Starting Out
In the days leading up to my departure for this trip it has rained almost non-stop for about two weeks. I am hoping against hope that it will break open sunny and clear for the day I embark on this adventure. I am 175 miles away from where I join the other two riders, so I have to leave a day earlier and spend the night with my friends, Jack and Ann Aiken. Each night I stay up and watch the evening news so I can catch the weather report. It's not looking good for a sunny departure. I check the weather app on my phone to get a second opinion. I don't like the second opinion so I check the weather app on my iPad. The second and third opinions look a lot like the first. Still every night I watch hoping for a change in the forecast.
I have taken the Memorial Day weekend to ride for the past three years and each of those years we have enjoyed beautiful weather and a warm spring. This year it isn't stacking up like that and I hate to admit it, but I feel entitled to good weather. It should be good weather because this is when I like to take my spring ride! I learn the harsh truth that my sense of entitlement doesn't necessarily mean I get what I want. Maybe I should start a protest movement against the weather and burn some...well, let's not go there.
The night before I leave, I carefully pack my stuff and having gone over it a few times, I am satisfied I haven't forgotten anything I think i will want or need. I do not pack my riding leathers or my rain gear so I can make a last minute change in case the weather finally agrees with my demands to be nice. I go to bed hearing it is supposed to be more of the same in the morning. You never know, those weather people make mistakes all the time and chances are it will be sunny in the morning. I attempt to sleep, my mind going over a check list again and again, ignoring the sounds of rain and generally nervous and excited to get going. Somewhere in the middle of the night I must have passed out because I awake to the sounds of rain. Yep, it's still raining.
I don't have to be at my destination until the late afternoon so I am convinced if I just delay leaving until after lunch time the weather will lift and I will be traveling in nice weather. Each hour slowly goes by. Rain. Still rain. It never stops. I check, recheck, double check my stuff.
For this trip, I found a second hand "Go Pro" type action camera for $45. It came with a waterproof housing and all kinds of mounts. The mounts are fixed to whatever surface you want with that tough double sided tape which I put on the cowl of my bike. I want to get better pictures of my trip because in prior trips I have only gotten pictures of gas stations. The gas station in Wasilla. The gas station in Trapper Creek. The gas station in...you get the idea. The reason for this is gas stations are the only time we stop and I can pull out my phone and snap a picture. It makes for dull subject matter when you are trying to tell someone what an exciting trip you took. So, the Go Pro is stuck to my bike where I can just reach up and push the button to take a picture. How handy.
Well, I face the inevitable, it is going to rain today. I don my rain gear. I stow my leathers. It is time to depart. I open the garage door and stare into the downpour I will soon be riding in. I am committed, I am going weather or not. I start the bike, it pops into life with that wonderful V-Twin sound that throbs away. I roll out of the garage and hear the ticking of raindrops on my helmet and watch my windshield start to populate with the falling moisture. The garage door slides closed behind me. I drop the Harley into first gear and ride to the end of the driveway and out onto my road. Soon I am driving in town in the rain spray of other vehicles. I snap a few pictures to document the lousy conditions to my future blog readers. Before long, Soldotna is in my rearview mirrors and I am on my way. It rains harder. I snap a few more pictures of the dreariness, after all, I want my readers to sympathize with me about the awful riding conditions. The miles start to peel away behind me as I reach my favorite cruising speed. I am on a long straight stretch with a few cars behind me and some coming toward me. Somewhere along mile 74 of the Sterling Highway a curious thing happens. My newly acquired Go Pro knock off action camera falls off my bike! It's the thing I least expect. It's raining hard and there is some traffic so I don't want to make any sudden moves. I see a pull off up ahead about a quarter mile off. I come to a safe, turn signaled stop. The cars go by and I turn around expecting to see my camera lying in the middle of the road, hopefully intact. It is nowhere. I turn back slowly driving, scanning the shoulders of the road. Nothing. I turn back again, check the other side. Nothing. I repeat this twice more with the same results. All I can figure is that someone stopped and picked up my camera while I was making a safe turn around. So guess what? All you readers are going to get pictures of gas stations now because some dishonest person made off with my camera.
I reluctantly leave the search for my camera and head on up to my scheduled arrival in Eagle River which is still about three hours away. As I gain elevation through the Turnagain Pass portion of the Sterling Highway, I notice that there is NEW snow only several hundred feet above the highway on the sides of the mountains. It is chill. My fingertips inside my Mountain Hardware cold weather gloves are getting numb. I do what I can to keep feeling in them but despite my efforts, they are going offline as I really can't feel them anymore. I also feel a cold drip inside my boot as my rain pants are typically too short for my long legs and have hiked up my shin exposing the top of my boot to the water dripping off the hem of my too short rain pants and directly into my boot. The weather will always expose your weakest link. I apparently have several weak links including that double sided tape that didn't hold my camera down. Since I bought the camera second hand, it didn't come with documentation. I find out later that the little steel cable that came with it was a safety tether in case the tape failed. A detail I find out about too late obviously. Anyway, I power on, the weather stays gray, wet and cold.
The only obstacle now is to get through Anchorage. I dislike riding my Harley through Anchorage. Aggressive drivers, the rain spray, multiple lanes and moving vehicles make it a hazardous place. I decide instead of taking the main route through town I will take another route less traveled that skirts the most traffic. I take the right exit and congratulate myself on such an intelligent move. It is going fine until for an inexplicable reason traffic in both lanes comes to a complete halt. I am boxed in which I dislike. The rain stops and a magical sun break appears instantly turning my rain gear into a sauna. My hands sweat inside my gloves while we wait in almost motionless traffic. Suddenly all the cars in front of me signal and begin turning into the right hand lane. I am left alone which I am happy for except I see the reason for the stoppage. A brutal two car collision. Two crushed cars with parts and pieces all over the road. There is a detour through a side neighborhood while the police do their forensic work. I am locked out of the right lane. No one is letting this motorcycle rider who is baking like a potato into their lane. I signal to no avail until a kind man stops in the right lane and waves me in front of him. God bless you, sir. I give him a very cool "thumbs up" with a sweaty hand as I pull in front. We weave what seems like forever through a neighborhood. I follow someone I hope knows their way through here which at times leaves me in doubt. Eventually I catch a glimpse of the main road and make my cut toward it. I am back on the main road and soon the exit that will take me to my final destination for the day, Eagle River.
I am proud of the gas milage of my Harley. I started out with a full tank of fuel in Kenai and reach Eagle River, 175 miles away with 75 miles of range still showing on my speedometer. As I reach Eagle River I decide to fuel there at the Shell station and be ready when we take off in the morning. I decide not to take a picture.
Looking a little bedraggled, soaked and sweaty at the same time, I arrive at my friends home. Jack and Ann Aiken have hosted my wife and I many times in their lovely home. I look forward to seeing them and tasting Ann's cooking magic with her "Insta Pot". It is a fun evening and soon we know we better find some sleep so we can take off in the morning on our adventure.
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