Doing the Loop Part 11

I began feeling that giving away my bottle of water to the homeless man was a bad idea as I was getting pretty thirsty myself.  A distinct disadvantage of a motorcycle over a car is trying to look like you belong anywhere when you are not moving.  You can't take a nap like you can in a car.  You can't hide.  And you are out of luck if it begins to rain.  I was thinking I was out of luck as the sky was darkening with clouds.  

I was seriously beginning to worry as I had been waiting for over two hours.  How could they take so long when they were only minutes behind me at Glennallen and Eureka?  Then I thought I wouldn't put it past Greg to stop and shop at Sportsman's Warehouse on the way home either.  Something had to be up.  I wasn't going to hit the panic button yet.

Along about 9 pm, Chase's white pick up truck pulls into the parking lot.  I patiently reserved judgment until I heard their story.  Turns out that a spark plug blew out of the motor in Chase's truck on the way up the pass after leaving Eureka.  It stripped right out leaving an open hole where the spark plug should have been.  The effect of this is like having a 10,000 pound Volkswagen when you try to go up a hill.  The motor runs rough, you have no power and your gas mileage goes in the bucket.  So they limped all that way in to Anchorage while I was having the ride of my life.  

I felt bad for Chase as here he had volunteered his time and truck to help us out of a bind and now he was in one himself.  He was optimistic though.  "Oh no problem", he says, "I've got all the tools at home to fix it myself!"  Yeah, I think at home,  you are over 300 miles away from home.  

Well the best thing to do at a time like this is to eat.  We pile into Chase's truck and go to some burger joint.  I am beat after fighting the wind most of the afternoon.  We have some conversation but emotionally and physically we are done in.  

When we get back to where we are staying, Todd is there waiting for us.  He was going to leave on his own from Tok and go to Valdez.  He got half way to Valdez from Glennallen and decided that he should turn around and go back home to Homer where he lives.  

The four of us pile into our room for the night.  There isn't a lot of discussion about anything as we are all ready for bed.  After showers and a little small talk we are all out like a light.

In the morning we awake to see that rain has enveloped Anchorage.   The rain has turned to shining beads on my waxed Electra Glide.  

Not the most hoped for scenario when you are riding a bike.  With any luck, the clouds will lift with the day and the roads will dry out.   We can't feel too bad about the rain, the firefighters on the Funny River fire on the Kenai Peninsula sure need the help as it has been bone dry all week and the fire hasn't given an inch to them. 

With a little resignation in our spirits we pack up our stuff.  We can't just get up and roar out of town as we have to deal with Greg's tire and Chase's truck.  First order of business is to get to the Anchorage House of Harley and see if they will have mercy on us poor souls and get Greg in right away.

We arrive and yes, they will take care of Greg's tire first thing.  The Harley riders we met in Tok two nights before are back to work after the Memorial Day weekend (looking like they must have had a rough weekend themselves) are there and we get lots of hellos and thanks for dinner conversation. 

We bid farewell to Chase as he is anxious to get home before his Bible Study tonight.  What?  You have a Bible Study tonight and you drove Greg to Anchorage?  What a guy.  We all help Chase with some gas money and he assures us his 10,000 pound Volkswagen will make it home just fine.  He has everything he needs to fix it there. Chase drives off with his sputtering, halting pick up.  I say a prayer for that incredibly generous man. 

Greg's bike is a special kind of Harley Davidson.  It's a "V-Rod" which is Harley's "muscle bike".  It goes like scat.  It is somewhat of a rare bird in that you have a choice of one tire you can put on the back.  That's right, out of the thousands of different motorcycle tires in the world, you get your choice of one.  So, you can ask whatever you want for the tire because you can't get it anywhere else.  It's a $400 tire.  That's one tire, not four or even two.  I decide that I will probably never have the pleasure of owning a V-Rod.  

We wander the House of Harley for what seems like forever.  It is terrible.  Harley stores are like kryptonite to Harley riders.  Everything looks like something you have to have.  I am resisting the fatal attraction of numerous items.  I even pass the most incredible "onesy" that I should buy my little granddaughter.  It says, "My Papa rides a Harley".  Who could resist such offerings?!  The only reason I don't buy it as I don't know what size she is.  I longingly look at all the chrome replacement parts for my bike.  I remember the old saying, "chrome won't get you home."  It is barely enough antidote to resist buying parts for my bike that absolutely don't need to be replaced.  

After drooling on all the merchandise I start reading all the pictures on the walls.  I go upstairs and downstairs.  I finally find the free coffee and some cinnamon rolls.  I stuff a dollar into the can and help myself.  There are a few die hard bikers conversing over their free coffee and retelling the stories of their rides over the Memorial Day weekend.  

You know the die hard types, they don't wear helmets or sissy stuff like that.  They usually have "do-rags" and goggles or dark shades.  The hardest of the die hard bikers eschew things like fairings or saddle bags otherwise known as "baggers" like my Electra Glide.  No, they ride "hard tails" which are bikes without rear suspension, the back tire being the only thing to soften the ride.  I am still not sure if the term "hard tail" refers to the fact that the bike does not have rear shocks or their backside is being referenced.  I can't imagine riding very long on one of those.  My tail is not very hard.

So, here I sit among a small group of bikers, some die hards and feel right at home where I would have felt awkward and out of place just a year ago.  I actually own a Harley and I actually ride it.  I am thinking of buying a do-rag.  I tell myself that is just the kryptonite talking and resist.  

Someone tells us that Greg's bike is done.  Amazing.  We can go home now.  But not so fast.  Greg must rig up his bike with all the pack and whatnot before we can go.  It is still slightly misty outside but not raining nearly as hard.  Killing time at the House of Harley may have saved us a little getting wet time.  

It is lunch time by the time we are ready.  Greg, Todd and I agree that we just need a quick lunch and then we will be on the road again.  Todd loves Burger King.  OK, there is one right on the corner of the Dimond Mall right on Dimond boulevard, it is agreed, we will stop there for lunch.  

We get the gut bomb and devour it like we are starved.  I am anxious to get on the road again.  We soon pull out together into the busy Anchorage traffic.  It is just 100 yards or so til we get the on ramp to the New Seward Highway.  Riding south we are soon down to the Potter Flats and out of the rain with dry roads.  I thank the Lord for His favor.  There must be some mistake though as there is still tons of traffic.  Long lines of cars led by one slow one in the front make their way around the serpentine route to Girdwood where Greg must fill his peanut sized gas tank before heading home.  So, we patiently keep our places in the long lines of traffic that were supposed to be gone after the Memorial Day weekend.  

Girdwood is a madhouse like the day we first took off on our journey.  By now I am getting familiar with the fuel needs of my bike and decide I won't need any thing at this stop.  I sit patiently drummng my finger tips on my gast tank and wait for Greg to fuel his bike.  

Just in case, Todd dons his rain gear which is kind of makeshift.  Usually I am the makeshift guy with a hodge-podge of gear.  Todd is kind of short and his rain pants are sized generously for him.  The effect going down the road is like him turning into the Philsbury Doughboy with loose skin.  His rain gear billows and flaps all at once.  It is a sight to behold.

We catch a break in the traffic as we roar off in a blaze of glory out of Girdwood.  Todd like most other Harley riders has "upgraded" his exhaust pipes (read: "louder").  He is mostly responsible for us "roaring" off.  I don't think I will be upgrading my pipes, I kind of like my understated Harley.  I can't say for sure though, you never know when you will fall prey to the kryptonite.  Harley does make a "Screaming Eagle" line of performance parts and those pipes do sound pretty nice...

We pass slower cars with abandon (safely mind you, if you are my wife reading this...) and ride the most familiar stretch of road that we have traveled many times on the Kenai Peninsula.  It is beautiful country.  Turnagain Pass, Tern Lake, the Russian River, Linda Lake and the Sterling Flats are as beautiful as anywhere else on the road in Alaska.

We near Soldotna where the Harley Shop is and Greg and Todd begin to signal to pull over there.  I wave as I pass them as I am now just minutes from home, no need for me to stop and face the kryptonite again.  It's a good decision as just as I enter Soldotna drops of rain splash against my windshield.  I am just 7 miles from home and I know I can make it before the rain gets serious.  

Soon I am slowly ambling down my gravel street to my house.  I stop in my driveway and think about the past three days for a bit.  What a fun trip, what an adventure, what a, whew, I need a shower.  My wife comes out with a grin on her face, I'm not sure if it is about my grizzled face or spectacular helmet hair. One of the nice things I find out about a bike trip is that there is not much to put away when you are done.  

I roll my bike into the garage just as some big floppy drops of rain spatter on the drive.  Just in time, I think to myself.  I hope Greg and Todd are not getting it too bad.  

I shower, shave and sit in my favorite chair thinking over the trip.  A lifetime memory for sure.

Epilogue

Greg did tell me that as soon as they left the Soldotna Harley Shop that the rain slammed them full force all the way to Homer.  Todd had removed all his rain gear while they were at the Harley Shop and did not want to stop and put it on again.  So he was punished by torrential rain and wind the whole 75 miles to Homer.  Great for the firefighters not so good for bikers.  

THE END

Day Five Part 2

I am not sure why meal times are so significant on a trip like this.  Maybe it has something to do with a comfort association.  Maybe there is some adventure aspect you look forward to.  Maybe it is because by the time you get around to having a meal, you are just plain starved.  

Leaving the steep hill right outside of Nazareth we jockey in and out of traffic situations on these small roads that were not built with the immense tourist buses that traverse them in mind I am sure.  Our bus drivers are sure competent at what they do.  Not once did I see them get stuck in a tight space, bump or damage the buses, run over anybody or anything.  They  are really good at what they do.  Watching them turn these buses around in parking lots that would suit VW Bugs better than a bus is nothing short of amazing.

We soon leave the zanyness of Nazareth and continue to head south to Jerusalem, our final destination for the day.  We end up on a quieter road, one that is lined with trees and other vegetation.  We are told we are going to have lunch at a Kibbutz.  We enter what looks like a compound or maybe even a summer camp with buildings here and there, large greens, pathways and benches under shade trees.  

A kibbutz is a literal application of Communism.  If you "join" a kibbutz, you are assigned a place to work and other shared responsibilities.  You do not own anything but can use everything.  In exchange for your labor, you get room and board and at the end of the year when all expenses and incomes are calculated, everyone shares equally, unless you are more equal than everybody else and you get more.  

Years ago the kibbutz movement was a lot stronger than it is today.  There are not many left.  I guess communism is not as wonderful in practice as it is in theory even in Israel.  You either end up thinking you aren't getting rewarded more that all the lazy people around you, or you figure out that you can be that lazy person and work less than everyone else and get paid the same.  Human nature is universal.

So, this kibbutz is still going quite strong from the looks of it.  Everything is nice, the buildings are in good repair and the grounds are beautiful.  Young people are everywhere, many are coming to the cafeteria for lunch just like us.  Each kibbutz has some kind of industry or business that keeps the kibbutz afloat financially.  I was shocked and astonished to learn that this kibbutz raises pigs.  That's right, pigs.  PIGS.  All these Jewish young men wearing yamakas and young Jewish women raising pigs?  I kind of expected to see some of those pigs flying by when they told us.

It is illegal in the country of Israel for pigs, swine, hogs, porcine animals to touch the ground.  They literally cannot walk on the ground in Israel.  So how does this kibbutz raise them?  On platforms.  Their whole lives.  They never touch the ground.  I don't know how they deal with all the other kosher issues, but it was sure mind blowing to discover all this.  

So you know what I am thinking...maybe they will have something other than falafel and schnitzel for lunch!  We all line up at the cafeteria which is pretty much like any other cafeteria I have ever eaten in.  We are told lunch will be $18 US per person.  Wow, that is by far the most we have paid for lunch the whole trip.  It is all-you-can-eat and drink.  I am planning to get my money's worth.

They are set up pretty well and we have four lanes to take line up in and surrender our money.  I am thinking there is no way they will have bacon or pork chops or ham for lunch.  I am sure there won't be anything like that here.  
OH. MY. WORD.  There is not only pork chops but steaks and hamburgers and baked chicken.  There are stations and stations of all kinds of food, both familiar and unfamiliar.  I get in the protein line first thing.  Yes, I will have one of those pork chops!  Yes I would like a steak.  With a facade of interest I put some salad items on my plate and get a glass of some unidentifiable fruit juice (it looks like grapefruit juice but tastes almost like orange juice but sweeter and less citrus) and sit down to eat.  I am excited for this!  Real meat!  I devour the chop and the steak.  I am pretty sure the salad was eaten too so I go back for more.  

The room is loud with conversations and excited talk.  I am too busy stuffing myself with delicious protein to have a conversation.  Our friends Juan and Patty sit down at our table and Juan has a plate stacked even higher than mine.  We don't talk but smile at each other with our mouths full of food.  I think, "how does he stay so small when he eats like that?" Juan is a pretty small person, his wife Patty, even smaller. Juan like me is going back for more.  Pork chops in Israel!  Who would have ever thought?  I don't question it or judge them, I ask for another helping.  

They had some great desserts too which I can't remember, but I am sated.  Actually more than sated, I am stuffed.  The sated mechanism was ignored in my greed for protein.  I justify my piggery by thinking that I may never get another plate of real meat like this again on this trip.  I was actually right, but didn't know it at the time.  I think I was able to get my $18 US dollars worth.   Juan probably got more like $25 US dollars worth.  The kibbutz will have to work everyone a little harder after we were there.

I go outside and sit in the shade of a tree that looks like it has some strange disease.  It is a type of fig tree I am told.  It has what looks like grotesque warts all over it under the bark.  The whole thing is very lumpy.  Instead of branches from which smaller branches grow and bear fruit, the smaller branches just grow right out of the man trunk.  Very strange looking.  The figs are inedible as well.  Frankly I wouldn't have a tree like that around.  It does provide a little shade which is welcome.  

As usual, there are no rocks to take pictures of here, so we have no pictures of the the kibbutz, never even thought about it.  Sitting in the shade, I am thinking a nap would feel great at a time like this, but again, we are told to board the buses.  I waddle down to the bus and sit in my usual place in the back.  

We are going to a place called Shilo (they pronounce it "she-low").  It didn't really ring a bell with me at that moment as it should have.  Yes, it is THAT Shilo, ancient Shilo.  It will be one of the great highlights of our entire trip.  

Doing the Loop Part 10

It feels fantastic to be heading down the road again, mosquitoes gone and I am anxious to see what is up ahead.  The undulating road rolls out before me and my Electra Glide performs flawlessly rumbling down every mile of it.  I am soon "out there" where basically nothing is.  The smoke hides the mountains that should be on either side of me.  Only rarely do I catch a glimpse.

The wind is picking up and becoming quite strong.  I am glad I kept my "soft lowers" on my "crash bars" from earlier in the trip.  These are essentially shields for my lower legs, providing shelter from wind and sometimes rain that would otherwise pummel and or soak me.  You may not appreciate how physical it is to ride in the wind.  In a strong wind like I am facing today, it feels like someone has literally been punching you all over.  On the first day of the trip when we were coming up Turnagain Arm, we also had some really strong winds.  I did not have my soft lowers on and the wind was so strong it popped all four snaps on my chaps and my cuffs were flailing wildly as I rode.  By the time we got to Anchorage, I felt like I had gotten assaulted.

Fortunately, the wind is pretty much straight on and the bat wing fairing on my Electra Glide really helps me from getting pummeled. I am loving this bike.  It has all kinds of storage, a fairing and that 80 cubic inch V-Twin motor keeps throbbing out plenty of power as I fly down the Richardson Highway.

I am heading toward Eureka.  Eureka is a little more than an outpost with a gas pump.  It is here because this is the high country that gets deeply blanketed with snow in the winter time and thousands of people come up here to ride their snowmobiles in the winter.  They need fuel to keep those things running.  

It is cooler and with the wind I am glad for my leather coat that keeps out the wind and me snugly warm.  I pass long down sloping vistas of tundra as I ride the high ridge of the highway.  It is lonely in a strange way as I motor along.  I think it is somewhat a rush of nostalgia as many memories from my pre-teen years flood my thoughts.  Many times I rode in our camper peering out form the cab over bunk window at these very sights.  We had many great adventures as a family in that camper, some of the best memories of my life.  
All of a sudden as if on cue to emphasize all the nostalgia, Gunsite Mountain emerges from the smoke.  I was always fascinated by this mountain as a kid.  It looks like the perfect rear sight of a rifle.  It has peaks on both sides and a square notch in the exact center just like a rife sight.  I power on past as the smoke once again envelopes the landscape.

A little building just off the road is visible up ahead.  It must be Eureka.  I look down at my gas guage.  It has barely moved since Glennallen.  I contemplate not stopping for gas but decide I better.  Not having done this trip, I am uncertain of distances and knowing the pass up ahead is prone to bad weather I think I would hate to run out of gas at the worst possible moment which is when all those kinds of things happen.  

I pull in and dismount.  I put the gas nozzle in my tank and squeeze the handle.  I am embarrassed.  Even at $4.50 a gallon I can only put in $7.00 worth.  Talk about a worry wort.  I apologize to the man in the sparsely furnished room who takes the money.  He doesn't care how much I buy or not and tells me to forget about it.  I walk back outside into the howling wind.  Just as I get ready to mount my bike, Chase and Greg come into sight.  I wait to check in with them before I head out.  They too fuel up and we shout at each other against the wind.  We'll see each other in Anchorage before long.

I don my helmet and fire up the Glide.  I am once again on the highway and heading up to the pass.  Sheep Mountain is in front of me and the road becomes a little more steep and winding.  I take my time not pushing the bike too hard.  I soon break over the top and from here it is literally all down hill.

The ride here is amazing.  Soon I am alongside the Susitna Glacier I would love to gawk as I ride, but the road is challenging with its many sharp curves and switchbacks.  I have to keep focused on what is right in front of me.  Many sections lack even guardrails and the idea of plunging down a thousand foot drop on my motorcycle keeps me concentrated on where I need to go.  I haven't been on every road in Alaska, but I can't think of a more ideal section of highway for a biker than this.  I am loving it. 

The pass eventually gives way to what they call "the gorge" which is a very narrow section of road, hemmed in on both sides by steep mountain grades.  It is very twisty and unfortunately for me, it bunches up the traffic.  I am getting into more civilized country now and more cars on the road.  I am five cars behind the lead car.  I pick my opportunities carefully and pass them all one by one.  I am lead dog now.  I take the curves at my ease before I once again catch up to another slower moving bunch of cars.  I try to just calm down and relax instead of pushing it.  After riding a few hours with nothing to impede me, this feels so unfair.

I recognize I am nearing the community of Palmer.  Getting behind all the slow moving traffic got me all keyed up and I have a cramp in my left shoulder.  I decide I will fuel up and wait for Chase and Greg at an obvious place in Palmer before going on to the final destination for the day, Anchorage.

I take my jolly good time at the gas pump.  I only burned half a tank from Eureka, not bad.  I massage and knead my left shoulder a walk off my sore backside.  It has been a great afternoon of riding and Tok seems like a week ago, not just this same afternoon.  I eat a "protein bar" which is a guilt reducing name for a big fat chocolate candy bar.  I drink some lukewarm water from a bottle stored in my trunk.  I am thinking Chase and Greg should be showing up any moment just like always.

I wait with nothing to do.  I power on my cell phone and catch up on email, texts and of course, Facebook.  No truck.  Did I look away and miss them as they went by?  Are they stuck behind a lot of slow moving traffic?  Hopefully there has been no wreck.  I wait and wait some more.  

Thinking I must have missed them, I prepare myself and get the Electra Glide back out on the road.  Soon I am at the Wasilla turn off where we really began our trip around the loop just a couple of days ago.  The trip down the Richardson Highway is uneventful as I pass Eklutna, Peter's Creek and Eagle River.  

I pull into Anchorage and get to where we will staying the night.  I am a little surprised that Chase and Greg are not there.  I wait.  I take off my leathers and stow them.  I give my bottle of water to a homeless man who said he was so thirsty he was going to die.  I wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Something must have gone wrong.  No answers to my texts and attempts to call.

Where are those guys?

Doing the Loop - Part 9

It is a little past 3 pm when I take off and it doesn't take long before Tok is in my rear view mirrors.  I am confident that should I have some sort of trouble along the way (like a flat tire...) that Chase and Greg will be behind me and we'll find some way to load my Electra Glide in the back of the truck with Greg's bike.  There is some really nice new asphalt on the way out of Tok and it makes very smooth riding.  I am hoping it lasts all the way to Anchorage.  I find out it only lasts 13 miles.  

The old roadbed is not terrible but there is a real difference between the new and the old.  I am able to keep a cruising speed of 65 mph easily.  It has been many years since I have traversed this part of the highway.  It is hilly and has some nice curves.  Since it is still considered spring time, the roads are still in the condition they were post-winter.  I begin to encounter "road snakes" that are a little scary.  A road snake is a wide crack in the pavement that should your front tire fall into it, it would take control of your bike and most likely wreck your bike and you at the same time.  Road snakes can bite.  And yes, there are cracks that wide.  I have several miles of these things to avoid by swerving constantly to avoid certain misfortune.  In a vehicle with four wheels you would hardly even notice such things, but on a bike, it is a real concern.  It is said that there no snakes in Alaska but now you know different.

This is really what I have longed for since day one.  A far destination as a goal for the day and uninterrupted riding except for fuel which is few and far between.  I pass the rare car now and then being able to take my time and not risk danger.  The smoke from the Kenai fire is still hanging heavy against the hills and the view is limited, but I am having a great time.  

I begin to encounter some very broken road sections.  I have to slow to 25 mph or less to safely navigate these sections.  A typical section is about 100 yards long or so and just when you get up to speed again, another one appears.  I am pretty remote and far from help here so I don't want to risk damaging my tires or my bike so I just deal with it and keep going.  My next goal is Glennallen Junction.  

An hour or so goes by and I haven't seen Greg and Chase behind me at all.  The terrain begins to flatten out and the vegetation becomes a little more lush.  A few beautiful clear water streams follow or cut under the highway.  I am beginning to encounter a few more homes, I figure I must be nearing some kind of civilization.  I am, of sorts.  There is a little community that is a community for who knows what reason - why would people live so far out here?  There is a little general store a single gas pump and an airstrip, since I don't need any of those services, I ride on.  

I ride pleasurably until I reach a junction at Mentasna.  There is a beautiful little campground there where the road to Paxton and Delta Junction meet with the road I am on coming from Tok.  I turn left and keep going.  I decide I need to do this trip again sometime soon and hopefully without incident as I am having too much fun.

If you don't get it about bikes, I probably can't help you understand why riding motorcycles is such good therapy.  If you do get it, I don't need to explain.  I am in the sweet spot of motorcycle riding.  It just doesn't get much better than this.  

I see road signs that tell me I am not far from Glennallen.  Good, I will need fuel.  Glennallen is also a junction with the highway that goes to Valdez, another trip I really want to take.  

Glennallen is pretty much a gas station, a school and a Alaska State trooper detachment.  

It is wide and spread out all over with houses lining both sides of each branch of highway that forks out from the center.  I get off my bike, take off my helmet to fuel my bike.  I am instantly consumed by mosquitoes.  They must have been waiting for me as I am mobbed by them.  I flail away with one hand while trying to program the gas pump to put gas in my tank.  I duck inside the gas station to use the restroom and to get away from the bugs.  It is somewhat better inside.  Nobody else is flailing their hands like I am.  Maybe they have some kind of immunity.  

I step outside again just in time to see Greg and Chase drive up in the pick up.  I chuckle as they step outside the truck and begin to flail their hands at the mosquitoes.  We exchange a little conversation and then I put my helmet on, take it off, remove the mosquito from my ear and put it back on.  I am anxious to leave Glennallen and the mosquitoes behind and on to Anchorage.

Once again, I have new pavement to ride on as I leave town.  Glennallen has grown up a bit since I was a kid.  There is still the "Cracker Barrel Store" we always stopped at back in the day.  It is a little older looking and a bit shabby.  So much is new since I was here last, the little Assembly of God church looks to be doing well, nice building and freshly painted.  I am proud to see it.  

I soon come up to speed once I leave city limits and am on my way again.  

  

Day 5 Part 1

This morning arrived with both excitement and disappointment.  Excitement that we would be traveling to Jerusalem for the rest of our tour.  Disappointment that we would be leaving Galilee which was an amazing and pleasant destination and great place to be introduced to the land of Israel.  

We were instructed the night before to have our suitcases in the hallway of our hotel by 6:30 am.  It feels strange to let other people cart your suitcases around for you, I've never had that luxury before.  It does make you a bit nervous to leave a bag in a hallway in a foreign country but we were not the only ones so it worked out, our bags made it to our bus.

Our tour was well organized in this matter.  We were given red luggage tags which we fastened to our suitcases which corresponded to our "red" bus.  All of the gratuities and meals (except lunches) were prepaid so we didn't have to feel awkward or "hawked" about tipping everybody every time you turned around.  It is a great way to go.  You just worry about what you want for lunch which is not too hard since 50% of your choices will be falafal and any trinkets that you feel you can't live without.

Speaking of trinkets.  Wow, they are expensive in Israel.  I was thinking a nice ram's horn would be a nice memento of our trip.  Even an unadorned, very small, ugly one was over $150 US.  It definitely went up from there.  Longer, more polished versions quickly got in the $300 US range and I saw some with silver inlays and carving that I didn't even bother to price.  The olive wood carvings are beautiful but again I was a little aghast at their prices.  Some places offered us a "discount" (just for you!) that made the price only in the overpriced category.  Honestly, a little olive wood manger scene that was nicely done, $500 US.  None of those came home with me.

Anyway, we ate our final breakfast at our nice hotel and boarded our buses. Our destination is the traditional site of Jesus' baptism by John the Baptist.  Our tour leader, Dr. Marc Turnage tells us that this is very unlikely the actual place of Jesus' baptism for a few reasons.  1. Jesus and John both lived in the northern region of Galilee, it is unlikely that they would travel south of Galilee just for a baptism and then return where Jesus' 40 wilderness experience took place.  2. Being Jewish, the waters north of Galilee are "living" waters (remember Dan and Ceasarea Philippi?) and the Jordan river south of Galilee is slower, sluggish and polluted.  An observant Jew would not baptize himself in that kind of water.  3.  It was just quicker and easier to tell pilgrims that Jesus was baptized closer to the main pilgrimage sites and not lose their chance for financial gain.  There were more reasons that Dr. Turnage cited and by the time he was done I was a little deflated.

One of the things I was planning to do was be re-baptized in the Jordan river when I went to Israel.  After hearing this was basically an elaborate tourist trap, albeit a centuries old one, it kind of lost it's appeal.  The "polluted" part didn't help me either.  So, I thought I will just observe.  

We pull into a very large facility, I am amazed at how large this baptismal site is.  

There are many murals that have many languages that quote the biblical passages concerning Jesus' baptism.  There are apparently many faith traditons that pilgrimage to this site and they cater to them all.  There are little trees that have been planted in the garden areas with name plaques of the famous people who donated to this place, Glenn Beck and John Hagee were two recent and notable ones.  I think Madonna was also a plaque in there too.  

There are several baptismal stations with stone seating around each one.  This place is prepared for production.  

Simultaneous to our baptism celebration were two others, one that I am assuming was Korean and one with mostly black people, maybe Nigerian.  I am told that the Nigerian government will pay for their citizens to make a pilgrimage to either Mecca or Israel once in their lifetime.  Pretty neat.  There are LOTS of Nigerians in Israel on pilgrimage.

While those getting baptized are changing into their provided baptismal robes, I wander the facility.  There are all sizes of Jordan River water for sale for you to take home with you.  There are pictures and crosses and all kinds of kitchy things in the gift shop.  I note that directly across the Jordan river from this baptismal area there is a animal pen containing donkeys, goats and some sheep.  The aroma of the penned animals wafts across the 40 feet or so of river between us.  I move up wind.  There are some sizable fish that  come near the surface of the water before descending to the murky depths.  

Finally everyone is ready and we sing some hymns and Dr. George Wood gives a devotional.  They have all of the District Superintendents (several) and other notable ministers enter the water first as dozens of baptizees wait their turn.

Baptisms take place for the next 30 minutes or so.  It is fun and for many of the people very significant to be baptized here.   

After everyone has been baptized, we wait for them to shower and change into their clothes.  The gift shop is extensive and just about any sort of religious trinket can be bought there.  We didn't feel the need for any, so we wandered on out to our buses that were waiting at the curb for us.  

Our next stop is Nazareth.  

From now on, our visit to Israel takes a dramatic turn in feel.  No more beautiful Sea of Galilee, beautiful agriculture or lush pastures.  It is rocky, steep country and busy. Nazareth is a city of 80-100,000 people and built mostly on a hillside so there was lots of stairs and uphill walking to get around.  

It is also a largely Palestinian area which to me all seem to have a different "feel" to them.  I don't know how to describe it except to say I feel more conspicuous in these areas than I ever did in areas that were mostly Jewish.  I don't ever feel "relaxed".  It might just be me as it didn't seem to bother anyone else.

We arrive in Nazareth before too long and discover it is a very busy place.  Narrow streets lined by little shops with wares spilling out on to the too narrow sidewalks, zooming traffic, zippy scooters all going somewhere.  We pull into a lot where the buses park and we disembark.  We are told to stay with the group and to not get separated.  We have a ways to walk (uphill) and we need to get going.  Not being one who desires to get lost in a foreign country, I took hold of Indiana Jolie's hand and we stayed with the leaders pretty close.  Getting a group of 160 tourists up a narrow, crowded, busy Nazareth street in the morning is quite a feat.  So many want to stop and take pictures along the way.

Our guides are all spread out keeping us together and barking commands to keep us moving and not get split up.  Walking uphill against little groups of people gathered on the sidewalk eating falafel, passing old men in suits holding canes and navigating the shops which display their wares on the walkway takes some care to not bump into anyone or dump anything over and still keep up. 

Our destination is the Church of the Annunciation (or where the Angel announced to Mary that she was "with child").  There is an interesting problem in these ancient cities.  There are invaluable archaeology sites in the middle of these cities and space to build buildings is very limited.  So, they tend to build their (sometimes) quite large buildings over the archaeology site. So sometimes a site is literally in the basement of the building or sometimes it is built like an open basement with supporting pillars placed here and there to hold up the building while you look and see the site underneath the building itself. Such is Nazareth.  

The Church of the Annunciation is a large complex surrounded by a wall with large courtyards, many stairs and statues. It appears to be Catholic.  It is the large building with the black cone roof just left of center in the picture.

We group by a wall in the shade while we make sure no one got lost along the way.  There are all kinds of groups meandering the courtyards, Asian, black people (probably Nigerian), Europeans of all kinds, and us.  The languages, dress, customs and all feel like the narrative in Acts 2 describing all the visitors to Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost. 

When we are all assembled, Dr. Turnage lectures on some of the misconceptions of Jesus' family.  We are all familiar with the idea that Jesus' father, Joseph was a carpenter and by trade so was Jesus.  I am not sure how, but the term "carpenter" should actually be "stone mason".  This makes a lot of sense as in this part of Israel, there is no wood to speak of.  The wood you might find like olive wood is not suitable for carpentry.  A carpenter as we think of them would essentially be unemployed in a place like Nazareth.  A stone mason?  Work is everywhere.  In fact, a stone mason was also by necessity an architect and legal consultant.  It was likely that one of the reasons Joseph is so little mentioned in scripture is that he had been conscripted by the Romans to use his talents in the construction of Tiberias which was under construction in Jesus' time and was gone much of the time.  

We ascend a lot of stairs to an area that is under part of the building of the church.  There are walkways in and through the archaeological site so we can see quite a bit.  We are told that Nazareth was not a large village, quite small actually, about the size of a football field that had 200-300 people who lived there.  The rest of the site would be under the courtyard right outside where we are, under the street beyond the wall and a little ways under the buildings on the other side of the street.   

It is fascinating as usual.  This excavation actually does date to Jesus' time. With Nazareth so small, what are the chances this small excavation actually exposes Jesus' boyhood home?  Interesting indeed.  There are a satisfying number of rocks to photograph here so Indiana Jolie and I get busy.  It is different studying an archaeological site with so much city noise and other groups competing for the same things we are interested in.  

I would love to hop over the little chain fence and actually try to sit inside one of the "houses".  They must have been very small people or they spent most of their time indoors doubled over.  Jesus must have not been much over 5 feet tall.  That's kind of strange to think about.   

It is very warm and I consume all the warm water in my bag.  I try to stay under the building where it is coolest.  We are really enjoying reading all the little interpretive signs and diagrams when they tell us it is time to make our way back to the buses which means retracing our steps down the many stairs and down the narrow, busy streets of Nazareth.

We navigate the route successfully but it is near lunch time and even the little balls of falafel deep frying along the sidewalks smells tempting.  Apparently we have one more stop before lunch.  We board the buses and and grind our way through the narrow slits in the city they call streets.  These bus drivers earn their money in places like this.  

We don't go far and we hear the diesel engines strain as we head up a steep grade.  It is very park-like here and reminds me of some of the state parks I remember when we lived in California years ago.  We continue up the switchbacks and eventually end up in a parking lot.  There is a short trail to the top of the mountain which gives us an excellent view of the entire area.  This mountain top ends with an abrupt almost cliff like side.  It is speculated that this might have been the location that the home town folks tried to throw Jesus over the cliff when they were offended by him as he spoke with such great wisdom.  Many Palestinian families seem to come here for picnics and fun.  It is fairly crowded and busy here too.

Mid day is upon us and the heat is more than I feel comfortable in. And I am getting hungry.  It is lunch time and we are in for a bit of a surprise (and it doesn't include falafel!).

Day 4, Part 5

We trudge to the buses and board.  I say trudge not because we are sad or bored, quite the contrary.  We don't feel like leaving Capernaum like we didn't feel like leaving Magdala, like we didn't feel like leaving Chorazin or the Mount of the Beatitudes.  Yet we have seen all of these in a single day.  It seems like a week.  It feels like we have been in Israel a month.  The castle in the mountains seems like it was weeks ago.

I in particular am trudging because of low blood sugar.  The talapia just isn't cutting it for staying power.  I rummage around in my satchel and find a Clif bar.  Ah, just what is needed, some outrageous carbs.  The Clif bar and a bottle of warm water refreshes me.  Mmmmm.

So, I wonder what this "surprise" is all about.  It is announced that we are heading to "The House of the Boat".  This seems familiar to me for some reason.  Oh yes!  I remember reading in the newspaper some years ago that during a time of drought in Israel (1980's), the level of water in the Sea of Galilee was down considerably, exposing ancient shorelines not seen for centuries.  A hobbyist archaeologist took the opportunity to walk these ancient shorelines and came upon the outline in the mud of an ancient boat made of wood.  

The mud had preserved this boat over the centuries but now it was in danger of total demise being exposed to the air.  The Israeli ministry of archaeology was contacted and a very expensive and rushed recovery of the remains of the boat was undertaken.  I remember reading in the news article that the Israeli government was happy to have recovered the boat but did not want any more boats discovered as the expense was great.  One is enough I suppose.

Well, over the years the boat was painstakingly preserved and reassembled and an edifice was built to house this delicate relic. Here is a internet link if you want to see some much better pictures:

http://jesustrail.com/hike-the-jesus-trail/points-of-interest/jesus-boat 

We arrive at a nice building that sits right on the shore of the Sea of Galilee somewhat near where the boat was discovered in the mud.  The water levels of the lake are back to where they were before the drought so there is lush vegetation along the banks and walk ways.  Indiana Jolie and I peer into the reeds and cattails growing.  It is teeming with life.  There are all kinds of birds from herons to tweety birds.  We observe something in the water we can't quite identify.  It is a muskrat or something of the kind.  It is chewing down some of the reeds, presumably to build it's nest or home.  There are turtles and briefly catch a glimpse of what looks like a deer fawn!  

It is our turn to go into the nice building.  There are restrooms!  They are separate and private! They are clean and modern!  They are popular with everyone!  A long line again quickly develops.  They also have a very nice gift shop and it sells chocolate covered ice cream bars which are the equivalent of $4 US.  We buy them without hesitation.  

We are herded into a room where we view a movie that tells the story of the discovery of the boat.  It dates to the 1st century!  This fact lends to all kinds of imagination.  Could this be the boat that Jesus used to teach the multitudes on the sea shore?  Was this the boat from which Jesus rebuked the wind and waves?  Is this the boat that Jesus came walking upon the sea to his disciples and from which Peter went over the side to walk to Jesus on the water?  As intriguing as those thoughts are, it is most likely that this boat was sunk by the Romans who put down a Jewish rebellion along these shores in the late 1st century.  The Jews were defeated by the Romans and much blood on the Jewish side was shed.  

The movie is done and we wait at a large opaque glass door that opens to reveal the room where the boat is displayed.  It is pretty neat.  There are still remnants of the iron nails that held the boat together and the wood clearly shows the distinctive shape of the boats still in use on the Sea of Galilee today.  All the light in the room is muted and dim in efforts to keep further deterioration of the boat to a minimum.  It is hard to take pictures.  

The ice cream bar and the cool of the air conditioned building has refreshed us a bit.  We are done with our turn looking at the boat.  We go outside near the shoreline and wait for everyone else to see the boat and join us. The sun is beginning its decent behind the Arbel Pass and it is somewhat cooler than it has been.  We wait.  And we wait.  We walk the shoreline.  We wait.  Most of an hour we wait for everyone to get through the exhibit or maybe they are just eating all of the ice cream bars while we wait outside.  

I wrongly assume that this was the "surprise".  No I am told, the surprise is next on the agenda.  We wonder what this is all about.  Finally, the word come, we are not going back to Tiberas on the buses, we are taking boats!  We are going on a Sea of Galilee cruise.  How cool!  

The Sea of Galilee is like a mirror, flat and not a hint of wind.  There are two of the unusual looking boats at the dock just outside the House of the Boat where we have been for the last hour and a half.  

 There is lots of excitement as eveyone clambers up the narrow ramp and up towards the boats.  There are two, which one shall we board?  There is lots of excited chatter and everyone takes out their cameras to snap some pictures, except me of course, there are no rocks which is apparently the only thing I am willing to take pictures of.  Indiana Jolie does though and before long the boats are full and ready to depart.

This was a really nice surprise.  The evening is beautiful and the sun is setting and the air is nice and cool.  We head out and I wonder how close I am to the place where Jesus was walking on this very body of water.  Because the Sea of Galilee is not an entirely enormous lake, we can't be any further than a couple hundred yards from where are are now in any direction.  I am fascinated.  I am wondering where the disciples were toiling against the wind and waves.  I am glad this night is not like that night.  This is ideal and I am loving being on the water.

After cruising out on the lake for a bit, the Israeli guides bring out an American flag and begin to play the Star Spangled Banner as the flag is hoisted on the mast.  This was quite unexpected and the entire group stood to their feet and began to sing the words of our National Anthem.  It was unexpectedly very moving to see our flag fly in a foreign country.  After the anthem was finished, the Israeli guides expressed their love for and appreciation of the United States (except for John Kerry).  We all applauded.

Next, the Israeli flag was raised while their national anthem was played over the speaker system.  The Israeli's on board sang in their Hebrew language so we could just listen.  Seeing both the American and Israeli flags flying together was thrilling.  

The boat then stopped somewhere in the middle of the lake and they tied the two boats together.  The guides gave us a demonstration of the traditional way of fishing with a hand net.  It was pretty neat.

What happened next was very unexpected and surprising.  The captain of our boat who is the brother of our Israeli archaeology guide, Eli, began to play Christian contemporary music over the sound system.  The group began to sing along and it was a great experience.  This went on for some time as the sun went down and it became dark on the water.  

The captain of our boat then revealed that he too is a Christian, or more accurately, a "Messianic Jew".  He also said that he is the singer of a Messianic Jewish worship band and he began to sing some of their songs to some of the tracks over the sound system.  Some were familiar and we sang along, some were in Hebrew with melodies we did not recognize.  

After some time, the captain said it was time to get us back to port but before we went, was anyone interested in the purchase of some of their albums?  They brought out several stacks of their music on CD and they sold like hotcakes.  

All in all, it was a very full day and this was indeed a great way to end it.  The boats were untied and we navigated into the small harbor.  Apparently the US Coast Guard is not active in Israel because they apparently do not require their boats to have navigational lighting.  So we came into the harbor just on the available lighting from the shore and the cabin.  

This was our last night in Galilee and as anxious as I was to see more of Israel, I was sad we were going to be leaving this northern region of the country.  We disembarked from the boats and went to our hotel for another great dinner that was well in progress as we arrived.  

In the morning our destination would be the traditional location of the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist.  

Doing the Loop - Part 8

After sleeping like the dead for 8 hours, we wake up, take a shower and head to Fast Eddy's for breakfast.  Everything they do is good at that restaurant.  We talk about finding this motorcycle mechanic, getting the tire patched from the inside and hitting the road as soon as possible.  

Chase, the pastor of Tok Assembly of God, offers to load Greg's bike in the back of his pick up to transport it to the mechanic's place, if he can remember where it is.  There aren't a lot of roads in Tok but the ones that are there are long and people are pretty spread out.  Since Chase doesn't own a bike there is little need for him to know where the bike mechanic lives.

I stay behind and pack my stuff.  I calculate my gas mileage so far, 38.6 miles to the gallon.  For an older, naturally aspirated V-Twin motor, it's not too bad.  The newer, liquid cooled, injected bikes do better, but not by a lot.  I am done and ready to go when Chase gets back without the Harley in the back of his truck. It's about 9 am.

He says they found the mechanic and left Greg and the bike there.  It shouldn't take too long.  Greg will call when they are done.  Great! I think to myself.  I am hoping we can hit the road by lunch time and ride like the wind to Anchorage.  I am not anxious to get to Anchorage or anything, I just want to ride without interruption for a long ways.  I hope I get my opportunity.

Chase invites me into their home which is kept quite nice.  I fondly observe their little boy who is a little older than my new granddaughter.  Chase and Stacey are hungry for ministry talk.  Chase is actually a National Guardsman.  He is being called up active duty in September.  He has pastored the Tok Assembly for about 2 years.  They don't often get to talk about pastoring and ministry out here.  So we talk and talk and talk some more.  They are such genuine and compassionate people.  I just can't detect a cynical or sarcastic note in either of them.  Maybe they just haven't pastored long enough yet. (Wow, that was cynical.  Maybe I have pastored too long.)

We talk and tald and talk after all the talking we just did.  I am expecting Greg to call any minute saying, "all is well, let's hit the road", but it doesn't happen.  I suggest to Chase that maybe we should check on Greg since we haven't heard from him and it is after 1 pm.  

We get in the truck and head out of town and take a left off the Alaska Highway down a gravel road (they are all gravel here except for the highway which used to be gravel.)  We go down the road quite a ways and make another left.  Not far down this "street" we see lots of junk in a yard, a unmistakable sign of a mechanic.  This is "CJ", the mechanic's place.  He is everything you would expect to find in Tok.

I of course don't take enough pictures.  CJ is the one on his knees lining up the wheel on Greg's bike.  That green CAT bulldozer in the background is a genuine 1940 model that was probably left over from the original construction of the Alaska Highway in 1940.  CJ is very proud of it, although in true mechanic fashion, it's not in running condition at the moment.  But it will be, he just needs time to get to it.  His garage is a cacophony of tools, parts of engines, buckets, jacks, screws, bolts and whatever strew everywhere, on the floor, shelves and workbenches.  He seems to know where it all is so I don't attempt to move anything.

CJ is an interesting man.  He works all school year in the Noatak School District high up in the arctic.  He is the industrial arts teacher.  I didn't know they still had industrial arts teachers anywhere anymore.  I thought that went the way of the rotary dial telephone.  He has all his summers off and is a dedicated sport bike rider, BMW is his brand.  He has traveled the length of South America, the breadth of North America to Newfoundland and back.  He is wanting to get to Europe but is a little short of cash.

He is the kind of guy who heads out not knowing all the answers, depending on the kindness of strangers and not much money on his person.  It has gotten him this far.  He pays it forward too by housing people down on their luck, helping, ahem, stranded bikers with no guarantee of payment and other general good will.  He is a pretty smart guy and knows his way around a bike, even though he doesn't get a chance to work on a Harley very often in Tok.  Oh yes, CJ is also not married.

I inquire as to the progress of the tire.  The tire is ruined.  They pulled it off and the inside was shredded as the riding it flat was breaking all the internal belts.  It is unsafe to ride on and probably whatever we did, it would still go flat.  It is just a good thing that the tire didn't shred on the highway in the condition it was in.

So, the tire gets put back on the bike and eventually is loaded in the back of Chase's truck again.  We are all famished and we invite CJ to Fast Eddie's for lunch.  I figure I won't get out of here until after 3 in the afternoon by now.  I am thinking perhaps Greg will have to ride on the back of my bike.  The three of us in Chase's truck make it pretty tight in the cab.  I am thinking it won't be any better with two big guys on an Electra Glide.

We order at Fast Eddie's.  Greg orders the "side" of deep fried mushrooms as an appetizer.  They come out soon enough.  It is the largest pile of deep fried mushrooms I have ever seen.  Honestly, there must have been 50 of those babies on a platter.  We are all shocked and Greg invites us to help him eat them up.  Other than they were hotter than lava, they tasted amazing.

During lunch Chase volunteers himself, his truck and his time to run Greg's bike to Anchorage.  What an amazing guy.  He is anxious to do it and spend some uninterrupted time in the cab talking ministry with Greg and tap all of his experience.  

We finish another great meal at Fast Eddies and say good bye to CJ.  We get back to the church and I realize, I am going to be on my own for the ride back to Anchorage.  This is both a scare and a thrill at the same time.  I figure if I take off first, if I break down along the way, the truck and help will not be far behind.  

Since I am already packed up, all I have to do is don my leathers and hit the road.  I do so and am out of town after saying good bye to the Musick's.  I ponder the crazy variables of the trip.  Last night I was riding in a group of 8 now I am a group of 1.  I am excited to head out.  I power up and am out of town in a moment.  There is nothing but empty road ahead. 

Doing the Loop - Part 7

The plugs are inserted into the leaking tire but not with satisfaction.  Something seems wrong.  The tire is filled with air and everyone shrugs and it is agreed to go as far as this patch will take us, hopefully all the way to Tok.  We repack the gear and start our bikes.  The ensuing noise of Harley motors and "blipping" throttles is impressive and everyone getting gas at the station turns their attention to us.  But we in very cool biker fashion pretend not to notice and begin our pull out to the highway that will take us to Delta Junction.  

It is a beautiful area to ride.  For me it brings back floods of memories.  I had a best friend when I lived in Fairbanks back in 1967 that lived in North Pole.  I loved to go to his house, er, log cabin on Sunday afternoons.  We had incredible adventures both summer and winter.  North Pole looks so much different today than it did in 1967.  I am not sure I could find the way to where my friends cabin once was anymore.  We also pass Birch Lake which was a favorite camping spot for our family.  They must have moved the highway as it passes right by the shore of Birch Lake.  In my boyhood memories, it was about 100 yards away at the time.  We pass the braided channels of the Big Delta River.  All the sand bars are loaded with the logs and root wads of trees washed off the banks of the river far upstream.  It has always been so.  You would think we would have run out of trees by now.  

The road is a biker's dream.  There are sweeping curves and hills and straightaways.  The four of us are stretched out in formation.  It is fun riding. It is getting along toward late afternoon/evening.  We still have a good piece of road to get under us before we get to Tok.  Before long, we pull into Delta Junction.  

Delta on the other hand hasn't changed much since I was a kid.  Only 100 miles from Fairbanks there isn't a lot of reason for Delta to exist.  There is some barley farming, a lot of military support people live here because of Ft. Greeley nearby and of course, some people just like to live far away from everything.  The other big draw to Delta is that there is a wild population of bison here that pretty much roams around as they please.  I choose the word "roam" in the "oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam.." sense.  

Because there are bison about, we keep a eye out for them as we ride through this area.  It would really be awkward to say I died because I ran into a buffalo on my motorcycle.  "Huh?" people would say.

We gas up our bikes.  The girl taking payment for the gas looks like she has lived in Delta all her life.  I wonder what kind of dreams for her life she has or if she is satisfied with the life she is living here.  She gets up from sitting on the ground in front of the station smoking her cigarette.  She is nice enough and takes my credit card to pay for the gas.  

The tire seems to be holding air.  We are relieved and hope that it is a permanent fix until we get to Anchorage where it can be properly evaluated.  We have almost 200 miles before we get to Tok.  It's a good thing that the days are getting longer in Alaska.  The skies are dark and lowering in front of us.  We  hope we will not get into some rain, it has been a very long day that started in Denali Park.    

We are all gassed up and ready to pull out.  Unfortunately Sam has to leave us at this point to get back to Anchorage a day before we have to go.  We pray over Sam and he heads down the highway to Paxton the next wide spot in the road and then on to Glennallen and then Eureka where he has a cabin he is planning to stay the night in.

The three of us power up and head out to Tok.  We don't get real far before I see the sides of Greg's tire begin to get mushy looking.  By now I know not to question what is going on.  We've got to pull over for another plugging session.  

We pull over and begin the now familiar routine.  A little sprinkle of rain begins to fall but not very hard.  Todd gets down with the plugging tool and his marvelous little air compressor and goes to work.  As Greg and I watch Todd working, a couple of bikers pass us.  They slowly turn around and come back to us.  Apparently they are friends of Todd and were at the biker rally in Denali Park as we were.  They are also heading to Tok but decide to wait and ride there with us.  

 The tire is plugged and filled with air.  We five start out bikes and let Greg take the lead.  We all string out heading to Tok.  It is an interesting day of riding with other people.  We started out with three, then two of us, then four, then three and now five.  I have never traveled this way before.  

 We get about 40 miles down the road and you guessed it, the tire goes flat.  We all stop.  Greg is really feeling bad about all the delays his tire has caused.  I reassure him that I am glad it's him and not me.  He thanks me for the kind remarks.  It rains a little more and the ground is wet.  We fear the worst is coming  as the sky is still dark and lowering.  Todd gets to work again and fixes the tire with another plug.  We determine that the "Slime" that was originally put in in Nenana is both good and bad at the same time.  It sealed the tire in Nenana and got us to Fairbanks where we could have gotten help if it were not Sunday on Memorial Day weekend.  There were no alternatives in Nenana so the Slime was it.  Now however, the Slime is interfering with the bonding of the rubber cement and the plugs.  We get a few miles on and the pressure of the tire blows out the plug.  The tire is fixed and filled with air.  We head out again.

We get about 40 more miles down the highway and the plug blows out.  We are a finely tuned machine at this point.  I marvel that Todd doesn't insist that we get down on the ground in his place and make us do the grimy work.  He actually seems to enjoy this.  Who are we to take away his enjoyment?  Actually he is living out the Black Sheep's code that you will help a fellow Black Sheep in time of need.  He does for real.  

We are not far from Tok at this point.  We are hoping this plug will get us all the way there.  The clouds lift at this point near Tok.  The ground dries up and it looks great.  It is about 8 o'clock at night.  As we finish the repair job, another three bikers roar by.  They turn around and join us.  They are from the Anchorage House of Harley.  They want to know if we need help.  One is a mechanic who works at the house of Harley.  Since it is just a tire, we don't need his expertise but they too agree to ride into Tok with us.  Now we are 8 riders strong.

The approach to Tok is pleasant.  There are houses several miles out from Tok along the highway with green grass yards that make you think you are just about to see Tok in front of you.  I do not ever remember seeing such civilization this far away from Tok ever.  I guess in my mind green grass is a sign of civilization.  

We make Tok before the tire goes flat again.  We all pull into the self serve gas station and fill our tanks.  We are quite a bunch.  The House of Harley guys have more customized bikes, custom paint and handle bars that are referred to as "ape hangers" which means they stick up rather high in the air and you have to reach up to hold the grips.  I cannot think of a more uncomfortable way to do a long distance ride.  I think my hands would go asleep before I got to the edge of town.  However, they look very cool. Most of our bikes are pretty standard except for an Ultra CVO which has ALL the chrome and extras from the factory as standard.  Very expensive.

There is kind of a collective sense of relief among us who have dealt with this flat tire matter all day.  We have a huge conflab at the self serve gas station about the day, riding, all the uncertainties and what it took to get this far.  We are all hungry as we haven't eaten since the hot lava experience in Fairbanks.  We all know there is ONE place to eat in Tok, and that place Fast Eddy's.  We all agree to meet there shortly.

Greg and I have made previous arrangements to stay the night at Tok Assembly of God.  The pastor and his wife, Chase and Stacey Musick, are marvelous people.  Very gracious, kind and they have a cute little boy.  They have patiently waited for us all afternoon as we have taken much more time to get to Tok than was planned.  We put our stuff in the rooms they have made available to us which have honest to goodness beds in them.  We anticipate how good that is going to feel after this long day.

We invite Chase and his wife to join us for dinner at Fast Eddy's.  We hope that Fast Freddies can seat 10 people this late at night.  Off we go, one more time before bed. 

If you have never been to Fast Eddy's, it is a most happy experience to eat there.  It is so unexpectedly good, you would pay more for what they offer just because it is so nice.  Honestly, I wish we had as nice a restaurant in Kenai.  

They don't seem to mind all of us bikers coming in and making noise so late at night.  We are all staved and the food comes out just the way you like it.  We force Chase to eat something with us and pick up his bill.  We have a great evening of conversation and fun but can't stay too long as we are beat and ready to try that bed.

At dinner conversation that night there was a rumor floating around that there was a guy in Tok who was a motorcycle mechanic and who could change motorcycle tires.  Could this be true?  In a place like Tok, you don't take anything for granted, we would check on this  in the morning.