Alaska: Day Four

"Perseverance is the hard work you do 

after you get tired of doing the hard 

work you already did."

Newt Gingrich

 

Breakfast today was an adventure with signs asking that you take only two breakfast items.  I have never run into that before, but I got the impression that in the past they have had people who not only ate breakfast, but perhaps placed lunch and a snack in their pocket.  Regardless, it will be enough to get me down the road.  

 

We bus to the ride start and begin our journey toward Isabel Pass.  I am amazed that, while my legs are sore, I have not run out of juice and feel very strong.  Indeed, I "think" this was my big ring day where I never did get out of the big ring the entire day.  I revel in this feeling of strength for it has been a long time since I have felt this powerful, as if my legs were pistons and not flesh and blood.   I know that I am slower than I used to be, but my legs are giving what I ask of them, something I was not sure of.  

 

We shortly come to Robertson River.  The bridge sign says Robertson bridge.  I make the Indiana mistake of assuming the bridge is named for an individual rather than for the river, but I am wrong.  Well, not really wrong, but the rivers I am used to have one name and the bridge that crosses them a different name.  This river and this bridge have the same name. When I look it up later, it appears that the river itself was named after Sergeant Cady Robertson who was a member of  an expedition party. Google was short on details.  I am astounded to learn that Alaska has over TWELVE THOUSAND rivers.  Most of the rivers we pass are interesting to me because  I have never seen anything resembling them before.  They have large areas of glacial silt built up from the grinding of the glaciers, or so I have read.  They look like they would be slow moving, but you can tell where the water is channeled it has a very strong current in places.  

We pass a caribou/elk warning sign, but I laugh to myself.  I have started teasing everyone saying that there actually is no wildlife in Alaska:  they just advertise it to attract fools like ourselves.  How different from Yellowstone where the elk practically camped outside our cabin door a few times.  And how very fortunate I am to experience these different places. 

 

At one point, I reach the stopping place well ahead of the group.  There is a sign about the Alaska Highway and I am surprised to find it only opened to the public in 1954.  While waiting for the group, I talk with a couple from Montana.  They are visiting an older couple visiting a relative here.  A young man pulls in with a strange looking machine on his truck.  I ask and he says it is a snow blower.  It turns out he is a student at the university and had never used it but is hauling it.   The group arrives and I take the short walk to the view.  

 

On the far shore is a cabin.  This, I know, is where Lloyd would have wanted to settle.  In a cabin far away from everyone.  Looking at it, I wonder if there is a road or if you have to  hike in or take a canoe in.  Is someone living there or is it a hunting cabin?  Of course, I will never know.  But isn't that part of the fun of bicycling?  Seeing things that make you wonder.  And of course it makes me think of the school bus from a day or two ago.  It would not be easy to survive out here. Lloyd once told me that I was "tougher than a hickory nut," but I don't know that I am that tough.  And how very difficult it would be to get through the long, dark winters with only a few hours of sunlight, and that sunlight seeming to be filtered through a shade.  My hat is off to these strong people that have, at least some of them, not only survived but thrived in these harsh conditions. 

Traffic has thinned even more today making riding even more pleasant.  And we continue to be quite lucky with our weather.  The views are seldom obscured or completely obscured.   The ride ends and as always we have just time to catch a longer shower than normal before meeting for dinner.  I revel in this, taking my time and appreciating the fragrance of the soap and shampoo.  As always, I am so thankful for whoever invented hot water.  What a splendid ending it is to a ride.  It does not take away the tiredness or the soreness, but it makes it better.  And, yes, I am glad I persevered never getting in the van for a rest or slowing my effort. 

 

At dinner I have a veggie pizza and a small pizza is enough to feed four people.  But since it is just me, the remainder goes in the van for lunch tomorrow.  I am heartily sick of lunch meat and peanut butter so it will be a welcome change.  Over dinner Roger tells an interesting tail of doing a bicycle mechanical fix without having the proper tools on one of their trips.  Quite interesting to listen to.  Then back to my cabin which is large and quite lovely,  made from pine.   I type a few notes and go straight to sleep knowing my body needs it.  And my body complies, something that does not always happen.