Day eighteen. All is well. Anchorage, Alaska.
I was at the airport this morning at ten minutes until 6:00, met with my instructor, and finished the specialized bush pilot course. It went well, and I enjoyed it, but I was anxious to be back on the bike, and I left the airport at precisely 9:15. I considered getting at the airport at 5:00, but my curiosity only extends so far. I slept the extra hour. Remember, it takes considerable time to re-pack and load the bags for the bike.
When my travel day started the temperature was in the mid-60's and it was dry, but as I progressed along a meandering Alaska Highway 3 to Anchorage, as it found its way between the mountains, I encountered rain, strong winds, and a low temperature of 50 degrees. It was inevitable that I would also encounter road construction and delays, and I did. There were only two stretches of construction, one of 14 miles and one of 10 miles (of the 312 miles total). Road repairs in the north country appears to mean tear out the old asphalt, all the way to the dirt, add new gravel for a base, and then bring in the new asphalt. This is the process I have seen oft repeated. Doing it this way assures that the traveler must navigate over a wet, muddy, and rocky under base as the steps outlined are completed. "Loose grave." "Motorcyclist Take Extreme Caution." Those are the posted signs. I escaped a fate that befalls all motorcyclist again today. No falls or upsets.
Mt. McKinley, at 20,320 feet, is the tallest mountain in North America. According to the park guide the top is only visible 20% of the time during the summer months. It was not visible today when I was in the area. Denali (meaning "The High One") National Park comprises six million acres (roughly the size of Massachusetts), and was on the very edge of my travels today.
My route of travel took me through Wasilla, the Alaskan city from which a recent Vice Presidential candidate reportedly still resides. No sightings to report.
The traffic was heavier today than at any times since I rode through the edge of St. Louis on DAY ONE. Much of the traffic today was motor homes or travel trailers. I filled my gas tank in Wasilla at the lowest priced gas I saw all day. $4.169.
"Prices and mountains are higher in in Alaska." That would not be a promotable slogan, but it is true.
Another good day.
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