After the Finish Line
You would think the Finish Line would bring an end to the adventure, and for some it did. Many shipped their bikes back and flew home. But to me, half of the adventure was yet to come. It was time to take a different route home and to try things I had never done before.
And so I did.
Riding home was much different than riding up. Riding up, there was always a sense of expedience. That I needed to hurry along and make time. There were also other riders with common interests along the way. There was a feeling of being part of a large group. And though I rode alone on the way up except for 3 days, the first day in Florida and the first two days in Canada, the ride home would be totally and completely alone.
Neither would there be any map or route that I had to follow. It was just me, my bike,
my dream, the road and my God.
The bottom of Spit Road. The lowest road, the lowest spot on the road on the Kenai Peninsula. From here you either turn around or you ride into the ocean and hope your Harley can swim.
Oooohhh, ...my poor baby.
A beautiful sunset across the bay from Spit Road. The time? 11:40pm.
Looking south at one of three glaciers surrounding Spit Road. Near the end of the Spit Road peninsula, about a hundred yards or more this side of the last building you can see, and on this side of the peninsula, is where I spent the night. "When would be the next time I would be able to sleep on Spit Road beach" I thought? So down went my sleeping bag, up went my tent, and I slept on the beach. ...Whata life!!
Working my way back up the Kenai Peninsula, I ran into the only other Blue Knight that I know of in the Hoka Hey. I first saw him at the riders briefing wearing his Blue Knights International Jacket. I hope he calls me. I misplaced the information we exchanged. I believe he is Bill from New York. Like me, he is riding back, but unlike me, he had the foresight to have his wife fly up and meet him for the ride home.
Not being much of a partier, I chose not to stay for the 4th of July Sunday night blow-out. Instead, I chose to be with my family in North Pole. So on Sunday morning, after hitting the sack at about 1:30 or 2am, I woke up at 6 and headed back up the Kenai and across the Alaskan Range mountains. Storm clouds began hanging low and looking foreboding once again. After about 300 or 400 miles, I was in Denali (Eskimo for "The Great One") Park. That's where Mount McKinley is.
Mount Mckinley is the tallest mountain in the north American continent. At 20320 ft, the only higher mountains are in the greater Himalayas or in the Andes. In the Alaska Range, McKinley rises well above all the other mountains around it and is 16,000 feet above the snowline. McKinley is also perhaps the coldest mountain in the world outside of Antarctica--its combination of great height, high latitude, and terrible weather are literally unique. The summit area is below zero degrees Fahrenheit almost all the time. I spent two summers in Anchorage in 1970 and 1971 and on a clear day, (about 4 or 5 times a year) you could see Mount Mckinley from Anchorage. It was about 175 miles away as the crow flies.
But today, there was no seeing anything but dark storm clouds getting lower and lower. As I rode mile after mile through the Denali Park, I kept looking for a way out. Hoping I would get out before it began raining on me again. Every so often there would be a break in the mountains where a logical pass would be. But in everyone there were dark clouds in those passes and they were filled with rain. Some, by the deep dark blue/black color, I could tell were just pouring rain. Everytime I thought the road was heading in one of those directions, I would pray, "Oh Heavenly Father, please not that one. It's pouring in that pass. Don't let that be the road. But if that is where I have to go, please provide a way through for me." That was literally my prayer each time I thought the road was heading toward one of those passes.
However, the road kept slowly twisting and turning and kept passing all those passes by. After what seemed like a hundred miles of looking and hoping for a dry way out, I saw this view.
It was the one pass that not only did not have a storm raging in it, but also had a light out of the darkness and it was as if it was beckoning me toward the light. I saw it just miles before the road turned and headed into Cantwell, which is the last stop before leaving the Alaska Range. This shot was taken just as the road turned toward the light. I knew for sure it was the way out. That the Lord had once again gone before me and prepared a way through the darkness for me.
As I came through the hole in the sky, there was this beautiful sight. To me a signal that the Lord had heard my prayer and had been with me. Just as Noah received the Rainbow as his sign and knew the Lord had been with him, so too I received mine and knew He had been with me.
And there to greet me as I came out of the darkness, eluding what could have been a terrible storm, was an owl. Perched on top of a tree and just looking at me, as if to say, "All is well. The Lord is with you, all is well." (...okay--okay, ...so I don't rate a dove with an olive branch in it's mouth!! ...At least I rate an owl on a pine tree!!)
Sometime, shortly after arriving at my sister-in-laws home in North Pole some 600 miles later, just south of Fairbanks, seeming to be just for me, was this beautiful, double rainbow filling the darkened sky.
My life's experiences with the Lord can be summarized by this single experience or riding through the Denali portion of the Alaska Range. Finding myself surrounded by terrible storms with no way to turn, no where to go, and then there He is. My Dearest Friend. Always there, always looking out for me, always leading me by a little light at the edge of the darkness. It's always been that way. Whether in dark and cloudy and troubled times in my life, or here, riding my motorcycle through the stormy Denali Park. He's always been there. His help has never come long in advance of when I needed it, and usually not in well laid out plans. But usually by another way and always in the nick of time. Always the perfect way, and all I had to do was pray, believe He would help me and learn to feel and to watch. His help almost always appears as those photos. Just a little light at the edge of the darkness, just when I needed it and had no where else to go.
Mile after mile of beautiful, curvy roads through incredibly awesome landscape, brought much time for reflection. Not only of the trip and the wondrous things I had seen and been a part of, but also of things spiritual. About how wondrous this beautiful place is that our Lord our God gave us to live on. How indebted we are to Him for all He has given us and for the chance to come here to this earth, to live as students on a college campus, learning and taking our final exam in our preparation to return home from college and begin our life's work.
Of all those who have ever lived, though their life experiences have been different, their dance with technological advances have been less or more, each person has faced the same tests in life. Regardless of who they are, regardless of when they came to earth. It was always about what kind of person they choose to be, how they choose to treat others, whether or not they have been honest, caring and charitable and whether or not they have chosen to seek the Lord and His will.
At the US Border crossing, a sad--because it meant my journey was coming to an end, yet beautiful feeling came over me. It meant I was returning home. To my Country and to my family.
At Dawson Creek, not wanting to end my journey so fast, I turned west on 97 and went to Chetwynd. Following 97 to Prince George, spending the night in Quesnel, waking up to another rain storm, following it to 100 Mile House, to KamIoops, spending the night around Peachland and heading south to Osoyoos and the US Border.
At the US Border crossing, I looked pretty bad. Pretty scuzzy. In fact, the Border Agent gave me a little bit of a rough time. I could see his perception of me was not who I was, but who I looked like. This perception from people worked both for me and against me. In the early days of my ride, I noticed that letting my appearance go, opened the door for me to have an experience I had not had before.
Because I looked like someone of lesser means, of lower economic status and of lower social standing, I had several fine people of the same caliber and situation, approach me and talk with me and feel comfortable talking with me. That I was not someone who judged them or looked down on them. But I was someone like them and they were comfortable enough to speak freely and were uninhibited in their thoughts and expressions. I enjoyed that and I listened to them.
I did not use the same language they used and after a while, they realized that I didn't use profanity in my speech. Soon they stopped using it too. I never looked down on them and I am not offended by profanity in the least. To me, profanity is just another form of communication people use. It is another language, but it is one I choose not to use and when I did not respond to them with profanity, it was not long before they stopped using profanity to express how they felt. It was during those times, when communication levels came up a few clicks, that I had the chance to make a difference in them. I was glad they were comfortable enough around me to share their inner feelings and thoughts. And it was in those times when I was given just a little something to say to them that was from their Heavenly Father. A little something that brought them just a little closer to Him. Letting them know that He is there, that He still loves them, is concerned about them and still reaching out to them. I learned first hand this very valuable truth, that sometimes you have to meet people where they are in order to have impact in their life. A truth I had learned over 30 years ago from a very successful man who besides working at becoming wealthy, had a deep love for his fellow man.
But letting myself go too far, taught me another truth. People were starting to judge me by what they saw and that perception was sticking. The US Border Agent was convinced I was a bad guy. It was only when he saw my riders jacket and noticed the patches on it that things began to change with us. He asked me if I was associated with any motorcycle clubs. I told him I was, that I was a Blue Knight. It was then and after noticing the FOP emblem on my bike that he lightened up on me. I learned an interesting thing from that and from others I was passing at this point of my ride.
In the early portions of my ride, the average everyday working class of people were not sure how to take me. I talked and acted like a straight up and clean cut BMW rider. Eventhough I looked and smelled like a stereotypical dirt-bag Harley rider. When I would talk with them, they would change their actions toward me and become friendly. Many even before I spoke to them. But now, being so scuzzy, so grungy and stinky, my yellow bandanna around my neck almost gray/black from the grime, sweat and body oils, my pants, shirt and jacket too, in their eyes and mind, I had become who they perceived me to be. Now, even talking to them, never using foul language and never being impolite, I was facing an almost impossible uphill battle in their perception of me.
This realization taught me that we really do create the image others perceive us to be. And in their minds eye, that's who we are. That who we choose to look like, can and does have a great effect on our ability to be perceived as a good person, a person of worth, a God loving and God fearing member of the community who tries to do what is right and is someone they should take the time to know. All of that was blocked by what they saw. It taught me that prejudice through perception is alive and well and is either our friend or our enemy, a tool for success or failure, depending on how we choose to us it. I had seen that before from the other side of life, but now I was experiencing it first hand from this side of the life.
After crossing the border into Washington, still not ready to come home, I went east to Idaho to stop in and visit family, to Wyoming to visit more family and friends and then to Utah to visit even more family before continuing on to my home in Queen Creek, Arizona.
When I got there it was late. I had ridden over 850 miles that day and had traveled about 13,500 miles since I left Key West. I had spend 26 days on my motorcycle and over a month away from my family. I had traveled over 4 swamps, through 33 Indian Reservations, 6 National Parks, 8 HOT Deserts, 26 National Forests and had ridden over 62 Mountian Ranges, while traveling through 18 states--4 of them twice, 3 Provinces--twice and had crossed two countries. All at the cost of over 5 thousand dollars. I had lived on Trail Mix and beef Jerky, slept on the ground, paid as much as 25 dollars a gallon for gasoline, worn the same shirt and pants everyday for a month, was sunburned, windburned, grimy, dirty and stinky. My longest day was from the town of North Pole, Alaska, to the town of Liard River, British Columbia. Over 1000 miles in 24 hours. After a quick nap and some chow, I continued on for my longest ride ever. I rode straight through to Dawson Creek, British Columbia, to the beginning of the ALCON Highway. A total of 37.5 hours and 1497 mile non-stop ride. My second longest day had been 922 miles long, from Watson Lake, British Columbia, to Fairbanks, Alaska and then back to North Pole. And of the 26 days I spent on the road, I rode alone for 23 of the 26 days. And now here I was, finally home again--home again. To my dear wife and family.
I had the time of my life. I was prayed for, fasted for, blessed daily and didn't have a single problem. I just rode and rode, savoring each and every minute of a dream I had had since I was 14 years old, some 45 years ago.
This event was fulfilled in such a way that like so many other events in my life, the Lord my God made Himself manifest to me throughout the journey and taught me many things, one after another, that I will never forget. Not was He always-always protecting me, always watching out for me, but also making me realize that He even knows our dreams. Our secret wishes and works to even bring them to pass for us. What an incredible realization, to realize that He not only loves us enough to save us, to bless us in our daily lives with the things we need, but to also remember the dream of a 14 year old kid in the 9th grade who dreamed of one day riding to Alaska on his Sportster.
And as this journey began... (June 15th)
...it ended. With my family--which is where it's at!!! (July 15th)
When I arrived home, I found my wonderful family, each and everyone of them, standing in the street with a home made banner. Each of them had helped make it, each of them had signed it and as I approached, they had me drive through it. What is life without someone to love? Without someone to love you?
Perhaps the last most interesting thing I learned was this truth. I had experienced it before on other rides in varying degrees, having been on some really long rides in my life. My longest being 5+ weeks, but I never experienced it as much as I did on this ride. And that is the emotional impact of having too much freedom. Sound crazy??
On this ride I had all the freedom in the world to do whatever I felt like. To get up when I felt like it, to do what I wanted to--which was ride and see the country and I did it for 26 days. No care for where the money was coming from for the gas, for the food, or anything. I had no responsibility, no task-lists, no phone calls to make, no one to report to or to worry about. No projects, no deadlines, no nothing.
The danger? It could easily produce a person in me who didn't want to tackle life. To make things happen for himself and for others. We were made to accomplish things. To do good. And in doing good to others, in making a difference in life and in the lives of others, in forgetting about ourselves and focusing on someone else, that is when we are our happiest, our longest. So back to the life of responsibility, duties, task-lists, phone calls and meeting people, I came. And it too, like motorcycling, is a great adventure.
The night I got home, ...and the morning after.
I hope and pray that you are encouraged by my story, I hope you reach out and not only try unusual things, but try to fulfill your dreams. I hope that you look for others to help along the way and most of all, I hope that you are wise enough to develop a love for, and a relationship with, your Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. If I know one thing at all, I know that He lives.
Su amigo siempre,
(Your friend always
Samuel
...Live the Dream
