tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82192005402151315362024-02-07T00:37:01.475-05:00Carpe Iter ItinerisLife, travel and other such adventures.The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-29834407367738753072013-09-07T23:27:00.001-04:002013-09-07T23:27:37.882-04:00New Blog Site - http://carpeiteritineris.com/I've decided to take the blog to next level and have moved it to a self-hosted page. If you've been following me here please join me at <a href="http://carpeiteritineris.com/">http://carpeiteritineris.com/</a>.
Thanks for following along!!
The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-27947316577375110842013-06-15T22:55:00.002-04:002013-06-15T23:02:06.049-04:00Full CircleI can't believe it's been almost 4 years since I've posted to this blog. Time goes by fast, but a lot has, and is happening. When I started this blog in the summer of 2009 it was to log our journey from Cape Cod to Alaska and back. Many of my friends and family followed our trip here on this blog. The trip was amazing of course, but even 4 years later I'm still feeling the affects of it. I'd be remiss if I didn't report back that the trip was life-changing. I don't think I'd be the person I am today if not for that adventure. For some reason, prior to that, it just seemed like such a far-fetched idea to me. It seemed like the kind of adventure that other people had, not necessarily me. After completing those 12,500 miles by motorcycle I was left with a sense that anything was possible. That I didn't have to be the person that said, "I wish I could...."<br />
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Many adventures have followed since. And I've been lazy in recording all the amazing things life has offered. I spend two months in Japan, James went to OCS, we bought our first home, traveled Spain by motorcycle, volunteered for a Sea Turtle conservation program in Costa Rica and shared beers at the Lazy Lizard bar on the beach in Belize.<br />
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Life is good. Of course, it does have it's ups and downs. James lost his grandfather, Lavoy, and I lost my grandmother, Barbara. And our two Australian Shepherds, Sydney and Shelby, both passed over the last few years. But overall we are blessed beyond measure.
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I've recently run in to some inspiration. And that's what brings me back to this blog. After anticipating that we'd be staying in the San Francisco bay area for another couple of years, the news that we'd be transferring wasn't initially well received. Even if it was to Alaska. There's something to be said for digging in some roots. My stint here in our home in the bay area holds a record for me - three years in one home. I was enjoying my little nest and I had to have a serious attitude adjustment about the whole thing. But now, armed with my big-girl pants, I'm embracing the change. And it's hard to imagine now why I wasn't excited about it from the start. Let's be honest... set me in one place too long and I get thinky and start pondering the meaning of life, and that's just not a good rabbit hole to fall down.
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So back to the inspiration - our new journey and adventure. We'll be leaving for Alaska some time mid-July. Don't ask me for a specific date because, well, we don't know just yet - big planners that we are. I can tell you we'll be out of our home on the 27th and bouncing around spending time with people before we head up to the wilderness.
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If moving to Alaska wasn't enough adventure for the next couple of months I'll be leaving for Uganda in August. I'll be traveling with an organization that takes water filters and digs wells for communities in need of clean water. It's amazing work really. And enough cannot be said about the desperate need in Uganda and other developing countries around the world. I'll be volunteering to help on the trip, but also to film a documentary about the need and the work being done there. It's a dream really - and I can only imagine the ways it will change me. I'm humbled to be a part of the work they are doing, however small a way. And I'm hopeful that in making a documentary, highlighting the needs there, giving them a voice, and showing what people are doing to help will inspire others and help change even more.
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I'm inspired, overwhelmed, excited, nervous and anticipating. With the first Alaska trip inspiring so much, I can only imagine what the move there will hold. The journey continues.
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Carpe Iter Itineris!
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P.S. stay tuned for a new blog site.
The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-84463502944046093422009-11-15T09:58:00.010-05:002009-11-15T10:28:02.842-05:00Martial arts, bullet trains and Tokyo firsts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsaM59bPC85sbxxCE5Ih7EABVJGXW-10JAuHuYs_Bq6KUsFThAlJfhAzthclMJV_3bswOgPopO_bIq5Kc_xeDqbrAS1u4fKNgf23IntckaMrl3ghMUDSBKvrV6r7SF1qL1kRDYXbAWSE/s1600-h/P1050290.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsaM59bPC85sbxxCE5Ih7EABVJGXW-10JAuHuYs_Bq6KUsFThAlJfhAzthclMJV_3bswOgPopO_bIq5Kc_xeDqbrAS1u4fKNgf23IntckaMrl3ghMUDSBKvrV6r7SF1qL1kRDYXbAWSE/s320/P1050290.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404352029526658882" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrAH72tEUauhv6khGWCmPOn_-zqtIFS3ZDI-bmL6FR78O0R1MHzTZbh7HXV_BWHQvBaQcg9MgCnMeYO-ZJUSPSzEIiFz1poZCpR3I_2ThT-54dVfZghVwKQgYwyzQMs-wd-iN8LJrYLw/s1600-h/P1050308.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyrAH72tEUauhv6khGWCmPOn_-zqtIFS3ZDI-bmL6FR78O0R1MHzTZbh7HXV_BWHQvBaQcg9MgCnMeYO-ZJUSPSzEIiFz1poZCpR3I_2ThT-54dVfZghVwKQgYwyzQMs-wd-iN8LJrYLw/s320/P1050308.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404351376670798594" /></a><br /><br />I feel like a little girl again. I remember the way I felt when I was young, and the excitement of traveling by plane - the wonder at the airport, the curiosity about my fellow travelers, wondering where they were going, where they had been and whom they would be meeting. The excitement of take-off and landing, all novelties before the dozens of business trips took the luster away. But I feel it again now as the sleek shinkansen train arrives at the station and I make my way to car 12. I reserved a window seat, looking forward to watching the Japanese countryside pass by – but lament not having the words to explain to the attendant I would have preferred a seat on the left side of the train as to afford me the view of Fuji-san. It’s a clear day, and the view should be beautiful.<br /><br />An uniformed attendant walks to the front of the car and bows. To whom I don’t know, as he is ignored much like the airline attendant teaching the safety features of the aircraft, and I think I am the only one that notices. I imagine him stopping and doing the same on the 11 cars behind me, and I wonder at the tradition. <br /><br />Several weeks ago, while bravely exploring a Sannomiya bar by myself I met Nobu, Takashi and Tetsuya. Nobu is an old man. He is almost bald, but resolutely keeps the little bit of hair he has ridiculously long. He has the look of an ancient Chinese philosopher and I can imagine him with a very long beard, giving instruction in the secrets of some martial art. I ride up in the elevator with him. He looks out of place here – at a pseudo British pub - but his sparsely toothed grin seems familiar to all here and I get the impression that this is his spot. We bump into each other later and he is quick to introduce me to his two friends, Takashi and Tetsuya. They speak English, although they make apologies about their skills – a typical Japanese trait. They are better than they let on, and I am happy to just have someone to speak to. I’m not sure how the topic of Aikdo came up, but in response to my interest they politely invite me to come watch aikido practice at their former university. We exchange email addresses before I rush off to call James from home since I know he will be able to receive my call at that hour. <br /><br />I was surprised to receive the polite e-mail from Takashi renewing the invitation. I have a hunch that he appreciates having someone with which to practice his English. I feel confident the invitation is friendly only. When I travel in Mexico I can’t help but notice men looking at me – it’s unnerving but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a little flattering. In Japan I realize I do not fit the standard of beauty here. Rather than being at all insulted by the polite indifference I find it comfortable – not too unlike going dancing at a gay bar. <br /><br />Yesterday I met Takashi at Umeda Station. He’s wearing a fedora and I almost miss him. Kyoto University sits on the side of a mountain. It’s a little ways up from the very busy part of the city – quaint and a little cooler. We walk through the campus under a canopy of yellow-leafed ginko trees. Still warmer than usual, the mountainside is not yet fully ablaze in kouyo, but the cooler wind blows the early fallen around at my feet. It smells like fall. <br /><br />At the opposite end of the campus we reach the dojo. Half of the dojo is floored in tatami mat, the other half is smooth wood. Soji screens wrap around the bottom two feet of the walls and sliding doors are opened wide, inviting in the autumn breeze. I notice that there is what appears to be a wooden shrine of some kind hanging on the wall, lemon leaves arranged as offering. Beside it is a picture of a stoic-looking elderly man in hakama, which I assume to be the sensei. When we arrive Kendo practice is taking place on the wood floor, bamboo swords clacking between grunts. On the tatami students wearing hakama prepare for Aikido. Tetsuya is already there and has begun stretching.<br /><br />It’s an informal practice today, led by the team captain rather than the sensei. To begin they sit on their legs, bowing low and then alternately sitting upright and clapping four times in unison, and bowing again, arms prostrate in front of them. Tetsuya later explains that this is done in acknowledgment of God and directed at the shrine I had noticed upon entry - no particular religion he adds, just a general acknowledgment of a higher being. <br /><br />They begin their warm-up practice. In unison they walk in a squat across the tatami and back again. Next they roll, right shoulder, left shoulder, right shoulder, their black hakama swirling around them giving them a look like Sonic the Hedgehog. Practice begins and they quickly pair up, going through the first kyo (technique). They switch partners for the second and so on, slowly and methodically practicing their technique. It looks quite effortless, but then I start to notice the beads of sweat building on foreheads. Takashi and Tetsuya take turns coming over to me and explaining something or another about the art. “This is to help you understand the spirit of Aikido,” Tetsuya explains and then quickly shuffles back to his practice. <br /><br />Takashi invites me to join. It’s an intimidating prospect, but one I can’t pass up. I’m showed yonkyo and gokyo, and although he humors me, I’m sure I missed the point altogether. It’s difficult for them to explain in English the complexities of the technique, and perhaps I am not yet capable of understanding. I enjoy it though, and leave feeling like I have experienced something of Japan that not all tourists have the opportunity to. <br /><br />The train glides over the rails - the normal ca-clunk-ca-clunk of tracks below almost imperceptible. I watch bright countryside fly by in the window, occasionally interrupted by intervals of darkness as we dive under mountains. I can feel in my ears that the pressure changes – have we descended or is the change created by the bullet forcing the air before it into the dark tunnel? I think that James would know the answer and I miss him. It’s easier to focus on things in the distance – closer objects pass by in a dizzying whir.<br /> <br />I make my way through Tokyo, change trains and arrive in good time at the Narita airport to pick up Tara, little sis and co-adventurer for the next two weeks. Her flight is delayed, but without too much ado we make our way back to the hotel. She was up for a stroll and dinner out. While on our search for dinner we unexpectedly find Senso-ji Temple. I didn’t realize our hotel was that close to it. It was on the list of things to see and so we put our hunger aside and explored for a while. It was quite beautiful at night. Strings of bright lanterns line the way – something you’d miss entirely during the day. The pagoda is brightly lit, and it’s red an gold make an even more impressive display against the black sky.<br /> <br />We settle on yakuniku, one of my favorites and something I’m confident ordering. Korean BBQ that you grill at your table arrives and Tara and I enjoy ourselves and catch up a little. We soon call it a night - we have a big day ahead tomorrow…matter of fact, a big two weeks. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeG5O7AFUmhg-fFu7pOY9-CtJHwjOwYNwB7Ri-DLFhlcyJpEZO9yu0ASjaFKNUTmpiLK75Gw_urUwuK9wgC25pkKHYuM4xWBfFzAbzc78ZBNB-aa2PiBCCS3Y7lBSTsu_SVQ9I8gu3XHo/s1600-h/P1050323.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeG5O7AFUmhg-fFu7pOY9-CtJHwjOwYNwB7Ri-DLFhlcyJpEZO9yu0ASjaFKNUTmpiLK75Gw_urUwuK9wgC25pkKHYuM4xWBfFzAbzc78ZBNB-aa2PiBCCS3Y7lBSTsu_SVQ9I8gu3XHo/s320/P1050323.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404351847256530482" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrS1HPDuqpTHoKI9xSMyeXXhbr0nAxVebrsGJ9kcFc_j_qJnvm76kvOIYyt5FMPrfF21G3J9cy2Om6sdI3PFYuuan3mbkgljSKS-e6IzNN3jVqcIF0ixPu7U1gG1bjvWco1xKeePGUWqE/s1600-h/P1050314.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrS1HPDuqpTHoKI9xSMyeXXhbr0nAxVebrsGJ9kcFc_j_qJnvm76kvOIYyt5FMPrfF21G3J9cy2Om6sdI3PFYuuan3mbkgljSKS-e6IzNN3jVqcIF0ixPu7U1gG1bjvWco1xKeePGUWqE/s320/P1050314.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404351622148793234" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5ObwNe0NqAt12BdBA9qGrkfpcWl1g3M87Xf3PdJmUvb8O9Il11Zs75vNK7Y2sR8OlYPwgyFof6keuJ1SUw_qtxwLT90x4DQCsdRk77zckTtiV2BMetcxVBrD9EhtPMbIpv6xSSl2xk0/s1600-h/P1050278.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5ObwNe0NqAt12BdBA9qGrkfpcWl1g3M87Xf3PdJmUvb8O9Il11Zs75vNK7Y2sR8OlYPwgyFof6keuJ1SUw_qtxwLT90x4DQCsdRk77zckTtiV2BMetcxVBrD9EhtPMbIpv6xSSl2xk0/s320/P1050278.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404350998066382018" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYfnT_cqfbUR9krrC-kP0L18gkiVegcu2odGlHsIpglETpFsXM-aSYCt9Lzbjn8cvkimx6xK9Z_lvNloB0iqn_96vQ4A9-YZJxTtE-6nnFEgALY3hU38R4EIq69gs8n3ZWq-Rc-orEEk/s1600-h/P1050263.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYfnT_cqfbUR9krrC-kP0L18gkiVegcu2odGlHsIpglETpFsXM-aSYCt9Lzbjn8cvkimx6xK9Z_lvNloB0iqn_96vQ4A9-YZJxTtE-6nnFEgALY3hU38R4EIq69gs8n3ZWq-Rc-orEEk/s320/P1050263.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404350811496058770" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQNQWjPcuTIQV3ZdoafH-xhCZqti3-9N3HlyjIm1fMydAZ8kzB9hF-5o3TXeDnVwogdrd8vBU9Zdfb7rQfc3Bk28TBC2VBb9DkmQQ5Dujott2cYB7nGeBmuWCiLm5nnW8w-aVpjXseZg/s1600-h/P1050247.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQNQWjPcuTIQV3ZdoafH-xhCZqti3-9N3HlyjIm1fMydAZ8kzB9hF-5o3TXeDnVwogdrd8vBU9Zdfb7rQfc3Bk28TBC2VBb9DkmQQ5Dujott2cYB7nGeBmuWCiLm5nnW8w-aVpjXseZg/s320/P1050247.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404350566538160578" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZV1nT-g6mZv07a7m6e3f8JJUDBsQQyThioVRrwiLuO3b40Tr2XKnlYbMpf1wHPKGLjXrZwle8-mZwVEDu0ZpWgkgq-d7LssG29cU9FoRKQ0HWWEMZ7KsZkDV9WHIKm_Qusa7C0lnstZ4/s1600-h/P1050230.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZV1nT-g6mZv07a7m6e3f8JJUDBsQQyThioVRrwiLuO3b40Tr2XKnlYbMpf1wHPKGLjXrZwle8-mZwVEDu0ZpWgkgq-d7LssG29cU9FoRKQ0HWWEMZ7KsZkDV9WHIKm_Qusa7C0lnstZ4/s320/P1050230.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404350238174117298" /></a>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-46722654119599988942009-11-04T08:29:00.013-05:002009-11-08T01:50:20.984-05:00So That Others Might Live"So that others might live." I'm sure you've heard it. It's always said with conviction, of course, and we nod in understanding, perhaps not realizing at the time what those words really mean. If we really understood, if the weight of that burden was clear to us at the time, would we have simply nodded in understanding or agreed enthusiastically? The concept, although easy to grasp in theory, is difficult to truly understand until tragedy touches home and that toll is collected from those we love. <br /><br />Several years ago I was traveling on a business trip and was in a hotel lobby with colleagues when I received a call from James, "I'm going on a search and rescue, not sure when I'll be back, but I'll call you when I can." In response to my friend's raised eyebrow, I relayed the message. "Doesn't it bother you? Don't you worry?" she asked with concern. "Well, yes," I said, "I do worry a little. But you get used to it." The next evening I had not yet heard from James. As I laid in bed I pushed away worrisome thoughts, convincing myself that the C-130 was rock-solid and chiding myself for letting silly thoughts run through my head. <br /><br />In the wake of the loss of the Sacramento crew a wave of emotions runs through me. I've cried for those that lost their lives, and even more for those that they left behind. My heart breaks for those that were out long days and nights looking for their own in vain and for those that could do nothing to help. I've had anger, fear and guilt. Guilt at being relieved that it wasn't my husband. Anger that it happened at all. And fear that it could happen again. My self-delusional bubble that allowed me to sleep at night while my husband was flying long hours officially burst. As I read comments from friends in the Coast Guard and their spouses, the sentiment seems the same. The reality of those words, "so that others might live" has officially hit home. <br /><br />I know my husband. I know he, like others in the Coast Guard are brave and strong and will do what needs to be done in order to get the job done and protect others. Even if it is at the cost of their own safety. And selfishly, that scares me. And while I admire the honor in the phrase, when I think about those that are suffering such great loss right now I can't help but wonder why. Why must some die so that others might live? But I know the answer to that. I know that the world needs the brave that are willing to risk all to save another. Our family and friends in the Coast Guard make that choice every day they get on a plane or go out to do their job. Because of that daily sacrifice they are the best part of humanity.<br /><br />Perhaps my friend Ta Chan here in Japan said it best. When I first arrived I was trying to explain to him what my husband did for a living. I carefully and slowing laid out the list of things while Yuki translated for her husband. I simply explained search and rescue, port security and drug interdiction, making no attempt at embellishments for ease of translation. Ta Chan, nodding his head let out a slow "ohhhhh" indicating his understanding and added in broken English, "Ah, yes, Hero."<br /><br /><br />“These poor, plain men, dwellers upon the lonely sands of Hatteras took their lives in their hands, and, at the most imminent risk, crossed the tumultuous sea…, and all for what? <span style="font-weight:bold;">So that others might live</span> to see home and friends.” - Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service, 1885.<br /><br />My thoughts and prayers go out to those that are suffering something there is no consolation for.The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-6501226756059460282009-10-25T05:41:00.002-04:002009-10-25T08:40:14.463-04:00Osaka by Night, Kyoto by Day<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/55QAVeCsLQqHewSCg0w3yw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUN_8NDLnC1-w3OmjyUS-HlClKgcXKHXrMxZZZnlH2deDnCyVDhhxjdEAAktyMRv4N_HtZfYLQ-ndHjodqfJ9XnS3DVDA86VRjaIyaC4CMHaghjs-3JLTdVLSWzYKeC18AZWXBILyB-0Q/s400/P1040731.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/Shana.Nunez/OsakaAndKyoto102009?feat=embedwebsite">Osaka and Kyoto 10.20.09</a></td></tr></table>Ta Chan's sister, Yumi-san, owns a small okinomiyaki shop hidden in an older part of Osaka. The best way I can describe okinomiyaki is as a mix between a savory pancake and an omelet, with various meats, veggies and noodles prepared in front of you on a large griddle and served with a special sauce and dried seaweed flakes sprinkled on top. Ta Chan had the itch to take me there, and after our workout at the boxing gym yesterday we made the trek over to Osaka for this special treat. <br /><br />It's a humble establishment with loyal clientele, good food and of course, karaoke. Yumi-san runs the whole place herself. It's early when we get there, and when we walk in there's only Yumi and one customer who is smoking in the corner. We take off our shoes and climb up to the tatami mats and Yumi begins preparing dinner for us. An older couple enters - they are here not only for the food, but also the karaoke and it's not long before they plunk down yen and start belting out what Yuki describes as Japanese "country" songs. Although I can't understand much of it, the conversation feels friendly and familiar and I'm keenly aware that this is a side of Japan that tourists would never see - and I'm grateful. This is what I want from traveling - not only sites, but people. <br /><br />Everyone is curious about the unfamiliar American and I'm introduced. I can tell they are talking about me, and Yuki explains to them that I am studying Japanese. As if that was the key to the club, I'm instantly in, and I'm caught off guard when they begin urging me, "Shana - song? Shana song please." I would have preferred to turn down the offer, but I didn't want to seem impolite so I sang Alanis Morisette's "Ironic" - the only thing I could think of and easily find in the book. I guess it was a hit - or maybe they were being polite - but they urged for another. Norah Jones gets a turn with "Don't Know Why" and thankfully, my singing career for the night is done. <br /><br />Wednesday we were off to Kyoto. Once Japan's capital, the city is rich with history stretching thousands of years. Full of temples and shrines, the city attracts vistors from all over the world. We started the day with Kiomizu Dera. This temple rests against the side of a mountain and you have hike up a narrow street, flanked by traditional Japanese buildings filled with wares and treats of all kinds. Tea and spice shops, souvenirs, mochi, green tea and red bean ice cream, swords, dolls - all distractions as you make your way up to the temple. <br /><br />Autumn is on it's way and the little bursts of red and orange leaves let the cat out of the bag. I can hardly wait for kouyou - which is what the Japanese call the time of year when all the maple leaves are red. For now I settle for just a hint, which still makes for a beautiful backdrop to this ancient temple. <br /><br />Next on the agenda was Kinkakuji - literally the temple of the golden pavilion. Fine gold leaf covers this temple that sits in the middle of a koi pond. The sun was just beginning to set and the golden temple was beautifully brilliant in the early evening sun. We enjoyed green tea under a bright red umbrella, the sun streaming in from through the maple leaves above. <br /><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="400" height="267" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2FShana.Nunez%2Falbumid%2F5396461749376900881%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed> <embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="400" height="267" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2FShana.Nunez%2Falbumid%2F5395402374274519409%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-42831079054546343972009-10-25T05:29:00.002-04:002009-10-25T05:40:26.441-04:00Girls Night in Osaka<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Hr2YTJxSAdvGLwxICyvGLQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-3GAI_72zqc7rtH0rWiQbsqtqbEqzD_E1C8X7TiCFgg8AYH9OicKywakxC5TAni3bHAr8iuZtH0SZX7idlnuWsVVCO9pGD03tzbLNWXnBL_zkDA04oIWRyYoo-3e3Y4oIwsx-0Bs8w8/s400/P1040580.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/Shana.Nunez/OsakaAtNight?feat=embedwebsite">Osaka at Night</a></td></tr></table>Yuki is determined to have me, like it or not, try all the culinary delights that Japan has to offer. Despite my protests about the hazards of fried food (have you seen my hips lately???) she wanted me to try kushi-katsu. Kushi-katsu is an assortment of foods - anything from squid to asparagus - batter and deep fried on a stick. I was a good sport - and it was well worth it. Thank God I'm walking everywhere!<br /><br />We started in Namba - a hot spot for food and shopping. Then we were off to look for a club for dancing. We struck out on that account because we were still hostage to the train schedule and things don't get going until after midnight in Osaka. Most young people actually stay out all night and catch the first train home in the morning. With the dance clubs not yet warmed up, we opted for an hour at the karaoke bar (we could pick our own music at least!) and headed home on the last train to Suma.<br /><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="400" height="267" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2FShana.Nunez%2Falbumid%2F5395402374274519409%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-19521787641500348752009-10-14T08:28:00.009-04:002009-10-17T01:17:18.179-04:00Tea Ceremony, Sake and Karaoke<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/73vH7QPI2qK1GYSifU-uxQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_3EA1b3XM7nM/StlQLrcylrI/AAAAAAAAjJg/k_0-Pbmd4fM/s400/P1040533.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/pictureperfectbooth/Japan101509?feat=embedwebsite">Japan 10.15.09</a></td></tr></table>Like a mother ushering her child off to kindergarten for the first day of school, Yuki says goodbye to me at the front door. I'm armed with a custom train schedule courtesy of Yuki, keys to the house and a note in Kanji that I'm supposed to show the coffee shop clerk so I can purchase espresso roast with beans ground to a number three. <br /><br />To travel the train you have to purchase a ticket at the kiosk. Above the kiosk is a map of that particular train line, it's stops and corresponding fares. It costs 180 yen to get from the Suma station where I change trains and hop on the JR line. Ten stops later I will change trains again - this one will take me to Rokko Island, which is where I was heading for the Tea Ceremony. The train sounds like it should be easy, but with five different lines plus the subway the chances of me getting my lines crossed, literally, are pretty good. I've given myself no room for error and one misstep would make me late to the Kimono talk. The whole evolution takes me just over an hour and I miraculously manage without incident. <br /><br />I make it just in time and after being introduced to the teacher, Mizushima-san, we are invited to select one of the ten beautifully wrapped Kimonos displayed in front of us. Orchid-colored silk delicately wraps kimonos that have been carefully paired with coordinating obis, sashes, and cords. Kimonos in all colors with elegant designs and embroideries are revealed one by one. Rich reds, lustrous golds, and deep blues are accented by butterflies, flowers and beautiful details. <br /><br />The first layer is a simple robe with a thick white color that will later just peak out from under the fine silk kimono. The kimono is next and Mizushima-san expertly pulls, tucks, cinches and ties in what seems like elaborate origami. <br /><br />Tea Ceremony is a very meditative experience for both the guests and the performer. Contrary to what I had previously believed, Tea Ceremony was performed almost exclusively by men and even Samurai up until WWII. This act of service was done for guests to demonstrate the utmost humility. After the war, Mizushima-san explains tongue-in-cheek, "the women and the stockings got stronger in Japan."<br /><br />Hidden in this otherwise modern building is a traditional Japanese tea house and small garden. As if you were entering a secret hideaway, you duck through a small square door on the floor. The small door was intentionally designed so that everyone must lower their head upon entering, leaving all rank behind and entering all as equal. "The tea room is an equalizer", she explains. Here we arrange ourselves in a semi-circle, all trying desperately to be even a tenth as graceful in our kimonos as our host. <br /><br />Mizushima-san is not performing the ceremony herself today but rather her assistant, an elegant, beautiful woman who I imagine is in her early 40's. We are served Japanese sweets and Mizushima-san encourages us to watch all the subtle movements. She cleanses the tea making tools, prepares the tea and gracefully serves - every movement with a purpose. She prepares tea for one person at a time, each time repeating the process with the same dedication. Watching her graceful movements is hypnotic, not too unlike the feeling you get when someone is playing with your hair. Every movement is careful, giving the ceremony the air of a performance. And it was over all too quickly. <br /><br />Friday I had my first Japanese lesson. Sensei explained to me that to understand English you must have a vocabulary of at least 1,000 words. To understand Japanese, one must have a vocabulary of 5,000 words. Even she admits that this is a difficult task, and I'd be lying if I didn't wonder for a moment just why I had chosen probably one of the most difficult languages in the world to learn. It doesn't matter though. I'm committed to the task and will do my best in the time that I have. <br /><br />After my lesson I opened my Kobe guidebook and discovered that not far from where I was there was a sake producing area. A short train ride and I was out exploring. Only once did I have to accost a perfect stranger with, "Sumimasen, (enter the name of a place here) wa doko desu ka?" (Excuse me, where is such and such?) I explore the sake museum and one of the breweries where you can see each part of the process in action from behind plate glass. Of course, I got to taste some sake too. <br /><br />At four I met Yuki, Ta Chan and Hazu - we had a date for Karaoke and dinner. Karaoke in Japan is so different from in the states. In the states, most people wouldn't be caught dead signing Karaoke, but here in Japan it's the hot thing to do as evidenced by the numerous Karaoke bars all around town. Unlike in the states where there is one stage and only brave or really drunk souls venture up, in Japan you go with a group of friends and get a private room with a various array of high-tech equipment. Is the pitch of the song you are singing too high for your voice? No problem, with the click of the remote you can bring it down an octave. Choose from thousands of songs. Make the mic have an echo. You name it, they've got it. In short, we rocked out in true Japanese karaoke fashion.<br /><br />Yuki and I are heading to Osaka tonight after our work out. I'm looking forward to that and will share an update later.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/s8Z_D_2dTMnGqh9m-hpTfA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_3EA1b3XM7nM/StlQy3CemFI/AAAAAAAAjKU/jLrsna3j8F0/s400/P1040552.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/pictureperfectbooth/Japan101509?feat=embedwebsite">Japan 10.15.09</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="288" height="192" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fpictureperfectbooth%2Falbumid%2F5393404866230775729%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-20288468447476691382009-10-13T10:19:00.008-04:002009-10-13T13:08:16.477-04:00Dreaming of Japan<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/nPtMfxpA0UZvF5O5wTnwQQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_3EA1b3XM7nM/StSxPh1js1I/AAAAAAAAjFg/gzWxuoDOABw/s400/20091012_0054.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/pictureperfectbooth/Japan?feat=embedwebsite">Japan</a></td></tr></table>Once on the plane in San Francisco's International Airport I realized that all my diligent Japanese studies only served me the ability to identify that the machine gun-speed string of syllables over the intercom was indeed Japanese. Beyond that I could identify nothing. And as I carefully arranged my carry-ons under the seat I realized, not without hint of butterflies, that I was about to spend the next two months in Japan. What had seemed like a great way to both fulfill a long-time dream and keep my mind away from James being at OCS now sent a flood of thoughts through my mind about how I was about to leave everything familiar in exchange for something completely new. Excited? Yes. Nervous? I'd be lying if I didn't admit I was a little. <br /><br />Only fourteen hours later I stepped off the plane at the Kansai airport and made my way down to the luggage claim where I was to meet Yuki (who had given me strict instructions not to leave the area even if she happened to be a few minutes late). Within seconds Yuki had found me and in a way that is distinctly Yuki (imagine exclamation points) she calls my name, runs toward me and gives me a big hug. I'm already aware that this display isn't what would be considered "typical Japanese", but Yuki is anything but "typical" and it's this personality that has kept us friends over the greatest of distances for the better part of eight years. <br /><br />"Kobe is not a very big city," Yuki keeps disclaiming as if she feels I might be disappointed. The funny thing is, as far as I can tell, Kobe is big enough to rival most cities that would be considered quite large in the United States. She considers where she lives the "suburbs", but for the life of me I can't tell why. Kobe sprawls east and west between the Pacific Ocean to the south and Rokku mountain to the north. Glancing either way reveals only more of the same: ocean, city, mountain. The contrasts are spectacular. <br /><br />My first day in Kobe started with a trip to the grocery store and market at Itayado - which I discover is really quite local as I am the only "gaijin" I see all day. "Gaijin" is what the Japanese call foreigners, and for better or worse, while in Japan, I am a Gaijin. Despite the fact that my size, rosey complexion and green eyes make me stand out like a sore thumb, always polite, no one stares. I had braced myself for odd looks or interest after my cousin who had traveled to Thailand recalled with horror how the Thai people, surprised at seeing such a tall women, would exclaim quite loudly how big she was and stare at her with disbelief. If it wasn't for how keenly aware of how out of place I was, I could quite easily forget that fact based on their reaction, or lack thereof. <br /><br />The Daie (grocery store chain) is intensely bright and happy. Fresh lighting illuminates colorfully labeled products in every shape and size. I'm sure the things I would normally buy at the grocery store are hidden here somewhere, but alone I have a difficult time distinguishing even water, and end up buying a clear sports drink by accident. Japanese writing explains everything, but I am at a loss and I realize quite quickly how much we rely on this kind of communication in every day life now that I can't understand it. It's all, well, Japanese to me. <br /><br />The market just outside stands in contrast with the modern grocery store. An indoor arcade of vendors, not too unlike a farmers market, showcases fruits and vegetables in crates and baskets. Handwritten signs denote that green peppers are six for 100 yen (a bargain!) and for 300 yen the man will dump the little basket of tomatoes into your shopping bag. <br /><br />The train stations prove even further how lost I would be without Yuki on day two. Although the stations are conveniently labeled in Romanji not much else is and with the web of public transportation to navigate I was so lucky that Yuki spent the day teaching me how to take the train to Sanomiya - downtown Kobe. <br /><br />Saturday night Ta Chan (Yuki's husband) stayed home with little Hazumi (three years old) and it was girl's night. Yuki took me to Sanomiya again. It was completely different at night and as far as you could see, brightly lit signs showcased the locations of bars, clubs, restaurants and shopping. I'm told that this is dim compared to Osaka and especially Tokyo, but to me this could give Times Square a run for its money in terms of how much electricity is being disposed of. It's exciting and intriguing and I try to be cool about it while I whip out my camera and snap some shots. <br /><br />We had a meal in the style of izacaya - which is small, shared plates, not too unlike tappas. Japanese food is amazing. I'm not particularly fond of fish which is kind of a problem, but you can see the care taken with everything and even the most humble of ingredients is elevated by being served in esthetically pleasing ways. I find it quite beautifully done. I should also mention that Yuki is a wonderful cook herself. <br /><br />Today we went to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Himeji_Castle">Himeji Castle</a>. Built in 1346, the ancient stones and wood proudly and beautifully hold their shape, resisting time itself. To reach the main tower you climb a narrow maze of stone stairs designed to funnel enemies to smaller numbers as they approach the castle. Lookouts and defensive positions above would make the intruders easy targets. Finally, through a gate that I have to hunch to get through we reach the main tower. Upon entry you, like I imagine it was always done, you are asked to remove your shoes. My socked feet glide over smoothly-worn wooden beams and it's not difficult to imagine a time long ago when Japanese royalty and samurai inhabited these spaces. Another maze of steep wooden stairs takes you room, by room, each one growing small as you go higher until you reach the top. From here you can see artful tiles cascading down rooftops meeting a vast expanse of city, the mountains in the distance. From hear I imagine what the view would have been even just a few hundred years ago. <br /><br />Yuki and Ta Chan have been such gracious hosts and I'm loving the experience of seeing Japan beyond the way a tourist would. Little Hazu is too cute and at three speaks more English than I do Japanese. And like any other three year-old everything is met with curiosity and questions, "Kore nani?" (what's this?). My questions far outweigh hers though, and I feel like I'm in a whole new world. Not just are the words for things different, but so many things themselves are. I'm fascinated by everything and my own childlike curiosity makes for good entertainment for Yuki and Ta Chan. <br /><br />There's so much more to share, but since this post is already quite long I'll continue another day. <embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="400" height="267" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fpictureperfectbooth%2Falbumid%2F5392123019326122705%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-5687105932231505732009-10-13T09:47:00.009-04:002009-10-13T11:23:34.725-04:00News From the Front - an update on James<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9KlsB4Q65EB8QJk8LUHoqOzULG5zhtTQqVbhBo1EA3ShfEDNJ2uV2dc-Xrdrp8LV1hRjlkCXONrec6lXlM-3iVDDJxOBOD7cslsHTqtdAvU3i6WMmEXx4JSIOe7IlPBYEA3CmLTfzJQ/s1600-h/20090923-_MG_4944.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9KlsB4Q65EB8QJk8LUHoqOzULG5zhtTQqVbhBo1EA3ShfEDNJ2uV2dc-Xrdrp8LV1hRjlkCXONrec6lXlM-3iVDDJxOBOD7cslsHTqtdAvU3i6WMmEXx4JSIOe7IlPBYEA3CmLTfzJQ/s320/20090923-_MG_4944.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392087839683691314" /></a><br /><br />As of today James has been at Officer Candidate School for just over 8 weeks. I was with friends the other day when I got a much awaited from phone call from James. To give an indication of what life at OCS is like, James told me to tell our friends, "hi from my dark cell." Life the first few weeks for him was not fun to say the least and when I missed a phone call from him and his barely audible message said, "I'm okay, I'm alive," it just about broke my heart. Squaring his meals and doing push-ups to a cadence contributed to him losing 8 pounds that first week. <br /><br />The report is that things are better the last few weeks. I suppose these things are measured in the amount of yelling that takes place. James never loses his humor about it and as soon as he received e-mail privileges he included in his signature a quote that had no doubt been directed at his company. "You're all complete idiots and I don't want you as officers in my Coast Guard." - MKC Hillman, Guard Mount, 27AUG09.<br /><br />I had to laugh. <br /><br />The class recently completed their trip on the Eagle, the Coast Guard's tall ship. James enjoyed the trip and the ship as well as the slightly reduced numbers of instructors hovering over them. <br /><br />James wrote from the ship, "Getting underway is an incredibly physical evolution. It's done the same way it's been done for hundreds of years.... climbing masts, furling or unfurling sails and a small army on deck heaving lines. The ship has a language of it's own, 'ready the mizzen royal!' 'Make off the main stay for sail!' - all being yelled from bridge to deck and vice versa."<br /><br />He is doing very well in his classes and he's showing all the college grads there just how it's done. I'm really proud of him, but then, I've always been a fan. :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSJS-ykf3LHThmsTyeqQMz0SSWjIZlXQjJcchRVsZDsMdrtMpLIqh01SBy4WcDLPQ9dghNhB07DfZyAZOyMEAvWU0V2RLZ6mcGQM1eqNGcj-kghrI2oLgfvfWHsJJdLH8FE0VAuUhxe4/s1600-h/20090912-_MG_4572.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSJS-ykf3LHThmsTyeqQMz0SSWjIZlXQjJcchRVsZDsMdrtMpLIqh01SBy4WcDLPQ9dghNhB07DfZyAZOyMEAvWU0V2RLZ6mcGQM1eqNGcj-kghrI2oLgfvfWHsJJdLH8FE0VAuUhxe4/s320/20090912-_MG_4572.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392085699171710594" /></a>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-74340764972763358262009-08-05T00:15:00.023-04:002009-08-11T23:37:02.019-04:00Wanderlust"Babe, check out my calluses," I say and extend my throttle hand toward him for inspection. He chuckles and says rather patronizingly, "Aw, how cute." I'm indignant, "Hey, don't laugh! I've worked really hard for them - I rode the same 12,000 miles you did!" As I sit down and try to finish writing this post just over a week after being back the ridges on the palms of my softer female hands have already started to fade. Bummer.<br /><br />We were making our last push through cowboy country, the midwest and then home and I couldn't help but feel a little sad that things were coming to an end on this journey. At the same time my heart was full. The memories we've made, the beautiful things we've seen, and the friends we've met along the way, all part of what was not only an amazing trip, but something even more inspiring. <br /><br />Riding 12,000 miles in 30 days may not seem like an attractive prospect to many. We certainly heard mixed reactions from friends and family - some incredulous, some concerned and some perhaps slightly envious. I am happy to report that our marriage weathered the trip well (rain tarp and all), our butts only a little less so, and we are only slightly worse the wear for all the miles. We are over 12,000 miles more enriched. As far as vacations go it did not rank high on the physically relaxing scale. But never before have I been able to mentally remove myself from my work or life at home and allow myself the luxury of mental indulgences. Only seldom did I have to make a conscious effort to push away thoughts of tasks and to-do lists that would be waiting for me. Instead, riding along on the bike, your mind indulges itself, mulling over things in detail. Some things important and some much less so. And the focus becomes on taking in the next 100 miles and whatever they have to offer. If I could answer the question about what is so freeing about being on a motorcycle, that would be it. <br /><br />If you want to see a place, drive a car, take a train or go on a cruise. But if you really want to experience a place, ride a motorcycle through it. Things become rich with detail, smells become stronger and changes in temperature immediately perceptible. You become open to experience whatever the road has in store and in turn, you become part of the place and experience itself. You are no longer an outsider looking in. You are part of the story. There are certainly more civilized ways to travel, but bugs and all, I wouldn't trade this for anything. <br /><br />We saw some amazing things. I'm sure Alaska is not to be trifled with in the winter. But in summer, just under the rugged exterior, you'll find she has a warm heart that will capture yours. Deeply enchanting, before you suspect you'll find yourself quite taken with her. She'll test you, captivate you and send you home full of longing to be back. She's humbled the toughest of men, yet nurtures an abundance of life. <br /><br />Canada's Yukon and British Columbia offer sights so beautiful it becomes difficult to take them all in. If you ride with your face shield open at speed, the amount of air that rushes into your face will actually take your breath away. And such was the beauty these parts offered. It leaves you breathless and in wonder at the natural forces and creation of it all. <br /><br />We met some amazing people along the way. Something about being on a motorcycle makes you more approachable and perhaps less threatening. I can't be sure what it is that puts people at ease, but it didn't matter where we stopped or for what length of time, we always heard, "where ya headin'?" or some similar version from an individual who's interest was peaked by our curious appearance. Covered in dust and bugs we were always happy to tell, and conversations would spark lasting anywhere from just a few moments to 30-45 minutes. Even the little girl at the gas station with her light brown bob takes a break from cleaning bugs off her mom's car to announce, “I'm going to Babba's house.” She keeps an eye on us as we fuel up, and wand in hand, looking closely at the bugs on my face shield offers sincerely, “I can clean that for you.” She wasn't the only one at ease with us, and our new friends Alan and Gail opened up their home to us for the night in Edmonton.<br /><br />We met those that were just curious and those that were like-minded souls and on journeys of their own. Adventurers crossing paths, we met: Our new friend from Germany who quit his job, bought a bike and is riding to South America; our friend from Texas that was seeing all 50 states on motorcycle; the British fellow who just sold his business and was starting his journey, going wherever the road or whimsy would take him; the young man from Vancouver that was pressing on alone up the Demster highway; the Japanese couple, needing to see Alaska for themselves; the German fellow who rode on bicycle 19 months from Tierra del Fuego, Argentina; the couple, both doctors from Boise, she being one of the very few other women on a bike of her own we encountered; and so many more. Our paths would cross, sometimes more than once, stories would be shared and sometimes bits of the journey as well. <br /><br />To be a little cliche... "my cup runneth over." I'm filled with a sense of accomplishment, the intense desire to see more and the feeling that there is a lot more good in the world than I think we give ourselves credit for. If there is one lesson for me that stands out the most it's that I've come away from this with a change in perspective. Gathering experiences like these throughout life will always be paramount to gathering possessions for us. The scale has tipped and as James said before we even left, we will never find ourselves reminiscing about the great new household item we've purchased, but trips like these will always yield amazing times and memories. <br /><br />We found ourselves keenly aware of the blessing that taking this trip has been. Many retired travelers we saw along the way would urge us to make use of this time in our lives. "Use it wisely," they'd say, "do these things while you still have the desire and while the body is still on board with the decision." And we will as much as possible. This will not be the last trip of its kind for us. <br /><br />Thank you for taking part in this journey with us. Knowing you were reading kept me writing and I've so enjoyed it. Continuing with our adventure theme, James will be leaving in two days for Officer Candidate School in New London, Connecticut. The Coast Guard will do their best over the next four months to make an officer out of him. It might be too late for the gentleman part (I'm sticking tongue out at him as I write this), but in my humble opinion they've already got the makings of a really great leader on their hands. James will have the opportunity to sail the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USCGC_Eagle_(WIX-327)">Eagle, the Coast Guard's tall ship</a>, to Spain before graduating in December. I won't be able to join James in the fun (and I'll miss seeing him doing push-ups to a cadence), so I'm going off on an adventure of my own. I'm packing up here, putting everything in storage, taking my dogs to my Aunt in California and heading off to Japan for two months - following my dream of learning Japanese and seeing the country. I will continue to utilize this blog to keep our friends and family updated on progress and where we'll end up as the year comes to an end.<br /><br />We'd like to thank our friends Evan and Sheila in particular for staying at our home and taking such good care of the kiddos - aka the dogs. I don't think we would have been able to do a trip this long, or at least not with any peace of mind, were it not for their kind offer and we are so grateful. <br /><br />The journey continues. Carpe Iter Itineris! <br /><br />Little guy along the Cassiar.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/yCfscaraUXKHvI_DJr3Hnw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoG_3NTnbNI/AAAAAAAABfI/x7-Dous-RZc/s400/P1030894.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/N6zTGAPw4C9DtczBo4-6zQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoG_7ezVozI/AAAAAAAABgI/ukWR4nGZ3kE/s400/P1030910.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><br />Jasper National Park in Canada.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/rNWhjHWsflDQNB3MAl6AEg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoG_-IiUxuI/AAAAAAAABgw/LRu7nGOh_RM/s400/P1030920.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/lCqm7M1_ZGnztbCaQEVKrw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoG__zqpeEI/AAAAAAAABhM/OdxF4CAUuDI/s400/P1030927.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/H5R3tXG_1F2AIdg8eFfnbw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHABd6uBMI/AAAAAAAABhk/9OvAeswRarY/s400/P1030933.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/pzAdzcszmc3Lx4qOeNt1OQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHACPhOjvI/AAAAAAAABh0/vhQtZj8Xs6Q/s400/P1030936.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/kwQD9GZyd4KYhmE4COWhmA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHAC1ZH5tI/AAAAAAAABiA/sQXZdn9oH1Q/s400/P1030939.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/wpwBtVGono7l2KeIK_qknw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHAHZWk9PI/AAAAAAAABjA/BllBc7m2jVM/s400/P1030955.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/dlX9u9euEAMBB-OuHrBt_w?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHAJ_WhtyI/AAAAAAAABjw/olc0ZsIeWVU/s400/P1030967.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/pv_QaFbosMgiU4vCGNuK2w?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHAQl0DhoI/AAAAAAAABlU/9NBGWs6n1H0/s400/P1030992.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/JasperBanff?feat=embedwebsite">Jasper-Banff</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />Glacier National Park.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/EJlKF98Amo47497FbPlC0Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCAk42KrI/AAAAAAAABmM/4U1eyMx6DXs/s400/P1040006.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/y8pAHXcG-2LTdGBPP2ceDw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCD-_3VpI/AAAAAAAABnA/-5-egCMUFPI/s400/P1040018.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/LSxh3H_iF4lIs4CrKKxoZA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCDvpCHNI/AAAAAAAABm8/qo6m710SYfs/s400/P1040017.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />Hanging out in Montana.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/BmPtBSXfs6iFJKTIkadEsg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCGQQTcII/AAAAAAAABn0/4_GXmbrFEpA/s400/P1040031.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/y09YZdehlhXH499s3kiqhA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCH6tTyGI/AAAAAAAABoM/FubJO3afmJk/s400/P1040037.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/b-7aZxs01Ne2JzBLFgDNRw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCJLrW5uI/AAAAAAAABog/7sd_qXdC8kY/s400/P1040042.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />Did I mention the bugs?<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Q85jjXx8gpu0WUyqq9iBWQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCJSixyqI/AAAAAAAABok/l2T9lyFSYrU/s400/P1040043.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />Seeing fam in Minnesota.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/mh9GYfKkSQf8rbtXvXqXCA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCLkyQN2I/AAAAAAAABpM/FRPA-kDuwsw/s400/P1040053.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/19IxcrTghsqAe22Vch27rQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SoHCKt0qKmI/AAAAAAAABo8/VsR0q17QxoM/s400/P1040049.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/GlacierMontana?feat=embedwebsite">Glacier-Montana</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-54896513106866727422009-07-30T11:23:00.005-04:002009-08-01T03:14:47.087-04:00Playing Catch-upI've been neglectful in my posting. It's amazing how exhausting this adventure stuff can be and quite honestly, I think I had run a little out of steam. When we started I would stay up until 1 or 2 in the morning and write updates while James snored beside me. But the ritual of setting up and taking down camp every day and long days of riding started to wear me out so something had to give for a bit. No complaints though - every bit has been absolutely amazing - a little bit of exhaustion and all. <br /><br />For those of you that have been watching our spot tracker you'll notice that we are currently in Apple Valley, Minnesota. My last update was about the Cassiar Highway, but we have since gone through Canada's Jasper and Banff national parks as well as Glacier National Park in Montana. Both beautiful places and I have plenty to share about them. I've decided that it would be worth dedicating a trip just to British Columbia - there's so much beauty to see. <br /><br />We've since been through Montana and North Dakota and we are currently visiting my aunt and cousins in Minnesota, an extra treat along the way. Staying just for one night, it's been good company, a warm bed and a clean load of laundry. We'll be off to Chicago tonight. My back tire isn't lasting as long as we had hoped and we'll have to do a swap there so I can make it home. James and I will split up on Friday. He will continue home and back to work to get ready to take off to OCS on August 13. I will head to Indianapolis to see my grandparents and aunt there for a couple of days. Then I'll make my way home on my own. <br /><br />I'm hoping to catch up on the blogging while I'm in Indy. I really do have so much to share. More than just about the last few places that we've been, I have to tell you why this has been so amazing. I've had plenty of time to marinate on these things while riding. It's amazing how comtemplative you can get after several hundred miles on the bike. And being the rather "thinky" (as FuzzyGalore put it) individual I am I can get carried away. <br /><br />More to come....The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-67616215155225595882009-07-25T00:42:00.006-04:002009-07-30T11:22:24.972-04:00The Lost WorldCassiar Highway<br /><br />Along this trip we've seen some amazing things so far. It's hard to believe that things can keep getting better, but they do. The ride from Watson Lake down the Cassiar highway over to Stewart and Hyder (on the Alaska and Canada border) was absolutely phenomenal. It would be impossible to describe it to any degree of justice and I'm certainly no photographer. To my dismay, every time I take a photo of something that looks amazing in person it never quite captures it. I've developed a real appreciation for photographers that are able to capture these sorts of things, but I'm certainly not one of them. But in this instance, I know words and photos will fall short and I write this wishing I could bottle up a part of the Cassiar highway for you - it would be an amazing thing to share.<br /><br />We stayed the night in Watson Lake, a small community along the Alaska highway that started by consequence of the building of the highway during WWII. Upon recommendation, we stayed at the historic Air Force Lodge, where we were greeted by the owners, Michael (pronounced Mic-ai-il in German) and his Austrian wife. Michael, a congenial, double-dimpled fellow, kindly requested us to remove our shoes, showed us the ropes and gave us the history of the building and his painstaking restoration of it. It was the only remaining one of over a hundred similar buildings erected to house the military during the construction of the highway. This particular building served as barracks for air force pilots, and although all the rooms and bathroom facilities are exactly where they were 70 years ago, everything has been redone and is simple, yet clean and comfortable. <br /><br />We made off from Watson Lake and very soon hit the Cassiar Highway. It was like stepping into a watercolor painting. The multi-hued slopes where anchored by trees of every shade of green. Wildflowers in bright colors line the road taking center stage as the foreground and background constantly compete for your attention. Waterfalls cascade from white capped mountains down rocky faces in to jade greens. We passed signs warning about avalanche areas and looking up could see fallen trees in rows down the slopes – victims of previous winters. <br /><br />Some of the road was dirt, but most has been paved and I was left with the feeling that I could ride up and down that stretch and never tire of it. I often gasped in my helmet at something particularly beautiful, taking mental pictures that I'll keep with me forever. <br /><br />The road y's and we went right, towards Stewart and Hyder. The two towns, one in Canada and one in Alaska, are contiguous and it's difficult to tell where one stops and the other begins were it not for the small border crossing building. Here the Pacific Ocean creeps inland just a ways where it meets Stewart and Hyder. I'm not sure the history of this place, it's origins or beginnings, but just as I was thinking that it was very quickly on its way to becoming a ghost town I see a sign overhead that says, “Welcome to Hyder – the friendliest ghost town.” It truly looks like a lost world and you can see from the barren pilings sticking out of the misty water that this place once hosted busy piers and boardwalks. But now you might expect the Black Pearl ghost pirate ship to roll in at any moment. <br /><br />This place is beautifully mysterious, with thick cloud cover above and a soupy mist hanging just over the water. Between the grey, spruce and cedar now host hanging mosses in light greens. We stopped at the wildlife viewing area and then headed down the road a ways to see Salmon and Bear glaciers but the road was closed. We rode past the closed signs to see that the night before the road had been completely washed away. Powerful water rushes by below and you can hear large stones knocking against others as they are tumbled down the river, probably once part of the road. Not wanting to miss the glaciers, James had thought that maybe we could skirt around the edge. Taking a look, we decided that there was too little left and deeming the prospect way too pass or fail, we turned around and began heading back out to the Cassiar, to the point at which the road y'ed before. We still had about 100 miles to go for the day and forgetting how south we had traveled, we underestimated our amount of daylight and as it began to rain I had immediately regretted our decision to press on. Just as we started back out, two black bears ran out in front of James. James, putting the ABS to work, grabbed the brakes and had a thought flash through his head, as the brakes grappled with the demands, of him sliding up to the bear, disabled but alive and serving up dinner to the bear. <br /><br />The bike remained composed and we continued on, making our way back out past glaciers and rivers. Just at the point where we could see the break in clouds ahead of us there was a rainbow. We stopped to try and take picture and noticed gentle upward breezes where raising the cloud cover. James remarked that the colors, somehow bright yet muted and misty at the same time, were like that of a dream. <br /><br />We made it to Meziandin Lake and camped for the night where James and I almost went to blows over the installation of our rain cover Kelty tarp. Funny thing about that dang tarp, that's meant to keep our tent and other gear dry when it's raining, is that of everything that's happened on this trip that dang tarp has the potential to be a divorce-in-a-bag. As soon as that tarp comes out my blood pressure rises and I've decided that James and I just have fundamental differences in our tarp erecting methodology. All that aside James and I managed to remain on speaking terms and we got a good night's rest.<br /><br />The next morning just 50 miles or so from where we camped and we were off of the Cassiar. That which would ordinarily be considered quite pretty, in contrast was now, well, quite ordinary. <br /><br /><br /><br />Our accommodations at Watson Lake: <table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/DQd7RpdvTBRp5sgD2Ds8cQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqcRIBwEvI/AAAAAAAABQY/w_pPB1eWLc4/s400/P1030702.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />Adding our sign to the sign forest: <table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/pXmCW31D457jfPtJQqXOkg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqcZ3uVUNI/AAAAAAAABQ8/MzqOWntL5Mg/s400/P1030711.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/hC8DVrVIpEs1sQUS_9aoFA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Smqcqac6v2I/AAAAAAAABSE/iRw58kBrcrQ/s400/P1030728.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/QCAhRyNDUfVpfRXiRpdU0Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Smqc9zKElhI/AAAAAAAABUQ/hiPXCr6BHrc/s400/P1030763.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/pir5i_DvO6abpUmFa-DjCg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Smqc_xVBXbI/AAAAAAAABUc/LWAI-7kneR4/s400/P1030766.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/zwcxGl6G5GoVLsdRQvQgIQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqdBGF3U2I/AAAAAAAABUk/m7jeSsb3nxQ/s288/P1030768.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Z_qbjTYYr6hMoiIKFYrPnQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqdEUzHMII/AAAAAAAABU4/zUVShya574A/s400/P1030773.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/BFYzeB7jlZ_oUjegUl8czA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqdGhwXtrI/AAAAAAAABVE/BkZBajdUgdY/s400/P1030776.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/NPZ7jvVchxfoPWVqJjo-OQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqdMY8FGBI/AAAAAAAABVk/Ps79wnrKYTk/s400/P1030784.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/3URuClk8nmIOTU1KYA6grg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqdpBiLHWI/AAAAAAAABXc/DQJoOKuCZgU/s400/P1030813.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/PfwbwddPmIKJG3oGFFyMvw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Smqd1Ac5taI/AAAAAAAABYQ/qAorH8P7yCk/s400/P1030826.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/4x8ga5H3OlUhyi77BRjT-A?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Smqd6GOq7iI/AAAAAAAABYs/pqPJSG--Tv8/s400/P1030833.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/TyCK9YNpk4SFFfofQT9Zhg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqeBzhOpcI/AAAAAAAABZQ/EmllxadsKVU/s400/P1030842.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/yCXZXMjFsR0mcsI-3VRxgQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqeFUfKCcI/AAAAAAAABZk/FZgNvwyZonI/s400/P1030847.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/KDVZBRQouJ_zg8z1S_JxjA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqefM7YIqI/AAAAAAAABa0/7hFK_KErf5k/s400/P1030866.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/D70GX99mFLKgFQDFqGZcwg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Smqef2C2D5I/AAAAAAAABa4/avT1o_JRPjY/s400/P1030867.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/3pTXmOOuejOQEAKkrEn7UA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Smqeme2R4eI/AAAAAAAABbg/-osm6J-8GaI/s400/P1030877.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br />If you look closely you can see the rainbow: <table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/9maOMVPxsqfBiN0tafxPow?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqeqAlDL-I/AAAAAAAABb4/FUrSBk2WjTw/s400/P1030883.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/sEJJvIvZX7OpWsZkPOYzOA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqeC5iFcWI/AAAAAAAABZU/cekztK6bQ_0/s400/P1030843.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/ND-xUEw26Dbx8pSSFtoRcg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmqeKsR1DSI/AAAAAAAABZ8/hRV0sPaW5fs/s400/P1030853.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsWatsonLakeThroughCassiar?feat=embedwebsite">pics - watson lake through Cassiar</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-59695808868843701152009-07-22T04:06:00.003-04:002009-07-22T04:41:37.695-04:00Look Ma, I'm on "Top of the World."<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/YDgUkX_wsujl4qq1wdiklg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbLB7aodwI/AAAAAAAABMk/d96u44E_Qc0/s400/P1030655.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/FMLQg4ylXTlEmyK3HJeN8A?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbLIPxx30I/AAAAAAAABNU/UXuLNlsxmbk/s400/P1030667.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />Fairbanks to Dawson City - Top of The World Highway<br /><br />After our journey to Prudhoe Bay and back we stopped for the night in Fairbanks where we did laundry, removed a few layers of dirt off the bikes and changed the oil again. For as much as Anchorage impressed me, Fairbanks did not. It was an good place to get some maintenance done and find a pizza joint for dinner. We were still traveling with Detlif, the German doctor, since our paths were still heading in the same direction. The next day we wrapped up bike maintenance in the early afternoon and headed to Tok for a second time – this time heading in the opposite direction.<br /><br />A night in Tok and back on the road – this time heading for the Top of the World highway. Top of the World highway runs from Chicken, AK to Dawson City, Yukon. Much of the road is dirt and during our stop in Chicken, a quaint prospecting town, I overheard many an RV-er complaining about the condition of the road – one in particular saying that it couldn't possibly get any worse. Nothing to concern ourselves with, the Dalton Highway veterans that we are....<br /><br />Most roads gracefully pick their way through a mountain range, skirting around mountains and through valleys, taking the easy road. But not this highway. It is constantly in search of the high ground, running across the tops of the mountains, affording expansive views of the valleys below and as far as the eye can see. You truly do feel “top of the world.” Not to mention this highway is also the most northernly highway in the world.<br /><br />Just as we crossed into Canada we pulled over to a gravel pullout. We noticed a two-track jeep trail that meandered it's way across the mountains and into the distance. James, hopeful, looked at me and said, “I wonder where that goes....” Well, not wanting to disappoint the man, I said, “Wanna find out?” I don't think I'd finished saying it and he was already off – and I was in tow. Rocky with deep water-filled ruts it was great fun for about one and a half miles until we realized that it was heading completely in the opposite direction, it was getting late, and we still had to get the ferry over to Dawson City. <br /><br />The only way to get into Dawson City from that direction is to cross the Yukon river by ferry – the way it's always been done. Dawson City was home of the Klondike Gold Rush. Here, in the late 1800's gold was found and with it a stampede of prospectors and others looking to cash in on the rush. The town looks much like I'd imagine it did then, never having paved the roads and keeping much of their historic buildings. We had dinner at Klondike Kate's and caught a bit of Diamond Tooth Gerdie's show with her cancan girls, entertaining in a G-rated version of the way I imagine many women did back in the gold rush days, having their turn at making a buck. <br /><br />Before leaving Dawson City we took a detour up to Midnight Mountain, a dome that affords a 360 degree view of the city and surrounding country. From there we could see the Klondike river pour it's dark chocolate waters into that of the Yukon's milk chocolate. Although they merge into one, they continue with their own identities for quite some time and you can watch the line between the two waters trail along down the river before blending. <br /><br />From Dawson City we'll head to Watson Lake and add our own sign to the Sign Forest I told you about before. <br /><br />I've got a lot more catching up to do with the blog. More to come....<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/srP2_Q5DEICXRmho36_AJQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbKlRXB56I/AAAAAAAABKM/896EI2tLhLQ/s400/P1030617.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/ENJCfgpLt02xKhlB_keiiA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbKtDg4bsI/AAAAAAAABKc/XEReh8dSHI0/s400/P1030621.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/ZtDpIGZZfUYskCywQldPng?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbKwU4g0FI/AAAAAAAABKw/BWeaimrtGrI/s400/P1030626.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/IeDIw8_sh3lJxyQAT5nBng?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbK9sabuXI/AAAAAAAABMA/tAMAceL_CPs/s400/P1030646.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/0ePz4Cqe-ZjRJDhXu8WPdg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbLJZK39XI/AAAAAAAABNk/esqr5aDAgUY/s400/P1030670.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/iDCRLGYM0kiQsE11fWh9qQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbLL85bS_I/AAAAAAAABN0/kq3OOOBf0BI/s400/P1030674.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/DSofCi0XzRbSH6ryk3TVXw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbLM-tb5BI/AAAAAAAABN8/Dwx7i5RzV2A/s400/P1030676.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/qQq8g8GSGm0jAsR-8lr4Eg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbLUv2auUI/AAAAAAAABO0/lcS_R3aUOcc/s400/P1030690.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/NAEUelnlYYcFrlOiFQP4EQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SmbLWnXQ4gI/AAAAAAAABPI/sdjDthZiLpM/s400/P1030695.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1721?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 17-21</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-32841227838876759572009-07-17T19:53:00.002-04:002009-07-17T19:58:54.842-04:00Veni, Vidi, ViciDays 15 & 16<br />Sunday, July 12/Monday, July 13<br /><br /><br />Veni, Vidi, Vici<br /><br />We came, we saw, we conquered. <br /><br />We'd come down to it. This is the adventure. We started the day outside of Coldfoot Camp with 240 miles of dirt and gravel between us and the Arctic Ocean. <br /><br />When I close my eyes and imagine what Alaska might look like, this is it. All that I could imagine and more. The scenery is beautiful to the point of distraction – a dangerous thing when negotiating potholes, gravel and washboard road. Small forests of hardy trees set against green and rocky mountains with braids of streams cutting through beds of river rock. I've seen bigger mountains and bigger trees for sure, but there's something about the rugged beauty of this wilderness that's breathtaking. Just knowing that this arctic world sees temperatures of 80 below and hurricane force winds makes every bit of life this land sustains seem that much more amazing. <br /><br />We were looking for a bit of a challenge and today the road did not disappoint. Loose gravel, thick mud, washboard, ruts and potholes. Trucks passing us coming from the opposite direction leave us in a whiteout of dust. There are a couple of patches of asphalt mixed in for a few miles for reprieve, but don't get lulled into a comfort zone because lest you forget, this is the Dalton Highway. Most the way is work, but fun, as I concentrate on looking as far ahead as possible to miss the bigger of the potholes on a constant quest for the smoothest blue groove. Parts where the gravel is deeper the bike floats along, vague and disconcertingly – but you can't slow down and whatever you do, don't touch the front brake. The mud makes the back end fishtail, back and forth and back again. This is almost fun until I hit particularly deep part which causes the front end to weave as well. Careful not to chop the throttle I ever-so-gently ease off and regain composure. <br /><br />We made it to Deadhorse and are sitting here as I start writing this, just 10 miles south of Deadhorse where we've found a pull-off by the side of the road to make camp. We are next to the river as it's making its last 20 mile push to the Arctic Ocean. As far as the eye can see is flat arctic tundra and a maze of stamped marshes. The only thing interrupting it is the Dalton Highway, from which we came. The ocean breeze is whipping the tent around, but the wind affords much needed relief from the usual onslaught of mosquitoes. Camp is set and we've laid out our tarp for a place to sit as we enjoy a cup of single malt scotch with our friend Detlif, a doctor from Germany on his KTM. <br /><br />Up at 5:30 to break camp and make it back to Deadhorse for the tour to the Arctic Ocean – the end of the road and as far north as we can go. Deadhorse is a maze of temporary buildings perched atop pads of dirt and gravel built up just above the tundra. A self sustaining mess of oilfield equipment, vehicles covered in dirt and hardy people. Rough country, the oil companies only allow their employees to work for 6 weeks at a time before sending them home to recover – but they are paid well for their efforts. <br /><br />The arctic ocean around Prudhoe Bay was not as exciting as I'd imagined. The only ice to be seen was crusts forming along the beach where the water washes up on rocky shores littered with wood that washes up from Canada. The oil companies take care to minimize impact to the wildlife in the area, and Caribou that have used the area as migrating territory for centuries still make their way along the shore seeming unalarmed by the presence of this strange city. Seeing Prudhoe Bay, the turning back point of our adventure, only served to illustrate that this has never been about the destination, but rather the journey. And even though we are only half way through, it's been an amazing journey so far. <br /><br />On the way back we discover the road is ever changing, and the road we went up was not the same as the road we went down. Parts that were okay on the way up, were bad on the way down and vice versa. There is constant maintenance to the road as man and machine pit itself against the extreme elements. In one particular place on the way back down there was a huge grading tractor in the lane, smoothing mounds of thick muddy gravel along the road. To the left, the tractor left a ridge of this gritty muck about a foot and a half tall. To get around the tractor you either had to risk crossing the mound to the left of the tractor or chance the ditch along the small edge to it's right. James, in front of me, chose left. What I'm sure was an attempt to go over the mound became a fight for life to make it through the mud, legs flailing side to side, bike trying to buck him off, and fighting to regain control. Because James is the more experienced rider I'm more than happy to let him pick his way through first as I carefully watch his lines and consequent success, or failure. I knew better than to try to replicate James' attempt at conquering the ridge so I went to the right of the tractor – the driver blaring his horn at me in anger. I could have explained that he might have been spending the day peeling me out of the mud if I'd gone the other way, but decided it just to acknowledge him with a wave and move on by – at least I'm not in the mud. <br /><br />As for the difficulty of the road, there are good patches and bad patches – even a little pavement. But I wouldn't want to spoil it for you, and I'll leave it to you to discover. Besides, only those that travel it should really get to know. <br /><br />The ride back fills me with deep satisfaction. For me, I no longer have to wonder if I have the grit to do it. For both of us it's the completion of a fun challenge that many only dream of. There's certainly more to come, but even if this was the end of the journey, I could go home satisfied. But on we go.<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/oUBsYspdUzHbW28a4XBcsw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5LJqw8f8I/AAAAAAAABA0/grqbGgl9Pk0/s400/P1030489.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/SZGdpj_x6p5GrzAc4kiTlg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5LQzSh8dI/AAAAAAAABBE/u8UcI1lKSdQ/s400/P1030493.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/S247Fo6AhBhdLu4lAGSNDg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5L_MOXxjI/AAAAAAAABCU/kP8FLR4VggI/s400/P1030513.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/EpfNaI20ZjKJs3X_2tSXLA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5MvVOaE_I/AAAAAAAABE0/eEzoP64WIfw/s400/P1030552.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/i2_TbJp7EWJtmlqhENLS9g?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5M1M7RwsI/AAAAAAAABFI/y3xtZjH5rjM/s400/P1030557.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/8AQRNUc06VC6haZAtyY5Bw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5Mx76HHJI/AAAAAAAABE8/WtM8K-O07JM/s400/P1030554.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/6bWW-uezHNPU7a3rnfjt2w?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5M_572oQI/AAAAAAAABFY/B7XJVNGvMaY/s400/P1030561.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/ZT6c3QGHJ1OPU7a9Vj3XyA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5NPmJ9J-I/AAAAAAAABF0/XIXtClj3DKc/s400/P1030568.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Z5nN6LnD2UgWMfM9uRM0LA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5NTEdfW7I/AAAAAAAABF8/T_3SY03i1NE/s400/P1030570.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/npkou9YDJFU6wGH3I2nw6g?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5NWf7kAvI/AAAAAAAABGE/xMqA8248XWk/s400/P1030572.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/fmuJx9NS5vYrX3y6LcGmAQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5NeFWlHDI/AAAAAAAABGY/2k04oS5bgSk/s400/P1030577.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br />Glorious dirt – a badge of honor :)<br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/KSl4rZimOwjWpKM2h0PGtw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5Nh1a8Q4I/AAAAAAAABGk/3q0ElhlYEo0/s400/P1030580.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/YrdrQ9ICOXTKQ4jr6WwvqQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5Nlc-3KnI/AAAAAAAABGw/4Fy-tIDrypU/s400/P1030583.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/2YlDFmKLAfE4tuGC2n-5zA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5NniwRPaI/AAAAAAAABG4/7cG6R5ilOr8/s400/P1030585.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br />Lucy the dog is riding with her daddy from Deadhorse all the way down to Mexico. Apparently she didn't get the memo that in this part of the world dogs do the pulling....<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/SEOgj_nNDm8STskqhj7OMg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5NyHW6vTI/AAAAAAAABHc/5cgny45-ziA/s400/P1030594.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br />We camped next to the fire department's temporary heli base on the way back down at the Yukon River.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/gP5Fy-cRLXGlJAcniIujkw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5N6zs0tlI/AAAAAAAABH0/BUUfgxEy22c/s400/P1030600.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/GH16Cb7owsH6S8x-bhqCzA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5OBkbSGdI/AAAAAAAABII/WxgfvzZYnpE/s400/P1030605.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-77752266137843935152009-07-13T02:55:00.002-04:002009-07-15T18:06:11.417-04:00The Last Great Highway on EarthDay 15 – Saturday, July 11<br /><br />Dalton Highway <br /><br />“Over four hundred miles of gravel, winding through the arctic wilderness. The lifeline of the Trans Alaska Pipeline, driveway for rural residents, and gateway to Earth's most magnificent wilderness region. Truckers, miners, and indigenous residents working together against the elements to help each other subsist. More traveled by caribou than man. The last great highway on Earth.” - quote found at the Yukon River Camp<br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/3qnbROv6J1zio0nOgk7p_g?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5JTrgl9TI/AAAAAAAAA6w/c8_5Pi0zZHc/s400/P1030394.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><br />We left Fairbanks, a new day, a fresh start. Yesterday was rough for me. Nothing particularly challenging about the ride or the day, I was just tired and struggled to stay alert for most of it. One of the things I love about motorcycle riding is that, even 2 weeks into the trip, getting on the bike in the morning is like pressing the refresh button. There's no lingering fatigue from the day before and you can hop on feeling ready to go. Just eighty miles out of Fairbanks we hit the Dalton Highway, also known as the Haul Road and so named for the industrial trucks that haul equipment and supplies for the pipeline. First rule of the road: yield to big trucks. <br /><br />The sign for the Dalton Highway is littered with stickers and names of people that have been before – like us, seeing this as one of the last big adventures to be had in Northern America. Immediately following are yellow warning signs cautioning that the pavement ends and that commercial trucks frequent the highway – we stop to take a picture. This road will lead to the arctic circle. <br /><br />The road is of course dirt, but surprising easy to navigate at this point and the miles fly by with the biggest challenge staying far enough behind James to avoid being engulfed in the trail of dust that lingers behind him like the contrail of a jet plane. We watch the pipeline snake across the landscape, looking like a never-ending tube slide at a water park. Everything else is pristine and the pipe, oddly enough, looks in place with its own young history and mystique. It is, after all, the reason why we can come this far north by land – and this is truly and amazing wilderness to see.<br /><br />We ride through Boreal forest – a mix of spruce, aspen and birch - the southern face of the slopes denser because of the more generous share of sunlight they receive. Permafrost creates marshes and bogs where green grass grows tall. Fire is a part of the life cycle here, and looking across the hills you can see where fires have burned their way through the forests, seeming to selectively choose a narrow path, burning some and leaving other parts untouched. Patches are covered with fireweed flowers in dense blankets. The name for fireweed originally perplexed us, as it's neither red nor orange, but rather a pretty pinkish-purple. Now the name is now longer a mystery as it's clear that these flowers brightly spring up for morale where fire has left it's mark. Some of the mountains are completely covered in purple.<br /><br />We reach the Arctic Circle, marked by a wooden sign at a turnoff on the road. Here in summer, the sun takes a never-ending bow along the horizon, but never really sets. Just within and with a change in elevation we reach the arctic tundra. Within minutes the trees disappear and what's left is an landscape of lichen-covered rocks and hardy, low-lying shrubs and flowers. This is caribou country and the home of the musk ox, wolf, arctic fox, arctic hare and of course, bear. <br /><br />We reach Cold Foot Camp – a stop along the road that's not big enough to claim itself a town. We stop at the gas station/general store/motel/restaurant for dinner and to gas up. Across the road, and the only other thing in town is a visitor center. It was a beautiful interpretive center with amazing displays and helpful locals. <br /><br />One of the displays had some alarming advice about dealing with bears: If a bear is on the defensive, stay calm and speak to it in a calming manner. If it continues and makes an attack you should lay face down and play dead with your legs apart so that he can't flip you over. If the bear starts to feed on you, you should fight back, because now the bear is no longer in a defensive mode, but rather a predatory one. <br /><br />Ya think? I'm not making that up. <br /><br />At the visitor center, we received advice on where to camp and met a German fellow on a KTM that we are camping with. All is well and the road from here promises to get a bit more challenging. Word is the Brook mountain range pass is covered in 2 inches of mud. Looking forward to tomorrow it will be difficult to sleep despite our weariness. <br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Oaky8ykakKI6o6gCRW2Uyw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5JWi5ANUI/AAAAAAAAA7E/ifwuy4gtTvc/s400/P1030399.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/7esg_7ECIdIaI9T1c95VXQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5JXbDVvWI/AAAAAAAAA7I/UW0QLyt_Au8/s400/P1030400.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/2IcKtO_uulAzXx7qwDhSpw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5JbfpfxAI/AAAAAAAAA7g/N89Q0cG7LbI/s400/P1030406.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/M1ovxR1D_H7luoWVUKe4bg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5JfP3PyPI/AAAAAAAAA78/b4lY-ykbYPE/s400/P1030413.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/1rd7Q-7pqP-fYauyxMM3cQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5JieifLNI/AAAAAAAAA8I/3Zo5ujxa1I4/s400/P1030416.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/bagsV70WzUtdMw896HLPSA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5JuHVHwNI/AAAAAAAAA9M/gTszpVhtNF8/s400/P1030432.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/zGDqIADIR6PWgSIUl4b0DQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5J8DZe3VI/AAAAAAAAA-I/wc-UZsAPN2k/s400/P1030447.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/lWx5HRU0715Ia7xptkPLKQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Sl5KB6RTehI/AAAAAAAAA-U/nkaTvFnhJeA/s400/P1030450.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1516?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day15-16</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-12759706566426976862009-07-13T02:54:00.000-04:002009-07-13T02:55:42.213-04:00Denali - Anchorage to FairbanksDay 14 – Friday, July 10<br /><br />The ride through Denali was beautiful as we made our way from Anchorage to Fairbanks. In the distance we can see the big white peak of Mt. McKinnley surrounded by her siblings. We stop to read about those that have scaled her 20,000 feet. Here the tourists from the cruise ships are brought for the day by bus and at one stop we become part of the attraction – dirty motorcyclists on an Alaska adventure. The air is more clear and you can smell the sweetness of summer, no longer masked by that of smoke.The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-16062022522229723232009-07-09T05:55:00.006-04:002009-07-10T06:29:28.743-04:00Land of ExtremesDay 12/13 - Wednesday/Thursday, July 8/9<br /><br />The Alcan continues north from Tok into Fairbanks but we take a turn south towards Anchorage. We have tires waiting for us in Anchorage - knobby tires which will be better suited for the terrain further north. We've had plenty of fellow motorcycle travelers so far, but few will head as far north as we will and the road will get lonelier. <br /><br />We left Tok and headed for Anchorage. The road is lined with fireweed, a purplish wild flower. Behind that rows of aspen, their silver and green leaves trembling in the wind like coins on a belly dancer's skirt. As we approach the St. Elias mountain range the forests look like they've been illustrated by Dr. Suess - spindly black spruce trees shoot up, some taking random turns and then heading up again. The ride, and most of the scenery in the distance is obscured by smoke from wildfires in the surrounding areas.<br /><br />Through the mountain range we encounter the first glacier I've ever seen. Long and wide I can see it from the road as it carves its way between the mountain. A milky river flows from it later down the road. I imagine it would be quite beautiful, but I can barely see it because of the smoke and all attempts at taking pictures of it are dissappointing. Small homes and resorts along the highway have single or double engine planes in the driveways and strips of grass along the highway get a windsock and become landing strips.<br /><br />Arriving in Anchorage we head for the Air Force base since we'll be staying at then inn there. Rolling through the gate, the guard, thinking we were here to stay, says, "Welcome to Alaska. It will be the best posting you've ever had." I'm immediately taken with Anchorage - a culturally rich port town that seems small enough to be lovable but still have everything you need. Alaska's most metropolitan city, it's set against a backdrop of beautiful mountain ranges on one side and sea on the other. <br /><br />We headed to Alaska Leather - our tire change staging point. We only had time to do one bike and we headed of to the Moose's Tooth, a local institution that makes their own beer and a pretty mean pizza. <br /><br />Today (Thursday), I got a special treat thanks to my friend Jennie who insisted that I needed a massage. Not one to argue with good sound advice, I took off for a massage while James went to finish his tires. My message therapist, Athena, was the bohemian sort. Curious about what brings people to this part of the world I ask her if she's from here. She came along with her family when she was ten. She loves it here, and describes Alaska as a land of extremes. <br /><br />The early part of the day was spent swapping and shipping tires. Before we knew it, it was 2:00 and we still had to grab breakfast for lunch at Gwennie's, a greasy spoon kind of place that's another local must-try. Full on reindeer sausage and scrambled eggs I got to thinking that hopping back on the bikes at 3:00 to high-tail it to Fairbanks sounded like a raw deal. We were on vacation after all. Maybe the massage had gotten to me, but I suggested staying another night and exploring a bit more of Anchorage. It didn't take much to convince James and we vowed to start early tomorrow and make up the time.<br /><br />We'll start off early tomorrow and press through Fairbanks. The rougher parts of the road will start there and services will get fewer and far between - I'll try to update as possible. <br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/HsqLSp4WjCTteeFeywE63Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcR_cnS5pI/AAAAAAAAA3M/N2FyD3R4Uso/s400/P1030331.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/GeJl29KVx5hv7WpgTj7BQQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcR-p5n1_I/AAAAAAAAA3I/8ylLD4U28hE/s400/P1030330.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/2vL63rFYN48IdRMH_F1u8g?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSEHuqs_I/AAAAAAAAA3k/BFiZMKXSTS0/s400/P1030337.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br />Bombing about town with my new tires and the old ones strapped to the back:<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/C0lubmaxj_TvED7LujBZ_A?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSHyGJmcI/AAAAAAAAA30/g-4JkRcrUGY/s400/P1030341.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/0sjbYp-F98uYSSsIHjZR7Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSI-TvwfI/AAAAAAAAA34/rUwAgKfWKoU/s400/P1030342.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/zuChfqFi04colU0bO0Z75Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSMfdXTqI/AAAAAAAAA4E/0ndLn1IHeLU/s400/P1030345.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/NdnMNsXBCSChJ5ajkg57Qg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSPaLaN3I/AAAAAAAAA4Q/sWK64-CM07Q/s400/P1030348.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/3EdPYLPSeKkr0InXbE-WUw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSTGPYCgI/AAAAAAAAA4g/0WuO2xNsxjw/s400/P1030352.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/78PdscFHRckTYXd8IoF2Kg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSZZJpLaI/AAAAAAAAA44/XZiNdhB6b-4/s400/P1030358.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br />Breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next three days - lol... the ridiculous portions at Gwennie's.<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/eiARyD4D-kGR5uT8Wkn84w?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSbFT5fZI/AAAAAAAAA5A/fOFj8wmJADI/s400/P1030360.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/64pp2NsMvWC-z_2lwXswTw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcSePxZGrI/AAAAAAAAA5M/itlWDOMe3fQ/s400/P1030363.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-90449908316082522662009-07-08T04:51:00.006-04:002009-07-10T06:16:59.211-04:00Midnight SunDay 11 - Tuesday, July 7<br /><br />We are in Alaska - finally! I'm sitting here at our camp table, it's almost one in the morning and it's still light out. You know in theory that Alaska summer days are long, but it's a different thing to experience it. And as I sit here, it's hard for me to keep in mind how late it is. Even more amazing is that I can hear wolves howling not too far in the distance. <br /><br />Today we rode from Whitehorse in Canada's Yukon province across the border into Tok, Alaska. The Yukon is wild just as you'd expect. The word Yukon solicits images of burly men, dog sledding and panning for gold - and and it's not without cause. Gold panning has gone high tech though, and when passing glass lakes you see the occasional dredging pump strategically placed by some hopeful. <br /><br />A hundred miles into the ride today we started getting warnings from people that the road up ahead would worsen. Armed with our BMWs, that news, plus seeing a bike coming from the direction we were heading covered in mud, was enough to elicit smiles on our faces. <br /><br />James and I had just finished a break and were heading back out when construction brought us to a halt. Waiting for a pilot truck to take us through the construction area several people on bikes and locals in cars hopped out to chit chat. This is normal in these parts. No matter where you stop you talk to fellow travelers or locals, everyone passing stories of where they've been and where they're heading. There aren't a lot of people out this way, but the roads are frequented by motorcyclists and other adventure seekers. Yvonne, the self-proclaimed artist of Destruction Bay who talks to us like old friends issues us a stern warning about the road ahead and tells that just a few weeks ago a motorcyclist fell prey to the poor road conditions and never made it home. <br /><br />Of course this was cause for concern - you never want to hear something like that. With it in mind we take extra care as we continued on beyond the construction and hit a good patch of road and picked up the pace a bit. This was still the Yukon and the speed limit was 90 kilometers per hour - so something like 45 mph. On big open road that's really hard to do on a motorcycle - trust me on this. So we were cruising along, just a bit faster, when a Mountie (called this even though he's in a pick-up) coming from the other direction flashes his lights and pulls us over. James and I look at each other. This could get expensive for not one, but two bikes. The tall gentlemen comes along side us and asks if we understand kilometers and if we knew how fast we were going. He didn't make us sweat it for long and kindly told us early on that he would just be giving us a warning - a lucky break. He and his wife used to ride, he said, before kids came along. Genuinely concerned he too shared the story about the fallen motorcyclist, gave us each a formal warning, and telling us to be safe sent us on our way.<br /><br />We took it easy through gravel patches and frost heaves and kept waiting for the really bad part. It never came. Matter of fact, what was a nightmare for many was just getting to be the fun part for James and I. A quick peak at the forks indicated that sure, we'd used just about all our suspension travel on some of those roller coaster-like frost heaves, but there was nothing to get distressed about. Frost heaves? What frost heaves?<br /><br />We finally made it back to the border and in to Alaska. It was a relief to see speed limits and distances in recognizable measurements. Ninety miles into the border we rolled into Tok and at the first campsite we checked who do we find but our lost travel buddy Brad. He had traveled the same roads earlier and jokes about having been jealous of us and our BMWs as he was bottoming out in thuds over the frost heaves. <br /><br />Time for a good night's sleep.<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/yndQIf_Hz3chYCtoXvFLIQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcRffs4NXI/AAAAAAAAA1M/Zp2IJnT5uz0/s400/P1030300.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/BmKe0c92P06AonOi54ErjQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcRibrO2mI/AAAAAAAAA1c/Y6fPjQqY--o/s400/P1030304.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/ihUw4NF61Q4HjHpSuGDsLg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcRtdzpBjI/AAAAAAAAA2I/e8aO5-UD-BY/s400/P1030315.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/mwxE9m436Ge1fAU3e6xB4A?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcRuZ97gOI/AAAAAAAAA2M/IeAie9piZyE/s400/P1030316.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table><br />Our new friend Brad<table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/Ysj_-wkgdCHIu9xwRpxNJA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlcR5KdDBBI/AAAAAAAAA2w/dy4vaMKHjQk/s400/P1030325.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay1113?feat=embedwebsite">Pics - day 11-13</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-53221828659858281082009-07-07T13:17:00.004-04:002009-07-07T13:33:20.048-04:00This Adventure Stuff is Hard WorkDay 10 - July 6<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/zGxT9oyrbNWBQpKoRWhNXA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlODjO7IY1I/AAAAAAAAAzU/k8Y8Kc4MJVQ/s400/P1030288.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay10?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 10</a></td></tr></table><br /><br />The highway took us from B.C. to the Yukon, back to B.C. and then to the Yukon again - guess it couldn't make up its mind! We made it to Whitehorse for the night. It was actually a lighter day of riding - only 380 miles compared to 400 plus most days so far. We're on day 10 of our trip - almost 1/3 of the way through. It's hard to believe that we've come this far and exciting that we should finally be entering Alaska tomorrow. We made really slow time and lost our friend Brad who we met at the beginning of the highway (he took our picture at the sign for us). He's riding from Texas by himself and our trips were heading the same way for a while so we've been camping together the last couple of nights but we lost him on the way to Whitehorse. You can check out his ride blog at http://bradrides.wordpress.com/.<br /><br />It was another beautiful ride. We saw more wildlife (I'm going to start a little ticker to count all the wildlife we've seen) and visited the sign forest. People from all over the world have left signs there and the history of how it started is actually tied back to the building of the road in the 40s. It was really interesting to walk around and see all the signs and pieces of themselves that people have left behind. We'll be back through there on the way down to the Casiar highway so James and I are on the lookout for a way we can make a sign and add it to the forest. <br /><br />On to Alaska!<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/cExSZu7P-mpVNgS-l8YvoQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlODneGza5I/AAAAAAAAAzo/4cNuyxa-_Ok/s400/P1030293.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay10?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 10</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/-aqXCyGmYn31M7Iu66tEWg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlODl3zbrJI/AAAAAAAAAzg/jHFgoD-Rb4Y/s400/P1030291.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay10?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 10</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/PTYl95n-kQnvwwfAkySwQg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlODSvgzolI/AAAAAAAAAyY/MhhWQE3RLw0/s400/P1030274.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay10?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 10</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/DnpQZ89brMoowxwVRj5p6g?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlODRvcgGjI/AAAAAAAAAyU/p7ImdHmWgAs/s400/P1030273.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay10?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 10</a></td></tr></table><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/vyJQiXC55yihbISr9KpvGQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlODPPrU9tI/AAAAAAAAAyM/lmuJXLxWuqc/s400/P1030271.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay10?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 10</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-58938283241297333322009-07-06T15:29:00.001-04:002009-07-06T15:31:36.308-04:00Enter the RockiesDay 9 – Sunday, July 5<br /><br />Yesterday we made it to the beginning of the Alaska Highway. Confusingly, it doesn't actually start in Alaska, but in Dawson Creek, British Columbia. We still had all of British Columbia and the Yukon to ride through before the road enters it's namesake state. We stopped for the night just outside of Fort St. John, had dinner and made another new friend who we rode with for most of the day.<br /><br />The Alaska Highway was originally built by the Army Core of Engineers in 1942.Until that point, there were no roads connecting the lower 48 with the Alaska frontier. In short, with the events of WWII in mind, the road was commissioned to make Alaska reachable and therefore more defensible for the US. It was a rough road, literally and figuratively, for the troops, but they pressed on through the wilderness, laying the trees they cut to make the way as the base of the road. The project was a feat of determination and engineering that would be impressive even by today's standards. <br /><br />Today we started out again on the legendary Alaska Highway. The first 100 plus miles were quiet, but the the Rockies began to gracefully introduce themselves and what started as foothills quickly became impressive mountain range. Slowly climbing, the peaks and valleys began to reveal themselves. In the distance, a collage of mountain shapes in various shades of bluish-gray were covered with ominous clouds making not so idle threats. <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/0Ed0oQhq0byjtiQX57KgZQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJNqo0oocI/AAAAAAAAAtM/07ScbJh0Dkc/s400/P1030231.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay9?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 9</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/eGv3IsFnOi7m0uZTFkH09w?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJNuqRFCNI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/6PmU2QUON4g/s400/P1030236.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay9?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 9</a></td></tr></table> <br />As the day went on blue mountains became green and rocky and we were carving our way through them, stopping frequently to take pictures along the way. As we reached the higher parts, there was snow atop the peaks in the not-too-far distance. At one of our picture stops just as we were done taking pictures of the scenery a big horn sheep came tromping down the road towards us. He was beautiful and surprisingly brave. He came close, about 8 feet away, and looked at us quizzically, seeming almost as curious as we were. He was a highlight and I got some great pictures of the handsome fellow.<br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/KBHKQZE4dXbYl4ux9cgHQQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJNyFA0GQI/AAAAAAAAAtU/eBCJOHzJAss/s400/P1030252.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay9?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 9</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/P3TOnEt-8pZqic90APd8ew?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJN5Kr3XaI/AAAAAAAAAtc/rzrZTLuI6p8/s400/P1030254.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay9?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 9</a></td></tr></table> <br />Capillaries of rushing mountain steams made their way towards bigger rivers. The road meandered down along the river, sometimes crossing paths - road and river like two big, twisting ribbons strewn between the mountains. The river met lakes and we road lakeside as the sun began to take its time setting. <br /><br />We encountered so much wildlife. Certainly more than I've ever seen in my life. The first we saw was a black bear on the side of the road. We pulled up and warily stopped to take pictures. He just sat there, happily chomping away at wildflowers, ignoring the strangers there were rudely staring while he was eating. We saw a moose along the road, also eating. Everyone seems to be making the most of this plentiful season. The moose is a rather odd looking animal. It seems like God got creative one day and went to the spare parts bin and grabbed a little camel, cow, caribou, and viola, moose! They are serious looking animals despite their awkwardness and I find them rather charming. We saw many more bear as well as wild buffalo and other critters. It was so amazing to see a momma bear and her two little cubs, not much bigger than footballs along the road – apparently the wildflowers along the side of the road are even enough to tempt a watchful mother bear. We didn't stop for pictures, but road past twice, just in grateful to see them.<br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/uAa5QEfW23fOYDRmea7bDg?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJNnudkNxI/AAAAAAAAAtI/ueBd-MA_740/s400/P1030229.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay9?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 9</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/qH-5p8wZDdmCFXMNtYCpvw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJNkDGSz8I/AAAAAAAAAtE/FQ0WgFMao1E/s400/P1030223.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay9?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 9</a></td></tr></table> <br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/p9aeTNSSBUL489Jbxeer4g?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJNdSjky1I/AAAAAAAAAtA/l66LEP2YMuc/s400/P1030220.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay9?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 9</a></td></tr></table> <br /><br />The ride ended well and the best way I can describe the day was enchanting. We stopped at Liard Hot Springs to camp and and ended the day soaking in natural hot springs at midnight.The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-47770592305510604052009-07-05T13:25:00.001-04:002009-07-05T13:27:06.914-04:00Getting to the good stuffYesterday we got to beginning of the Alaska Highway. Now for the fun part. I'm sure their will be lots to tell about tonight.<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/XxmSu_Uh3SvIK7lFuj5VHQ?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlBAxlIjcoI/AAAAAAAAApI/1Kl1AU_AJiE/s400/P1030197.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay8?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day 8</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-45895253616329437282009-07-04T01:57:00.008-04:002009-07-06T15:38:10.007-04:00Fellow Travelers and New FriendsYesterday we woke up somewhere just outside of Winnipeg. It was a good riding day - great weather that urged us on past 500 miles - a good thing since we've been playing catch-up for the last few days. <br /><br />As we've ridden west, rolling hills have given way to open prairies. Unfortunately for us, a lot of the scenery earlier in the trip was obscured by the rain and fog on our face shields. But as the weather was a bit more gracious the last couple of days we seen a lot more of the journey. <br /><br />The way we heard it, Saskatchewan was going to be relatively straight and flat. And to a motorcyclist those are usually foul words. If you had told us we would have enjoyed that bit of the ride as much as we did we would have thought you crazy - but surprisingly, we did. <br /><br />Rolling, emerald prairies for as far as the as the eye can see may seem like it could get tedious all day on a motorcycle, but something about it was very enjoyable. I've never seen so much green. Beautiful swells of it that went on and on until you were treated to an occasional burst of bright yellow field. It was beautiful in and of itself, but when the landscape doesn't afford much variation you tend to notice the little things that might otherwise escape you. You notice, for instance, the coyote in the field, perfectly still, and patiently waiting for something to move about. The rows of perfectly spaced trees, extraordinarily tall for the landscape, that have become a monument unto themselves, and wonder if the one that had carefully planted them so long ago was alive to see them now. You notice the curious little barns and dilapidated farm houses seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The doe and her fawn far out in the field taking advantage of the long summer grasses. The pond of ducks where the conveniently sunken piece of farm equipment has now become an island. The strategically placed piles of railroad ties along the tracks that take the grain for processing. Dandelions that looked like they were embellished in size by an artist's imagination dot the edge of the ridge along the tracks. Do the tracks follow the road or the road follow the tracks - I wonder. <br /><br />We grabbed a bite to eat in Saskatoon and made our way to camp for the night - too tired to tell you about all the little things we saw.<br /><br /><br />Today started out rather uneventful. It was supposed to be our day off or make-up day and we made use of it getting to Edmonton - putting us back on schedule. The prairies of yesterday became rather ordinary and much more flat today. We continued our mission of finding quirky roadside statues and took a few pictures. One break in particular found us in a small town with eastern European roots. We were entertained by the odd ode to sausage making history just off the highway - an enormous reddish-brown sausage (see pics). <br /><br />Just as I was resting on a picnic table thinking that I might be kind-of tough for taking on an adventure like this we met Andrew and Friedel. Andrew and Friedel are on an adventure of similar proportions. They began their trip in San Francisco and are riding back home to Nova Scotia. What makes them different from us is where we have, oh, approximately 85 horsepower getting us from point a to point b, they're pedaling with two legs. Seems they've done this before in other countries and we are both curious and impressed. Friedel shares tips on what to cook along the way gives the great advice on using Tiger Balm on my mosquito bites. It was a real pleasure talking to them, fellow travelers, and we exchanged information. <a href="http://travellingtwo.com/">http://travellingtwo.com/<br /></a><br />On to Edmonton - time for an oil change. Five days of camping got me to thinking it might be nice to make use of some Mariott rewards in Edmonton and skip the unpack and re-pack ritual. The plan was to buy some oil, find a kind shop owner that would let us use an oil pan and dispose of the oil for us and find some WiFi to book a room. Getting turned down at the first garage we headed for WalMart - at least we knew we could get the oil there. As it turns out, not only did the oil and lube shop accommodate our request, but set James up with his own service bay in the garage. Just as we were about to set off in search of WiFi we met Allan in the parking lot. He was curious about where we were from and where we were heading. We got to talking and he kindly offered to let us follow him home so we could use his internet. We thought we'd pull up into the driveway, book a room online, thank him and be on our way. He invited us in to meet his wife Gail. I never got a chance to book the room. Instead we were fed grilled cheese sandwiches and offered a bed and a shower. It was hard to turn down and we spent the evening getting to know our new Canada friends over a game of Yahtzee.<br /><br />More pictures coming soon - having difficulties uploading them all:<br /><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="400" height="267" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2FJames.D.Nunez%2Falbumid%2F5354477876609703265%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed><br /><br />Our new friends, Allan and Gail fixed us up with breakfast and well wishes.<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/OxR3HXkrXEofM0rpGsuTiA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlA8TNanCQI/AAAAAAAAAnc/0imCf7R2k-Y/s400/P1030179.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay8?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day 8</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/YzfvDkzWlhjpombZrAD1Mw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJQdVz4q5I/AAAAAAAAAuk/qZ3TVusXjSE/s400/P1030165.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay6?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 6</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/nSA1B0vZNCjcd3hq46jmsA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJQus35zuI/AAAAAAAAAvA/0oUOzuNgiTw/s400/P1030172.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay6?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 6</a></td></tr></table><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/CXLES647CbKECvEqTWNrug?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SlJQ1OL_-hI/AAAAAAAAAvI/yTT4G9IwgGE/s400/P1030174.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay6?feat=embedwebsite">pics - day 6</a></td></tr></table>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-83126999855522756172009-07-02T02:28:00.001-04:002009-07-02T02:30:46.652-04:00Thanks for the comments!James and I are enjoying the feedback. It's nice to know you guys are thinking about us! Thanks for keeping tabs on us!The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-74872372356013922352009-07-02T02:24:00.004-04:002009-07-02T11:01:42.883-04:00Oh Canada!There's something remarkably therapeutic about riding the last 140 miles of the day under clear, sunny skies. It goes a long way in mending the insults and injuries from the weather and luck over the past couple of days. You forget that just 3 hours ago your fingers were numb and you were sitting in a cafe clutching a cup of coffee working up the gumption to get back on the bike. Instead, your head is clear, you're feeling good and you'll be sad to call it a day when it's time to make camp.<br /><br />So, where were we. Oh yes...the last time we wrote we were leaving our hotel room for a ride in the rain. That was yesterday. What can I say about yesterday? We past through what looked like it would have been beautiful riding through Canada from what I could see through rain and mist pelting my face shield. Yesterday was just about getting as many miles behind us as we could while riding the entire day in the rain. Even the locals were complaining about the weather. We called it a night around 7 or so just outside of Thunder Bay on the north end of Lake Superior. It rained on us until we got to camp and then, mercifully, it stopped. We slept like babies .<br /><br />This morning we woke up to a very damp 48 degrees. It wasn't raining, but the air was saturated which makes 48 degrees on the bike feel bitter cold. James, who had to ring out his socks last night, wrapped plastic bags around his feet before putting them back into his still water logged boots. My jacket was still sopping wet, even after I dumped the water out of the pockets the night before. We geared up just the same and hit the road. We had put about 130 miles under us and had to stop for a break. Freezing and hungry we pulled in to the Burger Scoop in a small town of which I can't recall the name just now. Dismayed that they didn't serve soup we both ordered coffee with lunch. <br /><br />That's when the big announcement came that the Canada Day parade was going to be coming down the street in 10 minutes. Yes, it's Canada Day folks. I don't know much about our northern neighbors but it seems that today is the 100th anniversary of Canada becoming a country (or something like that). I should take a moment to point out that although Canada is apparently one country, eastern and western Canada couldn't seem more different. James and I had stopped in a small town just west of Quebec for a little break. We had ridden to to a boat launch to park the bikes for a minute. “Amile! Venir Amile!” I heard in French as a two-color eyed husky popped out of the bushes and inquisitively headed our way. He was followed by a young women and a somewhat chubby, awkward, 14-ish boy in a yellow life vest. The young woman and I spoke for a bit. She was a counselor at a home for children and she was helping the boy learn to swim. I asked her where she learned English. Western Canada she told me and explained that there, in eastern Canada, they were French. She didn't say, French Canadian or, we speak French. Just that they were French. Well, the western Canucks seem far from it. They don't speak French for the most part either. They do, however, say “eh” a lot. And not just when they are making a statement for you to agree with. They say it like the way a valley girl would inject the word, “like” into a sentence 5 times - but much more charming. So, like, you get what I mean, eh? Anyway, the two sides seem rather different – the east portion with the mystique of a foreign country and the west so much like home. <br /><br />Back to the Canada Day parade in our small town for lunch. Armed with our Canada flag sandwich picks, James and I just looked at each other thinking, sure, our luck the parade will roll up and occupy the street for an hour just as we are trying to hop back on the bikes. It didn't. The parade was an interesting hodge podge of whoever showed up for the day with a gaggle of red hat ladies in their mobile motorized wheelchairs bringing up their rear. Interesting. <br /><br />After getting up the gumption we were off again. The weather slowly started to get nicer. We decided to push through Winnipeg and get a place to camp on the other side for the night. Winnipeg looks like a great city. As we rode through the city it was alive with people. People everywhere. Along the river walk, in front of the ice cream shop, the park, the sidewalk. All facing the same direction for what I expect was probably an excellent display of fireworks for Canada day. People with their red and maple leaf flags and hats and shirts. Families riding their bikes and little boys being pulled in radio flyer wagons and pointing excitedly at the motorcycles riding by. Winnipeg is the capital of Manitoba. Their license plates say, “Friendly Manitoba,” and they looked it. <br /><br />I think James and I are losing our hearing. Maybe it's the wind in the helmets or the loud mp3 player headphones drowning out the highway noise while I listen to, “when the hotel front desk attendant says, 'ohayo gozaimasu,' how do you respond?” (my Japanese audio lessons) or Vietnam-era rock. But when we get off the bikes we can never hear each other. It's a constant, “huh?”, “what?” At one of the gas stops where the communication lines were breaking down I yelled, “someone should write an SNL skit about our communication problems!” To which he replied, “huh?”<br />James is snoring beside me. Time for bed.<br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/TXZUMoLs9qjy8pFKhNrS_Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/Skw_6HEDKiI/AAAAAAAAAhc/kB_dLjo4j4Q/s800/P1030078.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay45?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day 4-5</a></td></tr></table> <br />(Frosty fishes.)<br /><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/JOMI2E2fu_k6jYoix_GS1Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SkxALIsjhaI/AAAAAAAAAh4/shuQ--G-mGo/s800/P1030085.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay45?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day 4-5</a></td></tr></table> Dinner in the tent last night. <br /><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/owoZnAUc70yHbXwcMyla7Q?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SkxAMGzN6cI/AAAAAAAAAh8/sIfJnZkQMnE/s800/P1030086.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay45?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day 4-5</a></td></tr></table> Mmmm. Mountain House.<br /><br /><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/LzR-DnzcpqXBviEAkxCQXw?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SkxAO7jYUTI/AAAAAAAAAiE/AdlMOEpZrgA/s800/P1030088.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay45?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day 4-5</a></td></tr></table> Open for caption.<br /><br /><br /><br /><table style="width:auto;"><tr><td><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/zYYkpS8KsCHM3hHFcA3JtA?feat=embedwebsite"><img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_EVWaKBnV0PA/SkxAQ9HtyJI/AAAAAAAAAiM/UGl344KKsOI/s800/P1030090.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right">From <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/James.D.Nunez/PicsDay45?feat=embedwebsite">pics-day 4-5</a></td></tr></table> Sky starting to clear.The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8219200540215131536.post-57542931343218695742009-06-30T09:09:00.002-04:002009-06-30T09:10:46.216-04:00A new day, a new rule.New rule: no stopping without getting gas.<br /><br />Wish us luck - it's still raining.<br /><br />Here are pics from the the last couple of days. I had some great ones of Montreal but for some reason the camera didn't save them.<br /><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="400" height="267" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2FJames.D.Nunez%2Falbumid%2F5353103268949207281%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></embed>The Noonershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09419857616375090265noreply@blogger.com3