Skyriding

The day after our ride to the Arctic Circle was meant to be an easy one. The plan was to switch tires and change oil at Adventurecycle in Fairbanks, then drive a few hours to Anchorage. Our mechanic Dan was great, but it took into the early afternoon before he was done with our bikes. It's mostly my bike's fault, cruisers can be a hassle to work on without a center stand and the bike shop back home had turned all the bolts to nigh impossible tightness. In fact, he said my bike would be the last cruiser he ever worked on if he could help it!

The day started wet and continued to worsen the longer we were in Fairbanks. By the time my bike was done it was pouring down, so I wasn't especially looking forward to the open road. Thankfully it cleared up not far out of town. The road was beautiful, we followed a ridgeline in and out of the low clouds. The mountains were gorgeous and everpresent, huge rocky faces covered in snow so close I felt that I could ride up them if I turned off the road. Scott had gotten some incredible shots of Denali the day before, I'm sure some of them have already been posted here, we weren't so lucky. The clouds covered the peak, like they usually do. The peaks we saw were still astonishing!

A crazy thing happened past the Denali camp, we saw moose again. The road was cut between two taller hills, covered in low trees. A moose burst out of brush onto the side of the ride at full tilt, which was exciting except that it kept coming onto the road. Then a copper-colored calf joined what I now realized was a mother. The kind that kick people to death for being close to their young. We threw on the brakes, and I started to lay a stripe behind me, when the two, still at a full gallop, turned off the road and lumbered back into the trees.

We rolled into Anchorage, and after a quick seafood dinner we crashed at the hotel.

Anticipation

The road to Fairbanks the next day was almost entirely uneventful. The weather was mild and the road a short one. You could see snow-covered peaks in the distance, but down in the floodplain it was warm. F-16s were playing in the azure sky when we passed Eielson Air Force Base, skipping like porpoises over the the road in the clear air.

We met with the rest of our band later that evening. My Uncle, Scott, and Biju had flown in to Anchorage, rented some mean beamers and burned asphalt up to Fairbanks to join us on our Arctic Circle run.

We ate at the Pump House for dinner, which is supposed to be an awesome restaurant, but they were packed so we got stuck at the bar with a limited menu. Not bad really, but better the next day when we got to eat in the dining room.