It was time to turn around. I had spent a showstopping summer exploring the Yukon, Northwest Territories, and Alaska. New cultures and unfamiliar wildlife had broadened my experience, difficult roads had improved my riding skills, and primal wilderness had renovated my soul. All this made it difficult to break camp in Anchorage and point my front wheel toward home, but I was beyond grateful for these once-in-a-lifetime encounters and, growing philosophical, I started to reflect on takeaways from the trek.
Beginning with the most obvious, I was reminded that it is nearly impossible to pull up to the fuel pumps or stand with a drink in front of a convenience store and have no one speak to you. “Where are you from?” is usually first, followed of course by questions about your travels, and — from other riders — about your chosen mount. The same for campgrounds. For many years, the House of Harley Davidson in Anchorage has offered free camping regardless of your ride, and when I arrived at the tiny patch of grass next to the dealership, a yellow tent was already pitched beside
