, I reasoned - why not check it out?

The road to Porcupine crossed over the Chilkat River where a sign at the edge of the roadway proclaimed that this was the historic Dalton Trail, and that nine miles up the road was Porcupine; the site of the Porcupine Mine discovery.

I continued, hoping to find an old Ghost Town and the Porcupine Mine. Less than a quarter of mile later, the paved road turned to gravel. Although, not particularly "motorcycle friendly" it was firm gravel with bumps and pot holes, but no sand (I could handle the bumps and pot holes).

Traveling slowly and with care, there were signs of ongoing logging activity, but no mining was evident until at the 8 1/2 mile point, where the road forked and sign was posted "Big Nugget Mine." A gate potentially blocked the road, but the gate was open, and so I continued on, assuming that since there were no signs warning - "No Trespassing" - it was safe to proceed.

After taking pictures of the Big Nugget mining office, I turned around and left the area - still fearing that I was trespassing. I never found the old settlement of Porcupine which was said to have had a population of about 500 during the peak mining years.

It was already getting late, but I was having too much fun just exploring; and so, I decided to continue my foolishness.

Turning down one the few side roads, I found the peaceful looking "Chilkat Valley Farm;" a small idyllic pastoral setting neatly tucked into the valley - just "oozing" peace and tranquility. It was so neatly (or perhaps even, lovingly) maintained homestead that it was almost impossible not to feel comforted by the setting. I had to assume from the setting that it was a totally organic farm (but there was nothing there to confirm my supposition).

After returning the highway I came to a sign indicating a left turn to Klukwan; since I was on a roll - why not?

I found Klukwan discomforting in a way; in spite of the junk cars and junk "everything" discarded with an "I don't care attitude" there were remnants of a past that showed great pride in what once were architectural homes of character, with beautiful facades that are, even today, impossible to ignore.

Three Photos - on the Road to Haines Junction

It was sad to see these homes still striving to maintain the dignity that they once held, a dignity that was now lost forever; and it was impossible for me not wonder how the residents of Klukwan could leave buildings and homes, such as these, to decay beyond repair before there very eyes - how sad!

In spite of the "side ventures" the third effort to make to Haines Junction was a success, but it took much longer to cover the 160 miles than one would suspect (about 7 hours). It was not only the side ventures, but the trip itself was one of fantastic beauty; made more unique by the forested mountains and grassy mountainsides.

Haines Alaska

2010-07-23T19:33:00.000-07:00

Ferry From Skagway to Haines

Everything worked as hoped; it was indeed possible to take the ferry by motorcycle and go either to Juneau or Haines, Alaska. Juneau (while it would be nice to see the capital city) would still leave me landlocked; there are no roads in or out of Juneau.

At the rate of $100 each way, Juneau was never a viable option, and in the morning I left for Haines.

The ferry ride was somewhat disappointing, the anticipated souring glaciers were no where to be seen.

In contrast, Haines is a beautiful city; or more accurately, it is a beautiful setting.

Looking across the bay my eyes were drawn to the site of the large homes that adorned the mountainside. As picturesque as the view was, however, the clouds so thoroughly obscured the mountains that, it was not until later when I saw that very image displayed frequently around Haines and on brochures promoting the area, when I fully realized I was missing much of what must be a truly breathtaking sight - the souring mountain peaks, as a backdrop to Fort Seward, that make the image a favorite of artists and photographers alike.

I did not realize at the time that I looking at the site of the military base of old Fort Seward, but I knew that the site would be my first stop.

Even though, as captivated as I was by the sight of the large homes across the bay of open water
I would never see that entire image in its full glory. Unrelenting, the clouds never broke.

Today the large buildings that once served as officer quarters, administrative headquarters, medical centers and the like, have now been converted into hotels and condominiums. Further below them and across the old parade and exercise field stands the one remaining (of the original two) huge 2 1/2 story barracks building. Too costly to repair, it stands as a sadly decaying hulk.

The setting was perfect, my campsite was owned by the Halsingland Hotel (one of the hotels converted from the old officers quarters); and was low priced, had WiFi, showers, laundry and a bar/restaurant - all of the amenities of home!

Smaller and lacking the hoards of tourists that highlight Skagway, the main claim to fame for Haines is the Chilkat Bald Eagle Preserve; the site of the largest collection of bald eagles in the world.

Fort Seward From Across the Bay

Unfortunately the season for seeing eagles in mass is during the months of October and November. I was told there are thousands of the big birds at that time who are not only prominently visible, but easily approachable to within a few feet. The reason is that during this time, the eagles in committed feeding frenzy; basically the "lid is off the cookie jar" in the form of dying salmon which are gobbled up by the eagles.

The next day, having completed my tour of Fort Seward, I rode out to Chilkat State Park hoping to catch sight of the black bears (a mother and two cubs) that had been reported to be in the area.

The fishermen were already wading the in the waters of the Chilkat River (hoping the hook one of the early salmons just beginning their annual run up the river); but no bears were seen. I would have to wait until two days later (when on the ride from Haines to Haines Junction, British Columbia) to catch sight a seemingly friendly bear, caught idly munching at the roadside.

Almost too "seemingly friendly;" unconcerned by my attention, the temptation was to slowly approach closer to get a better photograph. I had to caution myself, remembering that "this after all a wild black bear" that if threatened by my advance would perhaps - Well, I just didn't push it!

The Barracks at Ford Seward

However, I'm getting ahead of myself. After returning from the state park, I went over to the hotel to address their WiFi. While there working on my computer, I met the congenial Elize Winby Wall who was also working on here computer.

We conversed and I learned that she was a casualty of computer downsizing, we discussed are seemingly similar situations - both of us retired, but neither if us by choice!

She said that it was the best thing that ever happened to her; she would have otherwise never started traveling and fully enjoying life - in her words, "I'm having a ball!"

Halsingland Hotel (on right)

A licensed pilot, who has her own plane, she informed me that her husband (also a licensed pilot) was killed in an aviation accident, and that she had only recently returned to flying herself.

Starting anew - along with her companion, a dentist (and pilot - of course!), have more freedom than most to enjoy life's many wonders; and they seem to be doing quite well - thank you!

Another commonality, Elize is also a bloggers (www.dogfishstudio.com); the people you meet on the road are often the hi-light of traveling.

Alaska and Back Again

2010-07-19T14:57:00.000-07:00

The road out of Alaska and back in again, would take me from Stewart, British Columbia (Hyder, Alaska) to Watson Lake, a long ten hour ride. The road is paved all the way except for a few minor stretches of gravel road along the way (the longest run of gravel is less than 5 miles long).

The gas stops are few and far between; it's no problem, one just needs to be sure to leave with a full tank of gas and not pass up any gas stations in-between. It's a nice drive, but only moderately scenic (remember, - everything is relative).

My choice (and my recommendation for a campground) in Watson Lake is the Downtown RV Park. It is conveniently located (as the name suggests) "downtown" and is within walking distance of most everything there is in Watson Lake.

There is not a lot to see or do in Watson Lake, when we passed through there in March on the snowmobile trip (see the older blog dated March 4, 2010) I failed to get a picture to the famous Watson Lake Sign Forest; therefore I was intent on correcting that error and also looking through the "forest" in effort if there was a sign from close to home. The "winner" was Jonesville, Michigan (see photo).

The Northern Lights Centre is another Watson Lake attraction that is quite interesting and in my opinion well worth the minimal cost. Even if one chooses not to see the movie, it cost nothing to tour the small but interesting facility.

Originally my thought was to go from Watson Lake west to Whitehorse and then north to Dawson City; but, once again, that was the same route I had traveled in March - Why repeat it?

As it turned out it was a not moot question; torrential rains in Alaska (on a scale that had not been seen in this area in decades) caused flooding which washed out vast sections of highway throughout a purported 100 miles. The highway is closed until repairs can be completed (an estimated 6 weeks working around the clock - providing that the weather cooperates).

With that one option eliminated another one was interjected - by missing the turn to Whitehorse and continuing straight to Carcross, I could turn south and go to Skagway (the second most, after Hyder, southerly point of entry into Alaska).

It was an intriguing option, traveling (for me) an uncharted path, even though it would necessitate backtracking back to Carcross in order to continue north through Alaska. There are no Alaskan roads leading north out of Skagway, the only option was to return via Carcross; unless, it was possible to take my motorcycle by ferry to Haines, Alaska (an even more intriguing option!)

It was a plan I could (and did) get excited about, the decision was made - off to Skagway.

Skagway was the starting point for the White Pass route to the Klondike during the gold rush; a historic town that was bound to be loaded with things of interest.

The only problem getting to Skagway before dark; with so much spectacular beauty to contend with, it all seemed magnificent to ride by with my camera packed away in my saddle bag (I couldn't do it!) In the end, it was only darkness that made me pack the camera back in the saddlebag.

Skagway (according to the 2000 census) has a year around population of 862 residents, but it's a volatile population that doubles over the summer tourist season in order to cope with boat loads of tourists that unload from 2-3 huge cruise ships almost daily, the White Pass Railway and a number of tour busses.

In appearance Skagway reminds me of Dawson City, Yukon Territory; but, despite the fact that Dawson City has more than half again the year around population, Skagway appears much larger. The reason, Skagway has 900,000 annual tourists (15 times more than that of Dawson City's mere 60,000) that encourage more support services.

With the volume of tourists flocking downtown, the streets are a swarm of activity up until 8:00 PM when the cruise ships depart and all of the numerous tour buses have long since departed; after the 8:00 o'clock hour, one could "drive a dragster" down main street without fear of striking a single sole!

West to Alaska

2010-07-16T23:52:00.000-07:00

Mount Robson

After arriving in Jasper around noon it was easy to see that one could get real comfortable in Jasper. From this location there seemed to be an endless list of possible summer time things to do: from hiking and camping, canoeing, kayaking, whitewater rafting, fishing, bicycling or just strolling around the small community and taking pictures. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), as the case may be, none of the above was on my agenda for the time being, and I needed to get out of Jasper before the day was done; I had a mission - West to Alaska!

Checking my map, it appeared that Prince George was within striking distance if I could finish my "look-over" of Jasper and get on the road by 2:00 PM at the latest.

The ride to Prince George was a pleasant, but other than the great view of the glacier topped Mount Robson (the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies), an unspectacular ride; given what I just ridden through, I was now somehow almost jaded by all of the beauty of British Columbia, and no longer so easily impressed (a feeling that thankfully did not last long).

It was about 8:30 PM when I arrived in Prince George, giving me plenty of time to find a campground and set up my tent before dark, or so I thought.

Prince George is an industrial city with a sizeable population of over 70,000 people; it known as, "the Northern capital of British Columbia." With that kind of high praise one would think that finding a campground would be a breeze; but, that was not the case.

After riding on highway 16 from one side of the city to the other (getting lost in the process), and still finding nothing, a local directed me to what must be the only campground in Prince George; Sintich RV Park (south of the city on highway 97), is an excellent RV park.

Bear Glacier

Must have been too excellent! I spent two days there just catching things up and planning the next move.

There are not always a lot of choices (the highway options are limited when going to Alaska), but from Prince George I could ride up the Alaskan Highway (highway 97) to Fort St. John or continue west on the Yellowhead Highway 16.

Highway 97 was safe, sure, secure and a route I had already traveled on during the snowmobile trip in February-March. The Yellowhead would offer a new and (for me) un-traveled route; but represented more of a challenge when it connected to highway 37 (the Cassiar Highway) with some gravel and many unknowns - I headed west on the Yellowhead Highway 16.

Bear Glacier

Actually, the Yellowhead held one distinct advantage. It would lead to the southern most highway entry into Alaska (via Stewart, British Columbia) at Hyder, Alaska; and this was the determining factor in selection the route.

It was after 2:00 PM before I departed. It was chilly (no, it was COLD!), and threatening clouds loomed overhead. Things didn't look good. The distance from Prince George to Stewart was 434 miles and Mapquest listed it as an 8 1/2 hour ride. It was too far for me to make it with my late start, and I would have to find a campground en-route.

The threatening clouds began to release a few sprinkles but fortunately just as I was entering the town of McBride - I welcomed the opportunity to grab a coffee and suit up with rain gear.

Predictably after suiting up with rain gear the rain stopped and the sun came out. I ditched my jacket and kept the pants and boot covers in place (it was easy to replace the jacket if needed and the other attire was still comfortable even with the sun out).

Old Empress Hotel

The Glacier View RV Park, a small campground west of Smithers worked out fine for the night; and the next morning while braking camp and preparing for whatever the day might bring, I struck up a conversation with the girl in the adjacent tent site. We agreed that since we were both traveling alone and in the same direction, we might as well ride together (at least for a while).

Over breakfast I learned that in fact Lori-Ann Muenzer is a bit of a celebrity. She informed me that six years ago she had a life changing experience. Somewhat hesitant (curious, but not wanting to be probing into personal matters), I asked if she cared to share her experience - she responded positively.

I was amazed and impressed to learn that six years ago, at the age of 38, Lori-Ann won Canada's first ever (and to this day only) Olympic Gold Medal in cycling.

Stewart Museum

At an age when most women are enjoying the leisurely life of attending their grand children's sporting events, school band and a host of other activities, Lori- Ann was "beating the pants off" other competitors (some of whom, where perhaps half her age!)

Apparently not one to rest on her laurels, Lori-Ann has her own public speaking company, and is currently working on her degree in photography.

We rode together for the day and eventually connected with highway 37A south and passed through the beautiful Bear Glacier on the way to Stewart, British Columbia.

Stewart British Columbia

Highway 37A south is a short, but fabulously beautiful route which in terms of the glaciations even rivals the Columbia Icefields along the Icefields Parkway (the Bear Glacier's frozen river of ice was an amazing aquamarine color which is sadly lost in the small internet photo).

During its "heyday" it had a population of about 10,000, but today the population of Stewart is less than 500 years-around residents (the summertime population doubles).

In the years following the Klondike Gold Strike, Stewart was a center Canadian mining activity and the Canadian Pacific Railway. Tucked into a large bay and surrounded by glacier topped mountains, it still has the look of an old Canadian mining town.

Lori-Ann Muenzer in Hyder

Stewart's huge old Empress Hotel once served as housing for the employees of the Canadian Pacific Railway. Built in 1908, it still appears - square and upright - as if it were in repairable condition; but (sadly) for what need?

In a similar way, the Stewart Museum serves as stately reminder of better times long past.

From Stewart, British Columbia to Hyder, Alaska is less than three miles; how "neat" it was, to get up in British Columbia, and ride to Alaska for BREAKFAST.

Hyder, Alaska is even smaller than Stewart with a population of only 85 (they must have been hiding when we were there). Our breakfast was at the Glacier Inn in Hyder. It had the atmosphere of an old Western saloon; the "wall-paper" was what must be literally thousands of one dollar bills from nations around the globe, but predominately from the United States. It seemed as if Wild Bill Hickok could have been dealt his "Dead-Mans Hand" right on this spot.

Glacier Inn in Hyder Alaska

Despite the fact that neither of us had a real travel agenda, we had separate missions and goals which required that we go our separate ways.

We had camped at the same campgrounds Stewart and rode together to as far north as Watson Lake, Yukon Territory before departing on our separate journeys. Many thanks to Lori-Ann for a "putting-up with me" and Best of Luck with all of your future endeavors.

Nez Perce Fight Big Oil

2010-07-13T19:11:00.000-07:00

A week ago, while eating breakfast in Kalispell, Montana and glancing through "The Missoulian" (the apparent newspaper of choice in Kalispell), when an article "Nez Perce: No big rigs across their reservation," caught my eye.

I'm ashamed to admit that my first thought was that the Nez Perce were probably "grabbing" on to some environmental issue simply because as Native Americans they wield considerable power.

As I read the article, however, I had to admit that they had a real issue, and in fact it appeared that most of the real "wielding of power" was coming from the other side in the form of some major muscle from, you guessed it, - BIG OIL.

The project is officially known as the Kearl Oil Sands Project and together with the Alberta Tar Sands, it has been called - "...possibly the largest industrial project in human history" (quite a statement).

The Nez Perce make no attempt to hide the fact that their opposition is not only with the movement of oil field equipment through pristine areas designated as "wild and scenic," but also with the scope of the entire projects environmental impact.

Protagonists for the environment point that this type of mining discharges 3 times the CO2 gasses into the environment that conventional oil field operations do.

Essentially oil sands mining is akin to open pit mining that will have a devastating impact on the environment for years to come (the project is currently slated to continue for a minimum of 50 years).

In terms of the Nez Perce current issues with the project (the movement of oil rig equipment over Native American lands), there seems to be no question that have a very valid concern.

The size of the behemoth truck "rigs" to move the equipment is mind boggling. They are said to be 12 times the size of a normal semi-truck, are 140-210 feet long, approximately 30 feet high, 25 feet wide and fully loaded will haul loads up to 140 tons (by other accounts - roughly 500,000 pounds!)

Exxon Mobil's current plan calls for them to move the monster sized loads over the winding two lane (32 feet wide) highway - AT NIGHT! Incredibly believable!

They could of course, in all likelihood, move the needed equipment by using more conventional trucks, but that would jeopardize the sanctity of Exxon Mobil's sacred profits.

It seems that the Nez Perce have valid concerns and I wish them in their efforts.

The Canadian Rockies and the Icefields Parkway

2010-07-11T16:59:00.000-07:00

From Fort Macleod the plan was to ride to Calgary 107 miles due north and turn west for Banff National Park (Canada's oldest national park established in 1885). This would be my second time at Banff (another ski trip), but the first in the summer time.

Approaching Banff the white capped soaring peaks began to appear in the distance, but with the overcast skies they were markedly less dramatic (although, they were still a cause to stop and take photographs en-route).

On the ski trip we had actually skied at Lake Louise (35 miles to the north), but had visited Banff in order to see the city and, in particular, the famous Banff Springs Hotel (now the Fairmont Banff Springs). Built in 1886 by Sir William Van Horne, the manager of the Canadian Pacific Railway, it is still used as a symbol for the Banff area.

The majestic 770 room hotel looks even larger than 770 rooms. I wanted to capture its splendor, but despite all my efforts, I wasn't able to find the road above the hotel that would provide a clear and unrestricted view for that one - Great Photograph.

Reluctantly resigning myself to accept the photographs "as is" I rode through the center of the bustling city, where hundreds of tourists were seemingly bent expending "their hard earned dollars" before returning from their vacations.

However, despite the abundance of opportunities, I had no interest in shopping and therefore departed the Banff on a route to Lake Louise. My intent was to connect with highway 93 and begin on a northward bearing toward Jasper, Alberta.

A short distance outside of Banff I came to a detour sending me on an off-course route to Lake Louise. Although being behind schedule (What schedule!), I reasoned that this might in fact be a fun scenic route, and - I was right! It was barely three miles after beginning the detour, when I rounded a curve where five big horn sheep rams, were peacefully grazing beside the road.

At least they had appeared peaceful; however, before I could remove my camera from my saddle bag, I was startled by the cracking sound of horns crashing together. I looked up just in time to see the two rams rearing-up and banging there horns together once again. Although, I missed the photograph, I had "caught" the memory - and it was a memorable sight indeed.

The distance from Lake Louise to Jasper was 143 miles (230 kilometers), too far to make it before darkness would set in and I was without a clue as to whether there would be any campsites along the route from Lake Louise to Jasper. Even knowing that Jasper was a national park, I still did not know where the park began and ended.

The Lake Louise Information Centre provided the needed information; campgrounds were indeed located all along the route separated by 12-20 miles.

Highway 93 between Lake Louise and Jasper is known as the Icefields Parkway. The brochure from the information centre called it "The Most Beautiful Road in the World;" a claim that has been reported to them by "many seasoned travelers." I could not agree more - it is an amazingly spectacular stretch of highway.

With only a few hours to spare before darkness would set in, it was difficult to ride without stopping at each of the numerous stopping points - and even inventing some of my own to "snap" one more photograph - and so, I hit them all (or so it seemed).

After passing up the Rampart Creek campsite, I stopped for gas and was told that the next campsite was "about" 8 kilometers either way (to the north or the south); after 32 kilometers to the north (don't believe all of the information you get) I found the Wilcox Creek campground, a mere 3 miles from the Columbia Icefields Centre, and set up the tent for the night.

Who would have thought that it would be so cold a 3 miles from the Columbia Icefields (duh!!!)? Over night the temperature dropped to 4 degrees Celsius (39 degrees Fahrenheit). Despite of that, I slept surprisingly well.

Riding in the early morning, it wasn't much warmer; and as any "true" motorcycle rider can attest, riding at 40 degrees takes some of the fun away. After a 32 mile ride to Sunwapta Falls Junction, - coffee never tasted so good!

Back on the road the air had warmed considerably and the marvel of the Columbia Icefields Parkway continued; but, with a surprising twist.

With only 19 miles of parkway remaining the Athabasca Falls was a pleasant change from the mountains and the glaciers (although their is still no escaping the beauty provided by the mountain as a backdrop to the falls).

Montana and on to Canada

2010-07-07T19:22:00.000-07:00

With a late departure from Craters of the Moon Nation Monument the next stop was at an RV Park in Mackay, Idaho.

It had seemed like (when passing through) that "-Utah has more horses than any other state." It is not true, of course, but from my perspective, through the chosen route of travel, and on a motorcycle - that was my honest perception.

Now, in Idaho there seemed to be little difference (at first). In Pocatello, local fairgrounds had been preparing for a horseshow, and horses were everywhere.

Nonetheless, as much as the Idahoan's still love their horses the four-wheeler seems to be "taking over" and are the current vogue and now - "they" are everywhere! The RV Parks are filled with trailers loaded with four-wheelers, they run streets (and even the highways, in smaller towns), are parked at restaurants and (shudder) the bars.

Mackay is small town on highway 93 that seems to caters to four-wheeler's in a big way, and is a prime example of a town taken over by four-wheeler's. The hillsides leading to 10,000 foot snowcapped peaks are apparently all the invitation that is needed.

Years ago when traveling through Idaho, I remember seeing scores of potato "barns;" but on this trip they seemed surprisingly lacking (was it due to new technology or was it just this area of Idaho?)

Mackay is only about 252 miles from Missoula, Montana, but with stops along way I knew that it was likely to be a two days motorcycle ride - and it was. The day ended at Hamilton, Montana a mere 40 miles south of Missoula, but since it was a sizeable town with internet cafes and a visible RV park, Hamilton it would be!

Since leaving Utah, it had been a steady progression, a sort of "Greening of America;" and now, in Montana it was as if it had come to full strength. Take away the mountains, and my thoughts even drifted to Michigan; but not for long, the only similarity is the color green!

Things were piling up, there had been no time breaks between stops, no time to blog, no time to address those nagging prevailing issues we all have and not even time for laundry; and so, it was two days later before gear was loaded on the motorcycle for Kalispell, Montana.

Kalispell was only 167 miles from Hamilton, but it was near the entry to Glacier National Park and therefore a perfect stopping point.

For some unknown reason (perhaps, it was because as a young man I had romanticized visions of going to smoke jumpers school and then working during summer breaks from college) Missoula held an attraction for me, and it was hard to just pass through without stopping; but there was no real reason to stop after only 40 miles, and so it was on to Kalispell.

Kalispell is, as an acquaintance turned friend, described, "is a great place to live and great place to retire;" strange words coming from an unemployed 42 year old man, but as an ex-patriot from Iowa he obviously was infatuated with Kalispell.

With my short time there and my limited exploration, it is hard to pass judgment, but for the sportsman, hunting and fishing abound and it is beautiful country.

My time there was extended as I still endeavored to bring things back together, and as the weather provided three days of on-again, off-again rain. The mail from Michigan had finally caught up with me and, for the time being, those nagging personal issues had been taken care; and so, despite the weather, it was now time to go!"

And so, with some hesitation (the hope was for clear skies sunshine while riding through Glacier National Park) I loaded the motorcycle and departed from Kalispell to drive through Glacier National Park.

Actually, in spite of the forecast the overcast skies were rather pleasant despite the cool air. It seemed good to be back on the road after having spent several days in Kalispell.

The road from West Glacier to Marysville (the east side entry to Glacier National Park) travels over Logan's Pass by way of "the Road to the Sun," and winds its way past Lake McDonald and the often times raging whitewater of the Flathead River before reaching the highway's summit at the Logan Pass Visitors Center.

The rain held off for most of the way, and provided some views, but it was hard not to wonder what clear skies and sunshine might have provided. Sometimes the cloudy skies provide spectacular photos, but it seemed for the most part that such was not to be.

The rain increased as I approached Logan Pass; my finger tips seemed as though they were about to freeze as my gloves were now soaked with rain. Until then, the rain had been only fleeting, and still it was only a drizzle; but at nearly 9000 feet of elevation, and with air cooled to (an estimated 40 degrees) it was a "bit" of a chilly motorcycle ride!

Even with the rain I could see that Logan's Pass was a spectacular view, but with the rain and cold I bore on without stopping, and arrived at St. Mary's (the eastern entry to Glacier) about 5:30 PM.

With no campgrounds in sight (it was too early to end the day anyway), and hoping to make it well into Canada before nightfall, I continued on.

Given my past record (and knowing that the gas stations are often hard to find in Canada) I made sure that the tank was filled before leaving for Canada. There was a third reason; of course, the gases prices in Canada can hurt you!

Entering into Alberta from this point, was crossing into unknown territory and I was somewhat surprised by the distances between cities. When I stopped for the night at Fort MacLeod (a distance of approximately 50 miles) only two cities had been passed.

Arco Idaho and the Craters of the Moon National Landmark

2010-07-04T12:22:00.000-07:00

From to Provo, Utah to Pocatello, is barely over 200 miles and a straight shot on I-15. I tried to stay on course and follow highway 89, but it eventually deserted me and turned east. Defeated, I joined the interstate and made my way to Pocatello.

Still striving to catch some mail from Michigan I spent two days in Pocatello before leaving on an eagerly anticipated trip through the Salmon River Mountains en route to Missoula, Montana.

I-15 is, of course, the route of choice for most travelers eager to get from one spot to next, but I turned west on US-26 and eventually connected to US-93. My quest was to take the slow, easy and scenic route and continue to reap all of the awesome beauty that America has to offer.

Even though Arco was only a few miles to the west of Craters of the Moon National Landmark and my location was no more than tem miles from the turn-off, I was surprised to find outcroppings from obvious volcanic activity scattered randomly throughout the area. Taking pictures along the highway, I was strangely oblivious to the fact that these were the scattered remnants of the massive upheavals that would later be found at Craters of the Moon.

To further my surprise, at a (Point of Historical Interest) it was posted, "Since 1949 more nuclear reactors - over 50 of them - have been built on this plain than anywhere else in the world." This seemed like an astounding fact and I was amazed by my ignorance (Hold you tongue!) - Why had I never heard even a whisper of this before?

Added to this, was the fact that, tiny Arco (population 1026 as of the 2000 census) was the location for the worlds first nuclear energy plant and the first city "In the WORLD" to be lighted by Atomic Power. This was accomplished on December 20, 1951 and lasted for only one hour before, they apparently "corrected the PROBLEM" and restored normal power - they had earned their place in history.

Stopping in Arco I debated about driving to Craters of the Moon National Monument or bypassing it all together. Fortunately, I made the former choice for which I am extremely grateful - I enjoyed Craters of the Moon TREMENDOUSLY!

With only a vague idea of what to expect, and I was truly amazed by the incredible site. It is an amazing and spectacular site. There are mountains of ash, vast sprawling fields variously filled with lava flows and volcanic rock and even caves (called lava tubes) left by years of volcanic activity.

This area is known as "The Valley of the Lost River" so named for the Lost River that literally disappears as it sinks beneath the lava flows of Craters of the Moon National Monument only to resurface once again, in the form of springs near Idaho Falls.

Without being there, one would, perhaps question how interesting such a site could be, but is truly an amazing place. Some of the pictures appear as if I have opted to include black and white photos as a change of venue, but such is not the case. The lava flows "vary" from a flat black to a shiny-glossy black.

The Beauty of Utah

2010-07-02T23:18:00.000-07:00

Bryce Canyon is in southern Utah, and it would take me another day and half to complete my journey through the state after allowing for an overnight stop at the KOA campground in Provo, Utah. I had been waiting on a package that was being sent (first) to my home in Michigan, and then, my son Sean, was going to forward the package to the KOA in Provo as soon as it arrived. The only problem, it never arrived Michigan (and it still hasn't).

The KOA's are always (from my experience) excellent campgrounds with first class amenities, but they are a little "pricey" considering that I seldom use any of the amenities beyond the shower and laundry room. On a tight budget, I choose to avoid the KOA for this reason, and this reason only (if your budget allows it, I highly recommend the KOA campgrounds).

Provo, with a population of over 115,000, is no small town, but it is Spartan clean and with the snowcapped mountains for highlight it is a sight to behold. Although I have never been to Switzerland, the scene from downtown Provo provided an example of what I imagine it might look like.

Despite the city attraction, When the package was not able to ship out of Michigan I chose not to extent my stay in Provo and set out the next day for Pocatello, Idaho.

People are always asking me if I'm fun and just reply with a shrug - sure. Not very affirmative, but the truth is - You're DAMN RIGHT I'm having fun! Why wouldn't I be, everyday brings a whole new set of experiences and more and things to see and photograph.

Photography is for me a big part of the fun, and it is always a struggle to keep myself from stopping to photograph something at each bend on the road. If I had succumbed to all of the temptations I would still be in TEXAS!

The beautiful Mormon, Manti Temple in Manti, Utah, is only one small example of one of the many temptations.

Following the orders of Brigham Young, the temple was built with the donated Mormon labor of the practitioners who quarried the stone from this very site. It took them eleven years to complete the structure, but in 1888 it was completed and still graces the city of Manti - what a beautiful sight to behold!

Utah and Bryce Canyon

2010-07-01T17:54:00.000-07:00

Each state seems more wondrous than the last, and yet I know that it is just a matter of the time frame; living in the present makes it so.

I have spent very little time in Utah and it has always been while just passing through or on a ski trip which gives one a very limited perspective. In traveling through Utah now, it's as if I'm seeing the state for the first time, and I like what I see!

Although, even now, I know that my time here will be all too brief, but I'm happy to have the opportunity to relish as much as possible.

My image of Utah is of giant sandstone multi-shaped rock formations and that image seems ever present, but then too, there is another image that seems out of context. This is an image that I was surprised to find; but as I traveled north out of Kanab there were beautiful peaceful looking valleys, winding streams, an elk farm and green grassy areas (although, still framed in the sandstone cliffs) that contrasted sharply with the otherwise harsh desert like terrain. This tranquility, however, seemed short lived as I turned east towards Bryce National Park my original image was restored.

It was mid-afternoon as I rode into the aptly named Red Canyon, the gateway to Bryce Canyon. Red Canyon is still outside of Bryce Canyon itself and is a drawing card all by itself with numerous outfitters, backpackers and horseback trail riding tours being offered to lure prospective tourists.

As I rode through Bryce Canyon I couldn't help thinking that it would be a great parwondrous,living in the present,Utah and Bryce Canyon,traveling,peaceful looking valleys,campgrounds,riding tours,riding the motorcyclek for backpacking. There is so much to see from the overlooks, but I would have very liked to have experience the views from the bottom of the canyon.

From one end of the park to other is a mere 16 miles, but it is a spectacular park with great and unusual vistas. Despite its relatively small size, following the winding road through the canyon and stopping to experience and photograph the great vistas, I found myself running short of time. At the eleven mile point I turned around in order to exit park or find a campsite at one of the numerous campgrounds within the park.

It was approaching dusk as I turned into one of the north end campgrounds near the entry to the park. There was still space available, but although I knew this would be my cheapest alternative I exited the campground and the park (I was hungry there wasn't any food available inside the park at this hour).

What I thought was perhaps my next best choice, Ruby's Inn Park & Campground and Motel, was built in 1919 to service tourist visiting Bryce Canyon and was first known as "Tourist Rest. Despite its long history I would give it a "3" on a scale of one to ten.

From my experience, I found Ruby's Inn to be both expensive and ill equipped (only one of the two bathroom facilities have showers and there are no paved roads), which is appalling considering their prices. My recommendation for anyone going there would be to find a spot within the national park (their still will not be any paved roads, but there are at least showers) and you will save money too boot.

I should add that my harsh assessment of Ruby's was further aggravated by the fact that the only food they had available was grocery store snacks. The only reason I had stopped there in the first place was in order to get both food and a camp site; but by that time I was too paranoid about the very real possibility of hitting a deer or elk to risk riding the motorcycle even for the short ride back to the campground inside the park.

Kanab - With Help from Friends

2010-06-30T16:25:00.000-07:00

After leaving Grand Canyon, it was over an hour drive to connect to highway 89 at Cameron and the location for the Junction Campground.

In retrospect it would have been wise to check out the campground to at least find if they had tent sites available; but, there was still daylight and I remembered talking with fellow bikers who had mentioned that they were going to Tuba City. It wasn't as if they had talked in glowing terms about Tuba City, but nonetheless, I felt almost compelled to go there - it was a mistake. The Junction Campground had been right on the highway, but Tuba City was twelve miles east of highway 89 (why must I make things so difficult?)

Actually, the campground at Tuba City (part of Quality Inn) was clean, neat and reasonably priced. It had one minor problem though, Tuba City is part of the Navajo Nation and thus the sale if alcohol is prohibited - I just wanted a beer, but that was not to be.

Page, Arizona was my next stop; located just to the south of the Utah border and the site of the beautiful Glen Canyon Dam. Actually, the city of Page was built in 1957 to house workers building the Glen Canyon Dam.

Today is Page is a progressive looking community without any of the remnants of a bygone past to contend with that haunt most cities. With only the present, the future and their short history to deal, they are the envy of many a community. The monstrous Lake Powell (the second largest man made lake on the United States - after Lake Mead) created by the dam - the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area is a recreational Mecca for American vacationers.

My plan for the day was to proceed north into Utah to Bryce Canyon National Park. It was only a four hour, 234 mile ride (according to Map Quest) that should have been no problem - if only I had kept gas in the tank!

Just to the West of Page the highway crosses into Utah where Big Water is barely a blurb before beginning the 74 mile trek to Kanab, Utah. Obviously, with all of my past experiences I should have made sure that there was plenty of gas in the tank, but for whatever reason, I failed to so. Fifteen miles east of Kanab my Harley droned to a stop.
There was little doubt as to the problem - I had been there before.

Highway 89, as the main road north from Flagstaff (and also the most direct route to Bryce Canyon), it is the favorite of RVer's and biker's alike - surely, someone would come to my aid.

However, everyone has there own agenda and I couldn't fault them for not stopping; but a lone biker on the side of the road, is seldom passed by other riders and I wasn't either.

A couple of European's, riding rented Honda's motorcycles out of Florida, stopped to offer their assistance and even offered to siphon gas from one of their tanks - but, no one had a hose.

One of them suggested I flag down a car. Left with few alternatives, I reluctantly agreed.

At first I tried attracting a truck pulling a boat, which would most likely have available gas, but to no avail.

Impatient, I tried to flag down anyone else who would stop.

I remembered how in my youth I had sometimes hitch-hiked and always met interesting people; it was like reliving the past when a man in his 40's stopped to assist. He didn't have any gas or a hose (anyway, the bikers had since departed), but offered to take me to Kanab. He told me that he had traveled these roads years before, when as a college student he (twice) "walked" from Provo to Flagstaff (a "short" month long hike).

At the Kanab Phillips 66 station, were he dropped me off, I secured a gallon of gas and trudged, gas can in hand, back to highway; feeling quite foolish (as well I should have).

I was comforted by the feeling that, "this hopeless looking sole" standing along side the highway in swelter heat would certainly stir someone's compassion; but most of the traffic was going north or turned at the gas station short of my location.

Even so, less than fifteen passed, before I was picked up by a young girl returning home from work.

Donna had her own set of problems, but she none the less was kind enough to concern herself with mine.

Her "middle-aged" pickup truck had vice-grips locked in two places around the steering column (one as a pseudo gear shift and the other serving some unknown function). She advised me that the air conditioner didn't work and when I asked for her permission to roll down the window, she replied - "that doesn't work either!" And she stopped to help me!

Donna said that she worked at the grocery store in town and lived just five miles east of Kanab. My Harley still waited for my return, fifteen miles to the east. None the less, Donna drove without hesitation the back to my Harley, and at first refused to accept my paltry offer of $10. She relented when I advised her that, "that will at least pay for your gas." Bless you Donna.