Chapter 26: Farewell Alaska

Apologies to my loyal readers; my 2025 adventures have interfered with writing about my 1980 adventures, so these last few chapters are a couple of months late! You may recall that when I last wrote, I was in Anchorage, wrestling with what to do: stay in Alaska, extend the bike trip to some other destination, or try to get home for two weddings of good friends. In the end, I decided on a combination of marathon biking and taking a bus, hoping to get back in time for the weddings.

 Chapter 26: Farewell Alaska 

September 4, 1980 Thursday  108 miles (7478) 

  A good day! I packed up, thanked Chris for everything, and left Anchorage at 10:30. Had a headwind for a while, but then had a good tailwind for perhaps a 50-mile stretch. I did 40 miles without a meal, and it only took two and a half hours, meaning that my average speed was 16 mph! Boy, that felt good - I was ready to ride all the way home!

Of course, the wind inevitably switched 180 degrees, and it got pretty cold as the sun went down, but it was such an incredible day, I couldn't help but be in good spirits. The smell of new mown hay, the bright sun, cloudless blue sky and clean, clear air - reminiscent of autumn days in New England, but with much more rugged mountains! I was thinking of New England a lot.

  At some point recently, I realized that in all my images of returning home, Laura is absent. I picture everyone else I will greet, but for some reason she is not there. Is that good, because it means she's not a factor in my decision, or am I just avoiding dealing with that whole issue? 

Matanuska Glacier

This evening, as I was looking for a place to crash, I saw a house with a teepee in the yard. I decided to take a little risk, and went right up and asked the guy in the house if he had any "suggestions" of places I could camp. Of course, he suggested the teepee, and also invited me in for dinner! Bill and Jeannie and their young daughter Chris are genuine homesteaders - a dog team to haul firewood, no electricity, fishing and picking berries in season... and really nice folks. 

 September 5, Friday  90 miles (7568)

Not such a good day. I slept well, but still felt the effects of yesterday's hard ride. Bill invited me in for pancakes with blueberry syrup, which was a great breakfast, but while I was inside, their goat got at the loaf of bread and bag of granola I had tied on my bike, and ate half of each before I came out. Grrr!

It looked like another great day at first, but it clouded over before long... not heavy clouds, but enough to keep the sun from really warming it up, and I had a god-awful headwind almost all day. 

My philosophical note for the day: Never count on a tailwind. I was simply born to have a headwind, in my life, as well as on bike trips. If I ever do get a tailwind, well that's great, and I can enjoy it and ride it for all it's worth, but in the long run it won't make much difference, because tailwinds are always just fleeting; the headwinds are what count. I guess there are some people who get tailwinds all the time, but I don't suppose they really appreciate them because that's all they ever know. They're used to things being easy, so easy things seem hard to them, and maybe they're worse off than me. At least I know that no matter how hard the headwinds blow, I can always pedal just a little bit harder, so the only time I get into trouble is when I start counting on a tailwind.

  I stopped at the Nelchina Cafe and used some of the money John gave me to treat myself to a milkshake and a huge chocolate chip cookie, an inch thick and four inches in diameter!

 I made Glenallen by nightfall and after asking around, I found a baseball field with a dugout I could sleep in. Another one for the list of bizarre places I've slept! 

 September 6, Saturday  80 miles (7648)

 Well, it sure was a COLD night: 22 degrees this morning. A late start after catching up on my journal, and chatting with some guys in the Caribou Café, about a possible ride to Iowa. The ride never materialized, but it made me do some thinking about what my goals are at this point. Am I committed to riding all the way to Whitehorse, or just to getting home by whatever means I can? It feels like the goal is to ride as much as is possible; to Whitehorse, and the last leg from Ottawa to Connecticut, even though that will make it a challenge to get home in time for the first of the weddings.

 
Anyway, it was another incredible fall day, warm enough for just my nylon shirt, and I even had a tailwind part of the way.  I'm not sure why I didn't make better time.

 I stopped at a BLM campground and set up my plastic tube joke-of-a-tent for the first time. Wish it was the last time... I can tell it is going to be worse than useless. Any frost or rain that it keeps off me will be more than offset by the amount of condensation that forms on the inside of it! (It was literally just a plastic tube. Think of an oversize contractor trash bag, with the bottom cut out.)

  Sept 7, Sunday  67 miles (7715)

 So much for a 100 mile per day average. My usual headwind was back this afternoon and there were some terrible stretches of construction. Still, I could have done more miles, but in Tok I met a couple on a motorcycle and let them persuade me to stop at the Tok campground, though I still had a couple more hours of daylight. But it was fun - I had dinner with them, and they invited me to sleep in their tent, so I won't have to suffer with my tube tent. The weather held today, but I did see some mare's tail type clouds. I'm a little worried... if it rains now, it will be a very cold rain, or worse, snow.

 Today I felt pretty discouraged and unenthused about riding the 300 miles of dirt road to Whitehorse, and thought a lot about just hitching from the border.

 September 8, Monday  88 miles (7803)

 I realized this morning that today would be my last day in Alaska, and I felt pretty sad. It was my goal - my North Star, for 6500 miles and 4-1/2 months, and now I'm leaving. How long and how short my time here seems now. As I rode, I sang melancholy songs and shed a few tears and even had brief second thoughts about leaving, but then I realized that living in Alaska was just a romantic dream, and that the beautiful bright fall colors will very soon turn to the harsh grays and blacks of a long inhospitable winter. I soon felt good with my decision again, and the thought of how soon I will be home excited me.

 I left Alaska this evening, just as the sun was setting. The fall colors are at their peak, and I'm happy to have that as my last impression of the state.