tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72271212168203682362024-03-08T03:32:48.557-08:00Honoring My CompassUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger347125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-17177551190104771212023-11-09T09:11:00.002-08:002023-11-09T09:24:45.834-08:00Happy 11th Re-Birthday to Me!<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy 11th Re-Birthday to Me!</b> </p>
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<p>Eleven years ago today, I said goodbye to my old life and began living anew. I stopped mindlessly swallowing what society had been spoon-feeding to me. I quit my job and began living intentionally.</p>
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Here are some highlights from the past year:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I found a new creative outlet, making art from old postage stamps. </li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DP0o6r2TYWzHwNToN3iPidDqtPSQFlXRV9e7QKBj5AYpAo2cm0J0KbZpKqvrDvD6ciqRhR-luDFdYmq3veX_81318j8YR0Z0w1NqYS5q-6GTpEd2EQQRGySgxrBwr6EKkAKrvbPpX5UJYCN-l2FtUqE_dbnVUKRKFNtLS7O_6dkmGTHxyYRlZihOuxI/s3372/Ocean%20Stamp%20Art.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2784" data-original-width="3372" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DP0o6r2TYWzHwNToN3iPidDqtPSQFlXRV9e7QKBj5AYpAo2cm0J0KbZpKqvrDvD6ciqRhR-luDFdYmq3veX_81318j8YR0Z0w1NqYS5q-6GTpEd2EQQRGySgxrBwr6EKkAKrvbPpX5UJYCN-l2FtUqE_dbnVUKRKFNtLS7O_6dkmGTHxyYRlZihOuxI/s320/Ocean%20Stamp%20Art.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I mourned the death of my 12 year-old nephew, Jackson.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5O59z9L5LzM8uqAPloUqzph-09-geSPPuLBeyR0XGbYIeNKevw4OrK2W3qjf4KEN9VJ3ig2ysSZFjpg_1_XKkVTtLIzwJ-GKiPX7fRdA6_mIa803y641zJyfvKws_qVYq2JDfFy3jtTh9koVqlHz9lvMEVhbVBvShinSZpyUGb1RW_7sb_w9zcM_dvQ/s1850/Dispelling%20Myths.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1850" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5O59z9L5LzM8uqAPloUqzph-09-geSPPuLBeyR0XGbYIeNKevw4OrK2W3qjf4KEN9VJ3ig2ysSZFjpg_1_XKkVTtLIzwJ-GKiPX7fRdA6_mIa803y641zJyfvKws_qVYq2JDfFy3jtTh9koVqlHz9lvMEVhbVBvShinSZpyUGb1RW_7sb_w9zcM_dvQ/s320/Dispelling%20Myths.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I learned to bake bread.</li><li>I volunteered with the Whatcom Literary Council teaching english to a refugee from Afghanistan.</li><li>I began working with <a href="https://dirtyfreehub.org/" target="_blank">Dirty Freehub</a>, a nonprofit organization that provides resources for gravel cyclists.</li><li>I took a week-long solo van trip to bike various gravel routes in Washington and Oregon. Ah, my happy place!</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz7XKmivkI5ZbQBxx8ifpg3gCwLFaUFGQh9uKp6L6AYtxLWalNVJfS772jw8yDiyKj0hQ4LDptsl2NfSOPi3en1Ck4nlwASIV3q0YMZ5BDntAiHIFpN2K1yAdVzDrgmDzh7jkx8_sxmXkdrjzpgw6WD9KDMbg_lPP9kLChlIGCNHMknwFrVo9PT0NBLE4/s2048/April%20Riding.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz7XKmivkI5ZbQBxx8ifpg3gCwLFaUFGQh9uKp6L6AYtxLWalNVJfS772jw8yDiyKj0hQ4LDptsl2NfSOPi3en1Ck4nlwASIV3q0YMZ5BDntAiHIFpN2K1yAdVzDrgmDzh7jkx8_sxmXkdrjzpgw6WD9KDMbg_lPP9kLChlIGCNHMknwFrVo9PT0NBLE4/s320/April%20Riding.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I cycled Highway 20 before the pass opened to vehicles. (This had been on my wanna-do list for more than 15 years.)</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJ7PD25OU5V44yLZwjsDn35kff1pcQnN182-FEo4NJM_FUCuJG3qOTKaBfsvQIj5m_5gES-KzlHkz_a0-q_kZ-UbdT5LhIZz7uqVZ2pk_JO9cWM_N1TAW-ALazYpOIHIfYnbMwMPGnB8_ev39F7TKHe6Kk2fV4yvQM1VMt4M81fxzFGVAwl7t0RqU6Do/s4290/IMG_3637.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3097" data-original-width="4290" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijJ7PD25OU5V44yLZwjsDn35kff1pcQnN182-FEo4NJM_FUCuJG3qOTKaBfsvQIj5m_5gES-KzlHkz_a0-q_kZ-UbdT5LhIZz7uqVZ2pk_JO9cWM_N1TAW-ALazYpOIHIfYnbMwMPGnB8_ev39F7TKHe6Kk2fV4yvQM1VMt4M81fxzFGVAwl7t0RqU6Do/s320/IMG_3637.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I returned to <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2023/06/biking-in-alaska-plan-c-photo-journal.html" target="_blank">Alaska for a two-week bike trip</a>. </li><li>I travelled to Vancouver Island for ten days to bike gravel routes out of Port Renfrew.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jSZNHwifoIib90XteMxgmdb8qyrpK5CVIkg1WqyoU9Gc48NWXqY0tJDYIfgf-FRvEUmBkzDjvIccJaHfglU51cjYMMfUlP_Rss2Qf_TF4-tACxVebQK2r4DYmalGmfd8gdQLQItZEE_r054fhbyX3chWgBQJT4CHikDYHJ-3VZjyjwZuy7IUk0UD8cc/s2048/Honeymoon%20Bay.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1317" data-original-width="2048" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jSZNHwifoIib90XteMxgmdb8qyrpK5CVIkg1WqyoU9Gc48NWXqY0tJDYIfgf-FRvEUmBkzDjvIccJaHfglU51cjYMMfUlP_Rss2Qf_TF4-tACxVebQK2r4DYmalGmfd8gdQLQItZEE_r054fhbyX3chWgBQJT4CHikDYHJ-3VZjyjwZuy7IUk0UD8cc/s320/Honeymoon%20Bay.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I met up with my family for a week-long trip in Colorado during which we visited Garden of the Gods, toured Bishop's Castle, and jeeped Medano Pass to the Great Sand Dunes National Park.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJzqFW_6qIgysO7k-ly4SHa7f6kctBzulkNs-Ni8Ce1SUZS-J8mHsYRaRnBkWCjmcazXV6s2WRfo7_33DrGYDupsT7M7cOVHoRGwiADcnmROSYi5Ke8RZA1AoORwhSHrB9CjPwEEBmn8Vm9jbIU-Cn-jGq1SVbakNG_pIKlzPUvEPAI8k_kiAd_CHcrc/s2048/Garden%20of%20the%20Gods.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="2048" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJzqFW_6qIgysO7k-ly4SHa7f6kctBzulkNs-Ni8Ce1SUZS-J8mHsYRaRnBkWCjmcazXV6s2WRfo7_33DrGYDupsT7M7cOVHoRGwiADcnmROSYi5Ke8RZA1AoORwhSHrB9CjPwEEBmn8Vm9jbIU-Cn-jGq1SVbakNG_pIKlzPUvEPAI8k_kiAd_CHcrc/s320/Garden%20of%20the%20Gods.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I spent three days <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2023/07/bikerafting-skagit-river-photo-journal.html" target="_blank">bikerafting the Skagit River</a>.</li><li>I enjoyed a brief me-vacation at Lake Kachess where I packrafted, hiked, and enjoyed my solitude.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnjKinTSk_34pjo8A2bz6tipQgYdH8HJjtWR_3Clei8BIdTR-2GGJeCHDEBfhxQEQOGNiQe-xmo2kVwG0dnwV1PaCmZs4fOFsKittLD-jHY4S4aQE7OqJxf9m5ejhFrxAZ_uurnpOebhTG6TbCTRMKJYVt1oV8dZmf3ZMKrwIUMjEMSwMCVzLsZuOkJ4/s2048/Kachess.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnjKinTSk_34pjo8A2bz6tipQgYdH8HJjtWR_3Clei8BIdTR-2GGJeCHDEBfhxQEQOGNiQe-xmo2kVwG0dnwV1PaCmZs4fOFsKittLD-jHY4S4aQE7OqJxf9m5ejhFrxAZ_uurnpOebhTG6TbCTRMKJYVt1oV8dZmf3ZMKrwIUMjEMSwMCVzLsZuOkJ4/s320/Kachess.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I combined my love for books and bikes and developed a Read & Ride program for Dirty Freehub. For the inaugural <a href="https://dirtyfreehub.org/read-ride/biglonelydoug/" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Big Lonely Doug</a> project, I had the great pleasure of talking with author Harley Rustad, Big Tree Hunter and photographer TJ Watt, and Ancient Forest Alliance co-founder Ken Wu. </li><li>I hiked <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2023/09/hiking-near-baker.html" target="_blank">new-to-me trails near Mt Baker</a>.</li><li>I had a huge breakthrough at my favorite place on Salt Spring Island.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGpSbltXUvyDk118ipb5h7GYrIFIWya8-Aa7K9SEc0TZNOSp791WrtHpYVunk4ksMyHvKskSlI9s3G9n_7vYJHX8yGLajUB9HMDyNbyZQuMGh7RSWy6khkM2dREfs2s5WUb0iZu0N4M8NsMJuK4xEU6jppjm3B7c7RAhJfpeS0tstrh8HTIUEO83xXbQ/s4009/Salt%20Spring%20Revelation.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2972" data-original-width="4009" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGpSbltXUvyDk118ipb5h7GYrIFIWya8-Aa7K9SEc0TZNOSp791WrtHpYVunk4ksMyHvKskSlI9s3G9n_7vYJHX8yGLajUB9HMDyNbyZQuMGh7RSWy6khkM2dREfs2s5WUb0iZu0N4M8NsMJuK4xEU6jppjm3B7c7RAhJfpeS0tstrh8HTIUEO83xXbQ/s320/Salt%20Spring%20Revelation.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I spent a week <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2023/10/rafting-lower-salmon-photo-journal.html" target="_blank">Rafting the Lower Salmon River</a> in Idaho.</li><li>I learned to appreciate salmon, watching them spawn over a course of multiple days on Diosbud Creek.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZu1HFz8tu_kEETAAD1fQSxc2aBMCnAHF79lP2z9wb15-yl-fGsb1N-TI8DIJmnMCepo_wdLsKf8sqK9PFJeIARvLd6Z74j1AoUpfcup_0qHgY-ORO1NB5CzSCIZvG8Nw_4J707gpTlJ8IPb125Oj-IFeIIOXn2EHg9lY06HQZOj8egk2kmSsIKmufOJ4/s2048/Salmon.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1542" data-original-width="2048" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZu1HFz8tu_kEETAAD1fQSxc2aBMCnAHF79lP2z9wb15-yl-fGsb1N-TI8DIJmnMCepo_wdLsKf8sqK9PFJeIARvLd6Z74j1AoUpfcup_0qHgY-ORO1NB5CzSCIZvG8Nw_4J707gpTlJ8IPb125Oj-IFeIIOXn2EHg9lY06HQZOj8egk2kmSsIKmufOJ4/s320/Salmon.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I passed some days exploring new gravel routes near Darrington.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGbmfc0rquVVjktsFdWgKzgHCLG7d6P4JMFOKB9p1HtkIExchXkEU66pSqhURn3VOSkgh_qK5c5j0ACQuR3BjYy1q4CaL0lY8vxEgQn42CPZTQKOjvUHWcteHZThCcnYqQ9d1PGco5OiTkOzeDUp2FLOY84ghT-9B1QT-spuuu41CLeAnkdrEPXjqpqo/s1660/Biker%20&%20Mountain%20Cropped.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1130" data-original-width="1660" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGbmfc0rquVVjktsFdWgKzgHCLG7d6P4JMFOKB9p1HtkIExchXkEU66pSqhURn3VOSkgh_qK5c5j0ACQuR3BjYy1q4CaL0lY8vxEgQn42CPZTQKOjvUHWcteHZThCcnYqQ9d1PGco5OiTkOzeDUp2FLOY84ghT-9B1QT-spuuu41CLeAnkdrEPXjqpqo/s320/Biker%20&%20Mountain%20Cropped.png" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I visited my family for two weeks in the Chicago area.</li><li>I signed up for a trip with my Mom to Africa to see the Serengeti. (We head to Africa in January!)</li><li>I designed three new tours for Discovery Bicycle Tours: Wisconsin Trails, Florida & Georgia Islands, and Le P'tit Train du Nord in Quebec.</li><li>I continued to work on my memoir, coach students in business communications, and housesit my favorite kitties in the Pacific Northwest.</li></ul><p></p>
<p>On my <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2022/11/happy-10th-re-birthday-to-me.html" target="_blank">10th re-birthday</a>, I reflected on my desires to put down roots and my struggles to embrace a stay-in-one-place lifestyle. A year has passed, and my desires and struggles remain. As I've explored other options, I'm reminded that all choices bring with them desires and struggles. The truth is that I have a pretty sweet life right now. As long as I continue to live with intention, and as long as I decide how I spend my days, then I'm in a pretty darn good place. For this, I am grateful. </p><p>Happy eleven years to spending my days as I so wish!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-6174888233832308712023-10-11T18:21:00.019-07:002023-11-09T07:25:41.658-08:00Rafting the Lower Salmon: A Photo Journal<p>So this is essentially how the text thread went...</p>
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<blockquote><p><i>Patrick</i>: Want to float the Salmon River next week?</p>
<p><i>Sarah</i>: F#@k yeah!</p></blockquote>
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<p>And so it was that exactly one week later, I woke in the wee hours of the morn and drove 4 hours to meet Patrick at his home on the east side of the mountains. We piled our gear into his truck and drove with the raft in tow for another 6.5 hours to The Potato State. The next morning we began our 5-day, 72-mile float along the Lower Salmon River. </p>
<p>I hereby present to you a Photo Journal of our rafting trip down the Lower Salmon River. Enjoy!</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcsmTSzGZxJ8XIqtsuhf3fYSIXK4oN40Cn4vePfSD-7OnmdqCq4KbEAwP85HrphdxU_-ndLafROydt31RFksfvemOGAUHF44Fd429nEEhGF-aSeYB5LcMVbRZ4CoHQavSdqdUgRi2zt2yBcO95yAS7px1EqadSScLynWi_wiJOlL0liap7RBJ_dprd9c/s576/Map%20of%20Salmon%20River.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="576" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZcsmTSzGZxJ8XIqtsuhf3fYSIXK4oN40Cn4vePfSD-7OnmdqCq4KbEAwP85HrphdxU_-ndLafROydt31RFksfvemOGAUHF44Fd429nEEhGF-aSeYB5LcMVbRZ4CoHQavSdqdUgRi2zt2yBcO95yAS7px1EqadSScLynWi_wiJOlL0liap7RBJ_dprd9c/w400-h300/Map%20of%20Salmon%20River.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lower Salmon River.<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[Image: oregonriver.com.]</span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p>I have lived a good life with lots of adventure. And while I've done a multi-day trip on my packraft with a bicycle aboard, never have I done a multi-day float trip on a raft-raft. Suffice it to say that I was a wee bit excited for our grand floating adventure.</p>
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<p>The Salmon River, which runs through Idaho, is the longest undammed river in the entire contiguous United States. It cracks me up that the Salmon is known as "The River of No Return." To me, this conjures images of <i>Deliverance. </i>Cue the banjo!<i> (</i>Did I mention that Patrick and I had never met each other before this trip? We have some friends in common, we both have flexible schedules, and we both have our priorities in the right places (i.e. adventure > work). So it couldn't be <i>that</i> bad, right?) Patrick kindly explained that "no return" dates back to the times when (non-motorized) watercraft could navigate downriver but not upriver due to the fast-running water and sizable rapids. Phew!</p>
<p>Though the Salmon River drops 7,000 ft in the 425 miles between its headwaters in the Sawtooth Mountains and its confluence with the Snake River just to the north of Hells Canyon (see my 2015 trip <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2015/04/backpacking-in-hells-canyon.html" target="_blank">Backpacking in Hells Canyon</a>), we would only lose 600 feet in the stretch of river that we were rafting. But that's plenty of elevation loss for some exciting rapids. Thankfully, my personal raft guide was an expert paddler who navigated us safely through all the rapids. (I did get swamped on a few of these rapids. I'm unsure whether those dousings were intentional. I have reason to believe Patrick may have enjoyed my high-pitched squeals followed by my ear-to-ear grins.)</p><p>Once on the river, our itinerary was as follows:</p><p></p><blockquote><p>Day #1: Hammer Creek → Upper Lone Pine (11 miles) </p><p>Day #2: Upper Lone Pine → Lower Whitehouse (14 miles)</p><p>Day #3: Lower Whitehouse → Middle Billy Creek (12 miles)</p><p>Day #4: Middle Billy Creek → Meat Hole (22 miles)</p><p>Day #5: Meat Hole → Heller Bar (13 miles)</p></blockquote><p></p><p>While this was my first time on the Salmon River, this was Patrick's third. As his two previous trips were both in the height of the summer, he wasn't quite sure what to expect this late in the season. As it turns out, this was a truly magnificent time to float the river. Though we had some sprinkles and overcast skies on Day #1, the remaining days were precipitation-free and full of sunshine. While the afternoon temps in the 70s weren't quite warm enough for extended swims, a dip in the river for bathing purposes was not only doable but also done. Patrick had warned me about the presence of yellow jackets; we only saw a few the first day. And though we saw occasional motorboats full of friendly waves and fishing poles, we saw only one other party of rafters (two individuals in two separate boats) our entire time on the river. Wowsers! Patrick and I both agreed that the solitude of the season made the whole trip super-duper special.</p><p>Alright already, you say, let's get to them photos! Ok kids, here we go.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKuCJUO5T5MXjxzW7Be_0g-wA-zAuacK6HaDGpFCFt_zR_eSucl6iXeZKQmG12ZkRgQeK55LKeNHf7y4vu_AZSrYdlPHZM004MUs0WfJsNiP-Vm8jIGz9_SbS3APa77xHXfqeyQlIbUtx4_peWSDyJCP2JEcF3AvbNsTw56XKyMMG11whQ-s1HcdTsow/s4000/20231004_114030.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKuCJUO5T5MXjxzW7Be_0g-wA-zAuacK6HaDGpFCFt_zR_eSucl6iXeZKQmG12ZkRgQeK55LKeNHf7y4vu_AZSrYdlPHZM004MUs0WfJsNiP-Vm8jIGz9_SbS3APa77xHXfqeyQlIbUtx4_peWSDyJCP2JEcF3AvbNsTw56XKyMMG11whQ-s1HcdTsow/w400-h300/20231004_114030.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was our trusty raft, completely decked out for a luxurious week of river rafting.<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[Image: Patrick]</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXFMaZF5iZK0didDbam2UvN_mRxgZJeit32B_LBLKpd3yFHGpsLeUNFkkE1yMnC7FyE2E4nnyPA7Z5ZUofL9JXO1wKE8SXkD5Onow0q7uKxzL168IMrNpUOM21CzHUYA_ckR7lhywZaXwwpE8r9KBLFlGtlqPNxgop35x5a4hyphenhyphenezX5BfTBHIvMFDho6E/s5472/IMG_5333.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXFMaZF5iZK0didDbam2UvN_mRxgZJeit32B_LBLKpd3yFHGpsLeUNFkkE1yMnC7FyE2E4nnyPA7Z5ZUofL9JXO1wKE8SXkD5Onow0q7uKxzL168IMrNpUOM21CzHUYA_ckR7lhywZaXwwpE8r9KBLFlGtlqPNxgop35x5a4hyphenhyphenezX5BfTBHIvMFDho6E/w266-h400/IMG_5333.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this is Patrick... </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtY8JiBLKVDo1u-RLTPaqTDLZ4_4iubiQJiby_cyhUlheh6TWZQrZRkepjRin0FrzZtVpsSMsaMAg-sxWeamiSsm356aqodfVymal6fYC1VTZaaz5B3wHXXCt35b6UXpi17y7Rq6iFzDlZtlwPGCJVOadXZRk_67Ngflzl7FTmdAoRScG-ytXeFog8h3s/s5472/IMG_5378.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtY8JiBLKVDo1u-RLTPaqTDLZ4_4iubiQJiby_cyhUlheh6TWZQrZRkepjRin0FrzZtVpsSMsaMAg-sxWeamiSsm356aqodfVymal6fYC1VTZaaz5B3wHXXCt35b6UXpi17y7Rq6iFzDlZtlwPGCJVOadXZRk_67Ngflzl7FTmdAoRScG-ytXeFog8h3s/w400-h266/IMG_5378.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... the trustworthy and trusting trusty guide.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVefMnvbhRsFRbHi1fqD-GF_KK5RIIeCD-cBecASYC4gbKfvUaRQjnfXqkiFPkAnlH95FlMoooU6HnnMhlwP_vUngoMhv4tuM0UsUJzWF8HXdsec0zu265M9mfZ6daFlHiyp4bzHiF5Vp3Z2o9ciOqGVO5oAfDZFa8RGVqo_HacKww3Pe6cuOuU9F7yI/s4000/20231006_111933.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVefMnvbhRsFRbHi1fqD-GF_KK5RIIeCD-cBecASYC4gbKfvUaRQjnfXqkiFPkAnlH95FlMoooU6HnnMhlwP_vUngoMhv4tuM0UsUJzWF8HXdsec0zu265M9mfZ6daFlHiyp4bzHiF5Vp3Z2o9ciOqGVO5oAfDZFa8RGVqo_HacKww3Pe6cuOuU9F7yI/w400-h300/20231006_111933.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me.<br />My job was to enjoy, and enjoy I did.<br />Admittedly, I felt a bit like a figurehead, those women at the bow of a ship.<br />I suppose I <i>was</i> a figurehead of sorts. After all, I worked hard to bring good fortune to our ship in the form of sunshine, and I kept the enemy yellow jackets at bay.<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[Image: Patrick]</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwiPjyp_1wY6LHR6X-JMoFSTqwBNS3ZVK1AGj7-bXZKgvw6wzvu4HINCmBS5schSYqFNkWqtlKT7hntwK7hj8USqORS1iktAVlTK-4Gc_YOQMWg_5l23UA5K7Ne4VIILGxUBNYi5Sb1Poo4njTbvuB42VoqEDlhIIGJD4fYTuMuLEG8qdgOAKpQQ0Kcw/s4759/IMG_5238.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4759" data-original-width="3337" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwiPjyp_1wY6LHR6X-JMoFSTqwBNS3ZVK1AGj7-bXZKgvw6wzvu4HINCmBS5schSYqFNkWqtlKT7hntwK7hj8USqORS1iktAVlTK-4Gc_YOQMWg_5l23UA5K7Ne4VIILGxUBNYi5Sb1Poo4njTbvuB42VoqEDlhIIGJD4fYTuMuLEG8qdgOAKpQQ0Kcw/w280-h400/IMG_5238.JPG" width="280" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Day #1, we pulled the raft over and walked a short trail to see some well-preserved pictographs.<br />This paintings taught me that people of long ago had my same bed head. Rad!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycwffVG5FZxKNbjyf8CWF14p4nviphbcLHNSsnzL5ZaRtr1yQCO4YBNAIr6aGWeF6ZR_a30NFiN1r7ybiwGg6z_m68LLIaW5_o85Hg6djuM4Qu2EBIcDfOpeVR8uGkqMn6IsR814Zxj5lK2yHMpefYfpJ9whyCSvXXKhZTAryzvTo4gtogxc-JWuzaG4/s5472/IMG_5241.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycwffVG5FZxKNbjyf8CWF14p4nviphbcLHNSsnzL5ZaRtr1yQCO4YBNAIr6aGWeF6ZR_a30NFiN1r7ybiwGg6z_m68LLIaW5_o85Hg6djuM4Qu2EBIcDfOpeVR8uGkqMn6IsR814Zxj5lK2yHMpefYfpJ9whyCSvXXKhZTAryzvTo4gtogxc-JWuzaG4/w400-h266/IMG_5241.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Salmon River is known for its sandy beaches.<br />It was quite the juxtaposition to be floating through steep canyons of granite and columnar basalt and to camp on perfectly soft sand.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKadRI93uEKOxKbBi69EajDpudBDQ51mQbpzVGuWJVYQj5HUbGn5n5T1N037bfY5h-PGGtznTde0vbSjN9B0LZmN9vV8JoXIjiArQKmTcho5Yk7R45VBq4Nn-lfr-TRpNmfNOOS3Zc2YI6BKtXdFrCRwGfLBJ4Ba1oCVqSlFmKGm3LSvmTcn6hk8Pk5Vk/s5240/IMG_5329.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3501" data-original-width="5240" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKadRI93uEKOxKbBi69EajDpudBDQ51mQbpzVGuWJVYQj5HUbGn5n5T1N037bfY5h-PGGtznTde0vbSjN9B0LZmN9vV8JoXIjiArQKmTcho5Yk7R45VBq4Nn-lfr-TRpNmfNOOS3Zc2YI6BKtXdFrCRwGfLBJ4Ba1oCVqSlFmKGm3LSvmTcn6hk8Pk5Vk/w400-h268/IMG_5329.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And oh how different rafting is from bikepacking!<br />I packed as if I were going on a week-long cruise — a different gown for each evening and my full makeup kit!<br />When we arrived at camp each afternoon, we unloaded our junk from the raft.<br />In the mornings, we reloaded all the junk back into the rafts.<br />Having done this multiple times, we got our system down pat.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqPArchRBQDeEVPr62zsruFHi78AolPKg2-sIA0a_T6fVSY7np-xx-BC_kAfP2Ce1ElN_WM7slHBvJYiHHZAy-_edEgDi7rJlVeGM04NelEphp4_5GB81SFxrsD1ubSNOJmE5Tnv8-D_5JHmabsowxynKmO7eKzaOh1yjxxY50E80qpnmMMbHTSm3NNo/s5322/IMG_5279.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3454" data-original-width="5322" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqPArchRBQDeEVPr62zsruFHi78AolPKg2-sIA0a_T6fVSY7np-xx-BC_kAfP2Ce1ElN_WM7slHBvJYiHHZAy-_edEgDi7rJlVeGM04NelEphp4_5GB81SFxrsD1ubSNOJmE5Tnv8-D_5JHmabsowxynKmO7eKzaOh1yjxxY50E80qpnmMMbHTSm3NNo/w400-h260/IMG_5279.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After we unloaded the raft, we set up camp.<br />This is what our camp typically looked like.<br />We designated an area for the sleeping quarters, the kitchen, and the fire pan.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiovFfGpZDaihh0MowUo5r-oZrcLF9Hu-MZYjaatHHEp1Qz0ij5hUu1JIH-Xu7cELnDIda91b2af957ZJ-WhcnGC0wrARAv75VOGyW7XDJQDG5beJdCmIQ51TqYx7rRiQcyQ-yp6zmh60pJ_tRLF_89WiJNIJRQG8yad_lmc4Qmel66NsQjeQRm8NF9Lg/s5209/IMG_5327.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5209" data-original-width="3402" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiovFfGpZDaihh0MowUo5r-oZrcLF9Hu-MZYjaatHHEp1Qz0ij5hUu1JIH-Xu7cELnDIda91b2af957ZJ-WhcnGC0wrARAv75VOGyW7XDJQDG5beJdCmIQ51TqYx7rRiQcyQ-yp6zmh60pJ_tRLF_89WiJNIJRQG8yad_lmc4Qmel66NsQjeQRm8NF9Lg/w261-h400/IMG_5327.JPG" width="261" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We also had to identify a spot for the groovers.<br />We found a somewhat private nook at our first camp, but after that, we just informed each other to kindly divert one's gaze.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqAvKceHIgbTVdpPF-5YTpRLsY_L_aL3qOVJ_i3Rk8sjC-sWrAROuAiE9OTHb65I8c4Ygr2Nbo6iA9G8ttK6sOst338L5y7NUZITuJajE4ahdab4qq3Rym_TAFfi2bY1_6kyMO5tzIs4kd8GBvQ8DyZCEev1QuycXwdXOlK8ctpkgNj_rOh2CC17GdAus/s5124/IMG_5259.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3509" data-original-width="5124" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqAvKceHIgbTVdpPF-5YTpRLsY_L_aL3qOVJ_i3Rk8sjC-sWrAROuAiE9OTHb65I8c4Ygr2Nbo6iA9G8ttK6sOst338L5y7NUZITuJajE4ahdab4qq3Rym_TAFfi2bY1_6kyMO5tzIs4kd8GBvQ8DyZCEev1QuycXwdXOlK8ctpkgNj_rOh2CC17GdAus/w400-h274/IMG_5259.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patrick constantly collected firewood...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1zz9dlYVbZnP7Q4Vdd8ljrOEZwWpLr3_SLjsHtBugb3rProSlT1yIb1neEmOy3dcrHd8HxaYwmxniWZFebI_Df575iJAQ_uMp9g-7oeeF2iynl5xsD_ovBtOoKXiVEveiYlWjHKwre9IDpqeOeKtpSRdH4F1CUO9MDRf5xDJLl2UHqB5mQgd848GXII/s5078/IMG_5373.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5078" data-original-width="3384" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1zz9dlYVbZnP7Q4Vdd8ljrOEZwWpLr3_SLjsHtBugb3rProSlT1yIb1neEmOy3dcrHd8HxaYwmxniWZFebI_Df575iJAQ_uMp9g-7oeeF2iynl5xsD_ovBtOoKXiVEveiYlWjHKwre9IDpqeOeKtpSRdH4F1CUO9MDRf5xDJLl2UHqB5mQgd848GXII/w266-h400/IMG_5373.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...so he could keep the blaze aroar. <br />Every evening, Patrick built a fire and kept it burning for 3-4 hours.<br />The fires were critical to both our warmth and our enjoyable companionship.<br />I looked forward to our nightly fires, and I think Trusty Patrick did, too.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvop4BH2xzwYgJj5QP7Jbqvrv1fiPwZNhMhLT46eB8Vks07c2I78Nk25zpjn17D4I8uYAmvYtxU-4KJQj56qCPUkumHz9odqMaXrk34csEmJIL5l_vVLyLlEAqH3xMmpg4LDD259oGvxOvG9serVVexYvVSC3MfH4We8tRp64bZxQE5Z_mL8SMMRDIQg/s5472/IMG_5282.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvop4BH2xzwYgJj5QP7Jbqvrv1fiPwZNhMhLT46eB8Vks07c2I78Nk25zpjn17D4I8uYAmvYtxU-4KJQj56qCPUkumHz9odqMaXrk34csEmJIL5l_vVLyLlEAqH3xMmpg4LDD259oGvxOvG9serVVexYvVSC3MfH4We8tRp64bZxQE5Z_mL8SMMRDIQg/w266-h400/IMG_5282.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At camp, Patrick studied the maps for the next day's float...<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kxhRzxwXT5o-8r5FVXODHXUJDXhV5HQtOwC1V4x8zo1JGr6H0ALCU9JBRpQdUiM14VDU0Efarz1AjPucktILfePoNXuiLanjZxuJ3tD15x0QcTDfsFalVC9iLdBwmuo09dTmYnAi0r9df3gRftaMW0RxHxSEoevzDuVPFklfysDUfoR_Fa0Fgnc78ZQ/s5380/IMG_5283.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="5380" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4kxhRzxwXT5o-8r5FVXODHXUJDXhV5HQtOwC1V4x8zo1JGr6H0ALCU9JBRpQdUiM14VDU0Efarz1AjPucktILfePoNXuiLanjZxuJ3tD15x0QcTDfsFalVC9iLdBwmuo09dTmYnAi0r9df3gRftaMW0RxHxSEoevzDuVPFklfysDUfoR_Fa0Fgnc78ZQ/w400-h268/IMG_5283.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...as I snuck some bites of a delicious loaf of chocolate banana bread.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR2T74pxNJt_rbdvkmIh5WDo16mDQuUt4sXJtExpSJ23yCzTiCBSfwK3VvWkcUNY8CHVY5jwnJiP96dZQ627u_eYuQQBY0cU7NEpwZBi6QO6YiYcLnBWyVCi-1YNFn7BD6z73LO2Nt0KL4a52ZB-D9NBL3AdUZl6re-6X7lm62qMU32gR_P1QgmzajZeY/s5376/IMG_5284.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5376" data-original-width="3559" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR2T74pxNJt_rbdvkmIh5WDo16mDQuUt4sXJtExpSJ23yCzTiCBSfwK3VvWkcUNY8CHVY5jwnJiP96dZQ627u_eYuQQBY0cU7NEpwZBi6QO6YiYcLnBWyVCi-1YNFn7BD6z73LO2Nt0KL4a52ZB-D9NBL3AdUZl6re-6X7lm62qMU32gR_P1QgmzajZeY/w265-h400/IMG_5284.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I gotta include another fire photo, cuz they were just so dang enjoyable.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutY7JqJkyRyOw5nOUC4AM6TO2R-swkQtdxLvLKpykMqixt1fsMUoVauADzqiha-zUHSmO0RCCt9mkktgfwSlojVyMMUei1TGity8tebK1LqFU0UsBSZ8EOcljQQ129sTmk1EDg2txkEqBiscjoIjt8cCZ_MiI9A9XsfZJqKUpyVQ3ISzHAJiKNdL3Rsk/s5472/IMG_5291.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhutY7JqJkyRyOw5nOUC4AM6TO2R-swkQtdxLvLKpykMqixt1fsMUoVauADzqiha-zUHSmO0RCCt9mkktgfwSlojVyMMUei1TGity8tebK1LqFU0UsBSZ8EOcljQQ129sTmk1EDg2txkEqBiscjoIjt8cCZ_MiI9A9XsfZJqKUpyVQ3ISzHAJiKNdL3Rsk/w266-h400/IMG_5291.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's a portrait of Patrick at the fire one evening.<br />He looks all pensive and everything, while he contemplates birds likely, or perhaps crackers smothered in peanut butter.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ytMinxNlaGvOoxhFhe3PnytoSEPZIZIJ8QpQ6spE1VK9IOWO90Fy2uJLKh1CdYDwBBCmK_d5nvx60rXRs_jeRULNbn9928MBSfFzOL73RvSbgTAlw4RPzrpvOIAEC2DQ66fYLi5vf96sH5zcrDFm8N8v4ZC-jbktKf7PfJ0NV8fuRLfCyjFMnirKh54/s4000/20231004_183230~2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ytMinxNlaGvOoxhFhe3PnytoSEPZIZIJ8QpQ6spE1VK9IOWO90Fy2uJLKh1CdYDwBBCmK_d5nvx60rXRs_jeRULNbn9928MBSfFzOL73RvSbgTAlw4RPzrpvOIAEC2DQ66fYLi5vf96sH5zcrDFm8N8v4ZC-jbktKf7PfJ0NV8fuRLfCyjFMnirKh54/w300-h400/20231004_183230~2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had some delicious evening colors.<br />Patrick splendidly captured this spectacular light spectacle.<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[Image: Patrick]</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKReqahNlHKXnxwC0wrw7PetXdBxzbHwj8V2gLSfsFrt6JLHtGBasJ7eO4NrKXn8EcL-_s0uFw9OPs_r_7ubb8Ur2Z-zF_ACQjNFMp-5hw3C_MRHMSWkAKBldMIxN6x40O-WQ3YqzFebNundWM2RMR0QPAJDEZwhhwmWrpVu2Etk0XI0vkULXuSPgZyM/s3745/IMG_5247.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2491" data-original-width="3745" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoKReqahNlHKXnxwC0wrw7PetXdBxzbHwj8V2gLSfsFrt6JLHtGBasJ7eO4NrKXn8EcL-_s0uFw9OPs_r_7ubb8Ur2Z-zF_ACQjNFMp-5hw3C_MRHMSWkAKBldMIxN6x40O-WQ3YqzFebNundWM2RMR0QPAJDEZwhhwmWrpVu2Etk0XI0vkULXuSPgZyM/w400-h266/IMG_5247.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mornings weren't too shabby either.<br />We were treated to some hubba-hubba sunrises as well.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju4eBM832WKPw5XWOL8a16ukjXfrwSmVlpiqRy7PrKgb3PkBlnZZg-zChrf8jjNAsbPJsiLYe85UH2J1Gx2D3dOJMQTm4nig_HPSJTWeE3cw1esuiZ8Z660-Kw8Z7OpO_4heTpmhmhGVejivGEQ2e8geVg7RutbsGa18qWWq8y0jWR6NAfWJ-jPW5HUJE/s5259/IMG_5254.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3513" data-original-width="5259" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju4eBM832WKPw5XWOL8a16ukjXfrwSmVlpiqRy7PrKgb3PkBlnZZg-zChrf8jjNAsbPJsiLYe85UH2J1Gx2D3dOJMQTm4nig_HPSJTWeE3cw1esuiZ8Z660-Kw8Z7OpO_4heTpmhmhGVejivGEQ2e8geVg7RutbsGa18qWWq8y0jWR6NAfWJ-jPW5HUJE/w400-h268/IMG_5254.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning light, oh how I love thee!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPukCYk5cpx6T270mPyeK7e_BIuJvTohg76MTojw65l6eFPM1_BKwze8_0tZ79VljqnhiJ4y9LiZ19aCWE-C2b7H01XcjYTWQiovuBc2dF3bRcCE_rEHQbcGJTTI-0x8THWhiGMUcKWhi2nTEK2_H5JNVhuhuUAHpymfPPzSncehaVAU1j8J0fMiuWAc/s5298/IMG_5252.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5298" data-original-width="3519" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPukCYk5cpx6T270mPyeK7e_BIuJvTohg76MTojw65l6eFPM1_BKwze8_0tZ79VljqnhiJ4y9LiZ19aCWE-C2b7H01XcjYTWQiovuBc2dF3bRcCE_rEHQbcGJTTI-0x8THWhiGMUcKWhi2nTEK2_H5JNVhuhuUAHpymfPPzSncehaVAU1j8J0fMiuWAc/w266-h400/IMG_5252.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All beautiful skies were enjoyed with tea in hand, as is the proper way.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikBcL8hCsDhtXhROEMeaGYxEWLhVnGNRR102omAmS_ZVNSbhh_PL2WL_x1Sx-Gi6P6wBnE7zqAWljt2tda-IPjQWxqIWPFFk2luA0i-fes9XXq94uxspREmIk4i5u9iz2luUUVV72hxzKFoKae0ZTSm6txm9nrc3KlzGKMTQrB_nAA4gDVDNNQN9RYxk/s5472/IMG_5269.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikBcL8hCsDhtXhROEMeaGYxEWLhVnGNRR102omAmS_ZVNSbhh_PL2WL_x1Sx-Gi6P6wBnE7zqAWljt2tda-IPjQWxqIWPFFk2luA0i-fes9XXq94uxspREmIk4i5u9iz2luUUVV72hxzKFoKae0ZTSm6txm9nrc3KlzGKMTQrB_nAA4gDVDNNQN9RYxk/w400-h266/IMG_5269.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Though we had rain and overcast skies the first day of the trip, a brilliant blue filled the skies every day thereafter.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xK7Aq1TN1tyzso6Kw852yn0sr9mbuNuz5S7OfkUq0VAzBT3dhI6w8WwU0KBmJQ8awOMpURUlfzwcyjZcH0XAPU8OsjvKCWKizNlYuxqRutIhyphenhyphenNVFSVq8ngnyqs-jTtyZDlL8im8o5jJU9iYLmrfE-XBDvM4nJQrcel3GGAZvTA1pp-ThsKkhtItjbsE/s5068/IMG_5264.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3415" data-original-width="5068" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xK7Aq1TN1tyzso6Kw852yn0sr9mbuNuz5S7OfkUq0VAzBT3dhI6w8WwU0KBmJQ8awOMpURUlfzwcyjZcH0XAPU8OsjvKCWKizNlYuxqRutIhyphenhyphenNVFSVq8ngnyqs-jTtyZDlL8im8o5jJU9iYLmrfE-XBDvM4nJQrcel3GGAZvTA1pp-ThsKkhtItjbsE/w400-h270/IMG_5264.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved watching the moon float in the sky as we floated on by.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZsgB_qgR8pwg2xYPjSy4d7ulVN8TLWQ8hpT-mEi-cGWKh2UtTd3CGE7HUrGWHakFxRGf-BydAX-X1bvw6WkhSjY72s1lXiOdBw2TQktqHa2WbJ6d2tW1laI7rPTcXy4MHVx41OvmSCmmhSAVCJKm5vcehy4gMYi-VYCt3Y2VIwg368YwMd0VWeNwIIY/s5227/IMG_5368.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3502" data-original-width="5227" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZsgB_qgR8pwg2xYPjSy4d7ulVN8TLWQ8hpT-mEi-cGWKh2UtTd3CGE7HUrGWHakFxRGf-BydAX-X1bvw6WkhSjY72s1lXiOdBw2TQktqHa2WbJ6d2tW1laI7rPTcXy4MHVx41OvmSCmmhSAVCJKm5vcehy4gMYi-VYCt3Y2VIwg368YwMd0VWeNwIIY/w400-h268/IMG_5368.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We kept our eyes peeled for wildlife.<br />We saw osprey, eagles, a heron, and river otters.<br />We hoped to see some four-legged creatures. <br />They were a bit trickier to find.<br />Can you spot them? <i>All</i> of them?<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8NjuUdma8JshH3dRg9Z_nqiKE5b6sT6SfuUkpojZu5OBsbsWFezDE4LtCIBnfpk_cDTg22lxcDcwf9uMUrPuCeawop8d5pMoK4YwdVnE1xIfnySysYFNxVXhTZyzqZK6yoTrd1R0p7V04_fzNF6-defywvxZFH6TQTrYDb1WwnUD6pWCTqh4YBzOLAA/s5049/IMG_5276.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3311" data-original-width="5049" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8NjuUdma8JshH3dRg9Z_nqiKE5b6sT6SfuUkpojZu5OBsbsWFezDE4LtCIBnfpk_cDTg22lxcDcwf9uMUrPuCeawop8d5pMoK4YwdVnE1xIfnySysYFNxVXhTZyzqZK6yoTrd1R0p7V04_fzNF6-defywvxZFH6TQTrYDb1WwnUD6pWCTqh4YBzOLAA/w400-h263/IMG_5276.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup. Bighorn sheep! And lots of them! <br />(There are many more in the photo above.)<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV6dFfbb4phf74wE3RvNwepgkx85uLj2Ouvwr1RBpkKpFXcaEQ31srWLoCNnRxPFZVXTxx7iN4qrG4c6NSyaiR-xKRlhxMTO8DQ19Q70AC8uhTpTR47PQX9qHjGRdl0TbwisC5lpK_-Mqdhl-Ley_z6Osy3pBmWS0ukSlChWc2M5-8e6JHTjg-x4inlA/s5472/IMG_5305.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV6dFfbb4phf74wE3RvNwepgkx85uLj2Ouvwr1RBpkKpFXcaEQ31srWLoCNnRxPFZVXTxx7iN4qrG4c6NSyaiR-xKRlhxMTO8DQ19Q70AC8uhTpTR47PQX9qHjGRdl0TbwisC5lpK_-Mqdhl-Ley_z6Osy3pBmWS0ukSlChWc2M5-8e6JHTjg-x4inlA/w400-h266/IMG_5305.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day #3 brought the big rapids — Snowhole & China Rapids.<br />Both are Class IV rapids with steep drops, big boulders, pour-overs, holes, blind curves, poisonous eels, and fire-breathing dragons.<br />Our trusty guide scouted the passages and made his skilled maneuvering all look like a breeze. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1ksdwL0Wj4Uk52PqIY3FhsRabgG4WTum2Yugh2T4JATZ25sRXtgmMJFwn36QQpt7ksQwlHjaM9A1v2RHGBs1vwGggS49KQh37qm_9G2xHM6U6JYckllikIywqk3g12ADgRvd6sfYrsyAOwP6OptnmMJNt6bx8q-OCH-AfhRPOUEavx1S3Hg8Dwo8lQI/s4000/20231004_094140.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1ksdwL0Wj4Uk52PqIY3FhsRabgG4WTum2Yugh2T4JATZ25sRXtgmMJFwn36QQpt7ksQwlHjaM9A1v2RHGBs1vwGggS49KQh37qm_9G2xHM6U6JYckllikIywqk3g12ADgRvd6sfYrsyAOwP6OptnmMJNt6bx8q-OCH-AfhRPOUEavx1S3Hg8Dwo8lQI/w300-h400/20231004_094140.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I studied the guide to see how much of the river would be reasonably floatable with my elementary paddling skills and my two-wheeled bike atop my skirtless packraft.<br />Ummm, let's just say "not so much." <br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[Image: Patrick]</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz6inIdCkNMyFL57OOFlBzyOE_PwMJ0Mdk4nWsISlqVZ4Qwcuub77Rci64p_DjhabtLTva3p0NovhzdxFG_8JnKhcpF-O8K-u-z_E1VjLx3otyP2B4SU2Sntjh37Zt6Kn-mChnbByyclLeuHHFUUjm2qA4z595UjbQnFoJTGJ2-J9-Cr-pFrLBU9b_c4/s5000/IMG_5334.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3340" data-original-width="5000" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz6inIdCkNMyFL57OOFlBzyOE_PwMJ0Mdk4nWsISlqVZ4Qwcuub77Rci64p_DjhabtLTva3p0NovhzdxFG_8JnKhcpF-O8K-u-z_E1VjLx3otyP2B4SU2Sntjh37Zt6Kn-mChnbByyclLeuHHFUUjm2qA4z595UjbQnFoJTGJ2-J9-Cr-pFrLBU9b_c4/w400-h268/IMG_5334.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day #4 brought us to Wapshilla Creek, where we stretched our sea legs and walked to a nearby historic ranch.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40kibaceQjWj9vRhFa_W1_SY5SslqfNJcIpyQpG6pMCdLOs_B6KgSCEziQA_NmW8cvyloq0AYROXMI1NLNXRw0K9uGDGja3rhTD2f_BoGr89iYTCUABtEKq3WrGZQZQLpeADsGE1z21IpHXWI_hlUX44_467M5cH9Q7VQeI_LX1sUq-b1oSwdqIr3fXA/s5472/IMG_5342.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40kibaceQjWj9vRhFa_W1_SY5SslqfNJcIpyQpG6pMCdLOs_B6KgSCEziQA_NmW8cvyloq0AYROXMI1NLNXRw0K9uGDGja3rhTD2f_BoGr89iYTCUABtEKq3WrGZQZQLpeADsGE1z21IpHXWI_hlUX44_467M5cH9Q7VQeI_LX1sUq-b1oSwdqIr3fXA/w400-h266/IMG_5342.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We enjoyed exploring the old buildings...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADsmq9b6qk-vLpfqnDlOf31j55euzBb7j6BYVNj6C1JTzjk_b3JMG7qbgxOoy3pTY2ekVdow3MWHO7IwwWpGcFT9uVq8ts-Q7z9i-DZqXMuzjloi10iwsR8YqxBECELfa8w75fsOOkxPuuYXv_4SYnAm8B988N3pb6glXt7B_YPPCyngghvogBBMa0QU/s4000/20231006_123633.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADsmq9b6qk-vLpfqnDlOf31j55euzBb7j6BYVNj6C1JTzjk_b3JMG7qbgxOoy3pTY2ekVdow3MWHO7IwwWpGcFT9uVq8ts-Q7z9i-DZqXMuzjloi10iwsR8YqxBECELfa8w75fsOOkxPuuYXv_4SYnAm8B988N3pb6glXt7B_YPPCyngghvogBBMa0QU/w400-h300/20231006_123633.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...one of which was a barn containing a collection of old tools...<br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">[Image: Patrick]</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQrE_TwTQrdAYkKNI7PSJe4hzmE52ndCuznqujAbb3rmm1C9Rft-Qz51MQocYEc1o5PTua3Fna_JIgSAukya76vPCFlaaLHxmO8OMFu_J0uFGAQRjBzm861vPWhQ5hBXhiLzrDV0lUMAzYXcHRBhKSvv-J5LId6wM40ZiWF8KceytKNWICCgd-ivZBuA/s5472/IMG_5349.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQrE_TwTQrdAYkKNI7PSJe4hzmE52ndCuznqujAbb3rmm1C9Rft-Qz51MQocYEc1o5PTua3Fna_JIgSAukya76vPCFlaaLHxmO8OMFu_J0uFGAQRjBzm861vPWhQ5hBXhiLzrDV0lUMAzYXcHRBhKSvv-J5LId6wM40ZiWF8KceytKNWICCgd-ivZBuA/w400-h266/IMG_5349.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> ...and containers galore.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXw-fX0RGyAUymqjH20dbnpPJPyqNn7dOzQYm4RieuvQFjLTSxn7Hc2E0wMeNIcvU9Ni3qpQRuakw5ew7yPOH1ft30y64KebAT67VNn8MnAOVc6Mlr99gRZF-v5LTkRKZArVzvmXT4KSzDKIYdtYHvdwOGqCb351ouOfvmvQ_DAghwSdz22NvdeDoDP18/s5194/IMG_5362.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5194" data-original-width="3359" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXw-fX0RGyAUymqjH20dbnpPJPyqNn7dOzQYm4RieuvQFjLTSxn7Hc2E0wMeNIcvU9Ni3qpQRuakw5ew7yPOH1ft30y64KebAT67VNn8MnAOVc6Mlr99gRZF-v5LTkRKZArVzvmXT4KSzDKIYdtYHvdwOGqCb351ouOfvmvQ_DAghwSdz22NvdeDoDP18/w259-h400/IMG_5362.JPG" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While we greatly enjoyed the exploration on foot, we weren't so pleased to find that the soles of our sandals had been attacked by goatheads.<br />We plucked out each and every little dagger before stepping our feet back into the soft-sided raft.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-0lGUmPRUi7lrrnWapThKcwVts9tDDkhzXgNKgwmhccq4x6qrugtx37JvPmUPKdoScGYu7spfbczC_trXG0P6A69m2EismKgPncWiHMkgrLDfI0sH8tbsAxm0zIWqSzXjhUg3zaukFRM_AiSDkGaHRhhriaW9DGNv7ozBH0vpz6x-FMXO_f_hYHNxV5s/s5472/IMG_5262.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-0lGUmPRUi7lrrnWapThKcwVts9tDDkhzXgNKgwmhccq4x6qrugtx37JvPmUPKdoScGYu7spfbczC_trXG0P6A69m2EismKgPncWiHMkgrLDfI0sH8tbsAxm0zIWqSzXjhUg3zaukFRM_AiSDkGaHRhhriaW9DGNv7ozBH0vpz6x-FMXO_f_hYHNxV5s/w400-h266/IMG_5262.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And onwards we floated...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtWAeNFIf5ViXNvswKJ2dYy-CupSbL-m9YEhLc69yvhAuUou4gktnfjhqiUptozLM-7zSlUHTRWAuY48UfAXkW9DtP_fZKgtekvleyFtogG1VAUDfHKRaJoDJdr3qKWMUv1O9CW1Ygra3YE_JuZCfcsAkSpHk2xq9niNqe2wOcP3OBy6ahWoTfvdvXZA/s4000/20231004_114319.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtWAeNFIf5ViXNvswKJ2dYy-CupSbL-m9YEhLc69yvhAuUou4gktnfjhqiUptozLM-7zSlUHTRWAuY48UfAXkW9DtP_fZKgtekvleyFtogG1VAUDfHKRaJoDJdr3qKWMUv1O9CW1Ygra3YE_JuZCfcsAkSpHk2xq9niNqe2wOcP3OBy6ahWoTfvdvXZA/w400-h300/20231004_114319.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...down this amazingly beautiful river!<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[Image: Patrick]</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvMJFWuLSxsrPSdnppw0TO-xSezW7jsCmibpLMpzXPgvl1TN1Y8tvEHhnOjRVe3B3yjoEWl1rtXwiXmcT4Eh3bh2wz5jSZOzuTEPGyAw-ZtB7ysQM5mJoGZIx5aCwmykZgYZBqgBxCtmdVUyie4md81MeMjCLLFJGU2le5dXAg4XXjI53dPGr039Sj78/s5242/IMG_5245.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5242" data-original-width="3344" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvMJFWuLSxsrPSdnppw0TO-xSezW7jsCmibpLMpzXPgvl1TN1Y8tvEHhnOjRVe3B3yjoEWl1rtXwiXmcT4Eh3bh2wz5jSZOzuTEPGyAw-ZtB7ysQM5mJoGZIx5aCwmykZgYZBqgBxCtmdVUyie4md81MeMjCLLFJGU2le5dXAg4XXjI53dPGr039Sj78/w255-h400/IMG_5245.JPG" width="255" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did I mention that we had a lot of fires?<br />Precise calculus estimates that we spent 18.75 hours of the trip in front of a fire. <br />So I shall leave you, dear friends, with one final fire photo.<br />Ah, life is good!</td></tr></tbody></table>
<br />
<p>Thank you, Patrick, for organizing a truly awesome trip. I enjoyed your positive attitude and your companionship. Thank you for your gentle patience in humoring the newb me, thank you for safely navigating us down the river, thank you for building awesome nightly fires, and, most importantly, thank you for cleaning my shit out of your groover (that SCAT Machine is a hoot!). You are a fun adventure buddy and one helluva good guy!</p><p><br /></p><hr />For anyone interested in floating the Lower Salmon, <a href="https://www.blm.gov/sites/default/files/documents/files/Media-Center_Public-Room_Idaho_Lower-Salmon-river_BoaterGuide2018.pdf" target="_blank">The Lower Salmon River Boating Guide</a>, written by the US Department of Interior, is a treasure trove of useful information.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-15206557571077750972023-09-11T06:54:00.101-07:002023-11-09T07:44:54.415-08:00Hiking Near Baker: A Photo JournalI've spent so much time exploring elsewhere and so little time exploring my own backyard. I'm working on changing that. Thirteen years ago I climbed Mt Baker, but I'd never hiked any of its nearby trails...until last week.<div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW46mW1QnQ9KqhSjdLY059QiHXzQKolyHSsE-Bkxj1wEu5JusRmJPIVgZmFoc6MNWhSBTz5Dmu_3LCuHIW4KZsD3AwbmbmuZBWDc7477OtCpW66kcX7mbvy6wLIs5p3BGn1SmGaYNIBNjne067luRENTMWsqk3Sl_50gFxJoP7AVwbGpVx0g9xBPCgpDY/s4080/Shuksan%20from%20Artist%20Point.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW46mW1QnQ9KqhSjdLY059QiHXzQKolyHSsE-Bkxj1wEu5JusRmJPIVgZmFoc6MNWhSBTz5Dmu_3LCuHIW4KZsD3AwbmbmuZBWDc7477OtCpW66kcX7mbvy6wLIs5p3BGn1SmGaYNIBNjne067luRENTMWsqk3Sl_50gFxJoP7AVwbGpVx0g9xBPCgpDY/w400-h301/Shuksan%20from%20Artist%20Point.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shrouded Mt Shuskan, from Huntoon Point.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<span><a name='more'></a></span>The first day I hiked to Lake Ann. The Labor Day rush had headed home, so the trail was super quiet. There was a thick fog that twirled and sashayed in the sky, only partially teasing me with views of Mt Shuksan and never revealing any of Mt Baker.<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJccTMhP8-YYIRXWTsK5QwsLVAYG9z1SMiaLiauGg6yZz3NMmlA4VGQKvQzxNC0NoG1Rh-FnRLbMwWhMFoCZAKlDAKemSuX6zyQJ5t0LlPb0NiRJZLwsMc_aUz1Sjn4qeb4X6pgv3qMMVdyvKFDft6dWvsE6jtAB4g3WVhz5iSUpyHI7TkcLOQva7G0gM/s4208/Setting%20Out.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4208" data-original-width="3120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJccTMhP8-YYIRXWTsK5QwsLVAYG9z1SMiaLiauGg6yZz3NMmlA4VGQKvQzxNC0NoG1Rh-FnRLbMwWhMFoCZAKlDAKemSuX6zyQJ5t0LlPb0NiRJZLwsMc_aUz1Sjn4qeb4X6pgv3qMMVdyvKFDft6dWvsE6jtAB4g3WVhz5iSUpyHI7TkcLOQva7G0gM/w296-h400/Setting%20Out.jpeg" width="296" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading out on the trail.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGutM1OY16ul5myD76awyNMrXOCj8ntDqRRiLRXiRsyPnL35w14HrS3w7eNnWj5Jai3NewbJbkOzsKFp1UvnKSx4F7S7eXVZYfZfKW_ZOzkSShEIkXOpxkfx0DgShlwr7gosWMqifbQWLiJcJZgx-9NbZ4GWLKKVC9KyNcMHSa7jAF12iOnKZdTqiGwKY/s4080/Blueberries.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGutM1OY16ul5myD76awyNMrXOCj8ntDqRRiLRXiRsyPnL35w14HrS3w7eNnWj5Jai3NewbJbkOzsKFp1UvnKSx4F7S7eXVZYfZfKW_ZOzkSShEIkXOpxkfx0DgShlwr7gosWMqifbQWLiJcJZgx-9NbZ4GWLKKVC9KyNcMHSa7jAF12iOnKZdTqiGwKY/w400-h301/Blueberries.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying some breakfast blueberries along the way.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBXybra7YSZZ_uchzyOSXKP-MVLk43CF2HOjbkv9aZoWRJ6-FkTaJTuHC9Rt9ULvBr5XuNne8LCVFa5e9wlDQJDuHdeW5MzY9SneHUPchT537G8-VvL0lxWhzZ10eqKeSzoj7g5cni6-1SCi9OKxnqL-XfPKUd1p-tEhcqEHWF0KJ1F7EAb7L9hviGJk/s4080/Baker%20Lake%20in%20Distance.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBXybra7YSZZ_uchzyOSXKP-MVLk43CF2HOjbkv9aZoWRJ6-FkTaJTuHC9Rt9ULvBr5XuNne8LCVFa5e9wlDQJDuHdeW5MzY9SneHUPchT537G8-VvL0lxWhzZ10eqKeSzoj7g5cni6-1SCi9OKxnqL-XfPKUd1p-tEhcqEHWF0KJ1F7EAb7L9hviGJk/w400-h301/Baker%20Lake%20in%20Distance.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had no idea you could see Baker Lake from Lake Ann.<br />What a lovely surprise!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
On the second day, when I arrived at Artist Point to hike Chain Lakes, I was greeted by 360° of mountain bliss. Wow! The views were made even more magical by the songs of two musicians who were serenading the rising sun. (Make sure to turn up your volume so you can hear the chanting in the background.) Twas early morning magic! Double wow!</div><div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6_kVMJRh6Vo" width="320" youtube-src-id="6_kVMJRh6Vo"></iframe></div><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5IVlLvr0VWUJA8xyqE57DmldZATmyGOuHdADtb72kS5Vqev6D9h7FY32iQc0nEHg8J5qsUSAEhpFdGupPZgST2mHe1n9v2ClU7yqX2asKZD2bezaUQ_tl-hWenGplWAP8nBEjgLMGO5iWz9XnaxBdAWLE-tm-G0E1VxrbQJjQYHcY6zHlieoHtY7lpg/s4080/Tabletop%20Mountain%20Reflected%20in%20Bagley%20Lakes.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5IVlLvr0VWUJA8xyqE57DmldZATmyGOuHdADtb72kS5Vqev6D9h7FY32iQc0nEHg8J5qsUSAEhpFdGupPZgST2mHe1n9v2ClU7yqX2asKZD2bezaUQ_tl-hWenGplWAP8nBEjgLMGO5iWz9XnaxBdAWLE-tm-G0E1VxrbQJjQYHcY6zHlieoHtY7lpg/w400-h301/Tabletop%20Mountain%20Reflected%20in%20Bagley%20Lakes.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tabletop Mountain, reflected in Bagley Lakes.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8OSNKaiTcoYHPU_rhPGnRU1xLbxiv091IsGRSf2ZcZ62Tj51s3u44d-VbzZbX7MZfF6tE4NqHqw75SL2VQCF2Ft66I0g3zJV81CnEACMU3K6Gml2YA6BCQ0M6Cj8CSrIxS2-cTNXjiSGvy5-9FZap8FCiHOnhgnAnMf00WKToIm62Mo6DBYWZKYJ7Ko/s4080/Fireweed%20and%20Bagley%20Lakes.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8OSNKaiTcoYHPU_rhPGnRU1xLbxiv091IsGRSf2ZcZ62Tj51s3u44d-VbzZbX7MZfF6tE4NqHqw75SL2VQCF2Ft66I0g3zJV81CnEACMU3K6Gml2YA6BCQ0M6Cj8CSrIxS2-cTNXjiSGvy5-9FZap8FCiHOnhgnAnMf00WKToIm62Mo6DBYWZKYJ7Ko/w400-h301/Fireweed%20and%20Bagley%20Lakes.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What little is left of the season's fireweed, as seen above Bagley Lakes.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFczedvh3duRcxWHLqE4atqmKKyYp0Inzr-sSYwAb6cIevlsv6ReRUlz6wpPHUoqbCokr5Y2N0vO5kHeQ4p-Z4QVQRD_KOZGZ99Pvlqo8fWIMD9sGjUMbpmMcR_AKnUHVXSTgx_TNhyphenhyphen91jBZGSVenREA6LRvc-zALtlpbW5Vd-kNuResmqd7fFnYQV83I/s4080/Mt%20Baker%20Over%20Iceberg%20Lake%20II.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFczedvh3duRcxWHLqE4atqmKKyYp0Inzr-sSYwAb6cIevlsv6ReRUlz6wpPHUoqbCokr5Y2N0vO5kHeQ4p-Z4QVQRD_KOZGZ99Pvlqo8fWIMD9sGjUMbpmMcR_AKnUHVXSTgx_TNhyphenhyphen91jBZGSVenREA6LRvc-zALtlpbW5Vd-kNuResmqd7fFnYQV83I/w400-h301/Mt%20Baker%20Over%20Iceberg%20Lake%20II.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Baker, with Iceberg Lake in the foreground.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqgro86mQPfkwBcrsbqGreAw0qSN4r08brTY77442Z5GCsNiRlG6xJPzuVoML8zlahdwlaqdGtG5Kl2E10iw8OaE7oqQx7-Rnn4MOpZBtVJvSKue_7ahsKC8dl30lHNJ9CqrOvWnw97Rfhp4fzpP4PHYZIbBA_hGhq_7Wx4a6yknzF0upKf4GlSVoBEE/s3956/Close%20Up.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2856" data-original-width="3956" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqgro86mQPfkwBcrsbqGreAw0qSN4r08brTY77442Z5GCsNiRlG6xJPzuVoML8zlahdwlaqdGtG5Kl2E10iw8OaE7oqQx7-Rnn4MOpZBtVJvSKue_7ahsKC8dl30lHNJ9CqrOvWnw97Rfhp4fzpP4PHYZIbBA_hGhq_7Wx4a6yknzF0upKf4GlSVoBEE/w400-h289/Close%20Up.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles at Iceberg Lake.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRIsxSpVik03oOqWiUC6zS_C1vdm7lklaihjRFMH52Y3eCc35xVlmbf5qD3rzHu6TJPfPOEZKSR1thBSlk-xBgbVfzA25EqluSZEoB7TAohIFCIeZEbrBstKF5-IKtOiiZYSxLZzcLp_dYMwVvOi-2peoBY2zBUjBTxQgvaJlmD5K5NpufE3dXSnhp7v8/s4080/Coming%20Around%20Tabletop%20Mountain.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRIsxSpVik03oOqWiUC6zS_C1vdm7lklaihjRFMH52Y3eCc35xVlmbf5qD3rzHu6TJPfPOEZKSR1thBSlk-xBgbVfzA25EqluSZEoB7TAohIFCIeZEbrBstKF5-IKtOiiZYSxLZzcLp_dYMwVvOi-2peoBY2zBUjBTxQgvaJlmD5K5NpufE3dXSnhp7v8/w400-h301/Coming%20Around%20Tabletop%20Mountain.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looping back around Tabletop Mountain, with Shuksan in the distance.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
The smile plastered to my face and the bounce in my step that lasted for twenty miles of exploration by foot reminded me how much I love living in the Pacific Northwest. My heart is here in the mountains.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-82402667791365544672023-07-05T13:57:00.006-07:002023-11-09T06:54:16.976-08:00Bikerafting the Skagit River: A Photo Journal<p>For three days in early July, Alan and I bikerafted the Skagit River from Copper Creek to Pressentin Creek. At the end of our float, we cycled back to our starting point. In total, the trip was 31 road miles and way more river miles.</p>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBG4sT14523cF3oz3Z1yXUfLuvcdTAUs9N5slZLc9GK1WA15_7gE3bmK3Mvr8gkNBwN5ByTKN6gG_x5sD21WHgpIjCKJL3SIUYJIvFCMU9Ce8qzavlpJ4JBGYVfkHbgYa_bMTIX4OFX1wM3-A5bNC8r0tWahemyK4Z5fG-9kq8X_-Y8Ty1JLyp4alvkg/s1764/Screenshot%202023-11-09%20at%207.58.29%20AM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="1764" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBG4sT14523cF3oz3Z1yXUfLuvcdTAUs9N5slZLc9GK1WA15_7gE3bmK3Mvr8gkNBwN5ByTKN6gG_x5sD21WHgpIjCKJL3SIUYJIvFCMU9Ce8qzavlpJ4JBGYVfkHbgYa_bMTIX4OFX1wM3-A5bNC8r0tWahemyK4Z5fG-9kq8X_-Y8Ty1JLyp4alvkg/w400-h159/Screenshot%202023-11-09%20at%207.58.29%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We rafted the Skagit River between Copper and Pressentin Creeks,<br />and then biked back along Highway 20 to return to whence we started.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Twas a nice, easy float close to home. Along the way we enjoyed the scenery and each other's company. Here is a photo journal of our trip:<br /><br>
<span><a name='more'></a></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2hMBbsF9jAMrqYEz5u8cIOLV4xO596pnAkUdj6JmOwt0n_26mqcN5HGK_BSvnDvjEKSB3-jT7tOIU5kwS76fDiddVaTiM6ZEpj-QJ4XK689TZE-uC49mdIjb-tfJahlxqNk0XonBVAPVPq02hnaOZVaoKqBeTROLOhskVwqlD9bcTqNXsu-5CUkobLk/s4096/IMG_20230702_113204155.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2hMBbsF9jAMrqYEz5u8cIOLV4xO596pnAkUdj6JmOwt0n_26mqcN5HGK_BSvnDvjEKSB3-jT7tOIU5kwS76fDiddVaTiM6ZEpj-QJ4XK689TZE-uC49mdIjb-tfJahlxqNk0XonBVAPVPq02hnaOZVaoKqBeTROLOhskVwqlD9bcTqNXsu-5CUkobLk/w400-h300/IMG_20230702_113204155.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan and I biked along Highway 20 to our put-in at Copper Creek.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaCvLI_mSHBZK3wTVEAihk73vBGj5P8yhyphenhyphenRqP0zNN5aCyzQnioN86oHdJf_F-8k-rFp9GrY9i5A0T9OiKkghoKm3dlstjS8aiVfHC1wacr21dZbLmtcKjIGHG-WudKhG5TNQlwJ8_24z7Vz8hzzSXS5CjBNa6qkaSu-eNjtiAG3Uc0sDbAaraxILXj8Q/s4811/IMG_4929.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3503" data-original-width="4811" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQaCvLI_mSHBZK3wTVEAihk73vBGj5P8yhyphenhyphenRqP0zNN5aCyzQnioN86oHdJf_F-8k-rFp9GrY9i5A0T9OiKkghoKm3dlstjS8aiVfHC1wacr21dZbLmtcKjIGHG-WudKhG5TNQlwJ8_24z7Vz8hzzSXS5CjBNa6qkaSu-eNjtiAG3Uc0sDbAaraxILXj8Q/w400-h291/IMG_4929.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We organized our gear before packing everything into our rafts.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxr08aUIdt3amFO6FMciZZ5-DNM1xBsoQbgzbcvdcnjImPTF_Om6nEha294mHEoIOXXBtZ1I24_tyuUH7hcutFcZmxct-Ur5vvoIekCsEvrJ2cl4q7Jzh4F8dkpg7kD8QX1KWP1lpCF0qDjf1BTGB2-D7Cd-rwU2y6J_o_XmOtQiq5ZyuXX_hq_0I4Oo/s5472/IMG_4930.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxr08aUIdt3amFO6FMciZZ5-DNM1xBsoQbgzbcvdcnjImPTF_Om6nEha294mHEoIOXXBtZ1I24_tyuUH7hcutFcZmxct-Ur5vvoIekCsEvrJ2cl4q7Jzh4F8dkpg7kD8QX1KWP1lpCF0qDjf1BTGB2-D7Cd-rwU2y6J_o_XmOtQiq5ZyuXX_hq_0I4Oo/w266-h400/IMG_4930.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan won't be hard to spot in his 80s green life jacket!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyHn5jAbahsGWLLMXzvLAeaEZJ02OsJl6JJJruhmXW4_QACubh8VigAHavfZrnbhivuHGAH4xkCSm6zGFniu4MaIisPAyes-J8lCL6jxtcfZAtNp7Fp-GUlMTKSnQLfqDWuzARGo05Kczda157tKlv4BsrC5xwI80pzDdIpeLeZBytAAipkOE-bRO-KVc/s3178/IMG_2504.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2116" data-original-width="3178" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyHn5jAbahsGWLLMXzvLAeaEZJ02OsJl6JJJruhmXW4_QACubh8VigAHavfZrnbhivuHGAH4xkCSm6zGFniu4MaIisPAyes-J8lCL6jxtcfZAtNp7Fp-GUlMTKSnQLfqDWuzARGo05Kczda157tKlv4BsrC5xwI80pzDdIpeLeZBytAAipkOE-bRO-KVc/w400-h266/IMG_2504.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was great to set out on the river.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviw7wDZ2Kz7pGkn9oxMPMq8E5Ouj-OSKk-u_GQ11a_mpcL4TFJ2fPRb8u6IacipmGuXLZKY-t8ArEiS9ZpAHtKCt227-SNF4jN5RYY2_B-0WJOay-4z0jaXdHPUvLExolM4LtPn0WfelI_CkOojIoc9CcHM4voTx7HqyclKG5ncBIpP27KBTf7_rM8zo/s3627/IMG_2496.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2674" data-original-width="3627" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiviw7wDZ2Kz7pGkn9oxMPMq8E5Ouj-OSKk-u_GQ11a_mpcL4TFJ2fPRb8u6IacipmGuXLZKY-t8ArEiS9ZpAHtKCt227-SNF4jN5RYY2_B-0WJOay-4z0jaXdHPUvLExolM4LtPn0WfelI_CkOojIoc9CcHM4voTx7HqyclKG5ncBIpP27KBTf7_rM8zo/w400-h295/IMG_2496.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We pulled off to the side for lunch breaks.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_06aVmaqtATvuWUSttzw3DCfhkXJgLv1lvLFlqEZA-pwhOohEKNn98JfNYe3P1mTl_gaDPZYJ9eVAkZHNfyGNXf_8RfH-B9hczuq9R3W8BVuTu0yjvpWJs5iKlW-QLeRhzulSMDIhMpKxMOQUwK4W5fwInaHvscqVMx1ncb0Znj2GXLm4dCoATEZr714/s4010/IMG_20230703_145750696.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3008" data-original-width="4010" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_06aVmaqtATvuWUSttzw3DCfhkXJgLv1lvLFlqEZA-pwhOohEKNn98JfNYe3P1mTl_gaDPZYJ9eVAkZHNfyGNXf_8RfH-B9hczuq9R3W8BVuTu0yjvpWJs5iKlW-QLeRhzulSMDIhMpKxMOQUwK4W5fwInaHvscqVMx1ncb0Znj2GXLm4dCoATEZr714/w400-h300/IMG_20230703_145750696.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was one of our favorite spots in the river.<br />We paddled around the bend to see a glorious view of Mt Baker.<br />We camped for a night on the sandbar in the distance. </td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6i6MZT0WBzqqnKYHbNgpFOCetD80mhg6fMCrZ8AlQS5N8c7SA4S09EWlngyVHo6m26GuDCJtz9yafQC0UaY68Yc2yJ2INsUEvjSDpW3qa3M99WBgoGwHH-bGzrMZU2wPLCd9vF0YXpaVIpo11Epb5hEySZpNCTYAObe4wBa6D58EyVihcTXOwKURpsA/s3451/IMG_2530.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2325" data-original-width="3451" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6i6MZT0WBzqqnKYHbNgpFOCetD80mhg6fMCrZ8AlQS5N8c7SA4S09EWlngyVHo6m26GuDCJtz9yafQC0UaY68Yc2yJ2INsUEvjSDpW3qa3M99WBgoGwHH-bGzrMZU2wPLCd9vF0YXpaVIpo11Epb5hEySZpNCTYAObe4wBa6D58EyVihcTXOwKURpsA/w400-h270/IMG_2530.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Mt Baker.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4C91NK17lCHZ_572D8chYq6SjxWc-W6chX4xIqSNZkJoAwvvkP7ms-tu0DFg6SGhsHx6jwDkJyslVm8WepfLOcbJx4qaSGvtC-P5lyXD_8_mDeLGLdUTdTmbBv_ewA-JGNe7lJMf2fCnyam4IN3FeiLuN5HouDCjyZgNBSAYrHPkpcuTNFyPay0DbAc/s5472/IMG_4990.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4C91NK17lCHZ_572D8chYq6SjxWc-W6chX4xIqSNZkJoAwvvkP7ms-tu0DFg6SGhsHx6jwDkJyslVm8WepfLOcbJx4qaSGvtC-P5lyXD_8_mDeLGLdUTdTmbBv_ewA-JGNe7lJMf2fCnyam4IN3FeiLuN5HouDCjyZgNBSAYrHPkpcuTNFyPay0DbAc/w400-h266/IMG_4990.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan monkeying around.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAb03KnmcwOeDGCoDWZVRIJ73Sgy3_IfrRQxLbIPiAjvNFEN3gQuio2sLuuV3NQeb6JDZaiGwbXrDQHo6aiRLai9crZnLnvNjFrt9ZXKs5_lBBYxNYAm6mSGRroKhsJahpkzTeathaqIpprc7hD6EA-1bR_G2rC9qhtbdD3tJSAibaoSSYo9tRT7P8NnQ/s5472/IMG_4994.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAb03KnmcwOeDGCoDWZVRIJ73Sgy3_IfrRQxLbIPiAjvNFEN3gQuio2sLuuV3NQeb6JDZaiGwbXrDQHo6aiRLai9crZnLnvNjFrt9ZXKs5_lBBYxNYAm6mSGRroKhsJahpkzTeathaqIpprc7hD6EA-1bR_G2rC9qhtbdD3tJSAibaoSSYo9tRT7P8NnQ/w266-h400/IMG_4994.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, settling in with a good book and a sweet view.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDC7KchHNnNfhz11GUDyQ4I7mtu1-4GLQYphHS6ziznm1mUwJHZu7bjTVgCGy1fh0icSQoPFm7JqUh9QVGCroapHK8p-E6e8Gy4GDxXjw-tT-Yi3dAPkEqm08pL1xh5ecm_fE4NGuQJ4CBbNwQLBdsH4LJdPwU5oNdVcwdS3tHJXg3EFUdA8O7hDIzFA/s5088/IMG_5007.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3303" data-original-width="5088" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDC7KchHNnNfhz11GUDyQ4I7mtu1-4GLQYphHS6ziznm1mUwJHZu7bjTVgCGy1fh0icSQoPFm7JqUh9QVGCroapHK8p-E6e8Gy4GDxXjw-tT-Yi3dAPkEqm08pL1xh5ecm_fE4NGuQJ4CBbNwQLBdsH4LJdPwU5oNdVcwdS3tHJXg3EFUdA8O7hDIzFA/w400-h260/IMG_5007.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our camp for the night.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSmQX-soIyHeUJZ0uUIl0xWe_9ElTsaDkMhWpYB4VhOVfRmmpbtRZ9q0tnt9nchI1dNTFTK4pkSgogfVNPa9L6NMTdmqTC4dkhXROJBbG8ye6ewCbGhyNpzP3Zh3kphC5j9P3SpognRdf_l1CQDTceEAekGe7KjZa7qima7VxqXhC4G2VeayPgNRjOU4/s5472/IMG_5013.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFSmQX-soIyHeUJZ0uUIl0xWe_9ElTsaDkMhWpYB4VhOVfRmmpbtRZ9q0tnt9nchI1dNTFTK4pkSgogfVNPa9L6NMTdmqTC4dkhXROJBbG8ye6ewCbGhyNpzP3Zh3kphC5j9P3SpognRdf_l1CQDTceEAekGe7KjZa7qima7VxqXhC4G2VeayPgNRjOU4/w400-h266/IMG_5013.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We folded up the rafts so the cargo zipper wouldn't get all sandy.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0AurK3S5xf-cTqSHbB3AfZKtAs-o7L1O7E0n-EdQmok1k78WrfSCzx8FZqhKE3DgMl5XfPqRdUIUNaVGIg2202EmpOuoSR4ufZF8bKYAMgweshzlyirobcnmB0xsOBZuhIewe08CXQZNGnFyEcbdRf_tcq9kboakfyv-9pgBdmau44Kx7V_SITVxgkQ/s4096/IMG_20230704_084354550.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0AurK3S5xf-cTqSHbB3AfZKtAs-o7L1O7E0n-EdQmok1k78WrfSCzx8FZqhKE3DgMl5XfPqRdUIUNaVGIg2202EmpOuoSR4ufZF8bKYAMgweshzlyirobcnmB0xsOBZuhIewe08CXQZNGnFyEcbdRf_tcq9kboakfyv-9pgBdmau44Kx7V_SITVxgkQ/w300-h400/IMG_20230704_084354550.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found this cool piece of bark on the beach. <br />I used it as a bracelet.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7ZKLyAL-U_clLkeG8q_kSwp2SkYIO9kI5RGYygW7zodECXpSgNq-42W5PV4s1vD90YEP7Xa5oM7A9qpUcsODzuYxsbdksNhWZomN6qDM8EjRFl-yXL1klvYb8soL3BOA8f797MxeGCBHbg7KF_1Z4QtDtvzsxW4-Uvh8BEP_XHIKjiD89vqIEbQSL2o/s5472/IMG_5056.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7ZKLyAL-U_clLkeG8q_kSwp2SkYIO9kI5RGYygW7zodECXpSgNq-42W5PV4s1vD90YEP7Xa5oM7A9qpUcsODzuYxsbdksNhWZomN6qDM8EjRFl-yXL1klvYb8soL3BOA8f797MxeGCBHbg7KF_1Z4QtDtvzsxW4-Uvh8BEP_XHIKjiD89vqIEbQSL2o/w400-h266/IMG_5056.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAO20E3VmOb8M_bvi-k_4zgE-pFpQd1V0LEbwN138xF1IEdPTrMmPQGLGmet4Wndf7_7ha3yIvdUsnle4lbEGNI1p5R3nbsS89cRP33eMLhX8W1x0LwdpJvIYYu-_l8NfohPjUWQeQ-taR7MxltQY_dNffJnLkRPI0LQoW_ZNdwsmQdui5JQrxVjpCZI/s3446/IMG_20230704_104557414.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2326" data-original-width="3446" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAO20E3VmOb8M_bvi-k_4zgE-pFpQd1V0LEbwN138xF1IEdPTrMmPQGLGmet4Wndf7_7ha3yIvdUsnle4lbEGNI1p5R3nbsS89cRP33eMLhX8W1x0LwdpJvIYYu-_l8NfohPjUWQeQ-taR7MxltQY_dNffJnLkRPI0LQoW_ZNdwsmQdui5JQrxVjpCZI/w400-h270/IMG_20230704_104557414.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan floats beneath the Concrete-Sauk Valley Bridge...</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxs4hNybDc6NehHclcjyPW8Mro6m1It6krThrt06BPN566ixsgt9fo50UPdQ1GtWMzBitapSIJSHNXKVHLi-b8byPvzN8RZaLiK-HdRAFKuiYaCsTpsSVd6buCWeU7Ka23_d_OBPyAdhUzQBi1e2UkLL4x7EbHfNtuofTJH6tevFy5vqfbjfDBU0d2Ck/s4096/IMG_20230704_104453307.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4096" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxs4hNybDc6NehHclcjyPW8Mro6m1It6krThrt06BPN566ixsgt9fo50UPdQ1GtWMzBitapSIJSHNXKVHLi-b8byPvzN8RZaLiK-HdRAFKuiYaCsTpsSVd6buCWeU7Ka23_d_OBPyAdhUzQBi1e2UkLL4x7EbHfNtuofTJH6tevFy5vqfbjfDBU0d2Ck/w400-h300/IMG_20230704_104453307.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...as I make my approach.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-28546188730589305852023-06-05T07:45:00.025-07:002023-11-09T08:47:11.737-08:00Biking in Alaska - Plan C: A Photo JournalFor two weeks at the end of May and beginning of June I traveled to Alaska for a bike trip.<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhNdu0Ao9Zd3DLLdy7ZwjbM3M0aEx_NLgMm0wP8kIodTt8aBBDsikBw_ia2tQEIwaQjkwsG-dVFmcSKlztzFI9iBZId4Kw5vuo48TuVKkzeTiTzrTc87ef6mrq9wLjYIaxs6FuWU0S8pvbvhjlqiaF4i1RHodgRvQddpaYNNWfgmoP7EveW2330M5CH0/s5309/Bikes%20&%20Grafitti.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2980" data-original-width="5309" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhNdu0Ao9Zd3DLLdy7ZwjbM3M0aEx_NLgMm0wP8kIodTt8aBBDsikBw_ia2tQEIwaQjkwsG-dVFmcSKlztzFI9iBZId4Kw5vuo48TuVKkzeTiTzrTc87ef6mrq9wLjYIaxs6FuWU0S8pvbvhjlqiaF4i1RHodgRvQddpaYNNWfgmoP7EveW2330M5CH0/w400-h225/Bikes%20&%20Grafitti.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan's Fargo and my ECR.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
Plan A (to bikepack the Kenai Peninsula) was foiled by lingering snow, so we schemed up a Plan B (bike from the Matanuska Glacier to McCarthy, then cycle to Valdez to catch a ferry to Whittier, then pedal from there back to Anchorage). An unseasonable winter storm ended the biking portion of our trip early, so we made the best of our remaining time with Plan C (staying at a friend's cabin in Willow — thank you, Victor!).<br /><br />
<span><a name='more'></a></span><div><div>
There were five of us on this trip. Meet us, as we hold gummy bears between our teeth!<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMb27T_kJf7S-oxR_BlzWOKeMwlHO1VBKLZb4dnkzMsVMX7Q0XAFU_NZxVc-yN2PcHT1SWoV-JhS3R9pX-g-C5ea5XXFh1iLCRw8Y_S4V4M-hLyFaXv1EJTBcU7I0cBEdpu5-frFqvH7p_xYa7Zb_h-SP2X2EhMA3J5ALIl0eTp6UiJCh69enfW6Vabc/s2688/PXL_20230526_185106359.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMb27T_kJf7S-oxR_BlzWOKeMwlHO1VBKLZb4dnkzMsVMX7Q0XAFU_NZxVc-yN2PcHT1SWoV-JhS3R9pX-g-C5ea5XXFh1iLCRw8Y_S4V4M-hLyFaXv1EJTBcU7I0cBEdpu5-frFqvH7p_xYa7Zb_h-SP2X2EhMA3J5ALIl0eTp6UiJCh69enfW6Vabc/w400-h225/PXL_20230526_185106359.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NArUu9YWN7zfmsfUzpexFCiAjSlxkijtZnTeTVF7cQWyn4qB5uTZuNH9rr-3S-e6WFPwp2R0JxylaStaRZ6YAusrjoamOyJRWgZEcRCqq4Uq7Cx8b9QzWAKiPMbLZQIAe8xUzl2c8rsfJ_MMHN01ZyMKsi5giNXnnII7QEhGvyjDYmlyPS8qXKIA2NY/s2688/PXL_20230526_185122424.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NArUu9YWN7zfmsfUzpexFCiAjSlxkijtZnTeTVF7cQWyn4qB5uTZuNH9rr-3S-e6WFPwp2R0JxylaStaRZ6YAusrjoamOyJRWgZEcRCqq4Uq7Cx8b9QzWAKiPMbLZQIAe8xUzl2c8rsfJ_MMHN01ZyMKsi5giNXnnII7QEhGvyjDYmlyPS8qXKIA2NY/w400-h225/PXL_20230526_185122424.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother, BJ.<br />This was his very first bikepacking trip.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOZtZG8oPygx3N4hgKe1RfYoou_l4aCy5HAW89GEbWERvGgiMZmucmeB85TbHvCl-2GtMG67GoYAfnhRCB4yZvQ9OxUQpEaYsMXkMYWeRnm8mx605AogJrpVUdJAWWLYXn70kKYthDH_j5Qt_wKCzDCKvTwzkZU4GaDzge44dyDuinyvKkyIqFrL_aDU/s2688/PXL_20230526_185110271.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOZtZG8oPygx3N4hgKe1RfYoou_l4aCy5HAW89GEbWERvGgiMZmucmeB85TbHvCl-2GtMG67GoYAfnhRCB4yZvQ9OxUQpEaYsMXkMYWeRnm8mx605AogJrpVUdJAWWLYXn70kKYthDH_j5Qt_wKCzDCKvTwzkZU4GaDzge44dyDuinyvKkyIqFrL_aDU/w400-h225/PXL_20230526_185110271.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan, of <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2022/10/backpacking-teton-crest-trail-photo.html" target="_blank">Teton backpacking</a> and <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2023/07/bikerafting-skagit-river-photo-journal.html" target="_blank">Skagit River bikerafting</a> fame.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfCSz-Xcpy4v6Q3oTCxC_i9vghuaCvUL9mOgQxUM2OE5fN6mBsffKaWly-e2OidiGbF35HTTLZqbJmIH4Oa7bZ7UWsUiTPAu92qHwer_P21vpCx5h2orJZUuC1eVMwRb-3akeW60jOJ0FuNtVw7W3wEB58bkWuZewBzL7rmchQtG747gfFpiUIHAzO1I/s2688/PXL_20230526_185058998.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfCSz-Xcpy4v6Q3oTCxC_i9vghuaCvUL9mOgQxUM2OE5fN6mBsffKaWly-e2OidiGbF35HTTLZqbJmIH4Oa7bZ7UWsUiTPAu92qHwer_P21vpCx5h2orJZUuC1eVMwRb-3akeW60jOJ0FuNtVw7W3wEB58bkWuZewBzL7rmchQtG747gfFpiUIHAzO1I/w400-h225/PXL_20230526_185058998.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul, who has been on many of my trips, including the <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-inaugural-pacific.html" target="_blank">Pacific Northwest and Gulf Island tour</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVebpM7ABnyT1HA38kH3BMeO7e_o3xuB0_UX3aSf4Lug3NgZ0P-lQfsGs3K0Q5yfWVQWqrbRHL4s67i544zEB8KE5Ucb1xxUrvcV07jJVX4XWvA41a0_WwLwi5qeb_J4HCCU9eoGructbHbDLIUGpvSjtaNU9iYxtEF2a7fQUvneD6rHJJZ-Pbbe_64GE/s2688/PXL_20230526_185054638.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVebpM7ABnyT1HA38kH3BMeO7e_o3xuB0_UX3aSf4Lug3NgZ0P-lQfsGs3K0Q5yfWVQWqrbRHL4s67i544zEB8KE5Ucb1xxUrvcV07jJVX4XWvA41a0_WwLwi5qeb_J4HCCU9eoGructbHbDLIUGpvSjtaNU9iYxtEF2a7fQUvneD6rHJJZ-Pbbe_64GE/w400-h225/PXL_20230526_185054638.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
Here are some of my favorite photos from the trip:<div><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYk_FKaWpDv9963BKGVnS6dQRCcSbX7R5Q9bvf1Qpqdggx5D6x4KSCOdYxfwP1nrwHplp3kAqUMQavGTLE49uG61JaGGCmOGnvpJ19fRKs6wqu_REEnRLkjyQl3AwCgOycqqHxnRMc6Ys7_mcEkTHtDk96lu0wC2FgB6BtJ2G6aOlE0W4VKYktd2Qc5vg/s4448/Woronzof%20Water%20Tower.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2943" data-original-width="4448" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYk_FKaWpDv9963BKGVnS6dQRCcSbX7R5Q9bvf1Qpqdggx5D6x4KSCOdYxfwP1nrwHplp3kAqUMQavGTLE49uG61JaGGCmOGnvpJ19fRKs6wqu_REEnRLkjyQl3AwCgOycqqHxnRMc6Ys7_mcEkTHtDk96lu0wC2FgB6BtJ2G6aOlE0W4VKYktd2Qc5vg/w400-h265/Woronzof%20Water%20Tower.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The colorful tower at Point Woronzof Park in Anchorage.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpINv0J7YIDQg69WGER5WeUzpswIj4uUyWnJViP97qQOeY36mjOu7M3F3kgB3kCJZEoPZblSYhy5BvCzHTOTZU-0syz1yPgHEeoVe9r7lnCpjowfAvmtdT2msyzoHgURzOV1Td4zq9pPp5LIskc1hP0GtuiOEefDtVEfd105tAoHdhoBojrr2nT31tok/s5472/Mountain%20with%20Dandelions.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpINv0J7YIDQg69WGER5WeUzpswIj4uUyWnJViP97qQOeY36mjOu7M3F3kgB3kCJZEoPZblSYhy5BvCzHTOTZU-0syz1yPgHEeoVe9r7lnCpjowfAvmtdT2msyzoHgURzOV1Td4zq9pPp5LIskc1hP0GtuiOEefDtVEfd105tAoHdhoBojrr2nT31tok/w400-h266/Mountain%20with%20Dandelions.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Them beautiful Chugachs!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFtpgZb-5haOL314b3S0CO3-HX54rnqqoZGdVxTlJNVjHkrHWP2KJ0EME1VGtmrHv52qW8aGCU31YscDCXGG7byi9pvluUoGw3wQI70ozm1sUNrwjAD5Kl0jDeHmLsf7sAcqY2PbjpvLTCq0EPynoGX4KC78MeGQ7pAuMFozyE6IA82veRGh9K_vbmlU/s2036/My%20Portrait.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2036" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFtpgZb-5haOL314b3S0CO3-HX54rnqqoZGdVxTlJNVjHkrHWP2KJ0EME1VGtmrHv52qW8aGCU31YscDCXGG7byi9pvluUoGw3wQI70ozm1sUNrwjAD5Kl0jDeHmLsf7sAcqY2PbjpvLTCq0EPynoGX4KC78MeGQ7pAuMFozyE6IA82veRGh9K_vbmlU/w400-h297/My%20Portrait.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in my happy place.<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: BJ)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AYNqZzJC4G30cqtqLyRd4F17A5WAZSFU0uztvT_W-EwE1FcOWi1d_2sPjCcVflTv8pKUWKyE1d9_wI-Awdxks14L6SXJO07lGZdGcnkOwkI46rKSUOvZtGYhcB1yUFfirQIytK-M18e7gjheJkNXoP2R8z2X64Wp8aUelIzjD_Ef2nyzHIYpedgKRZM/s3998/BJ%20&%20Alan%20with%20Chugach.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2711" data-original-width="3998" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AYNqZzJC4G30cqtqLyRd4F17A5WAZSFU0uztvT_W-EwE1FcOWi1d_2sPjCcVflTv8pKUWKyE1d9_wI-Awdxks14L6SXJO07lGZdGcnkOwkI46rKSUOvZtGYhcB1yUFfirQIytK-M18e7gjheJkNXoP2R8z2X64Wp8aUelIzjD_Ef2nyzHIYpedgKRZM/w400-h271/BJ%20&%20Alan%20with%20Chugach.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan and Bruce pedaling the Glenn Highway along the beautiful Chugach Mountains.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5w21UG-OPkvI1YIogYunqbbiZMk8mSA1VC9CrJVBhMYChSqRlWsiTzbqLCxvofS3fZByJ_Nc6YKrpeLw6VT6nweqxKw3oyYBTJGcoyQofN8-Gg3fGa4lLN0HhbeIQdHbSvI-pB1SxPciu2_pkDEpeVDDACcK5KnMCw8ucrAv9rzJ8S8tuf_CO0G5Glc/s1860/Me%20Centered%20with%20Chugach%20Mtns.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1383" data-original-width="1860" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo5w21UG-OPkvI1YIogYunqbbiZMk8mSA1VC9CrJVBhMYChSqRlWsiTzbqLCxvofS3fZByJ_Nc6YKrpeLw6VT6nweqxKw3oyYBTJGcoyQofN8-Gg3fGa4lLN0HhbeIQdHbSvI-pB1SxPciu2_pkDEpeVDDACcK5KnMCw8ucrAv9rzJ8S8tuf_CO0G5Glc/w400-h297/Me%20Centered%20with%20Chugach%20Mtns.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, cycling the Glenn Highway.<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: BJ)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaN4nGNlAbP_1QhLftz1TmdZHwSjcUXB2Tvb1chnhwphHFdSEUVGWabdYFg75D47PihwSCmJJYDHb3_lQFCZCbFAEW5N95HWCeB6GpfJs99MHOx7T23byHxuFLqlGCP68AdpdhhUBZvO86p433sxu_EUlN4_hNaWVht8J4vq6k1vy6DQyZtRM_c-aDrIc/s4835/Nail%20Through%20Tire.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3337" data-original-width="4835" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaN4nGNlAbP_1QhLftz1TmdZHwSjcUXB2Tvb1chnhwphHFdSEUVGWabdYFg75D47PihwSCmJJYDHb3_lQFCZCbFAEW5N95HWCeB6GpfJs99MHOx7T23byHxuFLqlGCP68AdpdhhUBZvO86p433sxu_EUlN4_hNaWVht8J4vq6k1vy6DQyZtRM_c-aDrIc/w400-h276/Nail%20Through%20Tire.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saved by the tread of my Surly Knard tires!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgell7WyG9onfPsxGPoljz-E3Lfn8Wq_BGBnk0aeTF1NMgrf4XCikL9ba_SDDEXouYWHmcqk1QxvO9eIbwAmqKOOQf2gGWm2FPsJPb35RiQEcX9SKw2p-Mu8A34B-xRks67tislkus4iivL9ZTz7gKutIVMWbPwBkYEnOFdZyplnR7weGR9HJ6bmCm3mO0/s1895/Starting%20McCarthy%20Road.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1373" data-original-width="1895" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgell7WyG9onfPsxGPoljz-E3Lfn8Wq_BGBnk0aeTF1NMgrf4XCikL9ba_SDDEXouYWHmcqk1QxvO9eIbwAmqKOOQf2gGWm2FPsJPb35RiQEcX9SKw2p-Mu8A34B-xRks67tislkus4iivL9ZTz7gKutIVMWbPwBkYEnOFdZyplnR7weGR9HJ6bmCm3mO0/w400-h290/Starting%20McCarthy%20Road.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As the pavement gave way to the gravel of McCarthy Road, the scene transformed itself into even more hubba hubba. <br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: BJ)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSPoj6jga90mdMzjO74cdtOOGOVdh7fRHZfrvmENYAlr6yo0KE6Cu2T5s_Cwh2eipnkbWM0oyGT_zcLtnamHgLA_xY61KnTba4o6Z8ibpkf2QcApkIhqNIGXw_IRM6fue8V-xVrwuXpsP9yKtmPNRWQr5zITgW5g8Hbiasz5vePzKHFz-RMlpisQtHYk/s5472/Tent%20Site%20at%20Copper%20River.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlSPoj6jga90mdMzjO74cdtOOGOVdh7fRHZfrvmENYAlr6yo0KE6Cu2T5s_Cwh2eipnkbWM0oyGT_zcLtnamHgLA_xY61KnTba4o6Z8ibpkf2QcApkIhqNIGXw_IRM6fue8V-xVrwuXpsP9yKtmPNRWQr5zITgW5g8Hbiasz5vePzKHFz-RMlpisQtHYk/w400-h266/Tent%20Site%20at%20Copper%20River.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our tent above the braided Copper River.<br />What a beautiful camp spot!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSMaREt-aAx8BnG9HBkg_2HsfEz-TSqtlHapG6SRbx6iAjZXnugKJaaL498qZdgFMKi4Uh5H1qJeT_WoGMgflbqoGPMMvwCKnMBsM3n1iHsN1czJVxdHE8OA3Oc3YzAT_-vXFAcOuVWRBTyEkECkZnavFsm1aqNrLUDXb6T78DGZ9qQylyDc0sFSk2H4/s2688/PXL_20230531_001306410.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSMaREt-aAx8BnG9HBkg_2HsfEz-TSqtlHapG6SRbx6iAjZXnugKJaaL498qZdgFMKi4Uh5H1qJeT_WoGMgflbqoGPMMvwCKnMBsM3n1iHsN1czJVxdHE8OA3Oc3YzAT_-vXFAcOuVWRBTyEkECkZnavFsm1aqNrLUDXb6T78DGZ9qQylyDc0sFSk2H4/w400-h225/PXL_20230531_001306410.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan and I waiting to be rescued by the Uhaul truck. <br />(See the poem below.)<br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: BJ)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLH3Cx87r9TeV-6a1X8dxxNSHrgg6CsqejoPZnAiEYxiptHZxTJvn3nPHhr6lgihVZY-94eoVrQMz_NS1kNcmOrTQo2h9nSRknnBzQYEHZEr2FI_wkiVNVTFf9esFqJ6dLIeeavIhJq_t5auJKCMMWDEHZ9x9A3-xJ0vxcPvbcvW1TvRV4dWmiWGV5Q8/s1941/Highend%20Homeless.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="1941" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLH3Cx87r9TeV-6a1X8dxxNSHrgg6CsqejoPZnAiEYxiptHZxTJvn3nPHhr6lgihVZY-94eoVrQMz_NS1kNcmOrTQo2h9nSRknnBzQYEHZEr2FI_wkiVNVTFf9esFqJ6dLIeeavIhJq_t5auJKCMMWDEHZ9x9A3-xJ0vxcPvbcvW1TvRV4dWmiWGV5Q8/w400-h311/Highend%20Homeless.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan, looking like a high-end homeless biker junkie as he moves his gear about. <br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: BJ)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNhDZOpmSszNH6MgRcJgzKk_loqcZSUb7sgSVV3cxLbIIEqGf1Vn8dbQuXe2aS-OnOcgBQn83OHCfdLHYOHdjJUrv9XaZ_8VlKpF9-ZKr3KvaVGU_CdWpd7TkDwaMetqAeegw41aSQsfn1ZZDs4YfUMFzIKk69Pk3m0Ph-kpQHlVhftWgGeqIG3DbYok/s2688/Me%20on%20Dock%20at%20Shirley.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNhDZOpmSszNH6MgRcJgzKk_loqcZSUb7sgSVV3cxLbIIEqGf1Vn8dbQuXe2aS-OnOcgBQn83OHCfdLHYOHdjJUrv9XaZ_8VlKpF9-ZKr3KvaVGU_CdWpd7TkDwaMetqAeegw41aSQsfn1ZZDs4YfUMFzIKk69Pk3m0Ph-kpQHlVhftWgGeqIG3DbYok/w400-h225/Me%20on%20Dock%20at%20Shirley.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, pure bliss at Lake Shirley. I could stare at this view for the rest of my life. <br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: BJ)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQc10inQ9DBIr7wxYmGe5F8c8LYpW4tvN-mbwb8bt6jbxLs1W29aumcuY6B_u77vUQqgFaFsuvGH_OjTyXu2_vSgSkJvrhBXk7axxv881FtGaGL7V9KgYLqVwthQNxofPi9rwYwtsAmiYH-5k0rU-ODG4mNTuukIf2aabKn9Xke7CPYXW5FbCyBOn3Qo/s5472/Shirley%20Lake.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQc10inQ9DBIr7wxYmGe5F8c8LYpW4tvN-mbwb8bt6jbxLs1W29aumcuY6B_u77vUQqgFaFsuvGH_OjTyXu2_vSgSkJvrhBXk7axxv881FtGaGL7V9KgYLqVwthQNxofPi9rwYwtsAmiYH-5k0rU-ODG4mNTuukIf2aabKn9Xke7CPYXW5FbCyBOn3Qo/w400-h266/Shirley%20Lake.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I was at the lake the week before, it was still covered in ice.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_g54a7zOAZTtbD08GxqLMnGWAyOvYgd0lzF2VflnoNqqrgVfpWtvoWbtA1BUFPMIJ92IT20EhPb40Ww4LTGRXF2JPnF9z9gEAfBOdOdhL9v77OwZ_9bxAi7bLA_hlJT1s1-etcNMSepPydkrdhgFjR4tuegeDh9CitlsJXvlrFKqAbAkPspRvI618jPU/s5290/Shirley%20Journal%20-%20Counting%20Pens.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3414" data-original-width="5290" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_g54a7zOAZTtbD08GxqLMnGWAyOvYgd0lzF2VflnoNqqrgVfpWtvoWbtA1BUFPMIJ92IT20EhPb40Ww4LTGRXF2JPnF9z9gEAfBOdOdhL9v77OwZ_9bxAi7bLA_hlJT1s1-etcNMSepPydkrdhgFjR4tuegeDh9CitlsJXvlrFKqAbAkPspRvI618jPU/w400-h259/Shirley%20Journal%20-%20Counting%20Pens.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved reading the cabin guest books, with entries dating back to the 1980s. <br />This was, by far, my favorite entry.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKbbXRUJ8KtjFz6fb3sPK5_lcjv-ZemhamEr1r3af98pVzkea60R1x4LZijOLI2_s2YDNw_vL4yY4WM7oGV6BGJIgWZdkYXuYfJOFX7N-iGCI55o7NQsosrzRANbc4HJFeoJZLbvI3WDyCe9nJ-a1QqZ7kgo59dnz15I-GS8mMFakh3lzIlNXfHwvaA4/s2688/Sitting%20Outside%20at%20Cabin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2688" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKbbXRUJ8KtjFz6fb3sPK5_lcjv-ZemhamEr1r3af98pVzkea60R1x4LZijOLI2_s2YDNw_vL4yY4WM7oGV6BGJIgWZdkYXuYfJOFX7N-iGCI55o7NQsosrzRANbc4HJFeoJZLbvI3WDyCe9nJ-a1QqZ7kgo59dnz15I-GS8mMFakh3lzIlNXfHwvaA4/w400-h225/Sitting%20Outside%20at%20Cabin.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan, me, and Paul outside the cabin on Shirley Lake. <br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: BJ)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Paul wrote an entertaining poem about our trip. What a fun read!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBYnUTe3r-XNsW6AYKtuV_41lxrDMAYEtsLJ20wUUIGhgHLpAdQda8HJxOq2geNFf2tONMj0vMsefdhOl_IF3IYR6POC-EzLL-OqkE27x8RKlQCX0IFQu1BbE5e3R3qhaDrcnEnXSceAQa_sjrYi8MIiLJbpU9pa7P-x55te9r5_jq2Go4HMA4gv_YQs/s1268/Hypothermic%20Escape.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="810" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBYnUTe3r-XNsW6AYKtuV_41lxrDMAYEtsLJ20wUUIGhgHLpAdQda8HJxOq2geNFf2tONMj0vMsefdhOl_IF3IYR6POC-EzLL-OqkE27x8RKlQCX0IFQu1BbE5e3R3qhaDrcnEnXSceAQa_sjrYi8MIiLJbpU9pa7P-x55te9r5_jq2Go4HMA4gv_YQs/w408-h640/Hypothermic%20Escape.png" width="408" /></a></div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-77638318890517192452022-11-09T17:29:00.002-08:002022-11-10T00:34:09.279-08:00Happy 10th Re-Birthday to Me!<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy 10th Re-Birthday to Me!</b> </p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAON0Iq85meMLjIb97iAXVr4zzHegZoKQ-DKy5xgTPcTRfLah0sk2T3WOmeIk5pv1PlE2YlvGpgppd2G-TUt9FcesWZ0PgdinGm8Y_Hc-Trj1775Bhm8NHJtoQs9vF3V-tN03GGjAsYc/s1600/Cupcake.tiff" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAON0Iq85meMLjIb97iAXVr4zzHegZoKQ-DKy5xgTPcTRfLah0sk2T3WOmeIk5pv1PlE2YlvGpgppd2G-TUt9FcesWZ0PgdinGm8Y_Hc-Trj1775Bhm8NHJtoQs9vF3V-tN03GGjAsYc/s320/Cupcake.tiff" width="320" /></a>
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<p>Wow, it's been a decade! </p><p>Ten years ago today, I quit my job and began living my new semi-retired life. The last decade has been chock-full of experiences: travels, adventures, and new connections all over the world. Looking back, I feel as though I sleepwalked through the first three and a half decades of my life. With my re-birth, I woke from the slumber and began to live deliberately. Living intentionaly has made it feel as though I've packed numerous lives into the last decade.</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Here are some highlights from the past year:<ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I had a <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2022/01/a-surgery-c-word-and-book.html">thyroidectomy</a> and am grateful to be freed of my cancer.</li><li>I finished the first draft of my memoir.</li><li>I expanded my outdoor activities to include packrafting and paddleboarding, enjoying numerous outings on various lakes and rivers.</li><li>I spent a week bikerafting in the Northwest Cascades.</li><li>I bikerafted sections of the Clark Fork and Bitterroot Rivers in Montana.</li><li>I broke-up with Adventure Cycling.</li><li>I got Covid, which had me feeling down'n'out for five prime weeks of the summer.</li><li>I spent a long weekend exploring Anacortes and its impressive Community Forest Lands.</li><li>I traveled to the Oregon Coast, where I finally got to meet my long-time virtual friend, Tony, in-person and enjoy his beautiful home, cuddly kitties, and gorgeous town.</li><li>I backpacked <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2022/10/backpacking-teton-crest-trail-photo.html" target="_blank">The Teton Crest</a>.</li><li>I visited my family for two weeks in the Chicago area.</li><li>I designed two new tours for Discovery Bicycle Tours, one in Minnesota and one in Washington.</li><li>I spent thirty weeks housesitting for fifteen of my favorite kitties.</li><li>I read a boatload of books (some of my faves include <i>Population: 485</i> by Michael Perry, <i>Love Warrior</i> by Glennon Doyle, and <i>Lost in the Valley of Death</i> by Harley Rustad).</li><li>I walked miles and miles, and then I walked even more miles.</li><li>I was proposed to by someone I had known for only a short while. Yeah, that was weird.</li></ul><p>As mentioned in my <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/11/happy-7th-re-birthday-to-me.html" target="_blank">7th Re-Birthday post</a>, three years ago I began feeling an urge to plant roots — to establish a place where I could build community and invest more deeply in relationships. I noticed myself continually drawn to Bellingham, WA. I've since spent an increasing amount of time in Bellingham, slowly building relationships with the town, the people, and the community. A few months ago, I decided to make Bellingham home.</p><p>While place has become apparent, I'm still figuring out how I fit in to this new stay-in-one-place lifestyle. I have good days, and mediocre days, and sometimes some not-so-good days as I try and figure out how to find meaning and purpose with my roots planted in one place. On numerous occasions, I've found myself questioning why it is that I wanted to change what I loved so much.</p><p>Just yesterday, I found comfort in the words of Mark Manson. Mark is a blogger and author who popularized the concept of "Fuck Yes" (as explained in my <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/01/theres-no-in-between.html" target="_blank">There's No In-Between</a> post), a philosophy I wholeheartedly embrace. Yesterday I happened to come across Mark Manson's latest newsletter. (As I do not subscribe to Mark's newsletter, I believe the Universe worked its magic to make sure I read it.) The newsletter was published two days ago and is titled <a href="https://markmanson.net/newsletters/mindfck-monthly-105" target="_blank">When to Reinvent Yourself</a>. </p><div>In the newsletter, Mark explains that for the last ten years, he has been "following his formula," writing articles and books providing life advice that is, in his words, "science-based, pragmatic, and non-bullshitty." Following his formula was exciting for him and provided much fulfillment. At least, at first. "Fast forward a decade," he writes, "I hit a point where I began to feel as though there was nowhere else to go, nothing else to say, little new ground to cover." He continues: "What had once been enthusiasm for exploring something new ten years ago had turned into repetitive boredom." So, for the first time in ten years, Mark has decided to reinvent himself. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's comforting to know I'm not alone. I have felt the same way for a few years now. The "formula" I've embraced the last ten years has become stale and now I want to reinvent myself. That's all a-ok .</div><p>The last ten years have been easy in that I've known where I've wanted to go with my life. It isn't so easy now. From some respects, figuring out how I fit in is the most challenging thing I've ever done. It's certainly more challenging than quitting my job, downsizing my belongings, and living without a home for so long. That was all easy-peasy.</p><p>I know I will find direction. I know I will find my place. I still believe what I wrote three years ago on my 7th re-birthday: <i>everything in its right time</i>. For now, I will focus on the things that bring me joy in life: walking and cycling, reading and writing, forest bathing, yoga and meditation, solitude, and growing in my capacity for love.</p><p>Cheers to another year around the sun filled with hope, clarity, and fulfillment!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-85138299426102210512022-10-20T14:41:00.002-07:002022-10-20T14:41:35.291-07:00Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail: A Photo JournalI had biked through <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2016/07/riding-tetons-yellowstone-route-photo.html" target="_blank">Grand Teton and neighboring Yellowstone National Parks</a> on numerous occasions — once on a solo trip and three times leading trips for Adventure Cycling. I felt as though I knew The Tetons fairly well. And I did, as well as one can from the seat of a bicycle. But never had I ventured beyond where my steel steed could take me. So when my adventure partner, Alan, asked whether I'd be interested in backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, I gave him a hearty affirmative. "Sure thing, Alan!" It would, after all, be a pleasure to experience the Tetons from within the crest rather than gawking up at them from 4000 feet below.<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnHW2xnpZ2ojZznNOs4_h0wNkMKfkDetSWdFJMWxwtZAtXhwUdiJpM5OwH5CN5UJyRY9qsGtoizSQIXGjDTNgsNIKU4SqZlkbLjT0VTDjm0kyKvtKHvw2Gtt6TNBRVI8aL_xGuz1AS3r40rTuLRMWF2KuZD4DFlM3echu8sPQhUzinN7EfxJfk74B/s1266/Map%20of%20Teton%20Crest.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="1266" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnHW2xnpZ2ojZznNOs4_h0wNkMKfkDetSWdFJMWxwtZAtXhwUdiJpM5OwH5CN5UJyRY9qsGtoizSQIXGjDTNgsNIKU4SqZlkbLjT0VTDjm0kyKvtKHvw2Gtt6TNBRVI8aL_xGuz1AS3r40rTuLRMWF2KuZD4DFlM3echu8sPQhUzinN7EfxJfk74B/w400-h399/Map%20of%20Teton%20Crest.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Teton Crest Trail.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
The Teton Crest is often considered one of the top backpacking trails in the United States. More than 40 miles in length, the trail traverses the Grand Teton National Park, Jedidiah Smith Wilderness, and Bridger-Teton and Caribou Targhee National Forests. The route offers a lovely array of jaw-drop vistas, from granite peaks and wide-open meadows to aquamarine lakes and magnificent evergreens. To top it off, The Teton Crest would be painted in a rich palette of autumn colors when we planned to backpack the trail at the end of September. Yup, I'd be up for that!<div><br />
<a name='more'></a>The park requires a permit to camp in the backcountry. The permit window for the 2022 season opened January 5th at 8am. When Alan forwarded me the permit, I chuckled when I saw it was time-stamped just minutes after the window had opened. One thing is for certain: Alan don't mess around when it comes to permits. No siree!<div><br />As Alan had backpacked The Teton Crest the summer before, he was familiar not only with the route, but also with ideal places to camp. A couple of the sites he was hoping to reserve were unavailable when he obtained the permit and so he chose reasonable alternatives instead; he figured we might be able to swap out a few sites when we collected the permit in-person. Sure enough, when we picked up the permit at the Moose Visitor Center the day before our trip began, we were able to score every site we had hoped for. Yahoo!<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIj2R31SIE6bBMruV_DJ4wB5gPCLEU85ctOn_B0CnjS7Vg1msN_HRouUG0xx0rwPrnqv5H-haRL24gD_DNvZwa9R4FzkgU7d5kGtQXgsNqO7XAiDOjq5dIzTuRwEEHPvUyePmvLcnY5ppDh8p17jGzCa0UsnjrWTKEhOt9kYfNj4Tz4JxqQAHiyzsO/s2798/original_e49c61c9-c51d-4bb9-8aa4-016836c2a0e9_IMG_20220923_151212832.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1782" data-original-width="2798" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIj2R31SIE6bBMruV_DJ4wB5gPCLEU85ctOn_B0CnjS7Vg1msN_HRouUG0xx0rwPrnqv5H-haRL24gD_DNvZwa9R4FzkgU7d5kGtQXgsNqO7XAiDOjq5dIzTuRwEEHPvUyePmvLcnY5ppDh8p17jGzCa0UsnjrWTKEhOt9kYfNj4Tz4JxqQAHiyzsO/w400-h255/original_e49c61c9-c51d-4bb9-8aa4-016836c2a0e9_IMG_20220923_151212832.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our permit for Marion Lake, Devils Canyon Shelf,<br />Alaska Basin, Cascade North Fork, and Holly Lake.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
Alan is a firm believer that adventures should be as human-powered as possible...which is one of the reasons I appreciate Alan as an adventure buddy. As we planned to backpack the Teton Crest from point-to-point, Alan suggested we close the loop by bicycling from the exit point (at String Lake) back to the entry point (at Teton Village*) where we would park the van. Doing so would turn our 48-mile one-way backpacking trip into an 86-mile loop, 38 miles of which would be traveled on two wheels. The day before we set out on foot, we drove to String Lake and locked our bicycles to a bike rack so they would be available to ride as soon as we finished the Teton Crest Trail a week later. We then drove to the Teton Village, where we parked the van and began our backpacking trip.<br /><br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">DAY #1: Teton Village to Marion Lake via Granite Creek Canyon (11.4 miles, 3800 ft)</h4><p>
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VtgbeYwTri1mlFbkjKkRg9KxXRh1pqnIladCN7W526mCy9wc_MzsifvTrGwhz-xH1CuiceC5FOA9FRHUzvidZ9bjlzLXAxUi3MuzjNUw4jfsiXM_e8knfItGuxaUJ6DTOwIxhDnANfdEhdVXpPBIfx27XeaJ5I-wl_ektOzdwK0kUHAzsXF9mnTD/s3536/IMG_3069.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2466" data-original-width="3536" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VtgbeYwTri1mlFbkjKkRg9KxXRh1pqnIladCN7W526mCy9wc_MzsifvTrGwhz-xH1CuiceC5FOA9FRHUzvidZ9bjlzLXAxUi3MuzjNUw4jfsiXM_e8knfItGuxaUJ6DTOwIxhDnANfdEhdVXpPBIfx27XeaJ5I-wl_ektOzdwK0kUHAzsXF9mnTD/w400-h279/IMG_3069.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh bodies and fresh faces in Teton Village<br />before heading out on the trail.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Nq6NYMhUNs2rjBIZNAm0_wmfsydh5wxvPPMmgAPPLcOAvNU136NwvyjtjSloCcsaiDxAs87UzXShJ71kf7SqfROjzP9N_skcDkqrJ-o3eXNWz2tWBsvz8v1SIE8MVHUhw4ccFdXeEzodKh21FbuXXoEr1FJ9obClXMZ-GTxWE4cGPEqpLhb4Mlyz/s4905/IMG_3094.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3323" data-original-width="4905" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Nq6NYMhUNs2rjBIZNAm0_wmfsydh5wxvPPMmgAPPLcOAvNU136NwvyjtjSloCcsaiDxAs87UzXShJ71kf7SqfROjzP9N_skcDkqrJ-o3eXNWz2tWBsvz8v1SIE8MVHUhw4ccFdXeEzodKh21FbuXXoEr1FJ9obClXMZ-GTxWE4cGPEqpLhb4Mlyz/w400-h271/IMG_3094.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At our camp at Marion Lake. <br />Our faces are still fresh, our bodies less so.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">DAY #2: Marion Lake to Death Canyon Shelf (4.7 miles, 840 ft)</h4><p>
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSWE452caXKL5PAeP60qtWbqHs0NH1cAmngg_a1ABA5nC5xvVKrJS80eYI1SKnYB_J1pPsRXJEZsH6ksBv5c6veoeIgbXM3eRot1Gb5Gk6aW8DC-EcDgum7LNAOj2SPG6UyaXFqpyYoqP1nOlnKifmr5Zi0aGqvtfHYjQQhlwbYfTkK-wgpBQRG_S/s4184/IMG_3111.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3029" data-original-width="4184" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSWE452caXKL5PAeP60qtWbqHs0NH1cAmngg_a1ABA5nC5xvVKrJS80eYI1SKnYB_J1pPsRXJEZsH6ksBv5c6veoeIgbXM3eRot1Gb5Gk6aW8DC-EcDgum7LNAOj2SPG6UyaXFqpyYoqP1nOlnKifmr5Zi0aGqvtfHYjQQhlwbYfTkK-wgpBQRG_S/w400-h290/IMG_3111.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arriving at our camp on the Death Canyon Shelf with plenty of afternoon hours,<br />we both cracked open our books.<br />I read me some Thoreau, while Alan read a book about silence.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiieR0khhZ-GEk2PL8KVBkvICRQXWVD6IKRXap5W69GL1q6tP15nj4ZMObfsqI2xzBPeTqw4o3cV_CIwNkSCFz90Gx2yadpb2hXVbh8v1SBVrPzhX4K2xMtV77lP3XbgwJ637HB2R4LZQzD-Ax7BUrAjZLMkPukhJjFM4XAm8nKWWoEAmk98jwTE0KS/s5220/IMG_3119.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5220" data-original-width="3229" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiieR0khhZ-GEk2PL8KVBkvICRQXWVD6IKRXap5W69GL1q6tP15nj4ZMObfsqI2xzBPeTqw4o3cV_CIwNkSCFz90Gx2yadpb2hXVbh8v1SBVrPzhX4K2xMtV77lP3XbgwJ637HB2R4LZQzD-Ax7BUrAjZLMkPukhJjFM4XAm8nKWWoEAmk98jwTE0KS/w248-h400/IMG_3119.JPG" width="248" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My most favorite gear: my new Hyperlite backpack.<br />My least favorite gear: my 15-year-old Asolo. Blisters galore!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">DAY #3: Death Canyon Shelf to Sunset Lake via Alaska Basin Loop (8.1 miles, 1500 ft)</h4><p>
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOg6LAizQfM3WzVZ_VrHwoaUBbMAFHk2MggNhynivvgOwkXDGqYXJYu5omhhO0R0oHzPa7WmZpdGDsXUDJe81v3w4fRrWh9zitvyLxqqVZLb4CeXGZMHRRZsNLe70eZaIC87LlaCunsxMOPfH3wSdxEP-IGjX3VhxE5S84A_8zOgsG4tZm7ByeHtE/s4949/IMG_3132.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4949" data-original-width="3258" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDOg6LAizQfM3WzVZ_VrHwoaUBbMAFHk2MggNhynivvgOwkXDGqYXJYu5omhhO0R0oHzPa7WmZpdGDsXUDJe81v3w4fRrWh9zitvyLxqqVZLb4CeXGZMHRRZsNLe70eZaIC87LlaCunsxMOPfH3wSdxEP-IGjX3VhxE5S84A_8zOgsG4tZm7ByeHtE/w264-h400/IMG_3132.JPG" width="264" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I peeked out the tent in the morning to find Alan<br />worshipping the rising sun as he glanced down towards Death Canyon.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ugBRAPrFIqTqRlTHBi1cctFsz-m9FSdwhhWjvkEMCep8Evt9pgqVlIfOuWYnLCKSX8Zzb_Ncve3_A_MONIdMYcnWMN-Ir7T-qRDIPtcSMVbA_HsZ_bjDuCGzObu4XdSQEpaqh0B0qnBjubIAcZYVg4oV4st2Eo16x1DAzrONtY_tuGUgONYnPALW/s5303/IMG_3214.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5303" data-original-width="3478" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ugBRAPrFIqTqRlTHBi1cctFsz-m9FSdwhhWjvkEMCep8Evt9pgqVlIfOuWYnLCKSX8Zzb_Ncve3_A_MONIdMYcnWMN-Ir7T-qRDIPtcSMVbA_HsZ_bjDuCGzObu4XdSQEpaqh0B0qnBjubIAcZYVg4oV4st2Eo16x1DAzrONtY_tuGUgONYnPALW/w263-h400/IMG_3214.JPG" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We decided to hike a few additional miles around Alaska Basin.<br />We were so glad we did, as the scenery was superb.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4P43ANflftOgewsXiOElWjcSZrbqskemCINEV-Y5RcsuYhcOCQIRW0svwr0SwIvDyhd06F1TYIdHTePs72EaiiGZLGBolzYbIJsyHygmvtIxVem2qRYybwyquOXp02GuMTyyQOrOZp-G-TKyBJLVVMWDfa91obWdoChhnYwyV3u8OBfBXoKX-Iry/s4282/IMG_3148.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3064" data-original-width="4282" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4P43ANflftOgewsXiOElWjcSZrbqskemCINEV-Y5RcsuYhcOCQIRW0svwr0SwIvDyhd06F1TYIdHTePs72EaiiGZLGBolzYbIJsyHygmvtIxVem2qRYybwyquOXp02GuMTyyQOrOZp-G-TKyBJLVVMWDfa91obWdoChhnYwyV3u8OBfBXoKX-Iry/w400-h286/IMG_3148.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Alaska Baskin had a number of small lakes.<br />The first we chanced upon was our most favorite.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2uMVbUxPDeNcnph4jXHfA2Qp0UIqAXGe7lkTGEoTIJ32K5G0XmhikGenN5GkmXmqJYDupviLV94XRmJ4Z293vewp9hRKvFjnAKYAc6bBmYPnNxoePZwIp01yxF-wcvZ7BHTZ55-nZWc39P_xPjvq2wzSJukMFTTU3mwGSSW6SckZDhhkYcZmfV3rE/s3746/IMG_3151.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2392" data-original-width="3746" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2uMVbUxPDeNcnph4jXHfA2Qp0UIqAXGe7lkTGEoTIJ32K5G0XmhikGenN5GkmXmqJYDupviLV94XRmJ4Z293vewp9hRKvFjnAKYAc6bBmYPnNxoePZwIp01yxF-wcvZ7BHTZ55-nZWc39P_xPjvq2wzSJukMFTTU3mwGSSW6SckZDhhkYcZmfV3rE/w400-h255/IMG_3151.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spent quite a bit of time marveling at the fish in the lake,<br />wondering what it must be like to live in a lake at 10k feet.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog7CNaGMVMgpWffSFz7TSRGuVmnHGXFTQRnI_3RlON5Lqn7Cl4O_C6NAyXw48BoNnbU3jmk6H5-NA0azbbCyTDZLNiqqQpx1C5c25NHv0LtKtyQDrZbrC0ot3NiuU1rUxuRDTisB9YLvGIiW9qSfMP7MXYlc1DeJpiSysZczWn17KiYPB6ic85M06/s4533/IMG_3167.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4533" data-original-width="3435" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog7CNaGMVMgpWffSFz7TSRGuVmnHGXFTQRnI_3RlON5Lqn7Cl4O_C6NAyXw48BoNnbU3jmk6H5-NA0azbbCyTDZLNiqqQpx1C5c25NHv0LtKtyQDrZbrC0ot3NiuU1rUxuRDTisB9YLvGIiW9qSfMP7MXYlc1DeJpiSysZczWn17KiYPB6ic85M06/w303-h400/IMG_3167.JPG" width="303" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After settling into our camp at Sunset Lake,<br />Alan enjoyed some feel-good stretches.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">DAY #4: Sunset Lake to North Fork, including side trip to Avalanche Divide (11.5 miles, 2100 ft)</h4><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJNAUNz564Ia1y7lXpJL7_CMhKdvnxOxTEtN_2aPCsW_0Ve7hLPhCteWJulzLjdhoA332ZGdxlGiCro_YmeCdD7E1JlAJ5bX5SAuLlLJK234tB6yRhzwpsHZLA1ClagXmSYo1x6hoSNG5zegJQvXcrG3dZ9W5GLEXH5avAqzJ4j5aVozc2hIj6jQZ/s4883/IMG_3173.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4883" data-original-width="3128" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJNAUNz564Ia1y7lXpJL7_CMhKdvnxOxTEtN_2aPCsW_0Ve7hLPhCteWJulzLjdhoA332ZGdxlGiCro_YmeCdD7E1JlAJ5bX5SAuLlLJK234tB6yRhzwpsHZLA1ClagXmSYo1x6hoSNG5zegJQvXcrG3dZ9W5GLEXH5avAqzJ4j5aVozc2hIj6jQZ/w256-h400/IMG_3173.JPG" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posing before The Grand Teton.<br />Yes, we switched packs -- for funsies!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02U3OI05YWtIhCaTBtpc5-axiKjYNUOusEEB3P5Ip7OkIdKenICgQzI9RcSYGyRDVSESDY1BbVnf4eH5fJ7dfxYyRtL24HauNPV_2JE7voYhdBn25PDMH5nIEiOwagOKRthdV1-dmnRpOehClJP2ULm64ebK4nWOdiWkzZqgPE4BYC1qEWw7nBQX9/s5472/IMG_3191.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02U3OI05YWtIhCaTBtpc5-axiKjYNUOusEEB3P5Ip7OkIdKenICgQzI9RcSYGyRDVSESDY1BbVnf4eH5fJ7dfxYyRtL24HauNPV_2JE7voYhdBn25PDMH5nIEiOwagOKRthdV1-dmnRpOehClJP2ULm64ebK4nWOdiWkzZqgPE4BYC1qEWw7nBQX9/w400-h266/IMG_3191.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jumping for joy in front of the Grand, Middle, and South Tetons.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhCe4wpiPKnP3rkUIB6AMV__APVxp4nWqxb4BoaQrqvNXt-IZu53P42rMt4NE8JiHjya4X58zlgPdaLoKUvJK8uWvCbGEmEHyqjozqJhCt6dAab_jAa7cLq_L38GclTvYNtmhi4pqxkwmk7WJpOcCsdt57CYZCfpPF3Mv1-a7iJ58lFxSwrvOf28K/s5472/IMG_3193.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhCe4wpiPKnP3rkUIB6AMV__APVxp4nWqxb4BoaQrqvNXt-IZu53P42rMt4NE8JiHjya4X58zlgPdaLoKUvJK8uWvCbGEmEHyqjozqJhCt6dAab_jAa7cLq_L38GclTvYNtmhi4pqxkwmk7WJpOcCsdt57CYZCfpPF3Mv1-a7iJ58lFxSwrvOf28K/w266-h400/IMG_3193.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found a rock that perfectly expressed<br />my feelings for this backpacking trip.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9WjBU9qxGvK1y-IKeGhpF2ajYlpkSrE3SQD7hQIGJ4XRhZfpDDS-lgo-PY8udFJ4kOhc4HCsDTnBOpx0uYAcuRJXROkrhI45vd6wgE5ZFWRfhoz6PqwBr-BspplekdSOrjqqMJMj6iWK90uoOlpKN42lc3zqYxlitLyPsoBuKcCR79QeW6Iis7qA/s5472/IMG_3222.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9WjBU9qxGvK1y-IKeGhpF2ajYlpkSrE3SQD7hQIGJ4XRhZfpDDS-lgo-PY8udFJ4kOhc4HCsDTnBOpx0uYAcuRJXROkrhI45vd6wgE5ZFWRfhoz6PqwBr-BspplekdSOrjqqMJMj6iWK90uoOlpKN42lc3zqYxlitLyPsoBuKcCR79QeW6Iis7qA/w400-h266/IMG_3222.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan looks up towards the Schoolroom Glacier.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioKW8klVaeafLgThFFTN4SphGdUjmwbbfsJaHP_K_gxtFFFPqLMkZ1BBrMK1KryCY8BjxvfhNfiOiFPQpmIRo2sL_TQMaGwiBJN77bwhZuFvQ1f5kK67SODI6OGNmnyHQN9swUvzZEtGhABMAYircguzVXhYRoB38NgsTPjmruvzAOKvis0V7gRgnz/s5207/IMG_3245.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3490" data-original-width="5207" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioKW8klVaeafLgThFFTN4SphGdUjmwbbfsJaHP_K_gxtFFFPqLMkZ1BBrMK1KryCY8BjxvfhNfiOiFPQpmIRo2sL_TQMaGwiBJN77bwhZuFvQ1f5kK67SODI6OGNmnyHQN9swUvzZEtGhABMAYircguzVXhYRoB38NgsTPjmruvzAOKvis0V7gRgnz/w400-h268/IMG_3245.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We decided to ascend a few hundred extra feet <br />in a few extra miles to Avalanche Divide (10,680 ft).<br />As we were feeling crunched for time, <br />we fastpacked up to the divide.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpy976GqnhzSFN2bVMts5MWmnTVOPWhAttSpWXPRWTdswP2vh7Ol-w-mcdJGdj4uZhi7BJCnr9cZ_2IjTDKX2n1dFPUUvSfGOeQsZJq4nx2_e125Pma_c0e-O_yg221fpUJto5oEII5IT4YyA9l9KWXBfEUNPPtwjiqyANWag_iSBwYp1NWdkoIPhS/s5472/IMG_3243.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpy976GqnhzSFN2bVMts5MWmnTVOPWhAttSpWXPRWTdswP2vh7Ol-w-mcdJGdj4uZhi7BJCnr9cZ_2IjTDKX2n1dFPUUvSfGOeQsZJq4nx2_e125Pma_c0e-O_yg221fpUJto5oEII5IT4YyA9l9KWXBfEUNPPtwjiqyANWag_iSBwYp1NWdkoIPhS/w400-h266/IMG_3243.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top of Avalanche Divide, with Kit Lake in the background.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yN4waDm4XyR7vSyizyH8KgAYNdL0xVEoT2FTEbj5AFUBFjkKDMm-PfjRvbUryJMbfT23byd_eiDMPMgwcvnBhtqQ84dSkx584ZfCyMlv1lbf6JAK5Dsa8xesg1WhZIzOId-Hg73HsArQH1ehl-T12fRUFSXP_h5-nE_j7cuCqwDtcLGpWK7AdRP3/s4851/IMG_3251.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3292" data-original-width="4851" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4yN4waDm4XyR7vSyizyH8KgAYNdL0xVEoT2FTEbj5AFUBFjkKDMm-PfjRvbUryJMbfT23byd_eiDMPMgwcvnBhtqQ84dSkx584ZfCyMlv1lbf6JAK5Dsa8xesg1WhZIzOId-Hg73HsArQH1ehl-T12fRUFSXP_h5-nE_j7cuCqwDtcLGpWK7AdRP3/w400-h271/IMG_3251.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan crosses one of the bridges on the way <br />to our camp at Cascade North Fork.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9_2O_03MmO26l6rL8p7d7vhrUNCy8Gr0XvCXMOZKc5gIjClkvw_xD81Wr5nhZeGpgzLz3cMDw_AL_IxsFx4ObDuMC4V79n7x_AqefhfGi1_k9koY9zoUOLuDVsurXZ6eD5h8Omg-DeXBefyz_MYp9qTzG7gdsuzlH_wjNoU5_Ls-KYglc9hHOcl2/s5170/IMG_3261.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3335" data-original-width="5170" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9_2O_03MmO26l6rL8p7d7vhrUNCy8Gr0XvCXMOZKc5gIjClkvw_xD81Wr5nhZeGpgzLz3cMDw_AL_IxsFx4ObDuMC4V79n7x_AqefhfGi1_k9koY9zoUOLuDVsurXZ6eD5h8Omg-DeXBefyz_MYp9qTzG7gdsuzlH_wjNoU5_Ls-KYglc9hHOcl2/w400-h258/IMG_3261.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We knew we were going to be hungry this night, <br />and so we dined on our most favorite and highest calorie meals.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWtnLVW7DJdTGmRswMRNq_KfkQ1WqIt5ebi32qnQ7iborFxNPZbKaTr5rcrC0eakvvEZZ3UjEGyxpjwkABt30Co7ub2279a3ryeoS6cCPmq6v-PmdDU5yokbSgGNuMGPeYrf4NwggF-mJBWrgPXhqO_EWk2_GEvF55wo5Sc-u2q0eXRRsuYEgzF7y/s5063/IMG_3258.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3513" data-original-width="5063" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWtnLVW7DJdTGmRswMRNq_KfkQ1WqIt5ebi32qnQ7iborFxNPZbKaTr5rcrC0eakvvEZZ3UjEGyxpjwkABt30Co7ub2279a3ryeoS6cCPmq6v-PmdDU5yokbSgGNuMGPeYrf4NwggF-mJBWrgPXhqO_EWk2_GEvF55wo5Sc-u2q0eXRRsuYEgzF7y/w400-h278/IMG_3258.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of the setting sun on The Tetons was intoxicating.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">DAY #5: North Fork to Holly Lake (5.8 miles, 2225 ft)</h4><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CfqKVDy0EwY50F_DiuhG2T69qJTK27zThRg_Ycr7b2oADO0Vghh0rZ-MeQaMnZFOj0l3G162-bPQpALW5tIVqStEJdp2U_RXBa9YCL0cdYAHc8X9YfUxQ5r4pKA_gqHPzDrrEfyRke6a16VeukrofCz_31ciZXtFCCO6FS1tf7SLJLZ8fiV36aKK/s1068/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-15%20at%203.44.36%20PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="776" data-original-width="1068" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CfqKVDy0EwY50F_DiuhG2T69qJTK27zThRg_Ycr7b2oADO0Vghh0rZ-MeQaMnZFOj0l3G162-bPQpALW5tIVqStEJdp2U_RXBa9YCL0cdYAHc8X9YfUxQ5r4pKA_gqHPzDrrEfyRke6a16VeukrofCz_31ciZXtFCCO6FS1tf7SLJLZ8fiV36aKK/w400-h291/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-15%20at%203.44.36%20PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little early morning fun.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBUu-fbg-OwKTjJBLE8HVRfzGHkp3YspX1bpFP3dSOUTC-I-NgtjR5NorZ0cIb7w16umF1rf1Y_0xqbujdfR6L6C7NTVnYSTw8qxp7FPeCq9J5x37mKfoRpx_X4f8K2lZlHlCJcHw0J8eU2ND6HMWiSOaCBLDDZPYS6Oqhrvj1dnRu4bKu-D21ru9/s5278/IMG_3280.JPG"><img border="0" data-original-height="3409" data-original-width="5278" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBUu-fbg-OwKTjJBLE8HVRfzGHkp3YspX1bpFP3dSOUTC-I-NgtjR5NorZ0cIb7w16umF1rf1Y_0xqbujdfR6L6C7NTVnYSTw8qxp7FPeCq9J5x37mKfoRpx_X4f8K2lZlHlCJcHw0J8eU2ND6HMWiSOaCBLDDZPYS6Oqhrvj1dnRu4bKu-D21ru9/w400-h259/IMG_3280.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ2afVHFv6p6D8x4y70Q5o-VLtJxUoh09IaW-6wBLy1tofXXr47N2c0XgPZkJqBmpV0_0Sizgn4Yw76TZrTSbRikkI1z4fB9dXqwhq1p6R51wiLtQ2fsMKSS821iJaVSyeKJdfcSyb4kcnSoxApai2ba3v_3-XO_CfN0-uTp8xCnr41HtcZQZEaKK7/s5216/IMG_3283.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3525" data-original-width="5216" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ2afVHFv6p6D8x4y70Q5o-VLtJxUoh09IaW-6wBLy1tofXXr47N2c0XgPZkJqBmpV0_0Sizgn4Yw76TZrTSbRikkI1z4fB9dXqwhq1p6R51wiLtQ2fsMKSS821iJaVSyeKJdfcSyb4kcnSoxApai2ba3v_3-XO_CfN0-uTp8xCnr41HtcZQZEaKK7/w400-h270/IMG_3283.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...while I marveled at the surrounding beauty.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mB1VZrVvBu7qD61lDtCPYBr7EXy1v-Z6NHMFs1vP0nhEA8nWtxQo1NhpNJ2Mk6YcGUGdvxaVQk7raTaGMfjw8tWcpbCNnIw1dCOEQ8VRtOwWeWkIBJGlxcD_DUO3mEnVlMnoZTLff_N2D9Y2DJnH43bxg74jtfA_ArpY3MviMIdDyQjH4B2dBvXA/s3601/IMG_1966.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3601" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mB1VZrVvBu7qD61lDtCPYBr7EXy1v-Z6NHMFs1vP0nhEA8nWtxQo1NhpNJ2Mk6YcGUGdvxaVQk7raTaGMfjw8tWcpbCNnIw1dCOEQ8VRtOwWeWkIBJGlxcD_DUO3mEnVlMnoZTLff_N2D9Y2DJnH43bxg74jtfA_ArpY3MviMIdDyQjH4B2dBvXA/w336-h400/IMG_1966.jpg" width="336" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our view looking back towards The Tetons <br />as we climbed up Paintbrush Divide from Lake Solitude. <br />The valley was painted in various autumnal hues.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTPsnUklWZPqPkRwPXJLdTXNz2ZZXShZckA16kG7UsU6ZpoDM_EnZsECpxtG-VkACicfcskCWgtSxOM-3-HJ_AsgXaBwq1y5EK7xJ2JY51xxRZOF3ofm5zIgqYQ6e2PwxKVCC9XHdvfkGl9DFb3wWjWKJlxPl3RxfFIofCkGR9Z9rnc1rJs_EZVbG/s4599/IMG_3298.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3513" data-original-width="4599" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTPsnUklWZPqPkRwPXJLdTXNz2ZZXShZckA16kG7UsU6ZpoDM_EnZsECpxtG-VkACicfcskCWgtSxOM-3-HJ_AsgXaBwq1y5EK7xJ2JY51xxRZOF3ofm5zIgqYQ6e2PwxKVCC9XHdvfkGl9DFb3wWjWKJlxPl3RxfFIofCkGR9Z9rnc1rJs_EZVbG/w400-h305/IMG_3298.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soon we entered Paintbrush Canyon.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU4m_0jLa_WRlyrhI76DsYdBsWkTWyogvZQaqbr20sXmajNQ7IBbq7ppTiIAuyRve27Kic8tOnqlZZz42K8HlBGnaecM7TMTjHaWC5E47sSE-7sxf1nhU2jJN688y5bQfQqrU0ZAHEziGA1QzoZgtF6rWP9zpHpLulDB9rDn3dbsGq0wSZExFgfGU/s5375/IMG_3308.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3552" data-original-width="5375" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU4m_0jLa_WRlyrhI76DsYdBsWkTWyogvZQaqbr20sXmajNQ7IBbq7ppTiIAuyRve27Kic8tOnqlZZz42K8HlBGnaecM7TMTjHaWC5E47sSE-7sxf1nhU2jJN688y5bQfQqrU0ZAHEziGA1QzoZgtF6rWP9zpHpLulDB9rDn3dbsGq0wSZExFgfGU/w400-h264/IMG_3308.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan captures our location -- Paintbrush Divide (10,700 ft).</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The weather had been impeccable for us — perfectly blue skies with temperatures warm enough for shorts and t-shirts during the day. Though the nighttime temperatures were certainly cooler (especially at elevation), the temps never approached freezing. In the afternoon of Day #5, we noticed clouds beginning to gather in the sky and so we assumed the weather might be deteriorating. As we approached Holly Lake, we asked some folks camping nearby whether they were aware of the forecast. Indeed they were; the forecast predicted heavy rain with potential hail. Yikes! We decided to get an early start the next morning in hopes that we could finish our hike and bike back to Teton Village before the skies opened.</div><div><br />
<h4 style="text-align: left;">DAY #6: Holly Lake to String Lake (7 miles, 300 ft) + Bike ride String Lake --> Teton Village (38 miles)</h4><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCj3OmMzT10iz4TN4N5YQ5DGtOQbVHT-sGC4qZf9XvCCMFXLUk6xjlOsOoqnrwANmR6lO7tQWZ5gFuM2lF7AGgDyq7OalKKhd729wRHl3qrvKsCDCEmHo2KPMIrpUEiOo_ykiqPSPRRAF8ioanuuhf9BOwyRo2vP5kRoF32xGu1kbavzdlJ9cKu1c/s5472/IMG_3310.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCj3OmMzT10iz4TN4N5YQ5DGtOQbVHT-sGC4qZf9XvCCMFXLUk6xjlOsOoqnrwANmR6lO7tQWZ5gFuM2lF7AGgDyq7OalKKhd729wRHl3qrvKsCDCEmHo2KPMIrpUEiOo_ykiqPSPRRAF8ioanuuhf9BOwyRo2vP5kRoF32xGu1kbavzdlJ9cKu1c/w400-h266/IMG_3310.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our view towards Leigh Lake as we backpacked out our final morning.<br />Though the lake appeared to be airbrushed in cheery pastels, <br />the sky looked ominous just to the south.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
We emerged from The Teton Crest at String Lake, where we were pleased to see that both of our bikes were fully present and fully intact. We rearranged our gear, moving the heaviest items from our packs into our bear containers (a bear canister for Alan and an Ursack for me). We then strapped the bear containers to our bike racks and our backpacks to our backs, hopped on the saddles, and pedaled off towards Teton Village. <div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3Dps0m9ql3l-ZgxkSy4etS3IO6htq3JJyuQyOKVfeUDozo5cMsPN1zog5stuS3uR6ohHpmGTY5UnRWyno7FCwbtw0Alsizx7BDCZdpMpVx2tc5Xh3lSIv4UZ7k1pngoB1ERNo4-DzHTQr1t_gSHZRtFB_sNVEq7lFLHeQePf3YuSwpgrePUsqCHc/s1260/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-15%20at%204.39.42%20PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="1260" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3Dps0m9ql3l-ZgxkSy4etS3IO6htq3JJyuQyOKVfeUDozo5cMsPN1zog5stuS3uR6ohHpmGTY5UnRWyno7FCwbtw0Alsizx7BDCZdpMpVx2tc5Xh3lSIv4UZ7k1pngoB1ERNo4-DzHTQr1t_gSHZRtFB_sNVEq7lFLHeQePf3YuSwpgrePUsqCHc/w400-h154/Screen%20Shot%202022-10-15%20at%204.39.42%20PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biking with our backpacks.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Because a section of Moose-Wilson Rd was closed for construction, what could have been a 19-mile ride to Teton Village ended up being twice as long since we needed to pedal the roundabout way. We felt a few raindrops fall onto our faces a few miles shy of Jackson, but fortunately, it wasn't until our final ten miles when we finally encountered rain. We stopped, donned our rain jackets, and continued pedaling back to the van.</p><p>
All in all, the trip did not disappoint in providing the experiences we had hoped for, sweetened by perfect weather and fulfilling companionship. </p><p>"Wait, wait, wait, before you go, did you see any wildlife?" you ask. Indeed. We saw lots of deer, some pika, some fish...and one bear.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPAlMOblgOXCkKss3sfb8b-AayI7f96HFXT5UKJQyjtTyzRfwMJj6r3eQJ9MvuymPFd1HJ2hgjCkcUzbEBIf6TgA0nDRWZ8_vJVSA0uvJAvVRyVBBG_kyv-oAMJQmk47Vy9vf1PzXmJcQs8HumPaWypSjapFmBG6z5bYvMtJTsbyGLp-2agR8Dc5Y/s559/IMG_1980.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="559" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPAlMOblgOXCkKss3sfb8b-AayI7f96HFXT5UKJQyjtTyzRfwMJj6r3eQJ9MvuymPFd1HJ2hgjCkcUzbEBIf6TgA0nDRWZ8_vJVSA0uvJAvVRyVBBG_kyv-oAMJQmk47Vy9vf1PzXmJcQs8HumPaWypSjapFmBG6z5bYvMtJTsbyGLp-2agR8Dc5Y/w400-h278/IMG_1980.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We saw only one bear. We was munching on a tree <br />on the side of the road as we drove away from Teton Village.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">
* NOTE: Our backpacking route technically began at the Granite Canyon Trailhead. However, as both the trailhead and a section of Moose-Wilson Rd were closed for construction. we began our backpack trip instead at nearby Teton Village.</span></p></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-20514322879518540612022-01-11T00:39:00.008-08:002022-01-18T14:41:41.761-08:00A Surgery, the C-Word, and a Book<p>Three weeks ago, I had a thyroidectomy. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgROvo1DPU4d5kAsVJxQ7fMt98Ba10AIN4QpeHVVdIk6KmuNYmgjcBUy39_t2iXXkrOsm0u3-Pqh59WpIFsFMGCrSiBAjzaW9CedAhTKtpJtqpq2VUEnfbyaYeN2J7PbqXaioRAmPQ9Hqgy3MEgOOKLRYJ8qsVYXr60zlrq6OenBCI18wR_G3GxxNXz=s3264" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgROvo1DPU4d5kAsVJxQ7fMt98Ba10AIN4QpeHVVdIk6KmuNYmgjcBUy39_t2iXXkrOsm0u3-Pqh59WpIFsFMGCrSiBAjzaW9CedAhTKtpJtqpq2VUEnfbyaYeN2J7PbqXaioRAmPQ9Hqgy3MEgOOKLRYJ8qsVYXr60zlrq6OenBCI18wR_G3GxxNXz=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me after my thyroidectomy.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The thyroid is a butterfly-shaped gland located at the base of the front of the neck. The gland is responsible for producing hormones that control nearly every function in the body: metabolism, cardiovascular, and reproductive, to name a few. I've had thyroid issues, namely Hashimoto's (an autoimmune disease) and hypothyroidism, for more than twenty years. For the most part, I've been able to address these issues by swallowing a daily pill containing hormone replacement. Alas, a time arrived when I could no longer control my thyroid with medication.</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>Last July 4th, in the middle of scouting a new bicycle route through the lovely Green Mountains of Vermont, I suddenly felt as though my body had been filled with a fast-setting concrete. And then I lost my energy in an instant, as though a switch had been turned off. I didn't think the problem was thyroid-related, as I had never before had such a significant drop in energy. After a series of tests to rule out other concerns, my doctors and I circled back to my thyroid.<p></p><p>I met with a surgeon who explained that my thyroid was heavily scarred and nodule-speckled from chronic thyroiditis. To put it in simple terms, my thyroid was toxic. No wonder I was so fatigued. My surgeon recommended a total thyroidectomy. The body can, after all, manage without a thyroid; I would simply need to take a higher dose of the same pill I'd been taking for the last twenty years. The surgeon was confident that a thyroidectomy would lead to a "significant improvement of life." As an added bonus, by removing my thyroid, I would be ridding my body of its autoimmune disease. That sounded quite wonderful. I'll take that 'ectomy, doc!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYZN3NDDlybiHZmo5td_9RkLR7xqkflwp80tqRYvp5n0Xj2EQM-y7u2SQPmPOtvWGgyxg6_kz0AbzA7SnA8lQb8gtaBrzE6jpH-wLVSKOXrzRJggVuRaglti2kCrNed7jY7xTpz-wYD6noESh5osELSRv4_17ZzYpMxmGEJlIGbddNjzOfqKW-B5pG=s2744" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2744" data-original-width="2393" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYZN3NDDlybiHZmo5td_9RkLR7xqkflwp80tqRYvp5n0Xj2EQM-y7u2SQPmPOtvWGgyxg6_kz0AbzA7SnA8lQb8gtaBrzE6jpH-wLVSKOXrzRJggVuRaglti2kCrNed7jY7xTpz-wYD6noESh5osELSRv4_17ZzYpMxmGEJlIGbddNjzOfqKW-B5pG=w349-h400" width="349" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers to a significant improvement in life!<br />Although it may look like a cute little plastic wine flask,<br />that little pouch is collecting fluid from a drain in my neck.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>I had the surgery bright'n'early on the morning of Monday, December 20th. The procedure lasted just under two hours. As I would be staying overnight in the hospital for monitoring purposes, I spent the rest of the day sampling nearly every popsicle and yogurt on the menu, walking laps around the floor, and sleeping. When the surgeon visited the following morning, he told me my thyroid looked much worse than he had anticipated. Eeks, that was not good. He said he was glad we got it out when we did. Yeah, that <i>was</i> good.</p><p>One risk of a thyroidectomy is a permanent hoarse or weak voice due to nerve damage. For the first three days, I sounded as though I had smoked six packs of cigarettes a day for ninety years straight. I was grateful to hear my voice return in full force on the fourth day. Another common risk of surgery is permanent damage to the parathyroids. The parathyroids are four tiny structures that are attached to the thyroid and responsible for regulating calcium in the bloodstream. My surgeon was able to preserve two of my four parathyroids; the other two were entangled in the mess of scarred tissues. My surgeon removed these two entangled parathyroids and then autotransplanted them into my neck muscle. In the first days after my surgery, I popped calcium tablets as if they were candy. A week and a half later, my parathyroids kicked back into action. Phew, risks avoided!</p><p>The most wondrous event happened a few days later on January 1st. On that day, the new year greeted me with a generous gift -- my energy. Just as quickly as my energy switch turned off on July 4th, the switch had flipped back on. What a glorious way to welcome in the new year!</p><p>To be honest, the return of my energy was almost a little too much. Imagine someone who slowly goes blind over the course of twenty years. When that person's vision is instantly restored, the overwhelming transformation from darkness to 20/20 can be a wee bit overstimulating. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieIG84LYtXsN-9hSrPghZ-jkjgdnUqCWj8fXyLuj0usAR0DANUqvjga9CBdzDPsqcNrklm6kIkZWxAjX3Q5vRRHfBMmeIv8bdcMAWFUuJqN1xDhUg4ak3GLesz9-A3aY3Ge_Qv_8p7ok9XjqvqqU0BLWNX9fVCmthKnemvcqvDzTbIZf28Gt3hP_fs=s2293" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2122" data-original-width="2293" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieIG84LYtXsN-9hSrPghZ-jkjgdnUqCWj8fXyLuj0usAR0DANUqvjga9CBdzDPsqcNrklm6kIkZWxAjX3Q5vRRHfBMmeIv8bdcMAWFUuJqN1xDhUg4ak3GLesz9-A3aY3Ge_Qv_8p7ok9XjqvqqU0BLWNX9fVCmthKnemvcqvDzTbIZf28Gt3hP_fs=w400-h370" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My incision two weeks after surgery.<br />This could make for a good Halloween costume -- no make-up needed!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Closure on the surgery came with receipt of the pathology report. This report, typically delivered in about ten days, was delayed an additional week, compliments of Covid. The pathology report appeared a little after 10pm on January 6th in MyChart, the online medical record portal used by my healthcare system. I opened the report and started skimming through the medical mumble-jumble. As soon as my eyes saw the word "carcinoma," my stomach tied itself into one heavy knot and then fell kerplunk to the floor. I scrolled my eyes up to the top of the report, this time meticulously reading every single word. I relied multiple times on Dr. Google to help translate the findings for me.</p><p>From what I could tell, the left lobe of my thyroid contained two tumors. The first tumor was a papillary thyroid carcinoma, the classic form of thyroid cancer. The report explained that this tumor was well-encapsulated and had a significant margin. I assumed this meant the tumor had been fully addressed by the surgery. The second tumor was a hyalinizing trabecular adenoma. An online search informed me that this type of tumor was rare but typically benign. The report explained that this adenoma had a "unique immunohistochemistry finding"; the tumor had markers indicating malignancy, which meant this tumor was super-duper rare. Unlike the other tumor, this one was not fully encapsulated. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjR9J-6hjANrna2hu1sXofzchsIV2DpoiUwhM09wKnhiCc8bEPMZ9R70yg66Jh9yvfi5VYbWy8T7eeAMVZ-EBl1p33leAdyHMXGvi3yNHDr3_30ZdSDtb2WyRiyIGVIzht81pkZ8tR1nF2RoSP8QjkXpfOqWjFKzedoiCB0EiIIS4Lw0xTzGLXXatfK=s477" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="477" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjR9J-6hjANrna2hu1sXofzchsIV2DpoiUwhM09wKnhiCc8bEPMZ9R70yg66Jh9yvfi5VYbWy8T7eeAMVZ-EBl1p33leAdyHMXGvi3yNHDr3_30ZdSDtb2WyRiyIGVIzht81pkZ8tR1nF2RoSP8QjkXpfOqWjFKzedoiCB0EiIIS4Lw0xTzGLXXatfK=w400-h213" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my toxic thyroid. <br />These glands look absolutely devoid of life.<br />The lobe on the left harbored two stowaway tumors.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I went to sleep that night concerned about this not-well-encapsulated super-duper rare tumor. Had it been fully removed by the surgery? Was it possible the cancer could have spread beyond my thyroid? </p><p>In the middle of the night, I had a sort of hallucinatory dream. In this dream, I was on my death bed watching my life flash before my eyes. My life appeared like a story with a tidy beginning, middle, and fully resolved conclusion. I wasn't at all afraid of dying, and I found that to be hugely comforting.</p><p>Though cancer sucks, it is good for one thing. It is really good at providing perspective on life. I've always had a sense that I wouldn't live a full life, that I would die some early, tragic death. That's one of the reasons I quit my job and "retired early" when I was in my mid-30s. In the nine years since, I've done so much living. I feel as though I've lived multiple lives in one. If this rare tumor <i>did</i> end up being responsible for my early death, I'd be okay with that. And if it doesn't, then I will keep waking every morning grateful that I have been given one more day. </p><p>There is an impressive array of cancers. As far as cancers go, mine was an easy cancer -- a <i>very</i> easy cancer. For one, I didn't even know I had cancer until after it had been removed from my body. How different it would have been knowing I had cancer prior to my surgery. As they say, ignorance is bliss. For two, most thyroid cancers respond well to treatment and aren't life-threatening. Even if I had known I had thyroid cancer, it wasn't likely to kill me. For three, the cancer was (hopefully) addressed by a surgery I was planning on having anyways. I'm grateful I didn't have to choose between treatment options or deal with the yucky side effects of radiation or chemotherapy. If I had to choose a cancer, <i>this</i> would be the cancer to have. That not-well-encapsulated super-duper rare tumor will be monitored by my doctors over the next few years. If something suspicious appears, I'm confident knowing my doctors will be on top of it.</p><p>I can't help but wonder how many other cancers are hiding out within this body of mine. Cancer from the food I've eaten, the chemicals I've put on my skin, the smoggy air I've breathed, the stress I've experienced. I'm sure cancers are tucked away in places that may or may not ever be discovered before I die. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzKinMb3LWqYGx5Wg5kvWX-l4tmKm928r2pI8rMV2ui-Gzfg__GynUrdK5UNBbiUJ_Wziu19LG_wogrrDa_XvkG9aBnLQsxZVS7kR2MOuoproCYyuUDA4vGN166vfKZ_qYz4Jn4lF_vPd2DQtk7DH_rcB4MvG5i5idnWn0fs3-jSPCIMWt_fj4FqtZ=s3705" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3128" data-original-width="3705" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzKinMb3LWqYGx5Wg5kvWX-l4tmKm928r2pI8rMV2ui-Gzfg__GynUrdK5UNBbiUJ_Wziu19LG_wogrrDa_XvkG9aBnLQsxZVS7kR2MOuoproCYyuUDA4vGN166vfKZ_qYz4Jn4lF_vPd2DQtk7DH_rcB4MvG5i5idnWn0fs3-jSPCIMWt_fj4FqtZ=w400-h338" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My incision three weeks after surgery<br />and my new pendant celebrating my freed butterfly.<br />With time, the scar will blend nicely with the folds in my neck.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>In the few months leading up to my surgery, I was too fatigued to do much other than take short walks. I had always wanted to write a memoir, and this seemed the perfect time to do so. </p><p>One might assume this memoir would be about my travels in recent years, those both on and off the bike. I don't know how many times I've heard someone say, "Sarah, you should write a book about your bike travels." My memoir is indeed about traveling, but it's about a different kind of travel. It's about a journey in healing. Though this may be difficult to believe, my journey in healing has been far more meaningful than any journey I've ever taken on two wheels.</p><p>The working title of my memoir is <i>Freeing the Butterfly</i>. The story sheds light on how our inner body is connected to our outer experiences. My memoir begins by telling about the origins and evolution of my thyroid disease. In the spirit of Bessel Van Der Kolk's <i>The Body Keeps the Score</i>, I am convinced that this disease is a manifestation of experiences from my childhood<i>. </i>The second half of the memoir tells about my journey in healing. This journey began four years ago when I dedicated my 40th year as <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2018/02/a-year-of-self-love.html" target="_blank">My Year of Self-Love</a> and traveled to India in search of healing through yoga and meditation. The story continues up to my surgery three weeks ago when my disease was physically removed from my body and my butterfly was finally freed. </p><p>I am absolutely loving the process of writing this memoir. I am finding it to be highly therapeutic. Cathartic. Insightful in making sense of my life experiences. I plan to complete a solid first draft before the beginning of summer. I'll take a break for a while to adventure in the warm and sunny months. With fresh eyes, I will revisit my story in the fall to make revisions. My goal is to have my memoir finished by year's end. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-79294143379156092582021-11-09T03:28:00.005-08:002021-11-23T18:35:29.067-08:00Happy 9th Re-Birthday to Me!<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy 9th Re-Birthday to Me!</b> </p>
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<p>Nine years ago today, I closed the door on the life that I was living. I wasn't certain where my path would lead, but I trusted that by closing the door, another would open. Little did I know that closing that single door would lead to the opening of not just one door, but door-after-door-after-door. Each of those doors led to unexpected places far more wondrous than I could have ever imagined.</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>My re-birthday finds me reflecting on this past year:<p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2021/05/home-sweet-home-van-is-done.html" target="_blank">finished my van build</a>, nearly six months after acquiring the van.</li><li>I took my first road trip to Chicago in the early spring to visit my family.</li><li>I felt the pandemic-laden world open up once again upon receiving my second Moderna vaccination in mid-April.</li><li>I designed six trips for Discovery Bicycle Tours: Taste of Southern California, Michigan Lakes & Trails, two flavors of the Vermont Gravel Traverse, Olympics to Cascades Adventure, and Woodstock Multisport.</li><li>I was <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2021/06/my-interview-for-tiny-house-lifestyle_17.html" target="_blank">interviewed for the Tiny House Life podcast</a> about the intersection between tiny living and bicycle touring.</li><li>I scouted the Olympics to Cascades bike tour with my touring companion, Craig.</li><li>I pedaled the same Olympics to Cascades route a week later, this time leading my favorite riders -- many from the <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-inaugural-pacific.html" target="_blank">Pacific Northwest and Gulf Islands tour</a> two summers prior.</li><li>I drove all the way across the country to Vermont to lead more bike trips and ended up bailing due to some health issues.</li><li>I visited my family for two weeks in mid-July, during which my father unexpectedly passed away.</li><li>I scouted the week-long Michigan Lakes & Trails tour for Discovery Bicycle Tours.</li><li>I enrolled in the Yearlong in Memoir writing course at Hugo House.</li><li>I hiked a handful of new-to-me routes near Seattle. (I can finally say I've hiked Mailbox Peak!)</li><li>I spent twenty-one weeks housesitting for my favorite four-legged friends in the Pacific Northwest.</li><li>I continued to coach a number of students in business communications.</li></ul><p>The most monumental occurrence of this last year hasn't been an event, per se, but rather an internal shift. In the middle of this year, I made a commitment to that shift. I decided to close a door so that others can open. After all, if we keep on doing the same thing, we limit ourselves in our breadth of experiences. Leading bike trips has been a significant and wonderful part of my life for the last number of years, but I'm looking forward to new adventures. This doesn't mean I'm closing the door on bicycle travel. It does mean that I'm ready to do things differently. I'm ready for a change. </p><p>Nine years ago, I closed the door on a stable career, a fixed home, and a predictable life. I stood on the other side of that door thinking "now what?" I had no idea that guiding would become such a significant part of my life. Here I am, nine years later. I have decided to close the door on guiding, and I'm standing on the other side once again wondering "now what?" </p><p>In her book, <i>Becoming Wise: An Inquiry Into the Mystery and Art of Living</i>, Krista Tippett interviewed the great essayist and novelist, Pico Iyer. For many years of his life, Pico traveled all across the globe gathering all sorts of experiences. With time, Pico's journey began to transform from the external to the internal. With this change, Pico no longer wished to travel about; he instead wished to sit still and process his experiences. "I think anybody who travels," Pico said, "knows that you're not really doing so in order to move around -- you're traveling in order to be moved. And really what you're seeing is not just the Grand Canyon or the Great Wall, but some moods or intimations or places inside yourself that you never ordinarily see when you're sleepwalking through your daily life."</p><p>I read <i>Becoming Wise</i> just after it was published in 2017. I immediately felt a kinship with Pico, feeling as though I was on his same path. I highlighted the above passage and have returned to it numerous times in the years since. I recognized I wasn't yet done collecting experiences, but I knew at some point I, too, would want to remain still and process my inner landscape. </p><p>That's where I am now. </p><p>I don't know what my future holds. I don't know what doors may or may not open. I do, however, know that I want to take an intentional pause in my life. And so that is what I am doing. I am pulling all my external experiences inward and reflecting on where I've been. I am giving my experiences meaning, and I am reflecting on where I'd like to go. </p><p>Happy 9th re-birthday to me! Here's to another year around the sun and passages through doorways I don't yet know exist!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-31302219960120186452021-06-17T11:38:00.002-07:002021-06-17T11:38:56.130-07:00My Interview for "Tiny House Lifestyle" Podcast<p>A few weeks ago, I had the great pleasure of being interviewed by Ethan Waldman for the <i>Tiny House Lifestyle</i> podcast. Our conversation is recorded in Episode #165: "What's Bicycle Touring Got to do with Living Tiny?"</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.thetinyhouse.net/sarah-burch/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1452" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofAotN5C_letU6rXVBAcNbpUTEgr_u5koAHZe_qAWEO8-cHsM7br_X28ZKXKV320kuVFyjHnWHGRKIK_ybIPBDzL1r0NMWGHnENmu154FmdmESLP3otWrIScRdUl4YbKzgQG7_3YeN1M/w400-h241/Tiny+House+Lifestyle+Podcast.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<p>Ethan and I discuss how bicycle touring and tiny living have lots in common. We chat about other topics, too -- minimalism, van living, and serendipity, to name a few.</p>
<p>The episode was released well over a week ago. However, I'm slow to share the podcast on my blog because ... <i>surprise</i>! ... I was just at the beginning of a ten-day bicycle tour when the episode was released.</p>
<p>You can listen to the episode below.</p>
<div id="buzzsprout-player-8637036"></div>
<script charset="utf-8" src="https://www.buzzsprout.com/1616191/8637036-what-s-bicycle-touring-got-to-do-with-living-tiny.js?container_id=buzzsprout-player-8637036&player=small" type="text/javascript"></script>
<p>Alternatively, click <a href="https://www.thetinyhouse.net/sarah-burch/" target="_blank">here</a> to navigate to the episode on the interwebs.</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-37148615915107160852021-05-15T21:56:00.006-07:002022-03-11T21:23:35.646-08:00Gratitude for My Unborn Baby<p style="text-align: left;">I wrote this awhile ago. Every few months, I would reread what I had written, allowing time and introspection to reshape the final paragraph. I knew I wanted to share this, but only when the time was right. The time is now right; the final paragraph needs no further editing.</p><hr /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmuxPjrE7kN-Xu501d7IGxmwN4Ij2OgHecZp6_jindrbMIp49U3VZuHdib4PyYRvET0tra0UcFcm2UijKg358Ziq2jSDU76RZDN1vsFW0NUOcwCfktAMh0XsWmYPFiiWRQ3jMoBURDQs/s1366/Memorial.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1353" data-original-width="1366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmuxPjrE7kN-Xu501d7IGxmwN4Ij2OgHecZp6_jindrbMIp49U3VZuHdib4PyYRvET0tra0UcFcm2UijKg358Ziq2jSDU76RZDN1vsFW0NUOcwCfktAMh0XsWmYPFiiWRQ3jMoBURDQs/s320/Memorial.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p>At first, I am curious. What <em>is</em> that? Clinging to the end of my tampon is an uncharacteristic glob. Closer inspection reveals a mass of tissue, enclosed in a spotty, translucent gel. Extending from one end appears to be a thin, tapering tail. At its nucleus is an opaque kidney bean-like body, complete with arms, legs, and a disproportionately large head. And then it hits me. And it hits me hard, as if my life has been yanked from my body. Shock stifles my curiosity as I mouth the word: Miscarriage. Indeed a life <em>has</em> been yanked from my body.</p>
<p>My views towards motherhood have changed over the years. I married in my early twenties, right after grad school. My husband and I abided to society's expectations of a newly wedded couple. We landed reputable jobs, bought a comfortable home in the suburbs, and embarked down the path of starting a family. In optimizing our chances to conceive, sex became a pleasureless deed. Day-in and day-out, I was consumed with becoming a mother. I took prenatal vitamins, charted my temperature, determined the days we needed to do the deed, and interpreted every body ache and nose twitch as a sure sign I was pregnant. I even quit my job and started my own business so I could maintain a career while being a stay-at-home mom. For nearly a year, I peed on strips of paper. For nearly a year, those strips showed disheartening flat lines. Shortly thereafter, my relationship with my husband flatlined; we divorced.</p>
<p><a name='more'></a>My first post-divorce relationship was with a man who despised children. He wasn't interested in sex as an act of procreation; he enjoyed sex solely for recreation. While I adjusted to sex-for-pleasure once again, he made certain his sperm would never meet my eggs. At the insistence of my partner, we avoided other people's children as much as possible. Run-ins, however, were inevitable. Whenever we chanced upon children who were quiet and well-behaved, he would say, "That's how children should be — invisible." When they were loud and rowdy, he would scowl and swear he never wanted little brats. I was surprised I wasn't bothered by his obstinate views.<p>
<p>The relationship with the man who despised children eventually fizzled. As other relationships came-and-went, I questioned what I wanted from life. During my divorce, I had begun to examine the expectations of society and how I fit into those expectations. Did I really want to be a mother? Did I want to remarry? Did I want to slave away at a job just so I could participate in the vicious cycle of consumerism? Deep down inside I wanted none of this. The standard lifestyle was of no interest to me. I vowed to make my own life. I ditched my well-paying job, I shed my home and possessions to simplify my life, and I began traveling to appease my wanderlust. Though motherhood was not part of my new, nomadic life, I was still interested in sex.</p>
<p>My efforts to conceive in my early twenties, which should have been my optimal baby-making years, had been foiled by biological obstacles. As each year passed, I was becoming less-and-less fertile. I wondered whether the exclusion of motherhood from my new life was a safety mechanism — a way to protect myself from the inevitable: this body of mine ain't for makin' babies. I hadn't been too worried about an occasional, unprotected romp in the sack. After all, how could I possibly get pregnant when multiple intentional attempts in my fertile youth had been unsuccessful? Even if an accident were to happen, I was so deeply entrenched in my unconventional life I couldn't imagine trading it in to be a mother.</p>
<p>And yet, a few years shy of turning forty, I became a mother. Motherhood, however, was short-lived; I miscarried. My unborn baby had been delivered to the world ceremoniously on the end of a bloody tampon. Although I'm sure I had experienced an ache in my body and a twitch in my nose, it never dawned on me that I might be pregnant. Heck, I had even menstruated the prior month (albeit, my flow had been unusually light). I was shocked. There had been a baby growing inside of me. And now that baby was gone. So was my partner; we had broken up two weeks prior.</p>
<p>I was devastated by the miscarriage. To make matters worse, I was confused by the devastation; I didn't even <em>want</em> a baby. I cried for three days straight. My eyes were painful and bloated. My head wouldn't stop throbbing. I kept looking at the embryo in disbelief. Did this really come from <em>my</em> body? I didn't know what to do. Do I flush my baby down the toilet? Do I throw it away? I needed to do something to process the hurt. I needed to get past the tears and devastation and move on. As I've always found comfort in writing, I wrote a letter to my baby:</p>
<p><em></em></p><blockquote><p><em>My Little Baby~</em></p>
<p><em>How I cried and cried and cried when I learned of your existence. I had no idea you were growing inside of me, hanging on for dear life with every passing hour.</em></p>
<p><em>Had I known you had existed, I would have imagined life with you. Although I didn't think I could mother a child, I would have tried on the role of motherhood to see how it felt. I would have rubbed my belly and sung songs to you. I would have talked to you. I would have thought about teaching you everything I know, helping you grow to be a gracious and responsible person, and assuring you I would be there for you. Always. Unconditionally.</em></p>
<p><em>Life has a funny way of placing things in our path. As I've grown older, I've learned to keep my mind and my heart open to seeing and embracing these things. You were placed, unexpectedly, in my path for a reason. I don't yet know the meaning of your existence. But I do know it is not you who will learn from me, but rather I who will learn from you. Though you were only a few weeks old, you taught me a lesson. While I don't yet know the meaning of that lesson, the learning will be made clear, as all life lessons are, with time and introspection. And for that, I thank you.</em></p>
<p><em>You and I weren't meant to be. While the acceptance of this makes my eyes swell with tears of sadness, I'm convinced things in life happen for a reason. We weren't meant to be, and that's okay.</em></p>
<p><em>I love you, little one. Thank you for coming into my life, if only for a short while. Your roots held you close for a few weeks. Now it's time to use your wings to set yourself free.</em></p>
<p><em>With love~</em></p>
<p><em>Your Mother</em></p></blockquote><p><em></em></p>
<p>I gathered wood and matches and headed to the fire pit in the backyard. I arranged the planks, lit the kindling, closed my swollen eyes, and took a deep breath. And then another. And another. I stepped forward and placed the letter and the embryo atop the flames. The blaze enveloped my unborn baby. I imagined her ascending from the fire. As my eyes followed the rising smoke, I imagined her spreading her wings, taking flight, and soaring upwards towards freedom.</p>
<p>In my twenties, I tried to become a mother and later decided against it. In my thirties, a miscarriage prompted me to revisit motherhood. As I entered my forties, a time when childless women often regret decisions of their past, I worried that biology and hormones would nudge me to reconsider children once again.</p>
<p>Now I am well into my forties. As the ticking of my reproductive clock has waned, the lesson of my unborn baby has become clear to me. Time and introspection have nurtured an unusual gratitude; I am thankful that something I <i>thought</i> I wanted didn't come to fruition. I have stopped ruminating on what I've lost. On what could have been. Instead, I am choosing to bask in what I have gained in its absence: the freedom to continue to live the life I want to live. My baby taught me that I'm not meant to be a mother. And that's okay. My baby used her wings to set us both free.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-26278344533595057202021-05-09T22:16:00.007-07:002021-09-13T13:00:21.777-07:00Home, Sweet Home: The Van is Done!For years, I've been curious about living in small spaces. The curiosity began with tiny homes. I fell in love with tiny houses long before they became a fad. Then I became interested in sailboats. And then vans.
<br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">These curiosities have led to various aspirations. </span>My curiosity in sailboats dovetailed nicely with the opportunity to live aboard with a beau a number of years ago. Living on a sailboat has been one of my favorite living experiences. <span>I've toured numerous tiny houses over the years, wetting my feet to the idea of someday living in one. You can make a solid bet that a</span> tiny home is in my future; I'm just not quite there yet. I've aspired towards van living, too. A van, after all, would be a nice complement to my traveling lifestyle. </div><p>I find it fascinating how aspirations evolve. They often sit and simmer -- sometimes for days, sometimes for months, sometimes for years -- while aspirations are tried on for size and feel. Hesitancies abound and obstacles intimidate. After all, it can be challenging to muster the momentum required to give aspiration flight. </p><p><span></span></p>And then something happens. All the sudden -- sometimes with reason and sometimes just because -- an aspiration is granted commitment. As soon as I commit, all hesitancy fades, and as Goethe would say, providence moves. The next thing I know, my aspiration is a reality. That's how it was with piercing my nose. With quitting my job. With going home-free and later car-free. And that's how it was with my van. <div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAUp9TtufqHLlMWERPTv9riGbMG6o9d5groR9oj6vIfabSwxweo5QbzZcdoEi0wdoEyD50naoHDXa4vnHygAAbxPhK1S20hxgvfalZQKmdYHhMdNfs_y2w7wfn0U7LbAZCvErhmBuKVc/s2048/IMG_2324.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1264" data-original-width="2048" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAUp9TtufqHLlMWERPTv9riGbMG6o9d5groR9oj6vIfabSwxweo5QbzZcdoEi0wdoEyD50naoHDXa4vnHygAAbxPhK1S20hxgvfalZQKmdYHhMdNfs_y2w7wfn0U7LbAZCvErhmBuKVc/w400-h248/IMG_2324.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home, sweet home.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>On October 12th of last year, momentum rallied itself. How am I going to build a van? Where am I going to park the van when I travel overseas? Do I really want another vehicle when I have relished in being car-free the last few years? On that day, these questions shrank in size. They became distant specks in my rearview mirror.</p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a>On that day, a Monday, I found myself looking for vans. Like, seriously looking. I had done my homework. I knew what I wanted. I had weighed the pros and cons of Sprinters versus Transits versus Promasters, and I had decided on a Promaster. I was hoping to buy a used vehicle, but there were few on the market. The ones that were available had taken heavy abuse from rough beginnings in commercial applications, and the used vehicles I was coming across weren't that less expensive compared to new vans. I had committed to buying a van, and the only way to do that was to switch my search to new vans. <p></p><p>I reached out to 23 (egads!) Ram dealers in the Pacific NW. The pickings were slim, as I wasn't the only one doing a van build as a "Covid project." I found a new Promaster that suited my needs. When I discovered that multiple dealers were offering to sell me a single van, all with the same VIN, I had multiple dealers arm wrestling with each other, competing to offer me the lowest price. Three days later, I had myself a van -- a 2020 RAM Promaster 2500 Hightop.</p><p>Given how challenging it was to buy a van in the pandemic-induced world of shortages, I anticipated it would be challenging to acquire all the materials required for the build. Sure enough, numerous components were nearing out-of-stock status. I put my head down and dedicated the next two weeks to compiling a massive materials/appliances list -- insulation, a ceiling vent fan, a fridge, a sink, solar panels, an inverter, circuit breakers in multiple sizes, etc. I then glued myself to my laptop and purchased everything I needed for the build. </p><p>The van was merely a shell when I started the build. It wasn't much more than a box, four tires, two seats, and a steering wheel. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVlNMq9hx3ej3Dr8_5gW-o4s2gVBARkzYgkvorpS9g5ni8a3_VSj3-rvnuJEI5ByO0ajdzl1XmIPJ3YOjPp4eV2vMhNxH5j-0s0mAFn3IcQI0Jb6r7IiflToM6bxuOMCCml_ZFly1oRxE/s5472/IMG_2043.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVlNMq9hx3ej3Dr8_5gW-o4s2gVBARkzYgkvorpS9g5ni8a3_VSj3-rvnuJEI5ByO0ajdzl1XmIPJ3YOjPp4eV2vMhNxH5j-0s0mAFn3IcQI0Jb6r7IiflToM6bxuOMCCml_ZFly1oRxE/w400-h266/IMG_2043.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what the van looked like pre-build...</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I gutted the van, removing the factory-installed panels and floor. From there, I proceeded to build the van from the bottom up. With a snap of the fingers and the passage of five and a half long months, the gutted van was converted into a living space.<div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEy-pWmSRu7S-lxJ2m9nPibjjLYcAflfhZzdUHNP2sO0mMKnDT1-je8hh2nG_jxAXPBRQVXp6cUnWuy4bpVuuDG6pomhNiStT9yp5WRUpnzi3phdC1PlGkgVBSt5cI6vcYgXnJ8YEKtg/s2048/IMG_2321.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1939" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEy-pWmSRu7S-lxJ2m9nPibjjLYcAflfhZzdUHNP2sO0mMKnDT1-je8hh2nG_jxAXPBRQVXp6cUnWuy4bpVuuDG6pomhNiStT9yp5WRUpnzi3phdC1PlGkgVBSt5cI6vcYgXnJ8YEKtg/w379-h400/IMG_2321.JPG" width="379" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and this is what the van looks like post-build.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I had neither the know-how nor the tools to build the van myself. More importantly, I wasn't interested in spending time or energy to acquire these. Had I let that get in the way, there would be no van. Fortunately, I had a vision, and I had wonderful friends who helped bring my vision to fruition.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8226m0xIXw3CaoOPGQqhXrJlQYiwMUjkeiwNXPD7qhOdZjrcxCR4jLUKyMCtqmCLWDd-5I51cu_c-mbTXcPiE2S7uAn0HjwpznpoJOTsWcBJY6s4AGBzcAnNQNzxMt2XvkF7lWvuusZ4/s2048/IMG_20201205_140659812.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8226m0xIXw3CaoOPGQqhXrJlQYiwMUjkeiwNXPD7qhOdZjrcxCR4jLUKyMCtqmCLWDd-5I51cu_c-mbTXcPiE2S7uAn0HjwpznpoJOTsWcBJY6s4AGBzcAnNQNzxMt2XvkF7lWvuusZ4/w300-h400/IMG_20201205_140659812.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex helped me with the first part of the build.<br />He established the framework for the van,<br />constructed everything in the garage, and was the<br />brains behind my power plant.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg879XPHMi_u2EyStrRriEj0m7oLlvudy3yYOaYtSjClGA8jncFq1NvHzDa9tHAJCXRXj26-UiaPgvzti7xQad2gyBTnDItQ9mFLvXc9-cwJEFt0h4uKcBXD0LbPajuHLCizZLpFkPKHY0/s2048/IMG_2095.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1312" data-original-width="2048" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg879XPHMi_u2EyStrRriEj0m7oLlvudy3yYOaYtSjClGA8jncFq1NvHzDa9tHAJCXRXj26-UiaPgvzti7xQad2gyBTnDItQ9mFLvXc9-cwJEFt0h4uKcBXD0LbPajuHLCizZLpFkPKHY0/w400-h256/IMG_2095.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doug cut a hole in the roof and installed the vent fan.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHnkKFOEoKIYdshTZ12xShZeQTdh42wDfieYrWPaa_TtWDRCKkW_Uqpuz0OXT2McNO0dGJ-_fYlwXuWJ-xDZ6M0ORDgQRvW9z60RevGajt5q8LYYGUXc9HBIYG009iTwWINTtPRBFbus/s5472/20210206185650_IMG_2150.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHnkKFOEoKIYdshTZ12xShZeQTdh42wDfieYrWPaa_TtWDRCKkW_Uqpuz0OXT2McNO0dGJ-_fYlwXuWJ-xDZ6M0ORDgQRvW9z60RevGajt5q8LYYGUXc9HBIYG009iTwWINTtPRBFbus/w266-h400/20210206185650_IMG_2150.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris was my master craftsman.<br />He did an immaculate job with all the woodwork.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajTVU7_vjI3wHuG67SRitQg8DjOHJKJBMu37J_ehsnwLOBW-75tIYX-y5PObU4Gglh_AAJRvQFe7G-26t2QghrYpyapnMyXdT35VNZ-KkViL_xu7zlcxudVA3-caUePmyxUqNJ_TVW2c/s2048/IMG_2241.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1387" data-original-width="2048" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajTVU7_vjI3wHuG67SRitQg8DjOHJKJBMu37J_ehsnwLOBW-75tIYX-y5PObU4Gglh_AAJRvQFe7G-26t2QghrYpyapnMyXdT35VNZ-KkViL_xu7zlcxudVA3-caUePmyxUqNJ_TVW2c/w400-h271/IMG_2241.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And then there was Mom.<br />She provided expertise in creating my cushions and privacy curtain.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>A million thanks to Alex, Doug, Chris, and Mom. Without you, I'd be living in a barren and not-so-homey van.</p><p>And now for the grand tour:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMiT4pOJ7pcxk1CF_vZN35BgQm8rbP_P_44LBnyxLyaphXsVain1dqaR2B3vK_zbK_QnrIgS-2RlKD5gASJp_-h79ueNntf3QStC-GNS70fa2kAbSBK0-bgo0y_vIvzVs_YskjdWctwc/s5472/IMG_2313.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRMiT4pOJ7pcxk1CF_vZN35BgQm8rbP_P_44LBnyxLyaphXsVain1dqaR2B3vK_zbK_QnrIgS-2RlKD5gASJp_-h79ueNntf3QStC-GNS70fa2kAbSBK0-bgo0y_vIvzVs_YskjdWctwc/w400-h266/IMG_2313.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my garage. The whole van was designed around<br />the ability to carry two bikes. There is plenty of space<br />for other adventure gear, too. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiancHGwAHXSCb3pxFFiEWJ3nCmBA5n63PDfbZXPELbMgiAbPRQigbkWFUJDBUYmxLBygNNMhCUiWf4aGSO7WiW_ClDbaez26xKwou-vJdRJ30ivR_44xdtR3PwYISkHhxNUpESyYTAfkk/s2048/IMG_2314.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1382" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiancHGwAHXSCb3pxFFiEWJ3nCmBA5n63PDfbZXPELbMgiAbPRQigbkWFUJDBUYmxLBygNNMhCUiWf4aGSO7WiW_ClDbaez26xKwou-vJdRJ30ivR_44xdtR3PwYISkHhxNUpESyYTAfkk/w270-h400/IMG_2314.JPG" width="270" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bikes are mounted on a sliding drawer,<br />which enables for easy loading and unloading.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjre1vAwKekIGD56CU1S1KDqosNynPxps_Q0L6qPTeydlX0xNMmwx2K3XuGIFPEQ9J6dkc3Huj3eHB_RdmhCSKmLFsMVhLK_2fkxxL9sCkp_HL8seHulAsvuYwfDAZxeZXqKLXDNiFfX78/s5472/IMG_2322.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjre1vAwKekIGD56CU1S1KDqosNynPxps_Q0L6qPTeydlX0xNMmwx2K3XuGIFPEQ9J6dkc3Huj3eHB_RdmhCSKmLFsMVhLK_2fkxxL9sCkp_HL8seHulAsvuYwfDAZxeZXqKLXDNiFfX78/w400-h266/IMG_2322.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my bed, as seen from inside the van. It is full-sized, <br />with the head at one wheelbase and the foot at the other.<br />The cabinets above the bed store my clothes.<br />There is a reading light and a wall-mounted fan above the bed, <br />as well as a ceiling-mounted fan for optimal circulation.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysefalxCQuulsqhZdJLNjCM70CqZkOOOnkmx75qwB6qqQVf782OMudSoX5czQXO024GVZH3b0oPxQFSqfCK7GbnCTS1-juXmhJsVkAG-Kfk6tQW5T-UxfFZdZ_J_ucCI8zkC45Hh2Aag/s5472/IMG_2300.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysefalxCQuulsqhZdJLNjCM70CqZkOOOnkmx75qwB6qqQVf782OMudSoX5czQXO024GVZH3b0oPxQFSqfCK7GbnCTS1-juXmhJsVkAG-Kfk6tQW5T-UxfFZdZ_J_ucCI8zkC45Hh2Aag/w400-h266/IMG_2300.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Below the bed is my closet, <br />with space for hanging clothes and storing shoes. <br />Inside the closet, to the left, is my electrical system (aka "power plant").<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NHVPbY8UJHHxyzniI5glrcoTu7HGqsNDK57GKYF_d4n2cDhx_xOTve1qNhr_xRfcPVeKfpfBVfivfK1FRMLdoc1BlNPP-iKBtCV5BINygVdA-a0fcFz4SpPPNdo3fxk83uBvsG9p48M/s2048/IMG_2299.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-NHVPbY8UJHHxyzniI5glrcoTu7HGqsNDK57GKYF_d4n2cDhx_xOTve1qNhr_xRfcPVeKfpfBVfivfK1FRMLdoc1BlNPP-iKBtCV5BINygVdA-a0fcFz4SpPPNdo3fxk83uBvsG9p48M/w266-h400/IMG_2299.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To the left of my closet is my seating area.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJfgUeVmeR4ikZzIBCoUtjeAt4PYfEVpmCon3pZsJ7Bcj9avOxRUfiw02HHC_0WAXwDGTBx3gH5l0dU8G4x4QvZN6tjr8FNEjtSCKm1sLGTSmIxnmPxy3PNhNClJcwwjQjE87ILqhUsc/s5472/IMG_2309.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJfgUeVmeR4ikZzIBCoUtjeAt4PYfEVpmCon3pZsJ7Bcj9avOxRUfiw02HHC_0WAXwDGTBx3gH5l0dU8G4x4QvZN6tjr8FNEjtSCKm1sLGTSmIxnmPxy3PNhNClJcwwjQjE87ILqhUsc/w400-h266/IMG_2309.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beneath the seating area is plenty of storage space.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid590eNa-JBPuykad7PxDvQuCltp8Ug-VznOemfU5JuG44B4Razlum-W_pShZXwcET16hFNpdYLqE4phoqk3T0Id9WkcCAoFbLOc0a6jV2rcU14qPHnSder_WDArZRJBKAIbKMdr7W6bU/s2048/IMG_2315.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1763" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid590eNa-JBPuykad7PxDvQuCltp8Ug-VznOemfU5JuG44B4Razlum-W_pShZXwcET16hFNpdYLqE4phoqk3T0Id9WkcCAoFbLOc0a6jV2rcU14qPHnSder_WDArZRJBKAIbKMdr7W6bU/w344-h400/IMG_2315.JPG" width="344" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behind the bench is a fold-down table.<br />This is where I use my Instant Pot,<br />my only means of cooking in the van.<br />I have an inverter, which enables me to have AC power.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2RJAQKWSeR5phM_hbHHLb7sgrj3wLeCKKW6Q8BQGUr91URErbiPWD7wJf1wf1Z3IIj_uSfoOzbHaG3xgtecnxdIpdEMXmlzeppLdZmDZELj_G_7anruQV_Qv8Rg7vWEkPV-3HHEb_Ms/s2048/IMG_2302.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2RJAQKWSeR5phM_hbHHLb7sgrj3wLeCKKW6Q8BQGUr91URErbiPWD7wJf1wf1Z3IIj_uSfoOzbHaG3xgtecnxdIpdEMXmlzeppLdZmDZELj_G_7anruQV_Qv8Rg7vWEkPV-3HHEb_Ms/w400-h266/IMG_2302.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Across from the bench is the kitchen space.<br />Here is the transition from the bedroom to the kitchen.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fjM9JsIIewmg6WZBV_WsuZLKFWWO5fq4HKd9BspJhohjieq-dITp_2i_PUjFmSqOz990kQiHBCLTuwVGhP2eCzYWl3nNCci7qPEv6Dhyphenhyphen7XWHU9c2J7Fe6JynVt7erzFS1VLATtYgmr4/s2048/IMG_2301.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fjM9JsIIewmg6WZBV_WsuZLKFWWO5fq4HKd9BspJhohjieq-dITp_2i_PUjFmSqOz990kQiHBCLTuwVGhP2eCzYWl3nNCci7qPEv6Dhyphenhyphen7XWHU9c2J7Fe6JynVt7erzFS1VLATtYgmr4/w266-h400/IMG_2301.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The upper cabinets hold my Instant Pot and food.<br />A shelf to the left of the counter holds my books.<br />I have a sink, with is operated with a foot pump.<br />Below the counter are my fridge, storage <br />for 14 gallons of water, my 5-gallon bucket toilet, <br />and plenty of additional storage space.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtUtQIzQ6CodaOwU31QlUQO-tImOh71mwGimL5Amy53Vgl2h87btYwZi85UvSSxY8XYDa0dSdoW_Ix7m_WcXtfZQQThnIUlj-k8KMGpucNmmAi-idxXqCizF-ajaWTzLfqFuNophqLAA/s5472/IMG_2307.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtUtQIzQ6CodaOwU31QlUQO-tImOh71mwGimL5Amy53Vgl2h87btYwZi85UvSSxY8XYDa0dSdoW_Ix7m_WcXtfZQQThnIUlj-k8KMGpucNmmAi-idxXqCizF-ajaWTzLfqFuNophqLAA/w400-h266/IMG_2307.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The table slides out from underneath the kitchen counter.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><p>The van turned out exactly as I had envisioned. I love that my van enables me to be self-sufficient. I love that I can carry everything with me -- my bicycles, my backpacking gear, my packraft, my electric toothbrush, everything. I love that I can close the doors and have a safe, comfortable, and private space in which I can be me. Although it is a relatively simple build by design (there is no shower, no flushing toilet, no heat, no electrically-pumped water), it feels luxurious to me. Especially since I have been without my own living space for more than eight years. And double-especially since I have spent many of those last eight years traveling by bicycle, living out of panniers, and sleeping in a tent.</p><p>Many have asked whether I would document the van build in detail. There are plenty of individuals out there who have established a solid presence in the social media space with their van build and van lives. My interests lie elsewhere. My van is not my end goal, but rather a vehicle I will use (no pun intended) to live my life. I will, however, leave you with a few photos from the build.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielvDM9-bu6VZLICOR0F38TnNNAdeqvlPvOAcHmo5DTqv8k-mzKedk68JeNYsH2iDDTYI5Llb5HiBfcHVB5ciaGhjUDUcYZm7n58jjwJys2ccsrijEV9Qrx0zxVNTXmX7QmXnqv5O_NY0/s5472/IMG_2048.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielvDM9-bu6VZLICOR0F38TnNNAdeqvlPvOAcHmo5DTqv8k-mzKedk68JeNYsH2iDDTYI5Llb5HiBfcHVB5ciaGhjUDUcYZm7n58jjwJys2ccsrijEV9Qrx0zxVNTXmX7QmXnqv5O_NY0/w400-h266/IMG_2048.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutting the plywood underlay for the floor.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXQ1Vxjc-gv0NJhooC77iWiBWow1h_a98kzBMeZwk4-9HWS3icvpqAhth6QxbyV6ti3mGfJvYGDLlmDVWXShK24znBL7mwu8_IiV764xT4mV8kEot7ivJm8Xsfm0KulaffRVpA36R520/s1024/2168198699318966087+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXQ1Vxjc-gv0NJhooC77iWiBWow1h_a98kzBMeZwk4-9HWS3icvpqAhth6QxbyV6ti3mGfJvYGDLlmDVWXShK24znBL7mwu8_IiV764xT4mV8kEot7ivJm8Xsfm0KulaffRVpA36R520/w300-h400/2168198699318966087+%25281%2529.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mounting the solar panels on the roof. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09rhu0UUG1nQL8lIOWPaumy4F8BhPjMX61NbNhJQqh7baUlJxqe_tqqAu87g-5zpEnLxC_FnqQei4SDQDhAVtOKr3sKO4mWKm958vOUDdZsNLxY4IeFscKmyUyLXCubJDsZO1tFdfgW8/s5472/20210206193511_IMG_2153.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09rhu0UUG1nQL8lIOWPaumy4F8BhPjMX61NbNhJQqh7baUlJxqe_tqqAu87g-5zpEnLxC_FnqQei4SDQDhAVtOKr3sKO4mWKm958vOUDdZsNLxY4IeFscKmyUyLXCubJDsZO1tFdfgW8/w266-h400/20210206193511_IMG_2153.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris's workshop, with every tool imaginable. <br />There was plenty of space for the van in the shop, <br />which was helpful when working on the build in the middle of winter.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZMhTyVWPyEb9S_k30b2Sq55gSVckslLHSzrVu3MlU4z5PsWLS6zNCTk5mmIw7O6EtbSR9SrBEBOoLIgceZEImIfPTpbxV3ntOCIZ8c98VpfyF3q5n7QCyLKtb-bf9ayzpoe-P3XHUyc/s5472/IMG_2226.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZMhTyVWPyEb9S_k30b2Sq55gSVckslLHSzrVu3MlU4z5PsWLS6zNCTk5mmIw7O6EtbSR9SrBEBOoLIgceZEImIfPTpbxV3ntOCIZ8c98VpfyF3q5n7QCyLKtb-bf9ayzpoe-P3XHUyc/w400-h266/IMG_2226.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This my favorite photo from the van build -- <br />six cabinet doors being held hostage by an army of clamps<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCc6dhNYN6_Z38dAYPJLgqdLjHFQVZvU32Ax5OpR3cBqPw-SeDRuLvm_hz8BOlhMiUnDo0QU7i55d0lb6zO3DnOL5h4bZ-KwABsJiQ1sQV5UA58IN24v39rWOWklkLGLMz4zoMRrDJ2M/s2048/IMG_20210304_113604008.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCc6dhNYN6_Z38dAYPJLgqdLjHFQVZvU32Ax5OpR3cBqPw-SeDRuLvm_hz8BOlhMiUnDo0QU7i55d0lb6zO3DnOL5h4bZ-KwABsJiQ1sQV5UA58IN24v39rWOWklkLGLMz4zoMRrDJ2M/w300-h400/IMG_20210304_113604008.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And finally, me in my build get-up.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Yeah for bringing the van aspiration to fruition! Now it's time to get on with living!</p></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-85254328495337619852021-01-29T16:42:00.004-08:002021-09-17T07:06:36.830-07:00Sticker FunI bought a cargo van a few months ago, and I've been building the van out into an adventure mobile. A friend suggested my van needs the bumper sticker that reads "Cash, Grass, or Ass - Nobody Rides for Free." <div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1Z328SRccwgBER56PjM5W_Dp-hoQgQ0qGEQCiVKmJVbjXsUQdInCn4vdf4tZOfTfsnYtzdgMWXuPubP7x8aIJT-6861oOv33zy8XCQgEcq_0v9DHUXa1mBEwlf4a5YF3l4zqYiY3k1o/s1160/Screen+Shot+2021-01-29+at+3.58.21+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="1160" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo1Z328SRccwgBER56PjM5W_Dp-hoQgQ0qGEQCiVKmJVbjXsUQdInCn4vdf4tZOfTfsnYtzdgMWXuPubP7x8aIJT-6861oOv33zy8XCQgEcq_0v9DHUXa1mBEwlf4a5YF3l4zqYiY3k1o/w400-h238/Screen+Shot+2021-01-29+at+3.58.21+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The not-so-fun vehicle version of the sticker.<br />[Notice the despicable grammar!]</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>I chuckled and thought certainly any bumper sticker must be bicycle-friendly. And with that, the "Tube, Lube, or Boob - Nobody Rides for Free" bumper sticker was birthed.</div><div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNgAL9r_DrAdFGzQQ0q3kyckZusJrTxAvuuYGnw_ge2hg7CQIwaa4EHKxN8Y9D9ckNn-RfVwdSzaq1ocpADjj2MPHOdlXfavZgEBGAc2mI4iYTbqL2nWlEbFkG7Jj3Vurpl5-wOGUF2I/s1365/TUBE+LUBE+BOOB+FINAL.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1365" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNgAL9r_DrAdFGzQQ0q3kyckZusJrTxAvuuYGnw_ge2hg7CQIwaa4EHKxN8Y9D9ckNn-RfVwdSzaq1ocpADjj2MPHOdlXfavZgEBGAc2mI4iYTbqL2nWlEbFkG7Jj3Vurpl5-wOGUF2I/w400-h240/TUBE+LUBE+BOOB+FINAL.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The way-more-cool bike version...<br />with honorable grammar!</td></tr></tbody></table><div><div><br />
I was originally going to get one sticker printed for myself, but then it dawned on me that the world would be a better place if this sticker were mass-produced. And so my friends, this sticker can be yours, too! Who doesn't like a sticker...especially one that has boobs AND uses the Oxford comma!</div><div><br />
The stickers measure 4.25" across by 2.75" high -- perfect for decorating a framebag or pannier. Consider getting a second sticker as a subtle addition to the bumper of your four-wheeled vehicle. The stickers are printed on vinyl and use high quality UV-cured black ink, which means they are weather, scratch, and fade resistant. The stickers are available on <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/938660674/tube-lube-or-boob-nobody-rides-for-free" target="_blank">Etsy</a> and <a href="https://www.ebay.com/itm/274665057704" target="_blank">eBay</a> for $3.00.</div><div><br />
It would tickle me pink to see these stickers all across the US of A. Ride on, ciclistas!</div><div><br />Disclaimer: For the record, there's no way in hell that goody-two-shoes-me would display this sticker on my van...at least on the outside. 😉</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-90922709399489129222020-11-09T21:44:00.004-08:002020-11-10T09:12:22.397-08:00Happy 8th Re-Birthday to Me!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy 8th Re-Birthday to Me!</b> </div>
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<br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Eight years ago today, I stopped letting life happen to me. I rebirthed myself into a new life lived deliberately. Oh, what a journey it has been! </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span><a name='more'></a></span>The first few months of my eighth year were fairly typical. The highlights of those months include:</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><ul><li>Leading a bike trip in Chile for Discovery Bicycle Tours.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_M2vBt9Qn5SIB06HQixkbeBTvII82jCgAIq85VAIW_5tmbtkz_lcZJQn8iRE-17QfSJgp1qgV7wh-EjP_oIqYbgqNZ6WBJS95jVgl9pO2PyBdS0PYu4nuWJekipwHcjqEud2dOQ6UzM/s2048/DSC09221.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1320" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_M2vBt9Qn5SIB06HQixkbeBTvII82jCgAIq85VAIW_5tmbtkz_lcZJQn8iRE-17QfSJgp1qgV7wh-EjP_oIqYbgqNZ6WBJS95jVgl9pO2PyBdS0PYu4nuWJekipwHcjqEud2dOQ6UzM/s320/DSC09221.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cycling through the Lakes and Volcanoes region.</td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Living for seven weeks in Cuenca, my mostest favoritest city in South America. (It was a pleasure to have my Mom visit me for the final two weeks.)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRku9SmdNS5aavqZcgl5jCXJkbkoS5uYIRlDrdE90_vIhwNZrSIQavj35r94fg-kwmviOg8T4vYhTTIxqTAEcyLBh1nE2oX-VV2zR5wP2VesOTH3OlNogcgAb-fjv7foCCLfph204elM8/s2048/IMG_1372.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1252" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRku9SmdNS5aavqZcgl5jCXJkbkoS5uYIRlDrdE90_vIhwNZrSIQavj35r94fg-kwmviOg8T4vYhTTIxqTAEcyLBh1nE2oX-VV2zR5wP2VesOTH3OlNogcgAb-fjv7foCCLfph204elM8/s320/IMG_1372.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mom in Ecuador.</td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Housesitting for two kitties (Jakki & Judo) and a hot tub in my home state of Illinois for four weeks, and kitty sitting for Bean in beautiful Bellingham for 11 weeks.</li><li>Helping Discovery Bicycle launch their <a href="https://discoverybicycletours.com/adventure-tours" target="_blank">Adventure Bike Tours</a>. (I look forward to leading the first two trips, the Green Mountain Gravel Adventure and the Olympics to Cascades Adventure, next summer.)</li><li>Writing an entry in <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2020/01/my-gratitude-journal.html" target="_blank">My Gratitude Journal</a> every day for an entire year.</li></ul></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">...and then the coronavirus entered the scene. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I hadn't quite appreciated just how dependent my life had been on travel -- bike touring in the summers, journeying overseas in the winters, and, in the in-betweens, housesitting for other people when they traveled. As has been the case for everyone, the pandemic put a crimp (a pretty major one) in my lifestyle. I had many adventures planned for this year. Many of those adventures were postponed, but most of them were cancelled. Onwards to <strike>Plan B</strike> <strike>Plan C</strike> <strike>Plan D</strike> <strike>Plan E</strike> Plan F for 2020! </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">For the first time since I stopped letting life happen to me eight years ago, I feel as though the circumstances of the world have made it a wee bit challenging to deliberately live my life as I so choose. The pandemic, protests, and political unrest have been a source of anxiety -- a feeling that isn't typical for me. In these trying times, I've been grateful for the trivial things that have brought me joy and a heartfelt smile:</div><div style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Listening to the amplified birdsongs during the initial stay-at-home orders, when few cars were on the roads and few planes were in the sky.</li><li>Hearing neighbors banging pots outside their front doors at 8pm every night during lockdown to represent unity and support for one another. (I have since set a nightly alarm on my phone that makes a banging pots sound at 8pm.)</li><li>Absorbing the restorative energy of trees.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RMvExt_AQ-D7aFLKBiUyWSk6DqK-g_7GH3xm0QFi41vIoLlaX6ERBBVuxJTkQox8hJgDs56F6-Fw8dUHZ1s0duHR_TMKdBFdwSKn1jlTqw_Z8pnTwlaE1IwDDeMge1mTtnaOW2DgqOE/s5472/IMG_1969.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RMvExt_AQ-D7aFLKBiUyWSk6DqK-g_7GH3xm0QFi41vIoLlaX6ERBBVuxJTkQox8hJgDs56F6-Fw8dUHZ1s0duHR_TMKdBFdwSKn1jlTqw_Z8pnTwlaE1IwDDeMge1mTtnaOW2DgqOE/s320/IMG_1969.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relishing in nature at the Bellevue Botanical Garden.</td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Sailing on The Puget Sound.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYnAFYiMvhIo7xjKyA8Xd427WU1t-frkodpjIMIELGpOheciyy1A-w7z4dSuOwbSWKTuHwytIjNACqkyVXsoQX40Z99OP81yhQkexPnDEoqYhE8dZdxHG5MLAC0Th1cA_x9N85TiEZ4k/s2048/IMG_1929.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1304" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYnAFYiMvhIo7xjKyA8Xd427WU1t-frkodpjIMIELGpOheciyy1A-w7z4dSuOwbSWKTuHwytIjNACqkyVXsoQX40Z99OP81yhQkexPnDEoqYhE8dZdxHG5MLAC0Th1cA_x9N85TiEZ4k/s320/IMG_1929.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A blissful afternoon sail.</td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Journal writing to process and heal.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2yY6E4Zhzb4oNBmlpC79Xmn57DVDiieD30VjbYo7k0ARMU9dIhC67sXBo1-LKBzYCOiJUxdou0ReoKRhLJ8yjXH2OR_bOAYnTDIvFa6dog14S_Bhh6Zhi7Vs00RneIgnmEHI4uW1pNrA/s2048/IMG_20200727_182508079.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2yY6E4Zhzb4oNBmlpC79Xmn57DVDiieD30VjbYo7k0ARMU9dIhC67sXBo1-LKBzYCOiJUxdou0ReoKRhLJ8yjXH2OR_bOAYnTDIvFa6dog14S_Bhh6Zhi7Vs00RneIgnmEHI4uW1pNrA/s320/IMG_20200727_182508079.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Writing through my worries in my handmade journal.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Enjoying affectionate feline company. (Given the social isolation of the pandemic, I was grateful to housesit for Ricki in Bellevue, Meadow in Bellingham, and Haida in Seattle.)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cJlYcWFtgafFAd1BD2zn-2gbkWhyphenhyphen1OjP-snJf4qq5pqbfshEuK3FswfnUs-drp4DusDEdaxkdoLFp3fimfMDJZgSXxLvcbM86qUZg4EW3E4fkyPFamRnSwMq0ngcvBZKtcN33xSiyYo/s2048/IMG_20200727_085833912.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1621" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cJlYcWFtgafFAd1BD2zn-2gbkWhyphenhyphen1OjP-snJf4qq5pqbfshEuK3FswfnUs-drp4DusDEdaxkdoLFp3fimfMDJZgSXxLvcbM86qUZg4EW3E4fkyPFamRnSwMq0ngcvBZKtcN33xSiyYo/s320/IMG_20200727_085833912.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snuggling with Ricki.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Temporarily escaping the real world via an intriguing novel. (I've read dozens and dozens of books in the last few months.)<br /></li><li>Meditating and yoga, which never fail to soothe. (I had a delightfully delicious experience with The Presence Process, a ten-week meditation program into present moment awareness.)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8VCKVZ4rbhWWcem0S1xv9o9EFPPgyrTFmEYMkKZszu9B7WjaMk5F25l17dOJYKNx5Q9mLGy0erp_EMFCo7X8VE1HVdgy0m2fVvELF_oXmqLISipjdkIcV-6-y5GVUxt06iJQ-Yub-FXM/s2048/IMG_20200518_122314493.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1590" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8VCKVZ4rbhWWcem0S1xv9o9EFPPgyrTFmEYMkKZszu9B7WjaMk5F25l17dOJYKNx5Q9mLGy0erp_EMFCo7X8VE1HVdgy0m2fVvELF_oXmqLISipjdkIcV-6-y5GVUxt06iJQ-Yub-FXM/s320/IMG_20200518_122314493.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relishing in The Presence Process.</td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Watching a bird move into the bird home my housemate and I built for the backyard.</li></ul><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucufPKpPgCnlEjpUdNz_uLitIRklBtdCqj0J-7iMWCOPuIU5qyDpoB7LxTt_ib6ZASRafGoetNxPRRMT8Qo6S-4dmppaTSvD7tiJf-eXWvrDQXJ4CIPrxFzXdv0RswE9JbYVEAmNGDlw/s2048/IMG_2044.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1533" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucufPKpPgCnlEjpUdNz_uLitIRklBtdCqj0J-7iMWCOPuIU5qyDpoB7LxTt_ib6ZASRafGoetNxPRRMT8Qo6S-4dmppaTSvD7tiJf-eXWvrDQXJ4CIPrxFzXdv0RswE9JbYVEAmNGDlw/s320/IMG_2044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Bewick Wren houseshopping.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Watching neighbors stop to peruse the Little Free Library my housemate and I built for the front yard.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguRZ29ROZtgou9zPZma3K3M9ZWREU2uv42uNAm7_2YKATWSg_Oq4q0rZabaNcfuGAz0BpoGUlN-at5CxsU7dtDGvZnE0n0YzAq4GBTjchPT9sXbi07JfWuQh1P9Hkup_LFOw-3816JKLg/s2048/IMG_2061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1346" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguRZ29ROZtgou9zPZma3K3M9ZWREU2uv42uNAm7_2YKATWSg_Oq4q0rZabaNcfuGAz0BpoGUlN-at5CxsU7dtDGvZnE0n0YzAq4GBTjchPT9sXbi07JfWuQh1P9Hkup_LFOw-3816JKLg/s320/IMG_2061.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Little Free Library.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></li><li>Commuting by bike between Bellingham and Seattle. (These 90-mile rides were the closest I came to bike touring this summer.)</li></ul><div><br /></div><div>I have been fairly vigilant during the pandemic. Having firsthand experience with the chronic effects of a virus gone haywire, I appreciate the long-term dangers of the coronavirus. For the most part, I haven't felt comfortable traveling or visiting with friends. But, as time has progressed, and as we have come to understand more about the safety of wearing masks and social distancing, I've become more comfortable in cautiously resuming my lifestyle. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last month, I bought a cargo van to convert into an adventure mobile. Though I've greatly enjoyed being car-free, the van will allow me to safely resume adventuring in my own little bubble come spring. As I've been curious about van living for years, it's nice to have a Covid project that enables me to delve into that curiosity and to broaden my explorations in the near future. </div></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div>Cheers to a new year! Cheers to the re-birth of hope in our country! And cheers to the resumption of deliberate living!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-37997894708181102342020-05-19T11:07:00.004-07:002022-01-30T09:38:40.271-08:00Life Lessons From a Convict<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Three years ago, I walked 160 miles with a convict. As we took our first steps, he shared his first words: "It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured." We walked our miles in 43 hours over a span of five weeks. During this time, I learned numerous life lessons from the convict. The convict is Gregory David Roberts.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ1yZNWk646q8eRhnEO4VVSHZYZkbCxJ6yOzwLQc_ga0UxZb27zE2HulTb9Rk0BN4tQa9mi5dJ6ghW2vsquWf5ihJS5DMvy-VbZ-Im4sM2NCRPnG14ZKvkgsVD9tmIzOH8Abj_XsqlJU/s1600/GDR.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ1yZNWk646q8eRhnEO4VVSHZYZkbCxJ6yOzwLQc_ga0UxZb27zE2HulTb9Rk0BN4tQa9mi5dJ6ghW2vsquWf5ihJS5DMvy-VbZ-Im4sM2NCRPnG14ZKvkgsVD9tmIzOH8Abj_XsqlJU/s1600/GDR.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The convict, Gregory David Roberts.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Image from: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18907.Gregory_David_Roberts" target="_blank">www.goodreads.com</a>)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Gregory is the author of <i>Shantaram</i>, a novel that tells the story of a man named Lin. Lin, like Gregory, was a heroin addict and bank robber. Lin, like Gregory, escaped from an Australian prison. Lin, like Gregory, fled to the streets of Mumbai and lived life as a fugitive in the Indian underworld. At a lengthy 944-pages, I opted to listen to the audiobook so I could enjoy the novel while on foot. As I walked miles-and-miles of country roads listening to Lin narrate his story through my earbuds, I came to know and admire Gregory.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Gregory David Roberts was introduced to me by a friend of mine, Greg, of <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2017/08/backpacking-beartooths-photo-journal.html" target="_blank">Backpacking the Beartooths</a> fame. (To be clear, Gregory is the convict; Greg is my friend.) Knowing that I would soon be traveling to India, Greg suggested I read <i>Shantaram</i>, as the novel brilliantly relays the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of the country. Furthermore, the novel spurs a sense we do not recognize in the western world: a sense of humanity, as detected in our hearts and souls.<br />
<br />
Upon finishing <i>Shantaram</i>, I was curious to learn more about the man who had lived the life of Lin. After all, in the 43 hours we spent together, I had grown reverence for Gregory. While I'm not typically drawn to the knife-wielding, heroin-addicted types, I was deeply drawn to this convict. The universe dealt him his experiences in the underworld so he could learn about love, and fate, and the choices we make. In the most beautiful way, Gregory transformed his brutal past experiences into the most profound and wondrous gems.<br />
<br />
I turned to the Internet with the intent of learning everything I could about Gregory. Alas, my search was brief. I learned that Gregory had gone into seclusion. Though his book brought with it a following, he did not wish to be in the limelight; he wanted to live a quiet life with his family, his thoughts, and his pen. Gregory requested that all photos, interviews, and the such be removed from the Internet. Having learned this, I felt as though Gregory had died; I felt as though he had been taken from this earth too soon.<br />
<br />
Before disappearing, Gregory had published a sequel called <i>The Mountain Shadow</i>. Equally wordy in length, I was hoping to absorb the book once again via audiobook over a series of walks. As no audiobook existed, I postponed reading Gregory's second novel until I had a large swath of time to delve into an epic read.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to the era of sheltering-at-home. With the coronavirus pandemic came a large swath of downtime, perfect for reading <i>The Mountain Shadow</i>. I had downloaded the book on my Kindle, but, as is the case for most e-books, I was having a difficult time getting into the story. Greg (not the convict) offered to mail me his copy of <i>The Mountain Shadow</i>. As soon as the book arrived, I immediately turned to page one and began reading.<br />
<br />
I was so happy to be immersed once again in Lin's world...in Gregory's world. I was grateful to be able to expand my repertoire of life lessons from a convict. Some of the lines from <i>The Mountain Shadow </i>that resonated most loudly for me were these:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"We are collections of things that we find and experience and value and keep inside
ourselves, sometimes knowingly, sometimes unknowingly, and that collection of
things is what we finally become."
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
"I want to be one hundred per cent inside my own <span style="font-style: italic;">now</span>.
I want to <span style="font-style: italic;">be</span> the moment, instead of just
watching the moment pass."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
"Pain
can be deferred, but never denied."</blockquote>
<br />
I finished <i>The Mountain Shadow</i> nine days later, on April 28th. Upon finishing Gregory's second novel, my curiosity was once again piqued. I returned to the Internet, thinking perhaps I might find a fascinating tidbit about Gregory captured in some musty, web-laden corner of the net. I was absolutely shocked to find that just a few days earlier, on April 23rd, Gregory had emerged from his years of seclusion. On April 23rd, a post magically appeared on Gregory's website. The post read: "Six years ago, I went into spiritual seclusion. I came back to find the whole world in seclusion."
<br />
<br />
During Gregory's years of seclusion, he had gone off-grid. He lived under his own self-imposed, socially-distanced, stay-at-home order during which he searched for his spiritual reality. His April 23rd post, the first since he emerged from his seclusion, was about Covid-19. With the aim of consoling those in seclusion from the pandemic, Gregory offered ways that prisoners cope with their isolation. His post continues:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I was a prisoner for 10 years, and on 3 continents. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I did 2 years of my sentence in solitary confinement, as a punishment for escaping. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
It’s one of the ironies of the Covid-19 pandemic that some hardcore prisoners are now in a position to be counsellors to the people who sentenced and confined them – justifiably, in my case, because I was guilty and deserved to do time. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
That said, we’re all doing time right now, in one way or another, and there may be some help in the lessons learned from inside the experience of imprisonment and solitary confinement."</blockquote>
<br />
Though brief compared to his 900+ page novels, the post is filled with heartfelt insight and wisdom on surviving our coronavirus confinement. Even if you don't have the time or interest to commit to reading Gregory's novels, I encourage you to read his Covid-19 post. To do so, visit <a href="http://www.thelostlovebureau.com/" target="_blank">The Lost Love Bureau</a>.<br />
<br />
Then again, perhaps the greatest lesson requires no reading at all. Despite confinement, first in a maximum security prison and later in self-imposed spiritual seclusion, a convict emerged stronger in love and faith. With our hearts and intentions in the right place, we, too, will emerge from our confinement -- whatever that confinement may be -- stronger in love and faith. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-20959096371159971842020-03-19T23:30:00.000-07:002020-03-20T01:15:49.591-07:00Being a Nomad During a Pandemic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As a bibliophile, I've read thousands of books and full well know that books cannot be judged by their covers. Many things, in fact, cannot be judged by their external appearances. That adorable doggie tied up outside the grocery store may have a wicked bark once you reach your hand within biting range. That well-dressed man seated in the driver's seat of that flashy sportscar may be drowning in debt. And that healthy-looking person who seems to be "overly cautious" in this new coronavirus era may not actually be so healthy after all.<br />
<br />
<i>This</i> was the topic of an article posted today on CNN.com:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.cnn.com/2020/03/19/health/immunosuppressed-coronavirus-wellness-trnd/index.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="811" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlyyCeRk19lj-V2OvCicRnl46b-vbJZZsV6zMyTAxAV6-0nG9vGxTAczauPvjbTRwRKc1QzOzmLC4uHjphPZMG82qCvwLAW2KbkZazzAwxvqvSM5IGATV3tYlOLILN3mw1ValEf59Ht8/s320/CNNArticle.png" width="313" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click the image to read the article.</td></tr>
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Ok, so I wasn't <i>really</i> in the article, but I felt as though I could have been. Though I may appear to be a healthy person (a vegetarian! who bikes thousands of miles a year!), like those featured in the article, I am also immunocompromised.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>How is this relevant? Because being a nomad -- particularly an immunocompromised nomad -- during a pandemic ain't exactly ideal.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I first learned about the coronavirus three weeks into January. At the time, I was in the final days of my two-month trip to South America. In a few days, I would return to the Pacific Northwest, where I would spend the next four months housesitting in Bellingham and Seattle. In preparation for reassimilating into the Puget Sound area, I had been casually perusing headlines in <i>The Seattle Times</i>. A January 21st headline read: <a href="https://www.seattletimes.com/nation-world/first-u-s-case-of-potentially-deadly-chinese-coronavirus-confirmed-in-washington-state/" target="_blank">First U.S. Case of Potentially Deadly Chinese Coronavirus Confirmed in Washington State</a>.<br />
<br />
Two days later, on January 23rd, I landed at SeaTac, the same airport where the positive coronavirus patient had recently landed. Though I had no appreciation at the time for how the coronavirus was transmitted, immunocompromised-me beelined to get the heck out of the airport -- no lingering, no drinking fountains, no bathroom stop.</div>
<div>
<br />
Though the coronavirus became a reappearing headline in the paper, it seemed a distant reality. It wasn't until February 29th, when the first death was reported in The States, that the coronavirus headlines started to claim significant real estate in the media. I was in Bellingham at the time, and my friend, Alex (of <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2013/05/stomping-on-my-old-grounds_7.html" target="_blank">Stomping on My Old Grounds</a> and <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2014/04/meet-alex.html" target="_blank">Meet Alex</a> fame), had come to visit for the weekend. Beginning midday on the 29th, Alex, who works for a large Seattle company, began receiving work emails about the coronavirus. The first email notified employees that unessential international business travel <i>may</i> be cancelled. A few hours later, another email arrived -- <i>all</i> international business travel would definitively be cancelled. Within a few more hours, the company had cancelled all <i>domestic</i> travel plans as well. The unfolding developments of the travel restrictions at Alex's company were the tip of the iceberg, indicative of the changing-by-the-hour coronavirus madness.<br />
<br />
Let's back up for a second. You may recall the following from <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/11/happy-7th-re-birthday-to-me.html" target="_blank">Happy 7th Re-Birthday to Me</a>, which I posted in November 2019:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Seven years is a long time to live a peripatetic lifestyle. Recently, I've been feeling an urge to plant roots -- to establish a place where I can build community and invest more deeply in relationships. A vague image of this "place" is starting to emerge in my mind. But until this image gains clarity, I will continue to remain open-minded and heed the nudges of the universe. I've been learning: <i>everything in its right time. </i>When the time is right, I will embark on my next chapter.</blockquote>
In my last seven peripatetic years, I haven't had much in the way of "traditional life stability." For me, stability has existed in the repeating cycle of my years: biking in the summer, traveling overseas in the winter, and housesitting in the shoulder seasons. For the first time last fall, my nomadic lifestyle seemed as though it was suddenly riddled with uncertainty. Two separate housesits were in question; these housesits collectively accounted for ten weeks of my time. I was to lead a bike trip in Chile in December, but violent uprisings throughout the country were casting doubts on whether that trip would happen. There was also a second Chile trip in January that was fluctuant for awhile. To top it off, my personal trip to Ecuador was uncertain, as political unrest had erupted in Ecuador just days after I had purchased my plane ticket. Oye -- there were too many balls in the air!<br />
<br />
And then along came the coronavirus. COVID-19 was the cherry that topped off -- or better yet, toppled -- my discomfort with the seemingly lengthening thread of uncertainty in my life. All of the sudden, my urge to plant roots was undeniably intense!<br />
<br />
Whenever I envisioned planting roots, Bellingham always appeared at the forefront of my mind. Bellingham is a well-educated, liberal, and conscientious college town. Nestled between Seattle and Vancouver (Canada), Bellingham has stellar access to forests, the mountains, and The Sound. I had become quite enamored with the city since first housesitting there in 2017. In the last three years, I had been spending more-and-more time in Bellingham, trying on the city for "look and feel."<br />
<br />
As soon as I arrived to Bellingham from Ecuador, in late January, I start looking at properties to purchase. Though inventory was nearly nil, my realtor matched me with the perfect undeveloped property. I put in an offer, which was quickly accepted. The contract had a 30-day window for vetting the feasibility of a build. In the end, I decided to withdraw from the sale agreement. For a variety of reasons, I was getting a strong feeling that the property was too risky; the build estimates seemed unreasonably high, and I had a gut feeling that <i>something </i>bad would soon cripple the market.<br />
<br />
After abandoning the property purchase, I looked into all sorts of other housing options. I investigated buying a tiny house and parking the home in a mobile home community. I talked with an acquaintance about possibly converting his garage into a two-story unit and living in the top floor. I considered a co-housesitting arrangement with a housesitter friend. I thought about canvassing folks who owned large, attractive properties and asking if I could park a tiny home in their yard. Lastly, I considered renting. At the time, renting seemed the least attractive of the options; after signing a lease, I would then disappear for six months to take part in my summer commitments.<br />
<br />
But then, on February 29th, the coronavirus became an immediate reality.<br />
<br />
Rather than lingering in denial about the impact of the coronavirus, I quickly surmised that the virus would have a significant impact on life as we know it. Or at least as <i>I</i> know it. My next months revolved around housesits, personal bike travels, and leading bike trips. My nomadic life has heavily depended on travel -- the travel of the folks for whom I housesit, my own personal travel, and the travel of the folks for whom I lead trips. Soon, my world (not to mention everyone else's) would turn upside-down.<br />
<br />
I saw the writing on the wall:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We are facing a global pandemic of unimaginable proportions. </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">All of my plans -- at least in the immediate months -- will be cancelled. </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">For my physical and mental well-being, </span><span style="font-size: large;">I need a place to hunker down -- </span><span style="font-size: large;">especially since I am immunocompromised</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></blockquote>
<br />
This writing made one thing clear: <i>The time to embark on my next chapter is NOW. </i>The universe had nudged me, and so it was that I signed a 14-month lease for a rental in Bellingham. Just as books with not-so-attractive covers can offer a surprisingly tremendous reading experience, sometimes an unfortunate pandemic can deliver a much-appreciated kick-in-the-arse.<br />
<br />
Suffice it to say that I am really excited (Fuck Yes-excited) about renting a place here in Bellingham. For one, the location is fabulous. There is a trailhead right across the street, providing access to miles and miles of trails for biking, running, and hiking! The house is also near to Fairhaven, whose neighborhood bookstore will be the center of my universe (once the bookstore opens again post-coronavirus). For two, I'm very much looking forward to sharing the rental with 1.5 awesome housemates -- the 1.0 happens to own a bike business here in Bellingham (so cool!) and the 0.5 is a fountain of youth, energy, and creativity. For three, renting affords me time and flexibility to more fully experiment with the look and feel of putting down roots in Bellingham.<br />
<br />
I am grateful for seeing the writing on the wall; as we're all realizing, timing can be of the utmost importance. I am also grateful that my nomadic life has prepared me well for facing this pandemic. In my peripatetic life, I spent gobs of time in solitude, and so a self-quarantine is nothing new for me. In being financially independent, I haven't had the need to rely on a job, and so I don't have to worry about losing a job. And should the economy truly suffer (as in "Great Depression-suffer"), I have seven years of solid experience under my belt as a hobo on two-wheels.<br />
<br />
Though I may be meager in my external possessions, I am wealthy for my internal sense of abundance and self-sufficiency. I'm incredibly grateful to be where I am -- in both life and geography.<br />
<br />
There is not a single person on this planet who has a successful read on this COVID-19 pandemic. We have no way of knowing how long this will last or what life will look like on the other side. Uncertainty is at an unprecedented high. Though, externally, life is crazy-daisy right now, we need to do the best we can to create individual bubbles of certainty, for our own physical health and mental well-being. My bubble of certainty is putting roots down in Bellingham...at least for the time being.<br />
<br />
Thinking of you all, and wishing you well.</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-91518535208578582422020-01-04T16:24:00.001-08:002020-01-04T16:31:01.808-08:00My Gratitude Journal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For the last fifteen years, I have performed a <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2016/01/my-new-year-tradition.html" target="_blank">New Year's Tradition</a> that involves reminiscing on the closing year and setting intentions for the coming year. In the final hours of 2018, I established an intention to keep a Gratitude Journal for 2019.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8i_z-ieZDqRw1Vwlq1XAXUCoEynrxcWIYUZnP6-aZg0GI1PvSZn4xpXQmaWOqzVkT7BR47GGYfB0-Kt1_FMr0UfSL8OSdK-33OlJ2P81nC58nD2LEaK-O5UkL3pIMK-S1Kvg09cs7z58/s1600/IMG_20200103_130133421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1350" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8i_z-ieZDqRw1Vwlq1XAXUCoEynrxcWIYUZnP6-aZg0GI1PvSZn4xpXQmaWOqzVkT7BR47GGYfB0-Kt1_FMr0UfSL8OSdK-33OlJ2P81nC58nD2LEaK-O5UkL3pIMK-S1Kvg09cs7z58/s320/IMG_20200103_130133421.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Gratitude Journal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At the end of each day in 2019, I reflected on the day's happenings and recorded one thing from that day for which I was grateful. On good days, my gratitude flowed freely. On not-so-good days, I sometimes struggled to find something for which I was grateful. I always found something, though -- even if it was gratitude for waking up to one more morning of life.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>There were two reasons I wanted to keep a Gratitude Journal. For one, formally recognizing gratitude would help prevent me from taking things for granted; it would force me to pay attention to the good things in my life. For two, expressing gratitude has a plethora of physical and psychological benefits, not to mention significantly boosting overall happiness.<br />
<br />
An unintended benefit of keeping a Gratitude Journal became evident at the end of 2019. At the year's end, I read through my journal and reviewed all that I had been grateful for in the prior year. I became curious as to which aspects of my life appeared most frequently in the entries. I came up with a list of common themes of my gratitude -- serendipity, friendships, biking, etc. As I reread the journal entries, I made note of how many entries corresponded to each category (sometimes entries touched on multiple categories).<br />
<br />
A key to living a good life is doing more of what you love. As I read my journal entries and noted the corresponding categories, it dawned on me that this exercise would enable me to hone in on what it is -- exactly -- that I love. By manifesting more of what I love, I can live an even <i>more</i> fulfilling life. Ah ha, and here was another benefit of keeping a Gratitude Journal!<br />
<br />
Listed below are the top ten categories that received my gratitude. The categories are listed in order, beginning with the most-mentioned. For each category, I provide commentary, as well as a few note-worthy journal entries from the last year.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
1) Connections</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b>As a self-proclaimed loner who very much appreciates her solitude, I had no idea how valuable connections have been in my life. S</b></i><i><b>ometimes these connections have been with friends I've had for year. Other times, </b></i><i><b>these connections have been in-passing with strangers who I will likely never meet again. </b></i></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JUNE 29: I am grateful for an unexpected, 45-minute conversation with Billy, my AirBnB host in Spokane. We had a wonderful heartfelt exchange about occurrences in our lives that have shaped who we are today. I am in awe that two strangers can share so deeply. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JUNE 30: I am grateful for a lovely dinner with Ethel MacDonald. I first reached out to Ethel in March 2017, and I had waited ever since to meet her.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
SEPTEMBER 30: I am grateful for taking one more flight and bike ride to <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-flying-high-to-lopez.html" target="_blank">Lopez with Larry</a>. How fortunate am I that he came into my life when he did. He taught me the power of asking questions, a skill that came at a timely point in my life -- "The teacher arrives when the student is ready." </blockquote>
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
</h4>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
2) Serendipity</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><i>This category includes mentions of serendipity and stars aligning. I am reminded of the value of being spontaneous </i></b><b><i>and the magic that occurs when we keep an open mind and an open heart.</i></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JUNE 7: I am grateful for glancing off to the right -- at the perfect moment -- to see the bush plane take off over Fish Lake. The experience was magical. Curiosity led me into the Alaska Bush Floatplane Service to ask, "Is this place real?" ... which led me to meet Annette ... which led me to meet Shawn at North Shore Cyclery. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
SEPTEMBER 6: I am grateful for the moment of serendipity while scouting out the new Crater Lakes & Scenic Bikeways tour. For ease of trip logistics, I had rented a car to get me from place-to-place. I was organizing my belongings in the car when I noticed some papers had slipped between the front seat and center console. The papers included a printout of an article about the Oregon Coast and an itinerary for a cruise to Alaska -- presumably from the last person who rented the vehicle.</blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Sseg5YHtu7zKWV2Sm_88gSqhM9vaFj4-RdFOikdt82pvg19Q1XN7EQ1zD2j6R5JhXvZ-ccMQuc5KLK_nXwZQRo-f4qlgF5n8qEHFjmFH9BQF3l5WUUtdj1KiAjsi9v5Eg0mgc17aGzs/s1600/IMG_20190906_181704430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1600" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Sseg5YHtu7zKWV2Sm_88gSqhM9vaFj4-RdFOikdt82pvg19Q1XN7EQ1zD2j6R5JhXvZ-ccMQuc5KLK_nXwZQRo-f4qlgF5n8qEHFjmFH9BQF3l5WUUtdj1KiAjsi9v5Eg0mgc17aGzs/s400/IMG_20190906_181704430.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The printed Oregon Coast article and the Alaska Itinerary.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
As I was flipping through the pages, I was SHOCKED to see my photo! How strange is that? To find a photo of yourself in the car you are renting! Hmm, what is the universe trying to tell me?</blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNc-QHYZyRCpdbHG_hbIbCYwKPNuwBm_QvTDbajNiOYQBc8xzasd8-cp5rNNZCyeTT4IavYeVBzTK5m2QaB2xkR2hackKWBAUSyaBzbouYEPNcbzyNo-ZaVycKauqSrcUxXP_VO8nd6hI/s1600/IMG_20190906_181712656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNc-QHYZyRCpdbHG_hbIbCYwKPNuwBm_QvTDbajNiOYQBc8xzasd8-cp5rNNZCyeTT4IavYeVBzTK5m2QaB2xkR2hackKWBAUSyaBzbouYEPNcbzyNo-ZaVycKauqSrcUxXP_VO8nd6hI/s400/IMG_20190906_181712656.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A photo of me and El Mecánico in the Oregon Coast article.<br />
The photo was taken by Russ Roca a few years back<br />
to promote Travel Oregon's Scenic Bikeways.<br />
(See <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2015/11/were-film-stars.html" target="_blank">We're Film Stars!</a> and <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2016/01/the-long-awaited-video-is-here.html" target="_blank">The Long Awaited Video is Here!</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
OCTOBER 18: I am grateful for running into Ethan Waldman in Burlington, VT. I had reached out to Ethan seven years ago when I saw online that he was building a tiny home. Though I had tried to connect with Ethan in person a few times over the years, that connection never happened. As I was sitting in the van today waiting for my cyclists to arrive at the end of the bike tour, I saw a familiar-looking guy drive down the street. Hey, that's Ethan! We both recognized each other and waved! We got out of our vehicles and chatted for awhile. What a small world! After seven years, we've finally connected! Thank you, serendipity!</blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
3) Doing Something Hard</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><i>This category includes mentions of <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/09/type-ii-fun-sweet-spot-on-two-wheels.html" target="_blank">Type II Fun</a>, reaping benefits from hard work, and the wisdom that is gained through experience (often failure). Though, in the moment, hard work and failure can seem immensely difficult and often disappointing, there is almost always an eventual reward and/or silver lining. </i></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
AUGUST 31: I am grateful for figuring out how to relocate the outboard pressure foot into the bore of my rear brake caliper -- all by myself! </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
SEPTEMBER 18: I am grateful for standing up to leadership, calling out unfair actions and a lack of transparency. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
SEPTEMBER 27: I am grateful for finally having received full resolution to a wrongdoing that occurred months ago. </blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
4) Nature</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>Nature is certainly a reoccurring theme of gratitude. I need to be in nature in order to feel grounded. </b></i><i><b>My Gratitude Journal is sprinkled with moments of appreciation for the sun, the clouds, the trees, lakes and streams, fresh air, and good old </b></i><i><b><a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2017/05/bathing-in-forest.html" target="_blank">Forest Bathing</a></b></i><i><b>. </b></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
APRIL 23: I am grateful for the most amazing meditation this morning -- sitting out on the back porch, feeling the sun against my eyelids, being serenaded by a chorus of birds, feeling energy pulse through my body, seeing the chakra colors take turns dancing in my head, radiating an aura of peace, and having a hard time wanting to break out of the meditation.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JUNE 2: I am grateful for sunshine and blue skies on what started off to be yet another rainy and cold day ... and for putting my bare feet on the mossy earth of our backcountry camping spot at Denali.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JULY 16: I am grateful for the wildflowers on The Great Divide. I can't get enough of them! Seeing all the colors puts a big smile on my face.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
NOVEMBER 3: I am grateful for sitting in the hot tub tonight, feeling the breeze against my face, and hearing the wind rustle the leaves. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
DECEMBER 18: I am grateful for the sheets of rain that fell from the sky as I sat in the bay window. </blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
5) Friendships</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>Though I have many acquaintances, I have a small group of tight-knit friends. These friendships are very meaningful to me.</b></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JANUARY 1: I am grateful for my walk with Kate to Magnuson Park, identifying evergreens along the way, sitting on a bench while sipping tea and listening to Kate share her three favorite writings, and digging up saplings at Thornton Creek for Kate to cultivate.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
SEPTEMBER 12: I am grateful for my email exchange with Peter. He makes me smile so much. </blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
6) Self-Love</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>In my 40th year, I placed a significant emphasis on establishing self-love habits. Even though my <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2018/02/a-year-of-self-love.html" target="_blank">Year of Self-Love</a> has come-and-gone, the habits I created that year continue to guide me in living my life.</b></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JANUARY 11: I am grateful for being me, exactly as I am, with all my strengths and weaknesses.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
MAY 5: I am grateful for being able to call on my self-love as a reminder that my own happiness and well-being are most important -- without them, life is hollow.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JULY 7: I am grateful for honoring my self-love. Today I stuck to my zero-tolerance principles, boundaries I established to protect my well-being and health.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JULY 28: I am grateful for realizing that I am whole by myself; I don't need anyone to complete me. </blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
7) Walking</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>I love to walk. My most profound thinking often happens when I set one foot in front of the other. I was surprised that there were more mentions of walking than biking in my Gratitude Journal!</b></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JUNE 18: I am grateful for taking my third annual walk past the gate at the end of School House Road, through the cow fields, below the mountain ridge in Wise River. This was my first time walking this path alone, and I enjoyed the solitude to reflect on my self-love transformation.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JUNE 20: I am grateful for taking a lovely stroll by myself through Philipsburg, enabling me to recharge my "me batteries."</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
AUGUST 4: I am grateful for the lovely 5-mile early morning walk along the windy, dusty roads of Orcas. My walk enabled me to realize that this housesitting/caretaking opportunity -- which seemed so wonderful on the surface -- is not for me. </blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
8) Biking</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b>It comes as no surprise that I am grateful for biking. Exploring on two wheels is a huge part of my life.</b></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
APRIL 3: I am grateful for riding my bike around town for 2.5 hours today, running errands and visiting friends. I've missed cycling so much. </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JULY 17: I am grateful for riding the Flathead Alternate (Grizzly Alley). It was challenging -- with steep passes, "The Wall," and riding through creek beds. But it was entirely rewarding. Woohoo!</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
AUGUST 13: I am grateful for watching my colorful group of Pacific Northwest cyclists weave harmoniously along the Larry Scott/Pacific NW trail. </blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
9) Solitude</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><i>In <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2016/12/on-solitude.html" target="_blank">On Solitude</a>, I explain the benefits of basking in solitude: increased self-awareness, improved self-sufficiency, and greater presence, to name a few. </i></b><b><i>I have been incredibly grateful for moments of solitude. Some of these moments have lasted just a few minutes, while others have lasted weeks. </i></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JUNE 17: I am grateful for being able to have alone time while enjoying a nice, hot shower.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
JULY 24: I am grateful for space to myself, alone, in my tent. </blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
10) Downtime</h3>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><i>This category includes mentions of time to relax, rest, and recover. Most mentions of downtime were before or after trips or social engagements.</i></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
FEBRUARY 11: Estoy agradecido por tomarme el tiempo de cerrar mis ojos y centrarme. [I am grateful for taking the time to close my eyes and center myself.]</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
MAY 1: I am grateful for taking a hot bath -- that blissful moment when I turn off the faucet, hear complete silence, sink my naked body under the hot water, and focus on nothing but the flicker of the candle. </blockquote>
<div>
<br />
Other notable categories that received gratitude in 2019 include: experiencing anticipation, having freedom in how I spend my days, teaching, being inspired (typically in the form of movies and books), and being in-flow.<br />
<br />
Keeping a Gratitude Journal has enabled me, on a daily basis, not only to focus attention on the things that make my life good, but also to boost my physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. Furthermore, my year-end review of my Gratitude Journal has made it evident that I benefit from making space in my life for more connections, serendipity, movement, nature, solitude, and rest. I will also keep on doing hard things and honoring my self-love practices.<br />
<br />
As I move into 2020, I will continue writing daily entries in my Gratitude Journal. This practice has been extremely valuable, in numerous ways.</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-32894486187859430322019-12-31T11:27:00.003-08:002020-01-01T15:07:45.740-08:00A Photo Journal: Flying High to Lopez Island<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I like meeting new people — especially when those people broaden my horizons.<br />
<br />
Meet my new friend, Larry. Larry literally flew me to new horizons.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTch8axGCihTqM5KEVqJLieqNhRRUpRxtz4tgK62_qaTW5BgsWWK2HWPFRZvowLMbR2gfQEMqrSStXi2VBryrFQYNBNQH279pc8L6bsSkMou1w-YtoKMDsLIOZZkqFLeYo8pwuoLoyQA/s1600/IMG_0524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTch8axGCihTqM5KEVqJLieqNhRRUpRxtz4tgK62_qaTW5BgsWWK2HWPFRZvowLMbR2gfQEMqrSStXi2VBryrFQYNBNQH279pc8L6bsSkMou1w-YtoKMDsLIOZZkqFLeYo8pwuoLoyQA/s400/IMG_0524.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Larry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Larry has an array of interests. One of those interests is piloting his Cessna 150. Larry likes to fly to places and then explore those places via land.<br />
<br />
Suppose you were Larry. Suppose you wanted to fly your plane somewhere — let's say the San Juan Islands — to explore the isles. What might be a good way to explore once you've touched down?<br />
<br />
Yes, you got it — a bicycle!<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Keep in mind that Cessnas are tiny. Their baggage capacity is limited both by volume and weight. So, how do you handle the bicycle?<br />
<br />
Yup, you got it again — you use a folding bike!<br />
<br />
Though I knew Larry was a pilot, I was more focused, perhaps unsurprisingly, on the folding bike commonality. In mid-September, Larry and I decided go for a bike ride together on our folding bikes. Larry lives in Port Townsend, which is on the other side of Puget Sound from where I was in Bellingham. Rather than deal with the hassles of ferries, Larry flew to Bellingham for our bike ride.<br />
<br />
Shortly into our ride, Larry asked if I would be interested in pedaling on Lopez Island. Puzzled, I asked, "You mean, now? How would we get there?" To which Larry replied, "Via plane, silly!" I needed all of six milliseconds to think on that. Hell yeah, Lar, let's go!<br />
<br />
And so it was. Larry and I pedaled over to the Bellingham International Airport, folded our bikes, arranged the bikes in the back of the plane, hopped in the seats, put on our safety belts and headsets, and off we went.<br />
<br />
We had a grand time. Alas, I didn't capture any of the grand time on film, as I hadn't brought my camera with me. Silly me hadn't anticipated we'd be doing anything other than going for a simple joy ride on two wheels.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, two weeks later, Larry and I decided to fly back to Lopez for another bike ride. <i>This time </i>I brought my camera. This is a photo journal of our second adventure flying high to Lopez Island.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdbJGhf25poAWeYy_cAz10dbNXzs9_4ZST2mPw6-NJzRnUgAP0eZTHK3tJd0hnuRXGGPGqsmW_KGx6LxgxVr1VrJyi_HZxnECaZY3nR3qORaxQE_GnhCEAnZ0XtpNWa2OPC8L699asSc/s1600/IMG_0536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdbJGhf25poAWeYy_cAz10dbNXzs9_4ZST2mPw6-NJzRnUgAP0eZTHK3tJd0hnuRXGGPGqsmW_KGx6LxgxVr1VrJyi_HZxnECaZY3nR3qORaxQE_GnhCEAnZ0XtpNWa2OPC8L699asSc/s400/IMG_0536.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We squeezed our folding bikes into the back of the Cessna,<br />
piling our other belongings on top of and around the bikes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2N7feaf40lBuDGC8zZRMfrMn_P4W-quNU0ffih5ExQX3V8gBFp_o5PuhjqaKHXCRYwote6lRmIFejSytugJvkWc-b6gTUzKso_wwOgjsDpvlYS6X37YAZcWGyzBu3Ij2rI1nIDA0u0G4/s1600/IMG_0494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1100" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2N7feaf40lBuDGC8zZRMfrMn_P4W-quNU0ffih5ExQX3V8gBFp_o5PuhjqaKHXCRYwote6lRmIFejSytugJvkWc-b6gTUzKso_wwOgjsDpvlYS6X37YAZcWGyzBu3Ij2rI1nIDA0u0G4/s400/IMG_0494.JPG" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before taking off, we taxied over to the gas pump to top off on fuel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMFE31b8OOTOUszYDL1oVkX2hIS3h8AR_gLBbGPEedCujUqfG95rFMjaBnCpgEkDKrjn-hDZe8GHmaFyj0tQ3TSRDR1yXyGuQyhaNmRzgAnsbhJymdoBySsaTbFAT497JF-i2bLltIwo/s1600/IMG_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1053" data-original-width="1600" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMFE31b8OOTOUszYDL1oVkX2hIS3h8AR_gLBbGPEedCujUqfG95rFMjaBnCpgEkDKrjn-hDZe8GHmaFyj0tQ3TSRDR1yXyGuQyhaNmRzgAnsbhJymdoBySsaTbFAT497JF-i2bLltIwo/s400/IMG_0495.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had no idea the fuel tanks were in the wings!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81706elBV3NOUqI7ehvlLOah5PpnV_viPtdYcNyZpR9_1pNyDn-rlbRX-R9nfwb_WRp1clAAwvxK4rNhiaoYTGlYBfBYOnD9dKWwB8D0SvADO-mwfr5RoIh-OMsvvgl9jCzP0nnSRiuk/s1600/IMG_0500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1600" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81706elBV3NOUqI7ehvlLOah5PpnV_viPtdYcNyZpR9_1pNyDn-rlbRX-R9nfwb_WRp1clAAwvxK4rNhiaoYTGlYBfBYOnD9dKWwB8D0SvADO-mwfr5RoIh-OMsvvgl9jCzP0nnSRiuk/s400/IMG_0500.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After filling up and a safety check, we were ready for liftoff.<br />
In no time at all, the "oohs" and "aahs" started pouring from my mouth.<br />
As you can tell, Larry got a kick out of seeing my reactions.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHGlQE8A2MbJdCNsSSHdqyVFG1FCw0jBQYtL5EFV8NJTnQbWXcv7gnZsP2T3kTvXdImYo9eXm4Sx38rd_HU1qaqRacMp68qNVoi1QsNB2OyIIfY04Lq8sb-9_eTZCRPUshVxvkY9R67rI/s400/IMG_0503.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As we continued to crawl higher, I twisted my head to look back towards Bellingham Bay.<br />
Holy gorgeousness! And look at Mt Baker!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNNubxtrSWJFzWO1LaDLYPswn9VTjOOfSfJ2kPNA1G_40iCP7u6pb7n2rxe1LIWepn5Z10mzHXDtw3kpW2z4CefwLLGjjTXCxCYdOzAjV950wr2nglm4vqNmKEcrtb8e2w95WaSxkak4/s1600/IMG_0510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNNubxtrSWJFzWO1LaDLYPswn9VTjOOfSfJ2kPNA1G_40iCP7u6pb7n2rxe1LIWepn5Z10mzHXDtw3kpW2z4CefwLLGjjTXCxCYdOzAjV950wr2nglm4vqNmKEcrtb8e2w95WaSxkak4/s400/IMG_0510.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was fun watching the cockpit.<br />
Larry explained all the dials and bells and whistles.<br />
He even let me take over the joystick (aka yoke) for awhile. Look, ma, I can fly!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFpFSUCAQ80WyPOqn9MEVTSmxSTaBo1RalLKdbBkvGY6GikUbMOtvKADTIvbdrUzMJzEFHHhysL-HoYeoNZVcYSEUaAbLDP3Goj-RE4WbQg1Qn3ltTR1EyAm-Xb7ozyQHZmxkhOvZidI/s1600/IMG_0516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFpFSUCAQ80WyPOqn9MEVTSmxSTaBo1RalLKdbBkvGY6GikUbMOtvKADTIvbdrUzMJzEFHHhysL-HoYeoNZVcYSEUaAbLDP3Goj-RE4WbQg1Qn3ltTR1EyAm-Xb7ozyQHZmxkhOvZidI/s400/IMG_0516.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a few minutes, Larry took control again so I could stare out the window in admiration.<br />
It was so different seeing the San Juans from up above.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU2uFYLnM9P6Dorm34qoNkU72J0sm9jGRkZkiaVcXEwJUsubULBRIkyjqm5GqiR_xqUXUEqsFUBeW6YxtLn0ey45mlPwezE6OPCzFUPCHBJpTLLoWYmYWGynr7UVPTyCRKWT5mjYXqKg/s1600/IMG_0514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMU2uFYLnM9P6Dorm34qoNkU72J0sm9jGRkZkiaVcXEwJUsubULBRIkyjqm5GqiR_xqUXUEqsFUBeW6YxtLn0ey45mlPwezE6OPCzFUPCHBJpTLLoWYmYWGynr7UVPTyCRKWT5mjYXqKg/s400/IMG_0514.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved observing the different shades of water.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHjB4wwlOJr2AFOL37mPBxe3OLCoJLzD_f5nkpdVE5OP7pGI1_UEqJxTwp0910uqIIEpp4dtbOuBAUGOUF7P9SAOXPS6Tz6izAQWrqxHW7kVBqDDd8yFLnV8GvsXyyuQlO8ZcFNomCzI/s1600/IMG_0522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHjB4wwlOJr2AFOL37mPBxe3OLCoJLzD_f5nkpdVE5OP7pGI1_UEqJxTwp0910uqIIEpp4dtbOuBAUGOUF7P9SAOXPS6Tz6izAQWrqxHW7kVBqDDd8yFLnV8GvsXyyuQlO8ZcFNomCzI/s400/IMG_0522.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After about twenty minutes, we approached Lopez Island.<br />
I recognized Fisherman Bay down below.<br />
Larry steered the plane, lining us up to land at the Lopez Island Airport.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6K4lcZHcDSnoaq2VjCxsGFAKT-FhZ_ynx1GbZsj_kkcWEmsBPFADr5bNlAw0mgBkRW4EURnfqrP3AfkT9tfXzaThU1d4QYmRGkPfwDhp-xPY3xtVACz-nOlf1IUIx48I4J6dA-ZrfVNo/s1600/Lopez+Island.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1314" data-original-width="1224" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6K4lcZHcDSnoaq2VjCxsGFAKT-FhZ_ynx1GbZsj_kkcWEmsBPFADr5bNlAw0mgBkRW4EURnfqrP3AfkT9tfXzaThU1d4QYmRGkPfwDhp-xPY3xtVACz-nOlf1IUIx48I4J6dA-ZrfVNo/s320/Lopez+Island.png" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lopez Island Airport is the red pin,<br />
just to the south of Fisherman Bay. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0kPkZwyQhusm1HcOzNyns4nTMGhJ_F8arZFEAJrnpKewPaZBl187Ta7p5OfekLjkcYLHk-0dzZDepFRN1hfW8GxCrmjO1Wi2SEV5ueumbW5zI8F33KF3m_zMh9tXLR5BZystEs6DxGc/s1600/IMG_0527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1130" data-original-width="1600" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0kPkZwyQhusm1HcOzNyns4nTMGhJ_F8arZFEAJrnpKewPaZBl187Ta7p5OfekLjkcYLHk-0dzZDepFRN1hfW8GxCrmjO1Wi2SEV5ueumbW5zI8F33KF3m_zMh9tXLR5BZystEs6DxGc/s400/IMG_0527.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once we landed, we rejiggered the loose items we had thrown atop the bikes in back —<br />
some helmets, a ukulele, and some other accoutrements.<br />
After retrieving our bikes and locking up the plane, we were on our way<br />
to explore Lopez Island on two wheels!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZO926RMcxGt0L0EB0cILaN4CsJmiQcjhC4bAi-YTWmegP4DwSvAZFmLC-Kz_eiC8ZAzCFo3Mm0kKLHQe5tij1VcE3xrbQ-0dLFeoY5i4iYcd6cGH6LpB2rC6MqNoha7iwg_3FeGybsA/s1600/IMG_0532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1054" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZO926RMcxGt0L0EB0cILaN4CsJmiQcjhC4bAi-YTWmegP4DwSvAZFmLC-Kz_eiC8ZAzCFo3Mm0kKLHQe5tij1VcE3xrbQ-0dLFeoY5i4iYcd6cGH6LpB2rC6MqNoha7iwg_3FeGybsA/s400/IMG_0532.JPG" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is Larry, pedaling his ZiZZO.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCchsP-7-1CYA88Rmr4VtqkVw0XFNitEKp-UwezRiXDj33ST9EpPzHCiBKmryM4fm-Nn-uhCUStA-ZK9-zL6I6FccFxMo9UWvOH78AIxb9ZCZo1WMQCFWHIiNxNTTaABzxyq9twVcaSRA/s1600/Riding+on+Lopez.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="919" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCchsP-7-1CYA88Rmr4VtqkVw0XFNitEKp-UwezRiXDj33ST9EpPzHCiBKmryM4fm-Nn-uhCUStA-ZK9-zL6I6FccFxMo9UWvOH78AIxb9ZCZo1WMQCFWHIiNxNTTaABzxyq9twVcaSRA/s400/Riding+on+Lopez.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here is me, pedaling my Brompton.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uTvG5V-ZjXbCryFIKF21XV1UV57cLzJ3jTcqhUAWhr8jZS8We1XyE6w14ln29b-sG-rmEZzqWGV_gHhoCLxgbdBeGHVFnx09_9kTW6m1_iSvlD6PsUTh1XaWHLNspW35P6mpexxTIG8/s1600/IMG_0538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uTvG5V-ZjXbCryFIKF21XV1UV57cLzJ3jTcqhUAWhr8jZS8We1XyE6w14ln29b-sG-rmEZzqWGV_gHhoCLxgbdBeGHVFnx09_9kTW6m1_iSvlD6PsUTh1XaWHLNspW35P6mpexxTIG8/s400/IMG_0538.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After cycling to Fisherman Bay Spit Preserve for a lovely picnic and chat,<br />
we headed back to the Lopez Island Airport.<br />
We folded and stored the bikes, piled in, and got ready for takeoff once again.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcbx7zuMh9aC9fG8ciS0apbIrKJsxp-0_SkTpfZSzOm_AvToe9huG73Ymym3yI__szh2SN4uQNzhOWhUwMeT3zYdj-nBgPbPRqT8F7b5objaJbmeU-DTtWo1OrSpjokoOn6dxo9XBp1I/s1600/IMG_0540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcbx7zuMh9aC9fG8ciS0apbIrKJsxp-0_SkTpfZSzOm_AvToe9huG73Ymym3yI__szh2SN4uQNzhOWhUwMeT3zYdj-nBgPbPRqT8F7b5objaJbmeU-DTtWo1OrSpjokoOn6dxo9XBp1I/s400/IMG_0540.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As we gained elevation, we circled over Shark Reef,<br />
where we could just barely make out the sea lions atop the rocks!<br />
The first time we flew to Lopez, we had biked to Shark Reef Sanctuary,<br />
and so it was nice to see the reef from a different perspective.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_AVeUZ6hGtjiX5Fm2RGKU8fyfp6We5iON92Mkpt5-gAYW_kL9lP9LVjbXtk3jyOdrwlcBUqpFnpLUckUBhyyx27ntC-4C27NO_bd4w7TYGzMTan1x3fvgf5x-A9i5lDUcnjI0rsulkM/s1600/IMG_0523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_AVeUZ6hGtjiX5Fm2RGKU8fyfp6We5iON92Mkpt5-gAYW_kL9lP9LVjbXtk3jyOdrwlcBUqpFnpLUckUBhyyx27ntC-4C27NO_bd4w7TYGzMTan1x3fvgf5x-A9i5lDUcnjI0rsulkM/s400/IMG_0523.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt entirely comfortable flying with Larry.<br />
He was both competent and cautious — the perfect combination.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AMiwsLCq5s38q-726meV1hAXMiSUaiA8prMk-6B0HtlEqhJQPqCAhvmMSnK6jA32t3I8TkM61VPh5hcvjz8Y-Q180pp3fFBcYLPWyMBcmHZh3TNBIa0r6fmplcTaoLRurWfZyss5RNY/s1600/IMG_0546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AMiwsLCq5s38q-726meV1hAXMiSUaiA8prMk-6B0HtlEqhJQPqCAhvmMSnK6jA32t3I8TkM61VPh5hcvjz8Y-Q180pp3fFBcYLPWyMBcmHZh3TNBIa0r6fmplcTaoLRurWfZyss5RNY/s400/IMG_0546.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Larry, after a happy and safe return back to<br />
Bellingham International Airport.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIghIRvhGMQgn9GkPRmSzYN17qPBcMLweijW5jeWDzW-j4KAwUCZKrGI8Mb9UHYfSzD0OvRmpPNG3kuL3QRGFNOJUPg-Iv85ukccRgZAdmp-f17jbHbId3Qj7f2NMtQmL1DslHAs_qEk/s1600/Me+%2526+Plane.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="863" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIghIRvhGMQgn9GkPRmSzYN17qPBcMLweijW5jeWDzW-j4KAwUCZKrGI8Mb9UHYfSzD0OvRmpPNG3kuL3QRGFNOJUPg-Iv85ukccRgZAdmp-f17jbHbId3Qj7f2NMtQmL1DslHAs_qEk/s400/Me+%2526+Plane.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Bromleigh and I were so thrilled to have the opportunity <br />
to fly high to Lopez Island.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
How incredibly awesome it was to fly in Larry's Cessna to the San Juan Islands with our folding bikes aboard! Many thanks for the experience, Larry! Although you fly all the time, this was a first — well, ok, now a second — for me. This was something I've wanted to do for years. Next time, can we fly to Tasmania with our bikes?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-14739924497276862822019-12-30T08:51:00.001-08:002020-01-03T08:28:29.694-08:00A Photo Journal: The Inaugural Pacific Northwest & Gulf Islands Tour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As you may recall, Don and I spent <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-month-pedaling-long-way.html" target="_blank">A Month Pedaling the Long Way</a> from Montana to Washington. From Bellingham, our final destination, we would both be leading Adventure Cycling's inaugural Pacific Northwest & Gulf Islands tour.<br />
<br />
The Pacific Northwest & Gulf Islands tour is a challenging 13-day, 595-mile route that traverses some of the most beautiful riding in the Pacific Northwest. The route includes many of my favorite places, both above and below the 49th parallel. I had waited for more than a year and a half to lead this trip. Suffice it to say that I was quite excited to get the show on the road!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXja-ey8C6-o7wRvGG9z5ja7CZjni0Hl9MEyfiZCKtNVWthM70uw8_XDcMc3WiG7DohJyhBpSAkdnSc3rqwgWqEPyCdhXePsOQtuG1uSwcsXWjxCnz1NNdQ9DG6DFRzyAR-n7g5FVzsLY/s1600/IMG_0387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: times; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="1600" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXja-ey8C6-o7wRvGG9z5ja7CZjni0Hl9MEyfiZCKtNVWthM70uw8_XDcMc3WiG7DohJyhBpSAkdnSc3rqwgWqEPyCdhXePsOQtuG1uSwcsXWjxCnz1NNdQ9DG6DFRzyAR-n7g5FVzsLY/s400/IMG_0387.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was our group of cyclists.<br />
Front row (l to r): Greg, Barry, Cathy, me (Sarah), and Kitty.<br />
Back row (l to r): Trina, Chris, Paul, Ron, Victor, Brielle, Don, Peter, John, and Ted.<br />
Not pictured: Van. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Bless the dear souls of these cyclists; these folks had no idea what they were in for when they signed up for this trip. With endless climbs, miles of hike-a-bike, and early morning ferries galore, this route is not for the faint-of-heart. Luck would have it, as there couldn't possibly have been a better combination of riders for the inaugural ride. Each and every cyclist was strong, adventurous, and impressively good-spirited.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<a name='more'></a>The Route</h3>
<div>
<br /></div>
Here's a visual of the route:
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5WcS88dBMr2E3FQRJfNeHLgJy2HfqNFJ41AYLRMtc2g4Lf-15upwgAzvqB4GDT-bEvxrulrqOriVCxHah_Wo_DevSTHrurw_ArJdLGR7_uCMzKG8RmU1Qv-RaktmF2AmcIWWRiggaAE/s1600/EntireLoop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1113" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5WcS88dBMr2E3FQRJfNeHLgJy2HfqNFJ41AYLRMtc2g4Lf-15upwgAzvqB4GDT-bEvxrulrqOriVCxHah_Wo_DevSTHrurw_ArJdLGR7_uCMzKG8RmU1Qv-RaktmF2AmcIWWRiggaAE/s400/EntireLoop.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All 595 miles of the Pacific NW & Gulf Islands route.<br />
Each color represents a different day of the tour.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And here's a brief verbal description of the route:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
This 595-mile journey includes four ferries, four islands, and two border crossings. Other highlights include care-free pedaling along the world-renowned Olympic Discovery and Galloping Goose Trails, a visit to the European-influenced capital of Victoria, an exploration of the artsy Salt Spring Island (the largest of the Gulf Islands), and an optional soak in the healing mineral waters of Harrison Hot Springs.</blockquote>
<br />
<h3>
Meet the Riders</h3>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGBGtJmr1dzHr5wa3NKEqkzibZDp7CCNVUXcvUODHEJkAmZhnp6TmQCU2EFrNWOjVEYvvQ9E93_ek1ADeuLS7vv4cMzw-wPH9DLFkB1wZkIHReSyc8c-VH5XCERn7awKtQQ10NyGbe3s/s1600/Sarah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1263" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoGBGtJmr1dzHr5wa3NKEqkzibZDp7CCNVUXcvUODHEJkAmZhnp6TmQCU2EFrNWOjVEYvvQ9E93_ek1ADeuLS7vv4cMzw-wPH9DLFkB1wZkIHReSyc8c-VH5XCERn7awKtQQ10NyGbe3s/s400/Sarah.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet me, Sarah — Your Masochistic Trip Leader.<br />
I will make absolute certain you are exercising your grit muscles,<br />
while having copious amounts of <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/09/type-ii-fun-sweet-spot-on-two-wheels.html" target="_blank">Type II Fun</a>.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Peter McKenney)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3ddyAFwp5KnZGlwHJFy7CwR1kVscnl0SrwfeNTolTr79kgOsDFPfBkHupK_Dpw5GiyVKP2Fz12qXNY30Whrjd3UiKoWSgkgyefYsaTO_pHlCAOhM6C1kKkUATZDIIq8FeV7ZJQVPeWI/s1600/Don.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1111" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3ddyAFwp5KnZGlwHJFy7CwR1kVscnl0SrwfeNTolTr79kgOsDFPfBkHupK_Dpw5GiyVKP2Fz12qXNY30Whrjd3UiKoWSgkgyefYsaTO_pHlCAOhM6C1kKkUATZDIIq8FeV7ZJQVPeWI/s400/Don.JPG" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Don — Co-Leader and Mechanic Extraordinaire.<br />
Along with fixing any mechanical problems,<br />
this guy can make a sweat-soaked & hole-studded shirt look damn good.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cXiGZTBoAQfurpTpWzcngEcZkS1C-M9myL0j_g8FI0o_kyUUqe7AIiZvUHHHxZ99g8B3wR3QlZyYstDKHan_o6XPnYf87Mxg3iWRFS95QG32r8rGv1uJ9deP-bqpTofi7sES-LctHsU/s1600/Barry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1117" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cXiGZTBoAQfurpTpWzcngEcZkS1C-M9myL0j_g8FI0o_kyUUqe7AIiZvUHHHxZ99g8B3wR3QlZyYstDKHan_o6XPnYf87Mxg3iWRFS95QG32r8rGv1uJ9deP-bqpTofi7sES-LctHsU/s400/Barry.JPG" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Barry — The Joke Teller.<br />
If you ever need to get your mind off pedaling,<br />
simply ride alongside Barry and ask for a joke.<br />
Barry's jokes are sure to last for miles'n'miles!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHV7pwh8pzc_RlkaqWIt0DOgyZ8TqpFRv5xVybmZ4U3iNnyVmRCHha3l0d9PSmbbXbfOhNwQ5K1vCL2x-GMvEXMiLRVoG6Tt4JvKTCsaI-2xqIfzcTVFai9aNYXvqZoxIrqLvPTJScFYQ/s1600/Brielle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1004" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHV7pwh8pzc_RlkaqWIt0DOgyZ8TqpFRv5xVybmZ4U3iNnyVmRCHha3l0d9PSmbbXbfOhNwQ5K1vCL2x-GMvEXMiLRVoG6Tt4JvKTCsaI-2xqIfzcTVFai9aNYXvqZoxIrqLvPTJScFYQ/s400/Brielle.JPG" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Brielle — A Positive Ray of Sunlight.<br />
Brielle has a unique, magical power that enables her to sport a smile,<br />
regardless of what is happening in the external world.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZ0ak7YxDm0Rd6b9k6RoWel0hzoU_geQck7gZ-ViHdubT_LOmZYv7m32HwBEI9SZ0wli-uhybaJVVaGSvOi7M57Hox2e_vOAxtla8cOfH0Ga9w7LPZ55Zse8UyWuchv6woaL6s9_4gHw/s1600/Cathy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="983" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZ0ak7YxDm0Rd6b9k6RoWel0hzoU_geQck7gZ-ViHdubT_LOmZYv7m32HwBEI9SZ0wli-uhybaJVVaGSvOi7M57Hox2e_vOAxtla8cOfH0Ga9w7LPZ55Zse8UyWuchv6woaL6s9_4gHw/s400/Cathy.JPG" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Cathy — Team Cheerleader.<br />
Cathy is a blast, always keeping the energy-level high. <br />
Just one of her
many fortes is being able to<br />
photographically emphasize how much fun she is having.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hJfoS3WfMN-D8-pWiK0-QPyN5hEMUYW_Wi8Qr0Earn2WOH7Ogb1HXLsPcFRKDwlaCpdK5PIeyUh6T58bu46FwJ29fvpxn0D30VlYyan92skoezMWwNPoWMDBgswAIAuZbJ6WJi4ZUks/s1600/Chris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2hJfoS3WfMN-D8-pWiK0-QPyN5hEMUYW_Wi8Qr0Earn2WOH7Ogb1HXLsPcFRKDwlaCpdK5PIeyUh6T58bu46FwJ29fvpxn0D30VlYyan92skoezMWwNPoWMDBgswAIAuZbJ6WJi4ZUks/s400/Chris.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Chris — The Workhorse.<br />
Pooey on those other horses, Chris is the <i>real</i> workhorse.<br />
Chris will happily schlep half the group's food...plus half the group's everything else.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7I1m01bPwpQ6H5-ZSxCarAKNdYCzZc29w4nedxhTmCqiKkBWaXKaFKBAgWiBS4I6j02jFkEXtjw3-4Nw_uL-_6kqCLN-P9pWQHW12aLTbqdQjVXlpmig41ZInjfYhyphenhyphenH39iVI0MyOMt1I/s1600/Greg.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1132" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7I1m01bPwpQ6H5-ZSxCarAKNdYCzZc29w4nedxhTmCqiKkBWaXKaFKBAgWiBS4I6j02jFkEXtjw3-4Nw_uL-_6kqCLN-P9pWQHW12aLTbqdQjVXlpmig41ZInjfYhyphenhyphenH39iVI0MyOMt1I/s400/Greg.JPG" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Greg — The Posterchild for Ultra-Champions.<br />
Greg is a champ. He is the epitome<br />
for showing how one can push themselves<br />
beyond their comfort zone...and succeed!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wOIk1A6lmwePFj04PkYyJ7FVF46ZoaL46AyhkvecfZy8Zm5M-p67w6fOtYD_6g4eZOE5grrzSzcOt5C5eLvUPdabsJ_Nciv6k8L78y4WJ_XH9A3l9ri3UH5GZzEpaq1YIbCUPTgq39E/s1600/Beaston.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="830" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wOIk1A6lmwePFj04PkYyJ7FVF46ZoaL46AyhkvecfZy8Zm5M-p67w6fOtYD_6g4eZOE5grrzSzcOt5C5eLvUPdabsJ_Nciv6k8L78y4WJ_XH9A3l9ri3UH5GZzEpaq1YIbCUPTgq39E/s400/Beaston.JPG" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet John — Juggler, Photographer, & Horticultural Appreciast.<br />
John is the quiet-type, but don't let that fool you.<br />
Underneath that quiet is a ton of awesomeness!<br />
Not only does John juggle, but he also sends photos<br />
of flowers he sees en route to his wife. ~~Swoon~~</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Hc_PUS2Zcd_dO7KNRYhG8oYhJBTveLMqvSLkWyGwD5G7p6Ehww5p57WsZOTM60nDeSdCDRS60M-fk74JS4sCTATkoQFItrdGpeiRp5pRk_t0OAAwT639fG6BNYtC6G_8xsSIdj7dYUM/s1600/Kitty.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Hc_PUS2Zcd_dO7KNRYhG8oYhJBTveLMqvSLkWyGwD5G7p6Ehww5p57WsZOTM60nDeSdCDRS60M-fk74JS4sCTATkoQFItrdGpeiRp5pRk_t0OAAwT639fG6BNYtC6G_8xsSIdj7dYUM/s400/Kitty.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Kitty — The Supreme Bullshitter.<br />
Don't believe it when Kitty says, "This ride is killing me";<br />
she'll be one of the first to camp, and then she'll buy a gravel<br />
bike post-trip so she can participate in more rides that will kill her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh94NCTJFzb-2boEePSEE4QnGEQo4vON8ets4P1aMW9nnfW-pOr_9POqMl4OtRWaAJPVR6lKHKzjWHhF642s9FjRkKAfLHvR3FJ_Yzqe_fzqxMTfKvlz7_PtJuYIaA2A-a8unqcRZhv6Ds/s1600/Paul.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1070" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh94NCTJFzb-2boEePSEE4QnGEQo4vON8ets4P1aMW9nnfW-pOr_9POqMl4OtRWaAJPVR6lKHKzjWHhF642s9FjRkKAfLHvR3FJ_Yzqe_fzqxMTfKvlz7_PtJuYIaA2A-a8unqcRZhv6Ds/s400/Paul.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Paul — The Grown-Up Kid.<br />
Paul sees the world through the eyes of a child.<br />
For Paul, there is joy and amusement in everything.<br />
His spirit is wonderfully infectious.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3YDmqbnBlbft0BsodZMx0CAQRYALk0ePW5KBKcsMHBoqch-rftUFdreER7LztBgr8MGh36c-U096qY2XuTXWDA8od5f9HAu4hR1pv0H5-zR1LOMOZJAbBchLbrH19udyOm9egR41QCE/s1600/Peter.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="765" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk3YDmqbnBlbft0BsodZMx0CAQRYALk0ePW5KBKcsMHBoqch-rftUFdreER7LztBgr8MGh36c-U096qY2XuTXWDA8od5f9HAu4hR1pv0H5-zR1LOMOZJAbBchLbrH19udyOm9egR41QCE/s400/Peter.png" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Peter — Mr. Waxing Lyrical.<br />
As Peter spins his crank, he waxes lyrical about everything and everyone.<br />
I want to shrink Peter into a little handlebar ornament<br />
so I can carry his positivity around with me everywhere I go.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRcl09dN6xmkTw9falju9BS35itAsM3I1KrsQazBd7YyA7MPfoJwT7vK4dNrJP0k0OUy45K8WFjoaQK9mxINIj92pfpa0KsrJiwj9iCbyBab4pwWLSJiW-fGDqzAmKGlECz21Qf-B3uHM/s1600/Ron.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRcl09dN6xmkTw9falju9BS35itAsM3I1KrsQazBd7YyA7MPfoJwT7vK4dNrJP0k0OUy45K8WFjoaQK9mxINIj92pfpa0KsrJiwj9iCbyBab4pwWLSJiW-fGDqzAmKGlECz21Qf-B3uHM/s400/Ron.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Ron — The Boy Scout.<br />
The amount of gear Ron carries on his bike puts the inventory<br />
of a nearby outdoor goods store to shame.<br />
This man is prepared for everything you can imagine — <br />
and everything you can't possibly imagine, too.<br />
If anyone needs anything (and we <i>all</i> did at some point in time),<br />
Ron will surely have it. Thanks, Ron, for hauling extra goodies for us all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczFNmZ8MM9b01kw9VtBp7_NecPP1OeVE5yVCUvLjT_0QW2xwXxjQ_vOL72LWMw9hRpFsP420wqLy2TwCf1da1nXO-QNRZQhVp1DSKmYCsYSDc4gE35Er1nQYVwHJpA8cWTBvVa_9Ed7o/s1600/Ted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczFNmZ8MM9b01kw9VtBp7_NecPP1OeVE5yVCUvLjT_0QW2xwXxjQ_vOL72LWMw9hRpFsP420wqLy2TwCf1da1nXO-QNRZQhVp1DSKmYCsYSDc4gE35Er1nQYVwHJpA8cWTBvVa_9Ed7o/s400/Ted.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Ted — Beer Aficionado.<br />
Ted has a secret power that enables him to identify the finest brews.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6q5RoxRYQ7CragnhMrN78wZX45peRNWqUcL3UCTDaUwk_e4e6Ml8WbmgfrcDKrUwNPowYBEp5tA_Qrrc4sGBc8RFxCrr3sI22OTL-J2M87oUZr4r1bv6U-Ykmena1JfCa_j8MDiqtWc/s1600/Trina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6q5RoxRYQ7CragnhMrN78wZX45peRNWqUcL3UCTDaUwk_e4e6Ml8WbmgfrcDKrUwNPowYBEp5tA_Qrrc4sGBc8RFxCrr3sI22OTL-J2M87oUZr4r1bv6U-Ykmena1JfCa_j8MDiqtWc/s400/Trina.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Trina — Ms. Legs of Steel.<br />
Lance? Pshaw!<br />
Trina can cycle faster and harder than the best of them.<br />
Imagine how speedy she must be without a load!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrhWuvl8n3CDZgkZNmBkgbsZhyphenhyphenZwNZfwZuD0_kcl4el3jSd_OJlPPSh2FCv6JlGfRq-S764cx79YVSECaPgcyBjIsRzfnl7JPoxaGVULnaybrMXiXxxH0eY07ojjtY2b76olRF_DBEZA/s1600/Van.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1161" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrhWuvl8n3CDZgkZNmBkgbsZhyphenhyphenZwNZfwZuD0_kcl4el3jSd_OJlPPSh2FCv6JlGfRq-S764cx79YVSECaPgcyBjIsRzfnl7JPoxaGVULnaybrMXiXxxH0eY07ojjtY2b76olRF_DBEZA/s400/Van.JPG" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Van — The Wise Rider.<br />
Van has impressive intuition and resolve.<br />
He knows what to do when things need to be done.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd-MplnAwi03XJmqtFKEnXwnS-CCJA9hJHYku0SgLcwwAdP38kc5r6gh323HjfPjRj8arwC2dVN18SOYwpe1AMUjqEWSVtUaMd8ZIMOUIw53I5tBl1QGoa0i8cT8wpzpHFZSKrvMjpdc/s1600/Victor.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1186" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd-MplnAwi03XJmqtFKEnXwnS-CCJA9hJHYku0SgLcwwAdP38kc5r6gh323HjfPjRj8arwC2dVN18SOYwpe1AMUjqEWSVtUaMd8ZIMOUIw53I5tBl1QGoa0i8cT8wpzpHFZSKrvMjpdc/s400/Victor.JPG" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Victor — The Spring Chicken.<br />
You wouldn't know it watching this guy pedal, but Victor<br />
is an impressive 70 years-old — 70 going on 40.<br />
To top it off...he's relatively new to cycle touring.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Trip</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vFdFouRxujtAWJ0tP_jhjC8TVbV3no3k2pr5MXLeTjs8YEkp3uhRheAK2AhyphenhyphenbBBFsV3qGHnpvblhjwW0Xs7aie-6KDcYhlIlvKTi-sD1nAdPSZJ3PKP7kZW8N4mA3t0_7si17uuQDA4/s1600/Group+Cropped.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="1600" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vFdFouRxujtAWJ0tP_jhjC8TVbV3no3k2pr5MXLeTjs8YEkp3uhRheAK2AhyphenhyphenbBBFsV3qGHnpvblhjwW0Xs7aie-6KDcYhlIlvKTi-sD1nAdPSZJ3PKP7kZW8N4mA3t0_7si17uuQDA4/s400/Group+Cropped.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the group just before heading out to pedal the first mile of the trip.<br />
This is a dang good looking group, isn't it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzd9iyggiXYhFGrnByn3KqQ-Jhu-b_uTo_YGykjDMxZcEl5LhiAxD7PPgvd1Rjx1gEIO6KDHnhFVHAUgrCQr4SkEfHJluKmzF7tG6qStIrmp-Ruo_nOiXTFVwOOgyDG9YkawEzYaD0TU/s1600/IMG0019.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1183" data-original-width="1600" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzd9iyggiXYhFGrnByn3KqQ-Jhu-b_uTo_YGykjDMxZcEl5LhiAxD7PPgvd1Rjx1gEIO6KDHnhFVHAUgrCQr4SkEfHJluKmzF7tG6qStIrmp-Ruo_nOiXTFVwOOgyDG9YkawEzYaD0TU/s400/IMG0019.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every evening we held a Map Meeting, at which we discussed<br />
the day's going-ons and reviewed the next day's ride.<br />
Here is our Map Meeting at Fort Ebey State Park on Whidbey Island.<br />
We held our meeting as we watched the sun set over lovely Puget Sound.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Victor Mollozzi)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7k1fDrwPhrGoLXe6yj6FvioaGKzicSnMVG2JBQUuJc6ZXkgVwp4H_5U_fdnugt2tpuh7XGhYZUyMUielwX9u94qwCbQAhbkodAYBiN7X5xviYm9O6DuND0ffRIYXJS7s0RZGwu2O7LQ/s1600/20190815_144925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1211" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7k1fDrwPhrGoLXe6yj6FvioaGKzicSnMVG2JBQUuJc6ZXkgVwp4H_5U_fdnugt2tpuh7XGhYZUyMUielwX9u94qwCbQAhbkodAYBiN7X5xviYm9O6DuND0ffRIYXJS7s0RZGwu2O7LQ/s400/20190815_144925.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were various stops along each day's route where<br />
folks could grab a refreshing beverage or a yummy treat.<br />
As my Surly is named Shirley, it comes as no surprise that my favorite<br />
stop was Shirley Delicious.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Ron White)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFij8ADoQvDLe6nkAp1URbf_0zZYshV8Bfk5G_F2z_WcvLWHZ8rtNsUGLhvbN8A18WI9LbIoV-dIOfmVtrWiOGme1QIog92rdaVxhm-afsFWF2yTSyb9AlCi1resVMJGFGZdBXq0g3Z8/s1600/IMG_0321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFij8ADoQvDLe6nkAp1URbf_0zZYshV8Bfk5G_F2z_WcvLWHZ8rtNsUGLhvbN8A18WI9LbIoV-dIOfmVtrWiOGme1QIog92rdaVxhm-afsFWF2yTSyb9AlCi1resVMJGFGZdBXq0g3Z8/s400/IMG_0321.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Van, Brielle, and Ron enjoy some non-saddle time at Shirley's.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwR8ZvKo2vBKux-CCFu39lItjgagSBnzhpas0YL3uGEYhLjiQlZ25JPy4gOdDqRt_cxSmPc2YOggaV7Rj_IDJrua3s6fTGso6bO03V7_jw7yOjMZRUJ6es5_kKMwjYETLvW_zQxbzN1g/s1600/IMG_0314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1142" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwR8ZvKo2vBKux-CCFu39lItjgagSBnzhpas0YL3uGEYhLjiQlZ25JPy4gOdDqRt_cxSmPc2YOggaV7Rj_IDJrua3s6fTGso6bO03V7_jw7yOjMZRUJ6es5_kKMwjYETLvW_zQxbzN1g/s400/IMG_0314.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's another one of our stops, at Discovery Bay Village Store.<br />
One of my favorite things about riding with this group was that we all stuck together.<br />
Although this stop was 27 miles into the ride, all fifteen bikes were out front when I arrived.<br />
This, my friends, is evidence of the cohesiveness of our cycling family.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmb5WP_-NXxSUrxiw1_zy7NwkbcnIUZqeRVgfblk0YbQleirxjIjaoCxoWZFDc4MZsdaZ5GSMwCVkA40kU9sOJgG4sGySMG5dBB4K1h-9nkxECvaKJvCQpr76grkB693_ry34EAtsHG0I/s1600/IMG_0368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmb5WP_-NXxSUrxiw1_zy7NwkbcnIUZqeRVgfblk0YbQleirxjIjaoCxoWZFDc4MZsdaZ5GSMwCVkA40kU9sOJgG4sGySMG5dBB4K1h-9nkxECvaKJvCQpr76grkB693_ry34EAtsHG0I/s400/IMG_0368.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meals are a big part of any long-distance cycling trip.<br />
We took turns cooking for each other.<br />
Each day, two designated riders would create menus,<br />
shop for food, and then prepare the meals.<br />
We all met up at the grocery stores to help carry food.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt1SPJlZ1oLK0_o_Roe0YsTwBSRmLB0quCoHH31WcttN6EBT7JvedPUur8lRpYhqXL6OXAmpoxLvmRBXOxA7vVGgWux5a7wCC40VmC5OvYETgfERxoUc6PPHjEXWklWfPBMcMxfTOu1I/s1600/2019-08-13+16.00.05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt1SPJlZ1oLK0_o_Roe0YsTwBSRmLB0quCoHH31WcttN6EBT7JvedPUur8lRpYhqXL6OXAmpoxLvmRBXOxA7vVGgWux5a7wCC40VmC5OvYETgfERxoUc6PPHjEXWklWfPBMcMxfTOu1I/s400/2019-08-13+16.00.05.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a typical volume of food required each day<br />
to feed sixteen hungry cyclists.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23GYkjrQDPlFD39u7OPF7i2u3W955oUt19p1HHa6peYdKdiMiP1z5meRwnl7H4L_PFnY9LtQkexgt9N9a3TqWiZM3r1cswzkpvM9juOpa4nMMFsKx8XjuX7Unf_jg8o2LQ_MkjEhKbrQ/s1600/2019-08-16+16.34.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1278" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23GYkjrQDPlFD39u7OPF7i2u3W955oUt19p1HHa6peYdKdiMiP1z5meRwnl7H4L_PFnY9LtQkexgt9N9a3TqWiZM3r1cswzkpvM9juOpa4nMMFsKx8XjuX7Unf_jg8o2LQ_MkjEhKbrQ/s400/2019-08-16+16.34.52.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul displays one of the many ingredients that are<br />
critical to pull-off a delicious tortellini dinner.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMX-jxhD_IpW7Cj7k5FRwmYtB-Ge_rocQWJK0NeRi071dh9CJOi_V078A9sUWZ-8jxzgROY5B7pRj5mDMODsBmutS02YcwlpjP-C-2QfRpcMv8trQmpvOlVJnDqXIHIf4cS_tfWPX6L5Q/s1600/IMG_0316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1343" data-original-width="1600" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMX-jxhD_IpW7Cj7k5FRwmYtB-Ge_rocQWJK0NeRi071dh9CJOi_V078A9sUWZ-8jxzgROY5B7pRj5mDMODsBmutS02YcwlpjP-C-2QfRpcMv8trQmpvOlVJnDqXIHIf4cS_tfWPX6L5Q/s400/IMG_0316.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here is how one cooking team opted to organize their outdoor kitchen.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGp81_SmH57WR-tD6xOOQIwNgrigJkkWES5JhK6oVKsI2IKIYPhpUzKkovxbx94zBtAl0ovI4mylpymUo5UfdQxklqvQBIag29JDvR5fk3HhjhOg0xXfE7jmYkepqqMN1Ix7zhJmlgpEc/s1600/20190813_070024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1208" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGp81_SmH57WR-tD6xOOQIwNgrigJkkWES5JhK6oVKsI2IKIYPhpUzKkovxbx94zBtAl0ovI4mylpymUo5UfdQxklqvQBIag29JDvR5fk3HhjhOg0xXfE7jmYkepqqMN1Ix7zhJmlgpEc/s400/20190813_070024.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As there were four ferries on this tour, there was some waiting around to do.<br />
Kitty and I goofed around as we waited for the first of those ferries to take us<br />
from Whidbey Island to the Olympic Peninsula.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Peter McKenney)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOFwAE7XWwGs-TdAnFSiMMVScAsfWnW2as9HHeQz47VBGummZA8N606R87L4W_SiVfweTzXiVlEzkElwspHRRNaDuMMjOnPGIDhi5nw2yh2G_06bfP3xqNcYsjSSqfytKlX8ofj-acBg/s1600/IMG9025.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1218" data-original-width="1600" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOFwAE7XWwGs-TdAnFSiMMVScAsfWnW2as9HHeQz47VBGummZA8N606R87L4W_SiVfweTzXiVlEzkElwspHRRNaDuMMjOnPGIDhi5nw2yh2G_06bfP3xqNcYsjSSqfytKlX8ofj-acBg/s400/IMG9025.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ferry waits were a great opportunity to have a second breakfast.<br />
Paul, Ron, Ted, and I wait for the Blackball Ferry to take us from<br />
Port Angeles, WA to Victoria, BC.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Victor Mollozzi)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2opdnjRzrPqaUae_yGOEqpvB8M79rPAJ_rt2PLyQrCd_Pr1H4lf7_am8ySwMpcISf3cnx2LzJpvTGN7m6zK4FroSOPx3SA5G1uXismhTzbN_Rjn4jiTMIiKz74BWL_jsPsOM_KEDS9c/s1600/2019-08-20+06.19.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2opdnjRzrPqaUae_yGOEqpvB8M79rPAJ_rt2PLyQrCd_Pr1H4lf7_am8ySwMpcISf3cnx2LzJpvTGN7m6zK4FroSOPx3SA5G1uXismhTzbN_Rjn4jiTMIiKz74BWL_jsPsOM_KEDS9c/s400/2019-08-20+06.19.42.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here is our colorful bunch about to load the ferry that would take us<br />
from Salt Spring Island to the mainland port at Tsawwassen.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: John Beaston)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaEYnRdniRm13nCcmEAVuuvS8rR4iaDzKTkfAnX-Cr59XYPg8qoOBwI995WzRJe7Ff8CNmWBikfHFLcEJlr0QyQUNYZKtOge5OL-YO_9ytHEc2rFbkNT3qv4uZgP2xH-Dh1tDCCs_7FQ/s1600/IMG_0346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="1600" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaEYnRdniRm13nCcmEAVuuvS8rR4iaDzKTkfAnX-Cr59XYPg8qoOBwI995WzRJe7Ff8CNmWBikfHFLcEJlr0QyQUNYZKtOge5OL-YO_9ytHEc2rFbkNT3qv4uZgP2xH-Dh1tDCCs_7FQ/s400/IMG_0346.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ferry rides provided great opportunities to catch some zzzzz's.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYhgbvat8CxRPQSV-WY0XVI1a2CESV3elxsP2ZEcigjyZdC-LnLkMM_HeNYS9q59a37Ri662N6sLZKSNVGMlPcPumVypjDw-8WuVg63zTrnXx_KbU4Zr5bsjBulk4zYo5BB07c0DFCmE/s1600/IMG_0369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYhgbvat8CxRPQSV-WY0XVI1a2CESV3elxsP2ZEcigjyZdC-LnLkMM_HeNYS9q59a37Ri662N6sLZKSNVGMlPcPumVypjDw-8WuVg63zTrnXx_KbU4Zr5bsjBulk4zYo5BB07c0DFCmE/s400/IMG_0369.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were a few mechanical mishaps on this trip.<br />
Though flats, such as the one Paul is fixing, were common,<br />
they were a minor inconvenience.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfu8Y4kz6wvtxHa4M31YQ8J4g5Dsyk2BHdJe1jgFaecCjcoiNsHJAA8l2F7ibA80vzMuU-dRLbcEjQzF8uLTOEAjlDXRsMHVuhFv5KaMNz7CCrhzViswH-Bq2bo3-sij_jsws3-S8jRLI/s1600/IMG_0312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfu8Y4kz6wvtxHa4M31YQ8J4g5Dsyk2BHdJe1jgFaecCjcoiNsHJAA8l2F7ibA80vzMuU-dRLbcEjQzF8uLTOEAjlDXRsMHVuhFv5KaMNz7CCrhzViswH-Bq2bo3-sij_jsws3-S8jRLI/s400/IMG_0312.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This, on the other hand, was a big deal.<br />
Don's rim failed — catastrophically!<br />
Don was fortunate he wasn't riding the bike when his rim gave out.<br />
Four hundred dollars and one helluva headache later, Don was back on the road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fZhUG5U_v67VA9p7EUXCvgvgi_hLFq8JeJTb8IkxiEP1ZUWSlt2BBTKiQXGZ5lR2gcBR62-nNK0mCQsQtHpdKDzQ10pSbrF7E-aXS7pCUviWTRQxj_67w8QamyxltLZ7Q-muzZ_QouQ/s1600/IMG_0362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="1600" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fZhUG5U_v67VA9p7EUXCvgvgi_hLFq8JeJTb8IkxiEP1ZUWSlt2BBTKiQXGZ5lR2gcBR62-nNK0mCQsQtHpdKDzQ10pSbrF7E-aXS7pCUviWTRQxj_67w8QamyxltLZ7Q-muzZ_QouQ/s400/IMG_0362.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were miles and miles of pleasant trail riding.<br />
Here, Barry and Greg pedal along the Canyons to Coast Trail in BC.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26FX4K0JwOVuEfN2gOOoo8EYrIImsQW7_Lno4CTM1h-wP601V26mmSxtvA9JdR2TQO3i9Ew9sBJM2YKjRIwRhKhrzFifTMDydDyESQY89YW_wLatOBHUIicut1JvVvWTEnlwdaS6O0Qc/s1600/IMG_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1065" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh26FX4K0JwOVuEfN2gOOoo8EYrIImsQW7_Lno4CTM1h-wP601V26mmSxtvA9JdR2TQO3i9Ew9sBJM2YKjRIwRhKhrzFifTMDydDyESQY89YW_wLatOBHUIicut1JvVvWTEnlwdaS6O0Qc/s400/IMG_0340.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And there were miles and miles of fun, flowy trails, too.<br />
Here, Brielle dons her effervescent smile as she<br />
pedals the final miles of the Sooke Hills Wilderness Trail<br />
to Goldstream Provincial Park.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAHfHYTvDNVd8oSH7hhuqD4RYVgVmvP30l89MSzp2L6J9Ghh8tDqvV9wu5GfgUzbTwzSOziECyUmsUZuqYUcQd5bW5doKXQTsvNFzSu9aZ_LTu8eWUhmdLS8-FN1yl1zQEXhodyJpP2gw/s1600/IMG_0337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAHfHYTvDNVd8oSH7hhuqD4RYVgVmvP30l89MSzp2L6J9Ghh8tDqvV9wu5GfgUzbTwzSOziECyUmsUZuqYUcQd5bW5doKXQTsvNFzSu9aZ_LTu8eWUhmdLS8-FN1yl1zQEXhodyJpP2gw/s400/IMG_0337.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This gate, along the Sooke Hills Wilderness Trail,<br />
was made for wide-hipped bicycle touring rigs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN_LG3ywHCa3Ii8RJIDr2b2y2_YC0cMwlWAY31CHJ4DDerapfLyiS9G50RsYdZ0uwBgunhxZqnWY9N9WfU-m7syPki6_xjUqWxMCQUOwo2Dvce_hi21on0oGI12rZlvRpKFmplIhaRRhc/s1600/IMG_0339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN_LG3ywHCa3Ii8RJIDr2b2y2_YC0cMwlWAY31CHJ4DDerapfLyiS9G50RsYdZ0uwBgunhxZqnWY9N9WfU-m7syPki6_xjUqWxMCQUOwo2Dvce_hi21on0oGI12rZlvRpKFmplIhaRRhc/s400/IMG_0339.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were miles of sweet, pedal-free downhill...but you had to earn them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6n4St-gkPm8hy8YHcd9cMtXmYVnMcIdAmJMyPiYxprbcDLF7O0v8omvSZxlO73ihOL4PK246UbqbvVC9W6TS0vL6HmINXzckrmedlUxuTbuh9S9j24ONed3L8PHqD_ybNSBMRYTx7Ys/s1600/IMG_0334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6n4St-gkPm8hy8YHcd9cMtXmYVnMcIdAmJMyPiYxprbcDLF7O0v8omvSZxlO73ihOL4PK246UbqbvVC9W6TS0vL6HmINXzckrmedlUxuTbuh9S9j24ONed3L8PHqD_ybNSBMRYTx7Ys/s400/IMG_0334.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most difficult downhill to earn was along the Sooke Hills Wilderness Trail.<br />
A 13-mile stretch included a number of very steep, 16% grades.<br />
Even the strongest of riders had to dismount<br />
and push their steeds up some of the inclines.<br />
Here, Greg starts to tackle this beast of an uphill, while a group of<br />
others stop to catch their breath.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOKKoi2tKYqdUYpaaHldjdM_-Adf81GiOLA8e67Spr98dGgPkAVQLGfIeZz9aICr6i-psBzCzOy7WObCgpYhzfFj7j0tRInxpWL3MTK7dW_lY7mx9XW4qGCZ-iz17xSfrAUU_2JjYa7M/s1600/IMG_0333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1096" data-original-width="1600" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOKKoi2tKYqdUYpaaHldjdM_-Adf81GiOLA8e67Spr98dGgPkAVQLGfIeZz9aICr6i-psBzCzOy7WObCgpYhzfFj7j0tRInxpWL3MTK7dW_lY7mx9XW4qGCZ-iz17xSfrAUU_2JjYa7M/s400/IMG_0333.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don was invaluable at helping folks to get past the steep grades.<br />
He'd push his bike up a section, leave his bike, run back downhill,<br />
help a rider push their bike up the hill,<br />
and then rinse and repeat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomM1brviVcWxiKLc838oOIhrVmOjDL7k1cnG5kKqStkc_vM9TYY2Zbu2PcW9d8zO2YGG-kSwfMrfwPH6q_mg0dUQMqjSXkub1UIrSQS09OykW-N1uVimRRPfSq_RX4fpC5eGIchiJCB8/s1600/2019-08-22+18.53.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjomM1brviVcWxiKLc838oOIhrVmOjDL7k1cnG5kKqStkc_vM9TYY2Zbu2PcW9d8zO2YGG-kSwfMrfwPH6q_mg0dUQMqjSXkub1UIrSQS09OykW-N1uVimRRPfSq_RX4fpC5eGIchiJCB8/s400/2019-08-22+18.53.46.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite Map Meeting was the last one,<br />
which some riders referred to as the "Kumbaya Meeting."<br />
After a brief, Sarah-led, close-your-eyes, meditative reflective session,<br />
we went around the circle and shared our favorite parts of the trip.<br />
On the day we rode the Malahat First Nations/Sooke Hills Wilderness Trails,<br />
nearly everyone cursed the challenge of pushing their bikes up the steep grades.<br />
But, by the end of the trip, most riders agreed that this challenge<br />
was their favorite (or at least their most memorable) part of the entire trip.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: John Beaston)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h3>
Open Road Gallery</h3>
<br />
Greg Siple was one of the co-founders of Adventure Cycling Association. For years, Greg took photos of cyclists as they passed through the Adventure Cycling headquarters in Missoula, Montana. I am fortunate to have had Greg Siple snap a photo of me before he retired.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORY1VPSOXZ_aWQlGlQjfhH5g5knLqpzshdyYUdV-XVocQUMRZ26BR5fA8F9jPQZ51B9ZKJl07xMUMPSivvXWNxGjmYi-Y8ZR7ZmmvaG-yeseDA8L9ZAh0Z-YPkh-FJM0YhiHpCo2z2UU/s1600/Open+Road+Gallery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1229" data-original-width="1600" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORY1VPSOXZ_aWQlGlQjfhH5g5knLqpzshdyYUdV-XVocQUMRZ26BR5fA8F9jPQZ51B9ZKJl07xMUMPSivvXWNxGjmYi-Y8ZR7ZmmvaG-yeseDA8L9ZAh0Z-YPkh-FJM0YhiHpCo2z2UU/s400/Open+Road+Gallery.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Greg Siple original — me and my Brompton when we passed<br />
through the Adventure Cycling headquarters in 2017.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Each issue of <i>Adventure Cyclist</i> magazine features an "Open Road Gallery." This section displays one of Greg's photos, as well as a brief write-up about the featured cyclist. With a tilt of the helmet to Adventure Cycling and the Open Road Gallery, I took a photo of each rider alongside their bicycle. I love these photos! They really capture the personality of each of the cyclists. Plus, it's fun to see everyone's set-up.</div>
<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barry</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brielle</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chris</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greg</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ron</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ted</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trina</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victor</td></tr>
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Thank you to all the members of my Pacific Northwest & Gulf Islands cycling family. Not only was it a joy to lead all of you positive-minded cyclists, but it was also a joy to see each and every one of you flex your grit muscles and show your badassity! Much love to you all!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-26235832949330688572019-12-16T17:35:00.004-08:002019-12-16T18:23:29.560-08:00A Photo Journal: A Month Pedaling the Long Way<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When you have a whole month to get from Point A to Point B, it clearly makes sense to go the long way, especially when doubling your mileage means quadrupling the gorgeous vistas.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkW93Hcg8NoSuJ5RR70Zuwv2lszG63HKXKSucnW2x3PuURIfIhWr46mcGrT6F0PpqyVkVfBUzqgsCX-J1gpZjW7dpj8la8epYq9xwYizVA3Id38FUoPWJS_O9u8NjahRatmoJ8U-0zcM/s1600/IMG_0167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbkW93Hcg8NoSuJ5RR70Zuwv2lszG63HKXKSucnW2x3PuURIfIhWr46mcGrT6F0PpqyVkVfBUzqgsCX-J1gpZjW7dpj8la8epYq9xwYizVA3Id38FUoPWJS_O9u8NjahRatmoJ8U-0zcM/s400/IMG_0167.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Don, doubling our mileage to quadruple our views.</td></tr>
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My buddy, Donald, and I staffed an Adventure Cycling trip together in Whitefish in early July. A month later, we were leading another trip together out of Bellingham. As we both share an interest in hitting the open road (albeit dirt road) on two wheels, and as we both had a month of free time between trips, we decided to cycle together from the ending point of our first trip to the starting point of our next trip -- the long way. </div>
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This is a photo journal of the month we spent pedaling from Whitefish, Montana to Bellingham, Washington...via Jasper, Alberta.</div>
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<a name='more'></a>We began our cycling trip in Whitefish. From there, we cycled north to Banff along The Great Divide, opting for the lesser-traveled Grizzly Alley alternate.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2f9MvqWH07hQ2RglJAXlqXj2hmiUQc2GQgwamOyoUPDaZ9svgyqDOJc6fbEKZpmGXL3zuAnIh1XXp5fegRkAeZ3KwLiB6sHAV4gTZC0HeVEsWsj0_2rSsINhzPP7_Hj2tS7dy1hHJDP4/s1600/IMG_0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2f9MvqWH07hQ2RglJAXlqXj2hmiUQc2GQgwamOyoUPDaZ9svgyqDOJc6fbEKZpmGXL3zuAnIh1XXp5fegRkAeZ3KwLiB6sHAV4gTZC0HeVEsWsj0_2rSsINhzPP7_Hj2tS7dy1hHJDP4/s400/IMG_0006.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We pass colorful fields of rapeseed in Montana's Flathead Valley.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbq-_acPA-PitvdYj7YPlBhCHGCuu26eJYpsc62aibAer0CRCYiRAiRw2tA-Q1HfIopO2MlhaHQ8shC-HyEJG7fjS2762dsNgnXodvDytpBuwoFq7jiyaBOHeDphyvUDo7uoYgJfIhAA/s1600/IMG_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbq-_acPA-PitvdYj7YPlBhCHGCuu26eJYpsc62aibAer0CRCYiRAiRw2tA-Q1HfIopO2MlhaHQ8shC-HyEJG7fjS2762dsNgnXodvDytpBuwoFq7jiyaBOHeDphyvUDo7uoYgJfIhAA/s400/IMG_0022.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don pedals up Red Meadow Pass, our initiation into the trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1lP-AFVj4HFN2e3KMa3rMcFsoTLMth9TzSJ6xnQ6twdD8aBp7OHMJI5EzF1s-ocIn7Q3gwTYKU34pWuY-k8-7wy6_1br6jzig1Wyw8MfPHCs4r-JtJRROmWKhKnKAMmEAP4LLuxTsQY/s1600/IMG_1649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1lP-AFVj4HFN2e3KMa3rMcFsoTLMth9TzSJ6xnQ6twdD8aBp7OHMJI5EzF1s-ocIn7Q3gwTYKU34pWuY-k8-7wy6_1br6jzig1Wyw8MfPHCs4r-JtJRROmWKhKnKAMmEAP4LLuxTsQY/s400/IMG_1649.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We enjoy our visit (my first!) to Polebridge, Montana.<br />
I'm thrilled to see a Little Free Library -- and a well stocked one it is!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDELWn1l7WdQZrvBoZInss6Q9YAyPkHWtIOWgqSWV_NHXg8Kh0CdX09wIWrNaprWtybfq28ADsd6as-kreDq6kRhYJt1tu8qiSlAL2EOfGnoJupj-9ko4zmYypKKqqXlBl4ikjGYnezxI/s1600/IMG_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1152" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDELWn1l7WdQZrvBoZInss6Q9YAyPkHWtIOWgqSWV_NHXg8Kh0CdX09wIWrNaprWtybfq28ADsd6as-kreDq6kRhYJt1tu8qiSlAL2EOfGnoJupj-9ko4zmYypKKqqXlBl4ikjGYnezxI/s400/IMG_0041.JPG" width="287" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Don and his salty ass.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinChLneZiNBdJKWhcatwbbDdA8avg6Ze4Sx3BQX8WxKGlLvT2lss24o8Ou_hHaJGR8YRwB-a0m8YOcnZ_Xh_pmkBzKCwrm1d-D0QoP6qwfy3KM-UJ9UdJoqD4CRTzOST-7QeQenfhBKnw/s1600/IMG_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1240" data-original-width="1600" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinChLneZiNBdJKWhcatwbbDdA8avg6Ze4Sx3BQX8WxKGlLvT2lss24o8Ou_hHaJGR8YRwB-a0m8YOcnZ_Xh_pmkBzKCwrm1d-D0QoP6qwfy3KM-UJ9UdJoqD4CRTzOST-7QeQenfhBKnw/s400/IMG_0044.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's only Day #3, and Don is already sending a decent-sized box of gear home.<br />
You'd think he is a newbie!<br />
Here he props the box atop his handlebars as he pedals to the nearest post office.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATeKRYQoOfY7JZQHmwdfIar5TY_Y0-tZbQUBge_o0WqCB127R3SaWidIURR52-EeCM_MFjZyd0BURRMY_ND2sK86XRUbJ9iNI61oR_aGdDGgSvbaR1t_8JafgXwajCT_jGgia8RCoRww/s1600/IMG_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1157" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATeKRYQoOfY7JZQHmwdfIar5TY_Y0-tZbQUBge_o0WqCB127R3SaWidIURR52-EeCM_MFjZyd0BURRMY_ND2sK86XRUbJ9iNI61oR_aGdDGgSvbaR1t_8JafgXwajCT_jGgia8RCoRww/s400/IMG_0065.JPG" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grizzly Alley, by far, is our most favorite part of the route.<br />
It has some lovely single and double track...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLFTz2N2vtNQOBllGapiPSiUsKzedZIm2Cd9xnxew6Ua8pTeACVjoYkUDocFUYjb80G9fWafQJ-lDhR1Yt7qWv9uG8ZidHoVXDPVinj0NXZf_Qq4QiCmvw8xad4tatno9dcW5fGrk92Q/s1600/IMG_0072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1015" data-original-width="1600" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMLFTz2N2vtNQOBllGapiPSiUsKzedZIm2Cd9xnxew6Ua8pTeACVjoYkUDocFUYjb80G9fWafQJ-lDhR1Yt7qWv9uG8ZidHoVXDPVinj0NXZf_Qq4QiCmvw8xad4tatno9dcW5fGrk92Q/s400/IMG_0072.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and plenty of wildflowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3D0CL44aDNdOaOZNDu6MelkKPF_WUENEWOkylQYiun6ALrnabKD9feuqE9h2GYRwJEHQ2Qm80gy2iL6Clbyzg5J96StiZ5cuyUaoH4J_pqEC1jv4xjDnQo3q91Xp6qNxmXrZGCE_JCI8/s1600/IMG_0075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3D0CL44aDNdOaOZNDu6MelkKPF_WUENEWOkylQYiun6ALrnabKD9feuqE9h2GYRwJEHQ2Qm80gy2iL6Clbyzg5J96StiZ5cuyUaoH4J_pqEC1jv4xjDnQo3q91Xp6qNxmXrZGCE_JCI8/s400/IMG_0075.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, being all cute and everything...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1212" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjtvLOncRE1roT4Tpncrv82lKhxVh74GBXe6gULg8q1qT5nmKvEOQX1Jn-BWcNkjHuTdj-8MP8fvhi9SMyqGl6st0ND8PUBcOO2fWLsHJvMpV5k_Y5XSINKsRh0H8sDbvSoabFwedQIU/s400/IMG_0076.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="302" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and Don trying to be all cute and everything, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTPi8IKQw_DkahMG0-X-xcwmxtk-IqyEK0WBaGpGte4ocUR3Lsh13KUbp9C9URreKY77BsAxpGP260yLqhO4zPDD0SluGNtQewoaZSlBGmHeWTpigMghTtKnAD3E0m5MlFIrP_6VvyNE/s1600/IMG_0089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="1600" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlTPi8IKQw_DkahMG0-X-xcwmxtk-IqyEK0WBaGpGte4ocUR3Lsh13KUbp9C9URreKY77BsAxpGP260yLqhO4zPDD0SluGNtQewoaZSlBGmHeWTpigMghTtKnAD3E0m5MlFIrP_6VvyNE/s400/IMG_0089.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While Don may not exactly be "pretty," his bike sure is pretty.<br />
Don's panniers blend in well with the yellow flowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSvvrmzwduud85hiXbZp64tnFg5ELeL52QNGaF-sHPJeXMG6jHsM3YMEUGAfc2l4RHDxWTCzHpnG6KJcFAMIcYNhVBll5944482m1AMDhhuyC_SCrdg9UQVDTY4lR6XggegW6wFoZlp8/s1600/IMG_0104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1241" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSvvrmzwduud85hiXbZp64tnFg5ELeL52QNGaF-sHPJeXMG6jHsM3YMEUGAfc2l4RHDxWTCzHpnG6KJcFAMIcYNhVBll5944482m1AMDhhuyC_SCrdg9UQVDTY4lR6XggegW6wFoZlp8/s400/IMG_0104.JPG" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We both love pedaling through Grizzly Alley.<br />
It is quite remote and we hardly see any people in three days of riding.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdTjZHjPlgx8MDRUenM_YvbUKIi4elMJRyHQl0s-QGGrkX7yw29qjwPn839gAbyZF3WVBGVmvXv7wXkg8KKg9CAHJmHJFS2ak47TzK0cBmcjSFDmE5z9-AvzxTSUcgrdddQIwDTNhSps/s1600/IMG_0094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1052" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEdTjZHjPlgx8MDRUenM_YvbUKIi4elMJRyHQl0s-QGGrkX7yw29qjwPn839gAbyZF3WVBGVmvXv7wXkg8KKg9CAHJmHJFS2ak47TzK0cBmcjSFDmE5z9-AvzxTSUcgrdddQIwDTNhSps/s400/IMG_0094.JPG" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had heard about a section along The Grizzly Alley<br />
where we'd have to ride along and through creek beds.<br />
That section finally appears in the final miles of the alley.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j8MyIc-VVI-ZpwdaCcpltwXnxAvh4GnjExYwQpi0WcqiMBLWqwfOn9dTDFJp4KKrMaHGshYSiDPRFZGGbfTBXFlU2ofQu2IdW40kUjvJcOF47ZAbee4NOhWkuUyH_15sgj0i4SiK4uU/s1600/IMG_0096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1185" data-original-width="1600" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j8MyIc-VVI-ZpwdaCcpltwXnxAvh4GnjExYwQpi0WcqiMBLWqwfOn9dTDFJp4KKrMaHGshYSiDPRFZGGbfTBXFlU2ofQu2IdW40kUjvJcOF47ZAbee4NOhWkuUyH_15sgj0i4SiK4uU/s400/IMG_0096.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 2" tires on my Surly Disc Trucker touring biking aren't quite up<br />
to the challenge of riding through some of the creek beds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZmSqcOqlFSICFglGjb7G8IXKFmt09u6HHJP6XnvgsytnwOpdV-FTA04kZVzY27VeEIneL6RtXgLznnBp-Dy1R0z4qzUuMFnZElv9b5YSGPRUUnb3jDjiVGrk94V_azK3rM36lq6vAyM/s1600/IMG_0102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="1600" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZmSqcOqlFSICFglGjb7G8IXKFmt09u6HHJP6XnvgsytnwOpdV-FTA04kZVzY27VeEIneL6RtXgLznnBp-Dy1R0z4qzUuMFnZElv9b5YSGPRUUnb3jDjiVGrk94V_azK3rM36lq6vAyM/s400/IMG_0102.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 2.5" tires on Don's Salsa Fargo are more apt at tackling the creek beds,<br />
though Don resorts to pushing his bike just after I snap this photo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiq2YT0xb_9hOI8byjvfoMtuhvZh3cQQ2LR9xCPXNhihltGeTPUaY-Mw5EYhabVQHv3C5VwXR0RcxOpkG-Sh4a02l-GgA_BD2ZeZiCjT4XufNf_co6D8qRtiQGA-LXqAcAYzfZwX11K1g/s1600/IMG_0101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1600" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiq2YT0xb_9hOI8byjvfoMtuhvZh3cQQ2LR9xCPXNhihltGeTPUaY-Mw5EYhabVQHv3C5VwXR0RcxOpkG-Sh4a02l-GgA_BD2ZeZiCjT4XufNf_co6D8qRtiQGA-LXqAcAYzfZwX11K1g/s400/IMG_0101.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whether riding or pushing, this section is a blast!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEd9F4Ac_B1yFPWIXCawVQ1sfEqG-nlV1Rxvn6U8AqTZWnUIl9unrh728ewHP-rYPHX1CoVjSOyyjgSMSXRZdxrcZD_2mOgwRKY_1mD11UJjJBDMwhMz0ZaCiytVwsI9t9CJceORJLA4/s1600/IMG_0105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1141" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEd9F4Ac_B1yFPWIXCawVQ1sfEqG-nlV1Rxvn6U8AqTZWnUIl9unrh728ewHP-rYPHX1CoVjSOyyjgSMSXRZdxrcZD_2mOgwRKY_1mD11UJjJBDMwhMz0ZaCiytVwsI9t9CJceORJLA4/s400/IMG_0105.JPG" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shirley proudly sports some river gunk on her rear derailleur.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNIfBH5RKYt5v9PY2fo3KE4uNZPX0ebFyXUjUVozEIlIVbeMlzkBu6pOMuZroWh2aMPAL5D67-L3TUSaYFpElKC2_wpfLs6kpPskXsCNeuqXI5l8tou3SjhuWDg-3sWOqoJcmlPNJ-VM/s1600/IMG_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNIfBH5RKYt5v9PY2fo3KE4uNZPX0ebFyXUjUVozEIlIVbeMlzkBu6pOMuZroWh2aMPAL5D67-L3TUSaYFpElKC2_wpfLs6kpPskXsCNeuqXI5l8tou3SjhuWDg-3sWOqoJcmlPNJ-VM/s400/IMG_0083.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surly is, of course, curious what is behind the sliding door.<br />
She's also intrigued by the mention of "heli," as she'd love to ride in a heli one day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxGcR4pU5SCq09pBjH476seJipn5cXYFxwOwj9Vj6VlWTXDD7Az_qyUBLMAVmewgo0hf6n7y3Fdwe4QW9r-xX61i2RuKxUD5MeOh3Cnm6mv8XWj3iMJXrGWlhMq5gc9LLXec7HUtmsik/s1600/IMG_0051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxGcR4pU5SCq09pBjH476seJipn5cXYFxwOwj9Vj6VlWTXDD7Az_qyUBLMAVmewgo0hf6n7y3Fdwe4QW9r-xX61i2RuKxUD5MeOh3Cnm6mv8XWj3iMJXrGWlhMq5gc9LLXec7HUtmsik/s400/IMG_0051.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don is the official Trip Mechanic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDq1visba5VjSA7dToJWHppXS3wnV_WWMjomA12SiV9wFeki3xKWrr6eZPq1qsepbNJKt8BLU5WfCSYM8GB2bOdRvDn92pnNqf_s-btcYnyvyCpgXOEkJNGa6nTCd4HTj3C1NBMFPylo8/s1600/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDq1visba5VjSA7dToJWHppXS3wnV_WWMjomA12SiV9wFeki3xKWrr6eZPq1qsepbNJKt8BLU5WfCSYM8GB2bOdRvDn92pnNqf_s-btcYnyvyCpgXOEkJNGa6nTCd4HTj3C1NBMFPylo8/s400/IMG_0088.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here he cleverly uses a clothes line as a bike stand.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvVb3YL4R7lDTR9fCB8y0hRn80kMcoBrZM_vXNxuOehmfOWHqyT96D7Rw9ZtLkL4sCrJFhGF0WPjE_PZWMLIqZjoZEnFj7fcJ23rBM5-VzWAP0PtNjZEuxSVK7WQfTJHPUHKJ43kkDPo/s1600/IMG_0117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvVb3YL4R7lDTR9fCB8y0hRn80kMcoBrZM_vXNxuOehmfOWHqyT96D7Rw9ZtLkL4sCrJFhGF0WPjE_PZWMLIqZjoZEnFj7fcJ23rBM5-VzWAP0PtNjZEuxSVK7WQfTJHPUHKJ43kkDPo/s400/IMG_0117.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don is also the official cook.<br />
I could care less about the hassle of cooking over a stove,<br />
but if Don offers to heat some tea water for me every now and then, so be it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3t7dL6TyJ0YChvNwv8QFW8k7ch0yolaXILR0oAZW_mR7VssqSPFVEpjrdxB8-M8gr7GuFTR3PUiUBHwbTNwoTPyNXqv5II_TbP3T2d464dD-PJx0JjC0Z5nl5WqmoYpEMtgbZmAJ5LgA/s1600/IMG_0125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1127" data-original-width="1600" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3t7dL6TyJ0YChvNwv8QFW8k7ch0yolaXILR0oAZW_mR7VssqSPFVEpjrdxB8-M8gr7GuFTR3PUiUBHwbTNwoTPyNXqv5II_TbP3T2d464dD-PJx0JjC0Z5nl5WqmoYpEMtgbZmAJ5LgA/s400/IMG_0125.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While Don has mechanic and cooking duties, I have photography duties.<br />
Here I implore Don to "stop below this gateway and hold this ridiculous pose,<br />
'cuz although that climb just sucked, someday you're gonna look back<br />
at these photos and wish you were here again."<br />
At 6,250 ft, Elk Pass traverses the Continental Divide<br />
and separates British Columbia and Alberta.
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhAwpSJqw8FgVwiSPJptzc8dwanZH4Ho9AO_KOVMEMfSfSQ1SuGUMqeQHs18HtUGRk9BgzBnx2jJ7plbMWr2-T3cTThx271ktbVjIQpp_oxo6FnCItiK2pVnHdJMm5h4PIMKqmDlRWqE/s1600/IMG_0106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhAwpSJqw8FgVwiSPJptzc8dwanZH4Ho9AO_KOVMEMfSfSQ1SuGUMqeQHs18HtUGRk9BgzBnx2jJ7plbMWr2-T3cTThx271ktbVjIQpp_oxo6FnCItiK2pVnHdJMm5h4PIMKqmDlRWqE/s400/IMG_0106.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just love this photo. A perfect dirt road, green flower-filled grass, a blue sky<br />
painted with fluffy clouds, and a yellow bullet-holed kilometer marker.<br />
Welcome to cycling through the middle of nowhere!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7KpJatHDCpssySaCb_koQJNGMdrZBW9sIcJmDkyE6-UZjNpl02-R2Yce1RjwkV2AzZoyVE3BcIEjIpgCUEuOlw6ETh2nCUtLTD3iz2X_cgybKG188OudBE5BjHGVUi9C5WiPaUOPGrXE/s1600/IMG_0109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1075" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7KpJatHDCpssySaCb_koQJNGMdrZBW9sIcJmDkyE6-UZjNpl02-R2Yce1RjwkV2AzZoyVE3BcIEjIpgCUEuOlw6ETh2nCUtLTD3iz2X_cgybKG188OudBE5BjHGVUi9C5WiPaUOPGrXE/s400/IMG_0109.JPG" width="268" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding singletrack into Elkford.<br />
Shirley loves her some singletrack!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
We had planned to bike from Banff north to Jasper along the new-ish section of The Great Divide, but we opted to ride the Icefields Parkway instead when we heard that the new section was nothing to write home about. I had ridden the Icefields Parkway twice before, while <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2015/08/bicycle-adventuring-in-glacier-banff.html" target="_blank">Bicycle Adventuring in Glacier, Banff, & Jasper National Parks</a> four years prior. I had no qualms riding this section again; I was excited to share the Icefields with Don, who had never cycled the parkway before.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="1600" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxcvDh2XE2SEuyyJ2LT-VPn4aX3HbyOIzKQGSoVcbeyR3andxst04gjoHCzzJ_xog1Sp4WGw6IMjU1mAMFDiOrH3DjwFjIpyBOorqf8i1Rblx4Sb_GrH2bJC3kAg6ppuIcu0Jn5A4U4T0/s400/IMG_0139.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don sits aside Vermilion Lake, with handsome Mt Rundle looking ever so dapper.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBP6DbQZX3qYSNScG_fgMAnNz1vXa163tgW5nu-JNw_PCzFdre0WR5yowjDG_kBtpfDu6FoDGinyV4GPEaN2fj_FpYOaO1qtf406UGLCAjGq7zha_fI1L3gJ6jtJ6JGzs_8mmJCBsMZo/s1600/IMG_0144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1206" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBP6DbQZX3qYSNScG_fgMAnNz1vXa163tgW5nu-JNw_PCzFdre0WR5yowjDG_kBtpfDu6FoDGinyV4GPEaN2fj_FpYOaO1qtf406UGLCAjGq7zha_fI1L3gJ6jtJ6JGzs_8mmJCBsMZo/s400/IMG_0144.JPG" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pedaling along the Bow Valley Parkway, <br />
with Castle Mountain looming in the distance.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ADfhdT7I733uPRv-K-TXHmOVRleBYgvJaUzhcWHfU_ZElkrL2W95DE8vUFKWwctPyv7b9L0InHpklPO7PglMNGmVfb2I-zqT0l7QqlPFYhZPwsUuRo1brjcKh9oCdgl3rGMSBDUfR4g/s1600/IMG_0153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1129" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ADfhdT7I733uPRv-K-TXHmOVRleBYgvJaUzhcWHfU_ZElkrL2W95DE8vUFKWwctPyv7b9L0InHpklPO7PglMNGmVfb2I-zqT0l7QqlPFYhZPwsUuRo1brjcKh9oCdgl3rGMSBDUfR4g/s400/IMG_0153.JPG" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don's Salsa gets an unusual flat while biking<br />
along the very clean shoulder of the Bow Valley Parkway.<br />
(Don later determines the flat is due to a defective rim.)<br />
Fixing a roadside flat is never fun,<br />
especially when using a tubeless set-up.<br />
I wish I had a photo of the white Stan's Sealant all over Don!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wKbRkeTGJvrw1EcHS76qx7537V0vklAAhxN-M1sh8klMWyM_T7wHNYR5-CQbWmAxmDAkF9tzZUqxbNK8QAI537pRm2emXABvNCY1V5JD5ANMUb8M7aSmlZZizHCc8BgN6yQ_5TsmgFQ/s1600/IMG_0156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wKbRkeTGJvrw1EcHS76qx7537V0vklAAhxN-M1sh8klMWyM_T7wHNYR5-CQbWmAxmDAkF9tzZUqxbNK8QAI537pRm2emXABvNCY1V5JD5ANMUb8M7aSmlZZizHCc8BgN6yQ_5TsmgFQ/s400/IMG_0156.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I prepare a bagel snack to keep Don from getting hangry while he tends to his mechanic duties.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUv55z6S8cT3uPRdh7Qyhd5QL4x6Cihyphenhyphent3OdMIY6ae2-wqSnZUmaU9jKCLjubPFS9cXwtBK9xOBD6j34v9ocZCwoxjHqwg8bbopiH4vjui0Td8M-S2ausNQZUhPsZGQ2WwYIi8Hfu5NuU/s1600/IMG_0159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUv55z6S8cT3uPRdh7Qyhd5QL4x6Cihyphenhyphent3OdMIY6ae2-wqSnZUmaU9jKCLjubPFS9cXwtBK9xOBD6j34v9ocZCwoxjHqwg8bbopiH4vjui0Td8M-S2ausNQZUhPsZGQ2WwYIi8Hfu5NuU/s400/IMG_0159.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soon enough, after a steep and traffic-laden uphill,<br />
we find ourselves at glorious Lake Louise.<br />
This lake makes me feel so incredibly at peace.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgBaYVECrGAiPfeQfM0kRg9Yk_Cya4_FhI2pKrbym53gikdeAS3Vwca-FqKvzllLKWgpagzvmdw9c8vQN2uIxJjwDYMcIdomEqqUg-B9knoa45AAHNRV9Yb0Qm1-FQEdk5NdRI2VYtWU/s1600/IMG_0165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1284" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgBaYVECrGAiPfeQfM0kRg9Yk_Cya4_FhI2pKrbym53gikdeAS3Vwca-FqKvzllLKWgpagzvmdw9c8vQN2uIxJjwDYMcIdomEqqUg-B9knoa45AAHNRV9Yb0Qm1-FQEdk5NdRI2VYtWU/s400/IMG_0165.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful views don't stop there!<br />
Our riverside camp at Mosquito Creek Campground is pretty<br />
stunning at sunset as well.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1x5NU8Yavax0woCOG57C45l7b7OkUY4WKK_4owq33h9tCmWceTP1qPfHNG0s61mn0I9NBpsL2HBCPhFYOYOUNVs6zHBV0my1Qk0Xn28ctTqn-L1Mx5z7S1MS43zqzoWRh0aYZ7tEX2o/s1600/IMG_0174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg1x5NU8Yavax0woCOG57C45l7b7OkUY4WKK_4owq33h9tCmWceTP1qPfHNG0s61mn0I9NBpsL2HBCPhFYOYOUNVs6zHBV0my1Qk0Xn28ctTqn-L1Mx5z7S1MS43zqzoWRh0aYZ7tEX2o/s400/IMG_0174.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And then there is Peyto Lake, the bluest lake in all of the Canadian Rockies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwKjBdyQMeCUKnZ0v4_QrVkjJiVLjkb5eDHYTVlfFqZx3DoC0HxKTWwBO4vLoZ-10lnblQaj-1WxCOB9acYO2OJhmdy7PNazLMtdetxd25cIofev5uxXQaWh5yVO0E-TnLVjJpP9ocSU/s1600/IMG_0180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="1600" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwKjBdyQMeCUKnZ0v4_QrVkjJiVLjkb5eDHYTVlfFqZx3DoC0HxKTWwBO4vLoZ-10lnblQaj-1WxCOB9acYO2OJhmdy7PNazLMtdetxd25cIofev5uxXQaWh5yVO0E-TnLVjJpP9ocSU/s400/IMG_0180.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me loves them signs! Bring on the downhill. Whee!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeB5qsEp4o3Rz7eDN6JF314VnNZcM63ysw4zlEw52FFJo0QITP7bsYXAKlpZcJWDJGHHFTBex_6K9ULLndw88utqkvEEFye6GEhSXTt520DmLWD8HMxQe-p7mqnli1u9MXXqS5qS2KgY/s1600/IMG_0191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeB5qsEp4o3Rz7eDN6JF314VnNZcM63ysw4zlEw52FFJo0QITP7bsYXAKlpZcJWDJGHHFTBex_6K9ULLndw88utqkvEEFye6GEhSXTt520DmLWD8HMxQe-p7mqnli1u9MXXqS5qS2KgY/s400/IMG_0191.JPG" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I smile every time I see this sign.<br />
Either direction, you can't go wrong.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After arriving at Jasper, at the north end of the Icefields Parkway, we headed west on the Yellowhead Highway to Tête Jaune Cache and then south towards Kamloops.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GwP5hP9ayXoGo8F8Tx_dKoMySVR47cawqTItYYXKVZGuA67GO_5A9p8z8oCU38PKwcz0IHaJUws7CAdAqQLdGCqKqtP0VeN8xemYTsZsH_sOW_-PZn9r6TBlFK7R8djW3olL_4Ppoms/s1600/IMG_0211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0GwP5hP9ayXoGo8F8Tx_dKoMySVR47cawqTItYYXKVZGuA67GO_5A9p8z8oCU38PKwcz0IHaJUws7CAdAqQLdGCqKqtP0VeN8xemYTsZsH_sOW_-PZn9r6TBlFK7R8djW3olL_4Ppoms/s400/IMG_0211.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose Lake is absolutely stunning. <br />
It mirrors the sky and surrounding mountains so perfectly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4L0ViTXyzJQxgCtSb2McxV8dAESEwqe8aQYiF8KV31qtJyVZuwM9Tnkk9FmJKm0fP42E3qdj3-_AKzo8NpJivDbLdJqr-WK-tZssNCfOlBevG-RAUfWg603k718h5wfM_hw7Ox48OLU/s1600/IMG_0226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1115" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4L0ViTXyzJQxgCtSb2McxV8dAESEwqe8aQYiF8KV31qtJyVZuwM9Tnkk9FmJKm0fP42E3qdj3-_AKzo8NpJivDbLdJqr-WK-tZssNCfOlBevG-RAUfWg603k718h5wfM_hw7Ox48OLU/s400/IMG_0226.JPG" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As we head south towards civilization, Don and I become a bit itchy.<br />
Literally itchy for me, as one evening I have a terribly uncomfortable<br />
allergic reaction to the tons of mosquito bites on my face.<br />
(I wish I hadn't sent my mosquito net home after biking in Alaska!)<br />
Fortunately for Don, mosquitos don't care for hairy Italian dudes.<br />
With regards to the figurative itch, we feel as though we have seen the best of the sites,<br />
and we are now just pedaling miles just to pedal miles.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDVIdpgM1JZeBENyELFMsNgLz5O2Ilm358dlH-2Sr7r0L6gM-Oxo78ZvGU8xdJFCeN_Ze8b4ET94h6rrrDoqUC93eJaJ2uHiNzb8HqxnvvTf_FSSvnH23Oca5RjHzGTKbs_agyuFcSRI/s1600/IMG_0238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDVIdpgM1JZeBENyELFMsNgLz5O2Ilm358dlH-2Sr7r0L6gM-Oxo78ZvGU8xdJFCeN_Ze8b4ET94h6rrrDoqUC93eJaJ2uHiNzb8HqxnvvTf_FSSvnH23Oca5RjHzGTKbs_agyuFcSRI/s400/IMG_0238.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wake the next morning to a slug-infested tent.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9ydHZ_2KR1dkiEU4RTfXVosJDA6zw_Wdw40zFYkhDtKudtqTfSrvqAvd8s_4h716vemx0bQiX35Q3hubHgWiubLMKRtATBPrGdSSeJepr392l73H-3DmJL4NLXWTMtuGgaVoEWy72hE/s1600/IMG_0237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9ydHZ_2KR1dkiEU4RTfXVosJDA6zw_Wdw40zFYkhDtKudtqTfSrvqAvd8s_4h716vemx0bQiX35Q3hubHgWiubLMKRtATBPrGdSSeJepr392l73H-3DmJL4NLXWTMtuGgaVoEWy72hE/s400/IMG_0237.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my tent.<br />
I pull sixteen (yes, I count them) big-ass slugs off my tent,<br />
and I flick off all their slug shit.<br />
The slug trails are still waiting, to this day, <br />
to be cleaned from my tent.<br />
Don, by the way, has no slugs on his tent. None. Zilch.<br />
That's probably cuz he's a hairy Italian guy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Side note: After packing up the slug-infested tent, I was ready to get outta Slug Hell and start riding for the day. I swung my leg over the saddle. I spun the crank around, placed my foot atop the right pedal, wrapped my fingers around the handlebar grips, and instantly let out the loudest, girliest shriek ever. Unbeknownst to me, underneath my right handlebar grip was another big-ass slug, and I had just pressed my fingers deep into the mother fucker. Oh my gooey gawd! They were everywhere! Don busted out laughing, to which I likely replied, "Fuck you." I also think it was at this time that I suggested we get our bodies and bikes to Kamloops and consider alternative options from there.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBypa5ihAHXm093_M4Llru78LaHNMiOJ1VFpdlH8kOVgMwgmF-KYLM4OeF2NJbuhve68CrJmrMLzhy3PC2PVtuzAMu-dvveBUUiwelh-IrtWh9TxQ1-0YprgpvtX7qluwBGIwj4SqvmA/s1600/IMG_0254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBypa5ihAHXm093_M4Llru78LaHNMiOJ1VFpdlH8kOVgMwgmF-KYLM4OeF2NJbuhve68CrJmrMLzhy3PC2PVtuzAMu-dvveBUUiwelh-IrtWh9TxQ1-0YprgpvtX7qluwBGIwj4SqvmA/s400/IMG_0254.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We reach out to Kamloops Warm Showers Host Extraordinaire, Rob,<br />
who lets us crash at his place for a few days.<br />
The three of us spend hours sitting on Rob's front porch gabbing about everything and nothing.<br />
Rob treats us like royalty. We don't want to leave.
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
While in the mosquito-free and slug-free comfort of Rob's luxurious home, Don and I decided to alter the plans for the remainder of our trip. We hopped on VIA Rail Canada (think "Amtrak," though with far better service) in Kamloops and trained to Vancouver. From Vancouver, we cycled across the Canada-US border, headed to Anacortes, and then spent out final few days enjoying the carefree San Juan Islands.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Despite the skeeters and slugs, this was a magnificent trip on a (mostly) magnificent route with a (mostly) magnificent cycling partner. (Don would have been entirely magnificent had he received at least one mosquito bite and had at least one slug on his tent.) Nowadays, nearly every time Don and I chat, we mention something from our month-long pedal together. It was truly a memorable trip, from Whitefish to Bellingham -- the long way -- for the both of us.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHg1PMMwBvkn3Giy0XeWufqewTW8us7bZTdjieYreoZ_qtJ-38ZDtgk0dBAKT6F9UBtXVIkM6wjezzKVU-ROcuSTVBfIE7hX3GAirydbknJQDk1_y_JaitDzWvU-BlWbihqFaJf90g1w/s1600/IMG_20190806_145122061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1451" data-original-width="1600" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxHg1PMMwBvkn3Giy0XeWufqewTW8us7bZTdjieYreoZ_qtJ-38ZDtgk0dBAKT6F9UBtXVIkM6wjezzKVU-ROcuSTVBfIE7hX3GAirydbknJQDk1_y_JaitDzWvU-BlWbihqFaJf90g1w/s400/IMG_20190806_145122061.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signing off on this trip from Fidalgo Bay in Anacortes.</td></tr>
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<hr />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Many photos of moi were taken by Don. Thank you for letting me share your photos, Don.
</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-13620850850792157712019-11-09T09:44:00.001-08:002020-01-02T18:03:55.006-08:00Happy 7th Re-Birthday to Me!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="color: #990000; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy 7th Re-Birthday to Me!</b> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAON0Iq85meMLjIb97iAXVr4zzHegZoKQ-DKy5xgTPcTRfLah0sk2T3WOmeIk5pv1PlE2YlvGpgppd2G-TUt9FcesWZ0PgdinGm8Y_Hc-Trj1775Bhm8NHJtoQs9vF3V-tN03GGjAsYc/s1600/Cupcake.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAON0Iq85meMLjIb97iAXVr4zzHegZoKQ-DKy5xgTPcTRfLah0sk2T3WOmeIk5pv1PlE2YlvGpgppd2G-TUt9FcesWZ0PgdinGm8Y_Hc-Trj1775Bhm8NHJtoQs9vF3V-tN03GGjAsYc/s320/Cupcake.tiff" width="320" /></a>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Seven years ago today, I fully embraced that <i>this</i> is it. This is the real deal. This is life. It's happening right now, and I need to fully accept responsibility for how I live that life. Seven years ago, I resolved to accept responsibility for living my <i>own</i> life. No longer would I trudge through the days wishing I could be someone else, doing something else, somewhere else. I was going to be that person, doing my thing, right here, right now.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I choose to live a life filled with happiness, joy, and fulfillment. The quest to live this life hasn't been easy. I've had to cover my ears to deafen myself from the Sirens who beckon me into a world that praises conformity to cultural conditioning. I've had to forge new paths where no paths previously existed. I've had to bring myself to say "no" to opportunities I would have jumped on in my previous life. But in all of this, I've emphatically said "YES" to creating more space and energy for living the life I want to live.<br />
<br />
My seventh re-birthday finds me reflecting on my experiences of the past year, experiences that have brought me happiness, joy, and fulfillment:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I became <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2018/12/i-am-car-free.html" target="_blank">car-free</a>.</li>
<li>I implemented a daily ritual of writing in a Gratitude Journal.</li>
<li>I lived in <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/05/reflections-on-my-guatemala-trip.html" target="_blank">Guatemala</a> for two and a half months, working to improve my Spanish language skills.</li>
<li>I completed and <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/02/reflections-on-my-year-of-self-love.html" target="_blank">reflected upon my year of self love</a>.</li>
<li>I acquired a <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/05/introducing-shirley-too-her-new-dynamo.html" target="_blank">new Surly Disc Trucker</a>.</li>
<li>I travelled to West Virginia for a week of biking, trail running, and van living.</li>
<li>I pedaled 1200 miles through the last Frontier, <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/06/a-photo-journal-falling-in-love-with.html" target="_blank">falling in love with Alaska</a>.</li>
<li>I staffed Adventure Cycling's Cycle Montana and Cycle the Divide events.</li>
<li>I met <a href="https://www.cnn.com/travel/article/ethel-macdonald-cycling/index.html" target="_blank">Ethel MacDonald</a> -- a legend whose acquaintance I had been patiently awaiting for more than two years!</li>
<li>I spent one month cycling from Whitefish to Bellingham, <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-month-pedaling-long-way.html" target="_blank">the long way</a>.</li>
<li>I led Adventure Cycling's <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-inaugural-pacific.html" target="_blank">Inaugural Pacific Northwest & Gulf Islands Tour</a>, a trip that I had developed two years prior.</li>
<li>I designed five new bicycle trips for Discovery Bicycle Tours and spent two weeks scouting two of these route: Idaho Trails and Crater Lake & Scenic Bikeways.</li>
<li>I developed a greater bond to Bellingham, thanks to a three-week housesit.</li>
<li>I had the great pleasure of loving nine kitties (Mia, Midnight, Haida, Jasper, Sophie, Ricki, Commissioner Gordon, Judo, and Jakki) over four weeks of housesitting. </li>
<li>I flew, along with my folding bike, in a <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-flying-high-to-lopez.html" target="_blank">Cessna 150 to Lopez Island</a>...twice!</li>
<li>I led Discovery Bicycle Tour's Woodstock & Upper Valley and Lake Champlain Islands tours.</li>
<li>I tutored 12 students in business writing, enabling me to get my fix for teaching.</li>
</ul>
<br />
The last year has been enlightening for me. Since my re-birth, I have taken active responsibility for living my own life. In an ironic twist, I've come to decrease my attachment to that responsibility; I've found that the more I loosen my grip on steering my life, the more wondrously the universe guides me. And, wow, the universe has far more magnificence in mind for me than I ever could have fathomed!<br />
<br />
Seven years is a long time to live a peripatetic lifestyle. Recently, I've been feeling an urge to plant roots -- to establish a place where I can build community and invest more deeply in relationships. A vague image of this "place" is starting to emerge in my mind. But until this image gains clarity, I will continue to remain open-minded and heed the nudges of the universe. I've been learning: <i>everything in its right time</i>. When the time is right, I will embark on my next chapter.<br />
<br />
Happy 7th Re-Birthday to me! Here's to another revolution around the sun!
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-34190466187471330292019-09-26T20:14:00.002-07:002019-12-30T16:56:10.614-08:00Type II Fun: The Sweet Spot on Two Wheels<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Not all fun is the same.<br />
<br />
I learned this nearly ten years ago on a climb in the Cascade Mountains. I was having fun -- legitimate fun -- climbing South Early Winter Spire. It was a beautiful day, I was with a group of good friends, and although the climb was challenging, it was well within my abilities. After some time, we came to a part of the route where we needed to traverse "The Whaleback." This rocky spine entailed quite a bit of exposure, something I had not yet experienced. All of the sudden, I was no longer having fun.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawrO12QWfW4YI0dCDEtkriHODyb-degKIk-_BSBP_vXb_imAvnNwFD8bde7QAAtVXj48PK6fuors8G2QmGX9Cf9ALWADc7orV8VPt9ifh0H_Qz7O1oXWcQSzrkSe2B7BijU-tHmonfIw/s1600/40648_1533585068576_2644825_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="540" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjawrO12QWfW4YI0dCDEtkriHODyb-degKIk-_BSBP_vXb_imAvnNwFD8bde7QAAtVXj48PK6fuors8G2QmGX9Cf9ALWADc7orV8VPt9ifh0H_Qz7O1oXWcQSzrkSe2B7BijU-tHmonfIw/s400/40648_1533585068576_2644825_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, about to cross The Whaleback in 2010.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I didn't have time to dawdle, as there were a number of us on the climb, and we still had a long day ahead of us. And so, with little time to muster up courage, I stepped one foot in front of the other and continued to do so until I crossed the narrow spine. Despite my apprehension, I managed The Whaleback just fine. Once I passed this crux, fun returned. In fact, the fun that returned was like fun on ectasy.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>As it turns out, the "legitimate fun" I experienced early on in the climb was Type I Fun, while crossing The Whaleback was Type II Fun. I hadn't realized this distinction at the time, but when I was told about the three types of fun later in the day, it all made sense -- crystal-clear sense.<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Type I Fun</h3>
<br />
Type I Fun is what we typically think of as "fun."<br />
<br />
Examples of Type I Fun include:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Frolicking under sunshiney-blue skies. </li>
<li>Breaking into gut-busting laughter upon hearing a joke.</li>
<li>Playing with baby anythings -- puppies, hedgehogs, and unicorns alike. </li>
</ul>
Examples of Type I Fun on Two Wheels include:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Being propelled by a glorious tailwind.</li>
<li>Cycling on a flowy dirt trail through a lush, green forest. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Type II Fun</h3>
<br />
Type II Fun is when something sucks in-the-moment, but is fun in retrospect.<br />
<br />
Examples of Type II Fun include:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Being chased by a bear.</li>
<li>Running a challenging 50k trail race with more than 10k of elevation gain.</li>
<li>Skinny dipping in a shallow'n'clear lake when a flock of priests suddenly appears waterside and you realize your clothes are piled 100 feet away from the shore. </li>
</ul>
Examples of Type II Fun on Two Wheels include:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Being caught in a cold hailstorm, with lightning crashing all around.</li>
<li>Hiking-a-bike up 16% grades...with a heavy-ass loaded touring bike...for 13 miles. (Hip, Hip, Hooray for all my badass bike amigos who survived the Malahat Connector on this year's <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2019/12/a-photo-journal-inaugural-pacific.html" target="_blank">Pacific Northwest & Gulf Islands trip</a>.) </li>
</ul>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Type III Fun</h3>
<br />
Type III Fun is truly a misnomer, as there ain't no nothin' fun about Type III Fun.<br />
<br />
Examples of Type III Fun include:<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Getting punched in the face.</li>
<li>Undergoing a full, frontal lobotomy. </li>
<li>Having thin slivers of bamboo slower inserted underneath your finger nails.</li>
</ul>
Examples of Type III Fun on Two Wheels include:<br />
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Getting a flat tire. Flat tires suck royally. There is nothing fun about them.</li>
<li>Getting hit by a car. Yeah, this sucks, too.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br />
<hr />
<br />
Learning about the different types of fun gave me a vocabulary to differentiate amongst the various colors of fun and to identify the type of fun I enjoy the most.<br />
<br />
Sure, I enjoy Type I Fun. Who doesn't? But Type II Fun is my most favorite. Type II is when I feel the most fulfilled. The most alive. The most happy. Type II Fun is my<i> sweet spot</i>.<br />
<br />
Nearly all of my favorite memories of Type II Fun have occurred on two wheels.<br />
<br />
There was that one time at Crater Lake. I had biked the east rim of the lake under a perfectly blue sky. Cars were not permitted on the road that day, and I only saw one other person during my entire ride. This was exquisite Type I Fun.<br />
<br />
The fun, however, was a wee bit different the following day. As my buddy, Alex, and I cycled from the Mazama Village north towards the Rim Village, a cold and heavy rain began to fall from the sky.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZvErJHqNjdEBKghBD_hAICQq46EO35RAyhizqdbzr5fc7sia5lwdCA4DU9Z2pA-g4LTh7g5tIWriyJa0S1ldj2dJPs7zZzk-WEMSUaYnzT7j3WbvpNRS2SIJ5cRWwPdv7j6cdTEA5PU/s1600/IMG_2492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1180" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZvErJHqNjdEBKghBD_hAICQq46EO35RAyhizqdbzr5fc7sia5lwdCA4DU9Z2pA-g4LTh7g5tIWriyJa0S1ldj2dJPs7zZzk-WEMSUaYnzT7j3WbvpNRS2SIJ5cRWwPdv7j6cdTEA5PU/s400/IMG_2492.jpg" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soon the rain drops turned to snow flakes.<br />
By the time we pedaled along the west rim of Crater Lake,<br />
we were biking through a full-on, freezing cold, blizzardy <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2014/06/day-40-snowpocalypse.html" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Snowpocalypse</a><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Alex Walter)</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">
There was that time in Patagonia. While <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2016/01/crossing-tierra-del-fuego.html" target="_blank">Crossing Tierra del Fuego</a>, from south to north, the headwinds blew a constant 20-40 mph, with gusts up to 60 mph.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CUO9g-_2w77YhPu8L7ia_TC4T2KN5n3vhUZGtGGCd1gjO7dBxERRrHRwcmUeBDVIGkMykeSV3k_ejdEUreMESSo58nZyIxR3aUFYD3vVP_GDfJaE2ywvloL92kYufkpST3V4ool5-5g/s1600/IMG_4399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="977" data-original-width="1398" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CUO9g-_2w77YhPu8L7ia_TC4T2KN5n3vhUZGtGGCd1gjO7dBxERRrHRwcmUeBDVIGkMykeSV3k_ejdEUreMESSo58nZyIxR3aUFYD3vVP_GDfJaE2ywvloL92kYufkpST3V4ool5-5g/s400/IMG_4399.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were times we couldn't balance on our bikes<br />
because the wind would quickly topple us over.<br />
There were other times when it was faster to walk<br />
our bikes against the wind rather than ride.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: El Mecánico.)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Then there was that section of "No Man's Land" between Argentina and Chile.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2s4tk32elwrT414o0Xq1ksjitfowke66KfjLuImNHPBYQX2Av-GX8dIYuJIhzZwXiENFAik2Os_txI-xWDra3QuwU4anDrYVHJjfA4ER6EBHV5SaU1NjBKbr91nUc-AVIaIdg-wgqbg/s1600/DSC00395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi2s4tk32elwrT414o0Xq1ksjitfowke66KfjLuImNHPBYQX2Av-GX8dIYuJIhzZwXiENFAik2Os_txI-xWDra3QuwU4anDrYVHJjfA4ER6EBHV5SaU1NjBKbr91nUc-AVIaIdg-wgqbg/s400/DSC00395.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We hiked our bikes (El Mecánico is shown here) uphill<br />
through a steep, narrow, and deep dirt channel...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwb3O1Yk6divz4JOGKsKrpYL7k-2LGqNrfrUi70de6G_LSuxMsWTbwfHLCYiTWLtJ5c_R5SvRGtAs2NsCB0oKc4s4cs2uhmivs-1dJNmXRcwC2dTAh1fSr7VUfccpSh0MukJYNTYqxv7k/s1600/DSCF7174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1083" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwb3O1Yk6divz4JOGKsKrpYL7k-2LGqNrfrUi70de6G_LSuxMsWTbwfHLCYiTWLtJ5c_R5SvRGtAs2NsCB0oKc4s4cs2uhmivs-1dJNmXRcwC2dTAh1fSr7VUfccpSh0MukJYNTYqxv7k/s400/DSCF7174.JPG" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and then lifted our heavy steeds up and over steep<br />
steps carved by tree roots.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: El Mecánico.)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYcCWeJqq_Hgn1XXsxvs_vH1XAQLqIfc1W01MSjWUbluFPZ3KkFJJ-QpHnV-6e4C2kIBzwDvrHdPm6UV1ql4PssMGGCVwOT5O-0h3hlQKszzF_p2wfRL_SIzij24c8oxJFngQBKJZFcQ/s1600/DSCF7182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1063" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYcCWeJqq_Hgn1XXsxvs_vH1XAQLqIfc1W01MSjWUbluFPZ3KkFJJ-QpHnV-6e4C2kIBzwDvrHdPm6UV1ql4PssMGGCVwOT5O-0h3hlQKszzF_p2wfRL_SIzij24c8oxJFngQBKJZFcQ/s400/DSCF7182.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We rolled our bikes across rivers and streams --<br />
some deeper and wider than others...<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: El Mecánico.)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WRkwYBhFKpzFXFAIT-ZF7gYFgZhyyognDQg6J4IGXFXZPucoCRurPPn5cGeJEGfb4ugobokZa-s6ap2Z04OE5LjcCo7REPSqSIxBplqijk49aouuXnSzPal22Sh3IOwhy5z-VRKvouA/s1600/DSCF7180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WRkwYBhFKpzFXFAIT-ZF7gYFgZhyyognDQg6J4IGXFXZPucoCRurPPn5cGeJEGfb4ugobokZa-s6ap2Z04OE5LjcCo7REPSqSIxBplqijk49aouuXnSzPal22Sh3IOwhy5z-VRKvouA/s400/DSCF7180.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...where we were sometimes afforded a bridge,<br />
albeit a tricky one.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: El Mecánico.)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Then there was that time I <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2017/04/biking-baja-divide-photo-journal.html" target="_blank">Biked the Baja Divide</a> with my friend, Ron...though, we weren't always "biking."<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpVFyq9-S0EAMtGz_q7qfGxxmqZLHzAwF4T-_tRmgwK5vNeewwNuHDG0cA9rlP77xiuhFzecj7uwVp5Y8_Sw1dQvVBS4eUMrtd_k9OAC4VBZ6UMGycU_TaeYuCza69YHpKuGQuuV9Biw/s1600/16427480_10211868208929641_7085733557847241345_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="834" data-original-width="960" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpVFyq9-S0EAMtGz_q7qfGxxmqZLHzAwF4T-_tRmgwK5vNeewwNuHDG0cA9rlP77xiuhFzecj7uwVp5Y8_Sw1dQvVBS4eUMrtd_k9OAC4VBZ6UMGycU_TaeYuCza69YHpKuGQuuV9Biw/s400/16427480_10211868208929641_7085733557847241345_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes we had to push our steeds through thigh-deep arroyos...<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Ron Norton)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHGGHpdb89IoDBaCj08rUg6p7AN-98gZ48IrDYpWaRCsJi6g22IIQ-pZUEUHjJLIlxs3LflKwZIOUGYLFhtr4q0h9oZpXcgKzeiKN-62HqdZWzI1MT8Dx6nPfSC1xs63TcexTt3m-sPs/s1600/Steep+Hill+from+will.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="876" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHGGHpdb89IoDBaCj08rUg6p7AN-98gZ48IrDYpWaRCsJi6g22IIQ-pZUEUHjJLIlxs3LflKwZIOUGYLFhtr4q0h9oZpXcgKzeiKN-62HqdZWzI1MT8Dx6nPfSC1xs63TcexTt3m-sPs/s400/Steep+Hill+from+will.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and walk our bikes down rutted hills that were surely steeper than 50 degrees.<br />
Descending on two wheels would have been a definite death sentence.<br />
(That tiny pink dot is me, and the tiny green dot is Ron.)<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Will)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Two years ago when I <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2017/07/cycling-great-parks-north-great-divide.html" target="_blank">Cycled The Great Parks North & Great Divide Loop</a>, rain had turned the dirt road to a peanut butter mess.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbRicQcLK5J-aMfV3TtGZlal_5MNzFBMnNA73Wolx13Eeixt2Xwevj4NS56Zpt5xkn9Drk46hr5PoLxe8eQlOk4Zl-YLgx3rSit6uZC1FN5g7c13EUFm9vhMu2eUgu6pztncOPmppbMU/s1600/DSC02704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbRicQcLK5J-aMfV3TtGZlal_5MNzFBMnNA73Wolx13Eeixt2Xwevj4NS56Zpt5xkn9Drk46hr5PoLxe8eQlOk4Zl-YLgx3rSit6uZC1FN5g7c13EUFm9vhMu2eUgu6pztncOPmppbMU/s400/DSC02704.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The peanut butter clogged my wheels and brakes;<br />
I could only ride a few feet before having to scrape away the mud.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQ9ZMmLbqQRt_c1AxQmcxrQev4Q-3fWqHwSp2tax-DEhefpNXdb4OD92UKQwI8T_ZzxaSDZ8aMK2Q5UHyFmCVMk23gzzULirxyrOkEJCRdD7yG4tBhwzszo4owX139zpvgZzR-tJcubk/s1600/DSC02711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1154" data-original-width="1600" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQ9ZMmLbqQRt_c1AxQmcxrQev4Q-3fWqHwSp2tax-DEhefpNXdb4OD92UKQwI8T_ZzxaSDZ8aMK2Q5UHyFmCVMk23gzzULirxyrOkEJCRdD7yG4tBhwzszo4owX139zpvgZzR-tJcubk/s400/DSC02711.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To add to the fun, as I stopped to scrape away a clump of mud,<br />
an imprint in the peanut butter indicated that a bear had recently passed through.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Revisiting The Great Divide this summer brought even more Type II Fun.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMSJ-paYgQVpz4k20qWLoNUyiUQh84NvHiMxcjMr6MOuemD9WDWDsJoII93lCN9OnpKVJb5LsMIMeIghzK8aiVBcv3eVqPssxJYonNst15uKQSlMpCQNiBYX6UsDlt__PKEPbXNMecrA/s1600/IMG_0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1043" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMSJ-paYgQVpz4k20qWLoNUyiUQh84NvHiMxcjMr6MOuemD9WDWDsJoII93lCN9OnpKVJb5LsMIMeIghzK8aiVBcv3eVqPssxJYonNst15uKQSlMpCQNiBYX6UsDlt__PKEPbXNMecrA/s400/IMG_0048.JPG" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My buddy, Don, and I had to maneuver our bikes down<br />
the ridiculously steep embankment known as "The Wall."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbR4b_LDSZrA8jL4FLydRCmFWRK7qNCVrK5HjwZKGyBdBDCGOVF0l70lPw8RO65TiMC7eVqyBVx6FaD593LTCS_lE_Bka9r_O5tAFvbTBdy1QEb-l6f8SxViQxJXz-cyc_0IqOTuyAEY/s1600/IMG_0097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1057" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbR4b_LDSZrA8jL4FLydRCmFWRK7qNCVrK5HjwZKGyBdBDCGOVF0l70lPw8RO65TiMC7eVqyBVx6FaD593LTCS_lE_Bka9r_O5tAFvbTBdy1QEb-l6f8SxViQxJXz-cyc_0IqOTuyAEY/s400/IMG_0097.JPG" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And there were miles of trail that traversed through creek beds.<br />
Some of the trail was navigable on my Surly Disc Trucker.<br />
Other parts would have been rideable on a bike with wider tires.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Don Annonio)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCq1o9AuMstpPB3x_rNwuD6XYVvL__qtBet6H83-g3r1RiwfmbppmDznC_oTGXwreTsYSqHVjcM1-AVz4aKokopOtKBC9txdnGH3ZRBI_9wO87QQRY_vsZ7_8Bjbf1tFAtJbF7wiwF_c/s1600/IMG_0235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1090" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisCq1o9AuMstpPB3x_rNwuD6XYVvL__qtBet6H83-g3r1RiwfmbppmDznC_oTGXwreTsYSqHVjcM1-AVz4aKokopOtKBC9txdnGH3ZRBI_9wO87QQRY_vsZ7_8Bjbf1tFAtJbF7wiwF_c/s400/IMG_0235.JPG" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mosquitos at a roadside stealth camping spot in British Columbia were atrocious.<br />
My face was swollen red and painfully itchy from all the bites.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkc9aQjlH72yBqfROXoJ9x5s2TT6WtGdFZpChIpiulKUgpNxdTUQ3_juPp4a2-tmusJAzUO6GjTNSU8_uH-n_J0JokvaYtFk2ucf18mRBq-eKDBIYTiJxsCgFcL0A8jqIu0GlSjb1xMOU/s1600/IMG_0237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkc9aQjlH72yBqfROXoJ9x5s2TT6WtGdFZpChIpiulKUgpNxdTUQ3_juPp4a2-tmusJAzUO6GjTNSU8_uH-n_J0JokvaYtFk2ucf18mRBq-eKDBIYTiJxsCgFcL0A8jqIu0GlSjb1xMOU/s400/IMG_0237.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To top it off, the next morning I woke to find my tent covered<br />
in gigantic black slugs, trails of slug juice, and piles of slug shit.<br />
And none of them were on Don's tent!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Despite all the sucky-in-the-moment experiences, these memories -- the snow, the wind, the mosquitos, the slugs, pushing my bike through water and mud and up ridiculously steep hills -- have been some of my favorite life experiences. In the moment, I was pushed outside my comfort zone. Thoughts of "Why in the hell am I doing this?" crossed my mind frequently. But after the hardships had passed, I realized that the suckage-in-the-moment was fun after all, in a somewhat masochistic way.<br />
<br />
Type II Fun is my sweet spot. It enables me to grow -- physically, mentally, and spiritually. Type II Fun exercises my grit muscle. Through experience, I broaden my concept of perspective and realize that I can accomplish a lot more than I think I can.<br />
<br />
Do you like Type II Fun? What's your favorite Type II memory?<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mike Turnbull recently created an enjoyable 10-minute video called "A Pinch of Type II." I think you'll enjoy it. My favorite line from the video is: "This. This is it. Hurting yourself every day for fun." Yup, that sums up Type II Fun peachily!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="297" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/358589279" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="528"></iframe><br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-38345081856372505732019-07-03T14:17:00.002-07:002019-07-03T14:42:17.322-07:00A Photo Journal: Falling in Love with Alaska - Part II<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Denali Highway</h3><br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSlCKOyks5OZEeSfrrAGiezdSREXxRs0HNX8fYHUZElhbB1PticP_oad6-6Ug1sbvyeUns_achJ06tOaMllq09JS_bAulPuIPWoIUUjQiEG0LpijcJ-OiNmVu03DaIMiEnmD-JLYSR1pc/s1600/DSC07479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1600" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSlCKOyks5OZEeSfrrAGiezdSREXxRs0HNX8fYHUZElhbB1PticP_oad6-6Ug1sbvyeUns_achJ06tOaMllq09JS_bAulPuIPWoIUUjQiEG0LpijcJ-OiNmVu03DaIMiEnmD-JLYSR1pc/s400/DSC07479.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">
Kali Ma, The Great Protector, joined me again on this summer's ride.<br>
She sat perched atop my handlebars and reminded me to regularly<br>
give out a great, big, hearty lion's breath.<br>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><a name='more'></a><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d5FZNhD70Ui7OGAQvHtFn8ys7NWdHgmvNvqGAucmoEmYEGn-FsUXyvp2ErmRMlXb-ixyX6L9GSyg44txxfgyltl8wzzxqRaACPDNIcw1O5tYRFSB6HFfFx78E1-q8xUt3KuWg8U_N5A/s1600/DSC07492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1600" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d5FZNhD70Ui7OGAQvHtFn8ys7NWdHgmvNvqGAucmoEmYEGn-FsUXyvp2ErmRMlXb-ixyX6L9GSyg44txxfgyltl8wzzxqRaACPDNIcw1O5tYRFSB6HFfFx78E1-q8xUt3KuWg8U_N5A/s400/DSC07492.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first 21 miles and the final 3 miles of the Denali Highway are paved.<br />
The middle 110 miles are gravel.<br />
Sometimes the gravel was rather large and cumbersome to navigate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvS7Vyc4lVS_yElGlxBRgIab5S3ccvTb558Q5MS0UyG4CWr67CIjjmsthy4JUaLSO9jg-RjPe6RUOjQxXi-hxcdT0YmOfi9ZxPqjVLLxKvJq1v80HYhn8Q0QvElUDNr9nOEwJG8x_K60/s1600/DSC07488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvS7Vyc4lVS_yElGlxBRgIab5S3ccvTb558Q5MS0UyG4CWr67CIjjmsthy4JUaLSO9jg-RjPe6RUOjQxXi-hxcdT0YmOfi9ZxPqjVLLxKvJq1v80HYhn8Q0QvElUDNr9nOEwJG8x_K60/s400/DSC07488.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As a tribute to the cold temps, some of the lakes on the Denali Highway<br />
still had big chunks of ice floating atop them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSeb0b0VSWIKbztdPRUaZNY4G76e3S7QSdF6bLpQGnCeG6-BCoN96aSC4JAmfUBLpjRR5q_X1HfO42jMcRGJEwe8h7mXGAc_Q-DOSkeVMzltEO7LZZze4iwAX59syKx_XhYvb8UZP6k4/s1600/DSC07502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSeb0b0VSWIKbztdPRUaZNY4G76e3S7QSdF6bLpQGnCeG6-BCoN96aSC4JAmfUBLpjRR5q_X1HfO42jMcRGJEwe8h7mXGAc_Q-DOSkeVMzltEO7LZZze4iwAX59syKx_XhYvb8UZP6k4/s400/DSC07502.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Despite the ice, the daytime temps were relatively comfortable -- <br />
enough so that I was able to don shorts<br />
for the first time at Milepost 26.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPI0A6muhv4mNytvgKbpp9DnWGd9krh8uJ06YT4_i-U8Qxg6NiActjHSPd7V3MJSVuZEFEMwxR0v8JK-jAEeu-YEcT1xetME33c-qexWEqpedqNuW0rIs4dVgiT1i9Y8xPDvm2d_1hOc/s1600/DSC07494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPI0A6muhv4mNytvgKbpp9DnWGd9krh8uJ06YT4_i-U8Qxg6NiActjHSPd7V3MJSVuZEFEMwxR0v8JK-jAEeu-YEcT1xetME33c-qexWEqpedqNuW0rIs4dVgiT1i9Y8xPDvm2d_1hOc/s400/DSC07494.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I kept my eye out for cabins and properties <br />
that piqued my I-could-see-myself-living-there interest.<br />
This one certainly did some piquing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1qN-7dsojWVn4gT6wzXSr9_z5w3va-IKsopnnRW9tRE2vMsc0k3dlBaa0qCo540aveA5v5XqNPzOZSEyUf2OvgdX6m99GOoO4eik7BRzOmY5w-c2vqOOSsPVAu1ItNz8vnVBY_BhaSY/s1600/DSC07506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1600" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1qN-7dsojWVn4gT6wzXSr9_z5w3va-IKsopnnRW9tRE2vMsc0k3dlBaa0qCo540aveA5v5XqNPzOZSEyUf2OvgdX6m99GOoO4eik7BRzOmY5w-c2vqOOSsPVAu1ItNz8vnVBY_BhaSY/s400/DSC07506.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The perfectly blue sky days were definitely my favorite.<br />
As long as it wasn't precipitating, even the overcast days were rather pleasant.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFO_3NNlQj28FA0836rgluit4x5j_DAACD1a43oEY-zqSJ7E5EBkI8YtjLgVMslYkbaBRr3ZLWTmpIVnXE07UKIWWAbMlK2nkeOKOIQTPP2qyackkxxCEiZmUk4uRx3ZMIpfh8ucCT1U/s1600/DSC07515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1109" data-original-width="1600" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFO_3NNlQj28FA0836rgluit4x5j_DAACD1a43oEY-zqSJ7E5EBkI8YtjLgVMslYkbaBRr3ZLWTmpIVnXE07UKIWWAbMlK2nkeOKOIQTPP2qyackkxxCEiZmUk4uRx3ZMIpfh8ucCT1U/s400/DSC07515.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After what seemed like 40,860 feet of climbing,<br />
Craig and I finally reached the highest point along the entire route -- Maclaren Summit.<br />
Although we stayed mostly in the 2,000-2,500 ft elevation the whole trip,<br />
the gigantic peaks surrounding us made us feel<br />
as though we were pedaling at much higher elevations.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffVjJIIfPmIKotf16NRhDYQTB0BJU5LWikPMxCPBWL0WLEUygzHhDW2WbVMtwql8B2MrvKIdr-T8cdx8CqREEfq2g2PvRIuZ9VMWpDh2TusmflOOliABU4QOjhlvRBAmUqfaIcU1RR18/s1600/DSC07522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1239" data-original-width="1600" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffVjJIIfPmIKotf16NRhDYQTB0BJU5LWikPMxCPBWL0WLEUygzHhDW2WbVMtwql8B2MrvKIdr-T8cdx8CqREEfq2g2PvRIuZ9VMWpDh2TusmflOOliABU4QOjhlvRBAmUqfaIcU1RR18/s400/DSC07522.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Denali Highway, I just <i>had</i> to stop for a photo at the makeshift "Sarah Lake" sign.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7o9L2eM-WrI950tTF3mPTijDHgLw4pQDlVNYycwE7c6_Mgb-f5pdlL47Wk_aw1A3DkLH6bBpVSo1c783QlzKS_F_Q3VCFFtBVCn8FkUIsrJt6vleGyElL4m0X-qzYqx5H8o2GvHyN0NQ/s1600/DSC07521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1290" data-original-width="1600" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7o9L2eM-WrI950tTF3mPTijDHgLw4pQDlVNYycwE7c6_Mgb-f5pdlL47Wk_aw1A3DkLH6bBpVSo1c783QlzKS_F_Q3VCFFtBVCn8FkUIsrJt6vleGyElL4m0X-qzYqx5H8o2GvHyN0NQ/s400/DSC07521.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so glad I stopped for a photo, because when I looked down, <br />
I saw the first and only bear paw print of the entire trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXuC06GdCE0bc6gEgBXVkGQtroFFTtJiE0hO_RDQsqbn2jW2oc6lMC7e3mg9812dRoQGLo1lYWT5VJcQY3EDAXRWnnRdFEVcr8ImFLwLLeMspR05pFKbAOsq3huh0rDw6_g96OFMA2Ac/s1600/DSC07518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1020" data-original-width="1600" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjXuC06GdCE0bc6gEgBXVkGQtroFFTtJiE0hO_RDQsqbn2jW2oc6lMC7e3mg9812dRoQGLo1lYWT5VJcQY3EDAXRWnnRdFEVcr8ImFLwLLeMspR05pFKbAOsq3huh0rDw6_g96OFMA2Ac/s400/DSC07518.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We saw a number of willow ptarmigans along the route. <br />
The birds' coloration changes to match the seasonal changes; <br />
they turn completely white to match<br />
the cold winter snow of the arctic tundra.<br />
This one was a little slow in changing back to its summer outfit.<br />
These "Alaskan chickens," as I called them, looked and clucked like chickens.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TCcZj3HcRJhtaTGin2OzUpiHbB8nO5LkU-GzGzl0_Ty7mLfzzyE105RMdDjoVTqTjn0XQbBoKfUFMpRmYHc8bLLFATsPUGfiOD_KiMs9MGeDUeowJvD8j4D403W6XFPp7sXtwmJrmiw/s1600/DSC07495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1112" data-original-width="1600" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-TCcZj3HcRJhtaTGin2OzUpiHbB8nO5LkU-GzGzl0_Ty7mLfzzyE105RMdDjoVTqTjn0XQbBoKfUFMpRmYHc8bLLFATsPUGfiOD_KiMs9MGeDUeowJvD8j4D403W6XFPp7sXtwmJrmiw/s400/DSC07495.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We also saw two young caribou walk across the road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihAVLbDDmmW-3fbUrVQN_A5JODqR_Fo6I8Ae03GiTc0fNudjQETyWsP6tQUtXvioL1brWy0LXVEUns-bF0c5LAj14GA7c1yH1bfn0NAupFUdtMW8BRF4xZchMk4GI-Wl1lUin9k8TwGqU/s1600/DSC07527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihAVLbDDmmW-3fbUrVQN_A5JODqR_Fo6I8Ae03GiTc0fNudjQETyWsP6tQUtXvioL1brWy0LXVEUns-bF0c5LAj14GA7c1yH1bfn0NAupFUdtMW8BRF4xZchMk4GI-Wl1lUin9k8TwGqU/s400/DSC07527.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love how this photo shows the stark contrast in colors<br />
of the human-made versus the nature-made.<br />
The guardrail and my panniers were clearly painted from the same bucket of yellow paint.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjBEZ2AVG9BU0zIZ-CKXGZHbucJsMQvyWikOonVklc0R-N2VXgzgBosWvcGcuRBwWadvSBWzX-SgA10pTRC9NgoWs3B8aEQtZAkXtkRWu1GNlHQcdXpkdQEfvoE8xICROmEg_MOtXZ4o/s1600/DSC07528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQjBEZ2AVG9BU0zIZ-CKXGZHbucJsMQvyWikOonVklc0R-N2VXgzgBosWvcGcuRBwWadvSBWzX-SgA10pTRC9NgoWs3B8aEQtZAkXtkRWu1GNlHQcdXpkdQEfvoE8xICROmEg_MOtXZ4o/s400/DSC07528.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kali Ma and I are in heaven.<br />
Gravel roads. Green trees. Mountains. No traffic.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGexPiVa9s1CGEatHV1q0zHOyBu7nwQypc89RH5NPF7FM_lt95K8PBlP7MTepLMsn9NfGE99JOjoK8bXg8ZvuvQbGWLeWhvVDD8gO4HpNdnZvBrQKMcHh4HpcnFb4LxkTrvowjQErmzMg/s1600/DSC07534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1107" data-original-width="1600" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGexPiVa9s1CGEatHV1q0zHOyBu7nwQypc89RH5NPF7FM_lt95K8PBlP7MTepLMsn9NfGE99JOjoK8bXg8ZvuvQbGWLeWhvVDD8gO4HpNdnZvBrQKMcHh4HpcnFb4LxkTrvowjQErmzMg/s400/DSC07534.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at this scenery!<br />
Wow, just wow!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK4zU7VN3q4OXimjTGEeuMDdAzqwB_epzu7ZlYI_K8OvV0VRWwoamb1HSaE3Ux0u7tOX0NBL507aJv2xbLnHvwpYaYB45vXuSv16mV3qaDPYSVXl377WcxBCSzVnajCo4iiS6ygUGLjw/s1600/DSC07543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK4zU7VN3q4OXimjTGEeuMDdAzqwB_epzu7ZlYI_K8OvV0VRWwoamb1HSaE3Ux0u7tOX0NBL507aJv2xbLnHvwpYaYB45vXuSv16mV3qaDPYSVXl377WcxBCSzVnajCo4iiS6ygUGLjw/s400/DSC07543.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this image, with the two-toned snow-covered peaks<br />
behind the pile of multi-colored rocks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQpWrXp7XSpNX8q4bRPUDQWHfjACcb4ca0kQ-Q7mNxpvR4GmkhcoS30_8JBu6fz2LMD33m2CfBBFBKmwNjzqYHRa9SLpn7wyuui_sunNCocHHJoi9-ZDpE5nYFj_vLyWTSQjfLjdrebY/s1600/DSC07548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQpWrXp7XSpNX8q4bRPUDQWHfjACcb4ca0kQ-Q7mNxpvR4GmkhcoS30_8JBu6fz2LMD33m2CfBBFBKmwNjzqYHRa9SLpn7wyuui_sunNCocHHJoi9-ZDpE5nYFj_vLyWTSQjfLjdrebY/s400/DSC07548.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Denali Highway was speaking to me --<br />
with both Sarah Lake AND the perfectly gorgeous Seattle Creek! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
Denali National Park & The Denali Park Road</h3>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbZRZYL-HvpfKAwbREHfPAEdFaWNSFZhR9N3aZ0_m4AycOqOXJiRXD3vGzJ-etizZCzGHtZXKV1Oosb4EGwUrDK8MJHKwguB3HzYqmEr0ILzacObt2dAndJjfyg6HR2rfcrBs0dV2hQQ/s1600/DSC07557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="985" data-original-width="1600" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbZRZYL-HvpfKAwbREHfPAEdFaWNSFZhR9N3aZ0_m4AycOqOXJiRXD3vGzJ-etizZCzGHtZXKV1Oosb4EGwUrDK8MJHKwguB3HzYqmEr0ILzacObt2dAndJjfyg6HR2rfcrBs0dV2hQQ/s400/DSC07557.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After traversing The Denali Highway and then pedaling 30 miles north past Cantwell,<br />
Craig and I arrived at Denali National Park. <br />
We had originally planned to hop on The Denali Road right away and<br />
camp in the backcountry for two nights. Alas, the forecast showed a<br />
severe weather alert, with 1-4 inches of rain.<br />
Instead of heading out, we decided to pass a day exploring the front country instead.<br />
And so it was that we ended up with one, true, no-pedaling rest day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsc_4D3ew2z8CI2rEIRqwCl3ZyiblXaBEFJagv9-FBHZ-exa2HBkv_6DoTaBDV7ilvwD0i_twi7pNlW7mCoGXhviqIssxXXRZv_m0LLiAoyl1MZthSVJmPgc1WolozmnkihCYx2Z7o54/s1600/DSC07567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1600" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsc_4D3ew2z8CI2rEIRqwCl3ZyiblXaBEFJagv9-FBHZ-exa2HBkv_6DoTaBDV7ilvwD0i_twi7pNlW7mCoGXhviqIssxXXRZv_m0LLiAoyl1MZthSVJmPgc1WolozmnkihCYx2Z7o54/s400/DSC07567.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the morning, we arranged our backcountry permits.<br />
In the afternoon, we visited the sled dog kennels.<br />
These are the only dogs whose job it is to protect the National Parks.<br />
Some of the dogs were extroverts; I felt for the introverts, like Behnti.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyeaXP_qdHc7gcuYXFZwQjKXLIej4HgjW51lvhtQ3KPsz1Jj853vIW0o2XWiUYw2cUVrLe-ir1lBOjZekVQtF6Xn1Q7PeIsl9gDMJU6eTOMpuIIUzHc_zYmleep49sZ2Ou3BLlSxQ0Fc/s1600/DSC07583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1108" data-original-width="1600" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvyeaXP_qdHc7gcuYXFZwQjKXLIej4HgjW51lvhtQ3KPsz1Jj853vIW0o2XWiUYw2cUVrLe-ir1lBOjZekVQtF6Xn1Q7PeIsl9gDMJU6eTOMpuIIUzHc_zYmleep49sZ2Ou3BLlSxQ0Fc/s400/DSC07583.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After walking the kennels, we were then treated to a sled dog demonstration.<br />
Five dogs pulled the sled once around a track.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzc-aqqIyjUNnG2D8O7eNhj6XpHoP5iCCMyN6xcsvS5BnS2JMlwqrdpluB1iQIgT-FlLJbb80WnOsZVA5AMabBKrJ0b6hOfK6W9KyxhUHldeNWnjJACQPWFpL6jeW2fj0xJEhgNDorVm8/s1600/DSC07589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1272" data-original-width="1600" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzc-aqqIyjUNnG2D8O7eNhj6XpHoP5iCCMyN6xcsvS5BnS2JMlwqrdpluB1iQIgT-FlLJbb80WnOsZVA5AMabBKrJ0b6hOfK6W9KyxhUHldeNWnjJACQPWFpL6jeW2fj0xJEhgNDorVm8/s400/DSC07589.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sled wasn't truly a traditional sled. <br />
As there is no snow, the dogs pulled a four-wheeled cart around the track. Wheee!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5SgQSnjl8pg_ovAc170o4GrmasR3TaT1iXP_sBwJ0fzy6D4_bXPB59I4TVc7yndtr5GhkKm10QJBAmCwgyhSlPlKuI6eGZqOzn2W3MPPTpLC_wegHQCK3l3KhBBCOwy8gwk9m4f6Pn4/s1600/DSC07588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1264" data-original-width="1600" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5SgQSnjl8pg_ovAc170o4GrmasR3TaT1iXP_sBwJ0fzy6D4_bXPB59I4TVc7yndtr5GhkKm10QJBAmCwgyhSlPlKuI6eGZqOzn2W3MPPTpLC_wegHQCK3l3KhBBCOwy8gwk9m4f6Pn4/s400/DSC07588.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ranger then gave a brief talk.<br />
She told us that each dog runs an average of 1,400 miles in the winters!<br />
That's further than Craig and I pedaled on this trip!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhwGICzhf9VdRPrwDXMg7CqZ66GiyPrl2SFevsMscQS1jkYngJRRakK3LsEyNB2lU0FRrN57W5M3_k2C3CHcslyWr_JbimRBxeLmcCNgzv4XmXxjW0ZfgKQ7qQo2HWMA1rR9iPteMKlA/s1600/DSC07600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1188" data-original-width="1600" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhwGICzhf9VdRPrwDXMg7CqZ66GiyPrl2SFevsMscQS1jkYngJRRakK3LsEyNB2lU0FRrN57W5M3_k2C3CHcslyWr_JbimRBxeLmcCNgzv4XmXxjW0ZfgKQ7qQo2HWMA1rR9iPteMKlA/s400/DSC07600.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As we rode a Park shuttle to the sled dog demo, we got to experience<br />
how most people experience the park -- from the seat of a crowded bus.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATChFb6Ye0O7aRi6ICogCg4H-KnKAvwGEv8Y6LXcXJCHj1GveeQ6yYScP21cfe-04wDTcnbDVGIY9UhK08TXTaKcsAzNFTIEk1MXDKF8DakXfheGpWTD9RLDraNrTyvXtbuLvfm5m2Og/s1600/DSC07602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1201" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATChFb6Ye0O7aRi6ICogCg4H-KnKAvwGEv8Y6LXcXJCHj1GveeQ6yYScP21cfe-04wDTcnbDVGIY9UhK08TXTaKcsAzNFTIEk1MXDKF8DakXfheGpWTD9RLDraNrTyvXtbuLvfm5m2Og/s400/DSC07602.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The next day, after the brunt of the storm had passed,<br />
we set out along the Denali Park Road,<br />
with the Eielson Visitor Center as our destination.<br />
I was hopeful we might see some sled dogs exercising.<br />
Alas, we did not.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pSmBxm9-eXuEbuU-wjnS0qR2K1cNNqrdNYovMECKFM8FLEjpbi9oo64NWFI2Yqwyaf64EsloGqww0mewN6TZn-Vd7Vrn3jGnl-TTiWzW4cmfmAU8OXfrCwsQqwYmhyphenhyphenRPZQq08pZeR8s/s1600/DSC07601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1407" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7pSmBxm9-eXuEbuU-wjnS0qR2K1cNNqrdNYovMECKFM8FLEjpbi9oo64NWFI2Yqwyaf64EsloGqww0mewN6TZn-Vd7Vrn3jGnl-TTiWzW4cmfmAU8OXfrCwsQqwYmhyphenhyphenRPZQq08pZeR8s/s400/DSC07601.JPG" width="351" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first 15 miles of the road are paved; the 55 remaining miles are not.<br />
Personal vehicles are allowed on the paved section, <br />
but after 15 miles, only the Park shuttles can pass.<br />
Judging by how dirty the buses were that passed us,<br />
we assumed we'd get pretty dirty as well.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0U9dvUC0msTPjSKlMkK7gwEorGrLcgKIwsBbQjT5YS4WGaTVdBL5ZdFPgBC1EBU9H2RIPHBVjVc02OgPoOTAk9m-EltkiBGlxnsK4AFh3WrCaigvxMqh2XXDVNS-zDVjNHWQ8fnwcmXI/s1600/DSC07614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1113" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0U9dvUC0msTPjSKlMkK7gwEorGrLcgKIwsBbQjT5YS4WGaTVdBL5ZdFPgBC1EBU9H2RIPHBVjVc02OgPoOTAk9m-EltkiBGlxnsK4AFh3WrCaigvxMqh2XXDVNS-zDVjNHWQ8fnwcmXI/s400/DSC07614.JPG" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indeed we did! Here is my water bottle, which I have<br />
stored in a cage attached to the underside of my down tube.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtjzZhCfIYKt2PY__b3a6n0Uo50DEC3DNMvh5vONavkJCE68xfhqJ4M-wq-OkItwIcGHi1R8goQVaRnbM3VYfubB-Q0K4TN4mlannvL3EAFGbyxPLra1Oe36SGvfs_jJ5I8QFRuKIYj4/s1600/DSC07627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtjzZhCfIYKt2PY__b3a6n0Uo50DEC3DNMvh5vONavkJCE68xfhqJ4M-wq-OkItwIcGHi1R8goQVaRnbM3VYfubB-Q0K4TN4mlannvL3EAFGbyxPLra1Oe36SGvfs_jJ5I8QFRuKIYj4/s400/DSC07627.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And here are my sparkly, mud-speckled pants, compliments of Denali.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQj82EuRprXLWLgGvcWJu8lB9TptWF1_72FKnjOjq0YxG5LQArzcTAODePpTuyY_j_YW-jhpa925ApsAgiDO6Pdro5l9AGLodFoBP2QllCec3oQtzGo88Z0ttCiYSqF-zqJZdqv8kYu5M/s1600/DSC07609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1316" data-original-width="1600" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQj82EuRprXLWLgGvcWJu8lB9TptWF1_72FKnjOjq0YxG5LQArzcTAODePpTuyY_j_YW-jhpa925ApsAgiDO6Pdro5l9AGLodFoBP2QllCec3oQtzGo88Z0ttCiYSqF-zqJZdqv8kYu5M/s400/DSC07609.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Milepost 27, after a somewhat soggy ride,<br />
we pulled off into the backcountry and set up our camp.<br />
Our first goal was to dry out everything from our previous wet night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3jkCORTCR0Hc7TbY6LC21_vYwtZpUe_TM_pbZd-6NSgFS4Quh9eUBxln8gR9Uzdpaj5tttSrPW4TL_VyH49xmoUR-dvWiKO6y2j_1f6WyMVTFzKo8oPuTJgWMu3OI8i0si7er4DSDR4/s1600/DSC07617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3jkCORTCR0Hc7TbY6LC21_vYwtZpUe_TM_pbZd-6NSgFS4Quh9eUBxln8gR9Uzdpaj5tttSrPW4TL_VyH49xmoUR-dvWiKO6y2j_1f6WyMVTFzKo8oPuTJgWMu3OI8i0si7er4DSDR4/s400/DSC07617.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My feet had been enclosed in soggy socks and very much appreciated<br />
the opportunity to breathe and walk freely on the forest floor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh074B0n-diGgDxi9k7bTEhatm6a1FYWkChOGv2DUk-UTTo-fRrJbIoU7ZClLQjBPipuEXDsy5ggL3xi5Wi3GhagBOxjJuOJJhwkPwXxxVipTXoTQRalSK1BCYaK958DJR1UlELSmG-MPo/s1600/DSC07606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh074B0n-diGgDxi9k7bTEhatm6a1FYWkChOGv2DUk-UTTo-fRrJbIoU7ZClLQjBPipuEXDsy5ggL3xi5Wi3GhagBOxjJuOJJhwkPwXxxVipTXoTQRalSK1BCYaK958DJR1UlELSmG-MPo/s400/DSC07606.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Although the sun quickly dried out our gear, we didn't feel as though we were<br />
definitively in the safe-zone from the rain.<br />
The sky above looked confused -- partially sunny and partially stormy.
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7eKB2v1Pzg36MiT8946aSGBoOp9zbL7W-tp8RlbBw0bryyxs_yf2iJCg5stPeluL034DwWyJNgP1E65gXz_2LF0zo8AoC2r643eSrGQd8gLmgzVoGxM-MhhCqcmRxcbmaLOeGojRVUg4/s1600/DSC07619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7eKB2v1Pzg36MiT8946aSGBoOp9zbL7W-tp8RlbBw0bryyxs_yf2iJCg5stPeluL034DwWyJNgP1E65gXz_2LF0zo8AoC2r643eSrGQd8gLmgzVoGxM-MhhCqcmRxcbmaLOeGojRVUg4/s400/DSC07619.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The next morning we continued on our way.<br />
We saw the glorious braids of the Teklanika River.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcJvQURR_oll518Ach0yc4kGrlAN5JJkiK9Q_LDlEN0mN8hZoiCemsHnR_qM1cD-BmMPOyn0rpeBUKNXL2e3afAHnTHdZYJfJI9aP4FMZBoBFe5lZ_wIa7rsBESRciHdqcfmPdtbG6xc/s1600/DSC07620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="1600" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBcJvQURR_oll518Ach0yc4kGrlAN5JJkiK9Q_LDlEN0mN8hZoiCemsHnR_qM1cD-BmMPOyn0rpeBUKNXL2e3afAHnTHdZYJfJI9aP4FMZBoBFe5lZ_wIa7rsBESRciHdqcfmPdtbG6xc/s400/DSC07620.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearing Polychrome Overlook, we were informed by a bus driver<br />
that a grizzly was on the road ahead.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZmyow4yKFo9pmH0GZtWvNlZfigANFRcG_HgDZP7RAUPDYaWn7qmJbee3OmfyQoHg35H_CcQc0WMOr9-q4Vlabun9FWfEaduUvGKCaMVZY6r3QCrFaFt1wNgZ7BLLeCs-deGHvxrCVKs/s1600/DSC07621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZmyow4yKFo9pmH0GZtWvNlZfigANFRcG_HgDZP7RAUPDYaWn7qmJbee3OmfyQoHg35H_CcQc0WMOr9-q4Vlabun9FWfEaduUvGKCaMVZY6r3QCrFaFt1wNgZ7BLLeCs-deGHvxrCVKs/s400/DSC07621.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's a grizzly's bum for sure!<br />
The grizzly was taking his dandy old time walking along the road.<br />
Apparently grizzlies often walk the road in this section, as they prefer<br />
the flat surface over the steep embankments off to both sides.<br />
A shuttle driver let us put our bikes and our bodies on his shuttle.<br />
He drove us a mile beyond the bear before dropping us off to fend for ourselves.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4Hq6hr8FNm01PwZ5a8O8LCPFXmByZPn85Hxp4kbD8x8h-EYgsG0uWek6GysMPWKU5vA_36NcQhb2ZE4gjYQWWpt8n_nk8a25FsCZvTuOVfxZoV2Vj3wg_SqOijx9gGxeqgaPA8g5BsE/s1600/DSC07626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV4Hq6hr8FNm01PwZ5a8O8LCPFXmByZPn85Hxp4kbD8x8h-EYgsG0uWek6GysMPWKU5vA_36NcQhb2ZE4gjYQWWpt8n_nk8a25FsCZvTuOVfxZoV2Vj3wg_SqOijx9gGxeqgaPA8g5BsE/s400/DSC07626.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These antlers make for a nice prop at the Toklat River Rest Stop.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivStd4JA9fKryPQBb1DOBRwp3lEYemw5qrHMO6zA_f-BI03lzmcu3UNFI2jtY967kYEWFvius9woE2PhliCGnWFeDrU7SKLVQHBqQlhn2-2S2-LL4ZEcxDaXYSadGokq6NCxAySB4edME/s1600/DSC07632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivStd4JA9fKryPQBb1DOBRwp3lEYemw5qrHMO6zA_f-BI03lzmcu3UNFI2jtY967kYEWFvius9woE2PhliCGnWFeDrU7SKLVQHBqQlhn2-2S2-LL4ZEcxDaXYSadGokq6NCxAySB4edME/s400/DSC07632.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craig rides along the scenic Park Road...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKh_Dkc8wHsfX7yq72CfZrujceOV6pxKNosODP8Lqthp8XmhCdqh5G1Ji5wtiP2-pDlOaUOqCwKIa1NcUJBp5fGgG8zjF8JDS4MVG-3CjFM8TwLQYhk6plyIV1Q51xb8aPuler-xao1Q/s1600/DSC07636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1231" data-original-width="1600" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKh_Dkc8wHsfX7yq72CfZrujceOV6pxKNosODP8Lqthp8XmhCdqh5G1Ji5wtiP2-pDlOaUOqCwKIa1NcUJBp5fGgG8zjF8JDS4MVG-3CjFM8TwLQYhk6plyIV1Q51xb8aPuler-xao1Q/s400/DSC07636.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...pointing to the cloud-veiled Denali.<br />
Off the road to the left was Denali and her snow-capped brothers and sisters...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfuMh42RqEQW_0tzQYOuVT5w2IIG7RaZmFUvpHdxp47EGDyqT9b76TBHDigePAex0B1Y4KZuA9oQZNxXECTU4288U3AjEn3OcIUZsQzNBc4vUHyqD6corm581wLJeq6Zdl2L2HZhxTGs/s1600/DSC07637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1600" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfuMh42RqEQW_0tzQYOuVT5w2IIG7RaZmFUvpHdxp47EGDyqT9b76TBHDigePAex0B1Y4KZuA9oQZNxXECTU4288U3AjEn3OcIUZsQzNBc4vUHyqD6corm581wLJeq6Zdl2L2HZhxTGs/s400/DSC07637.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...while off to the right was this snow-free pasture-like hillside.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfgjWx-SgFmuKo0h-696VU84lrEBZXjKqJ4nUakRSO-QyrDYolxs8gBL46IGYVswhi32WTozHhe7NttTtThmrdWIiN5kam72H6pC9IvK-3lNopbqfuYLsRtjJnTnoO9pISuJ_dQBULms/s1600/DSC07643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfgjWx-SgFmuKo0h-696VU84lrEBZXjKqJ4nUakRSO-QyrDYolxs8gBL46IGYVswhi32WTozHhe7NttTtThmrdWIiN5kam72H6pC9IvK-3lNopbqfuYLsRtjJnTnoO9pISuJ_dQBULms/s400/DSC07643.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our destination along the Denali Road was the Eielson Visitor Center.<br />
I love this photo of Craig looking out towards the mountains.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fJf3_ILYgYuxOTLRWO5yCc7qKm49R2BYW-Od-fv-NAM0_HBnY12bAa9uQM4Zq7kU3L6PrAjcjqyE3Vopbsd2bSUeCmsbeEAEUPD6CsdwDvQ4UFq01toyI2OVhaPpJnKYVkEh6DfCHzc/s1600/DSC07642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1276" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fJf3_ILYgYuxOTLRWO5yCc7qKm49R2BYW-Od-fv-NAM0_HBnY12bAa9uQM4Zq7kU3L6PrAjcjqyE3Vopbsd2bSUeCmsbeEAEUPD6CsdwDvQ4UFq01toyI2OVhaPpJnKYVkEh6DfCHzc/s400/DSC07642.JPG" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A poster on the wall at the Visitors Center showed this season's<br />
climbing statistics for Denali (20,310 ft) and Mt Foraker (17,400).<br />
A whopping 499 climbers were on Denali on June 3rd.<br />
Of the 306 climbers who completed their climbs of Denali,<br />
only 144 summited. Surprising to me,<br />
no climbers were on the apparently unpopular Mount Foraker on June 3rd.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid7zIlvjFzpJtlDQREfpI_Xax-0jVTe5JNfiQOh51rKud4H7cwlFTPuddqriP1sj0uxTpd3eysw9soRIzijTuuL1u7okZ7-2PxpXnIDkeZj40m7CL7S1-i0_y5EfYqXuw-QSstPEJB-Z4/s1600/DSC07651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1011" data-original-width="1600" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid7zIlvjFzpJtlDQREfpI_Xax-0jVTe5JNfiQOh51rKud4H7cwlFTPuddqriP1sj0uxTpd3eysw9soRIzijTuuL1u7okZ7-2PxpXnIDkeZj40m7CL7S1-i0_y5EfYqXuw-QSstPEJB-Z4/s400/DSC07651.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After exploring the Visitors Center, we put our bikes on the Parks shuttle bus<br />
and rode the four hours back to the front country.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vA9EC7NYvpd8nssId35yXujO58EpysQ4XN6Od-6OWMePzvVYBnGOYwjsc7RQ-YQL6ATRzOi439rivfhDwa9Prgco1ygzIvnImapCiOcWIxvt5jLGRSMPFCY-jSISZFt577Uztv1bgwg/s1600/DSC07653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vA9EC7NYvpd8nssId35yXujO58EpysQ4XN6Od-6OWMePzvVYBnGOYwjsc7RQ-YQL6ATRzOi439rivfhDwa9Prgco1ygzIvnImapCiOcWIxvt5jLGRSMPFCY-jSISZFt577Uztv1bgwg/s400/DSC07653.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bus stopped for every moose, caribou, Dall sheep, and bird-larger-than-a-robin,<br />
which got a little old for us. Rather than make an effort to stand up<br />
and shuffle to the other side of the bus to see the animals with my own eyes,<br />
I nonchalantly glanced at the boy's iPad screen next to me;<br />
his screen showed me exactly what I needed to see -- in convenient full zoom!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKYUhUNK0Zu2_5GKHa3CiBrC7pXRkqIA5nUTgLuZEgH7ReQfq9OmcShhS_iTtM0j7a9N5UfrOORXLVwT70qGtCrL07aH0KRiMCkjESuSyg24Kx2tZr8am0YjSA7Wofdn2fZZGaxS_414/s1600/DSC07658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcKYUhUNK0Zu2_5GKHa3CiBrC7pXRkqIA5nUTgLuZEgH7ReQfq9OmcShhS_iTtM0j7a9N5UfrOORXLVwT70qGtCrL07aH0KRiMCkjESuSyg24Kx2tZr8am0YjSA7Wofdn2fZZGaxS_414/s400/DSC07658.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, and we summited Denali, too!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Parks Highway</h3>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnT_Ucdzy7tbM2PIpW2VfTt2xGALgVIfkqxIaMfTmudO7d1ug3Ms1UhW27kc5lSkj46TBz_Oc9IHoIURmEMFFMlfMK8nn1q8hei0FA6_ojBDPysgLmZXFI318G5yRrSAn8sAq1y_tkPs/s1600/IMG_20190605_083420053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="921" data-original-width="1600" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnT_Ucdzy7tbM2PIpW2VfTt2xGALgVIfkqxIaMfTmudO7d1ug3Ms1UhW27kc5lSkj46TBz_Oc9IHoIURmEMFFMlfMK8nn1q8hei0FA6_ojBDPysgLmZXFI318G5yRrSAn8sAq1y_tkPs/s400/IMG_20190605_083420053.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Milepost 188.7 was this...Igloo City.<br />
What an oddity!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-nYZa48XxFzu76EAgtVcGvxGPH-ogmvwAJ68-DeHi1SdvSDqWthcIU3-_NuTt7aA4rqzY6GfTy-LxnI0X9DaKQL8rzZp27cittg_IC6jnX3yjffEvNOYOQibBUwKFdB7p1XIVUtqnNs/s1600/IMG_20190605_083608551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="1600" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk-nYZa48XxFzu76EAgtVcGvxGPH-ogmvwAJ68-DeHi1SdvSDqWthcIU3-_NuTt7aA4rqzY6GfTy-LxnI0X9DaKQL8rzZp27cittg_IC6jnX3yjffEvNOYOQibBUwKFdB7p1XIVUtqnNs/s400/IMG_20190605_083608551.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The igloo was constructed in the 1970s, with the intention of being a hotel,<br />
but it never opened due to structural issues and code violations.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaHNmlARDMblgL-qR5EwhYpz9QjQuWL9OQXu2cCgxtmaPx5JSwO-vwJpCV2RnXrD3TmI8hGRtPYFbPE-N1bYs3-uD2iTTKoyXyIXZ-EKnhF5lG_zUX9MitTU6dgYwe-mulAGvOufkv8I/s1600/IMG_20190605_083855794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaHNmlARDMblgL-qR5EwhYpz9QjQuWL9OQXu2cCgxtmaPx5JSwO-vwJpCV2RnXrD3TmI8hGRtPYFbPE-N1bYs3-uD2iTTKoyXyIXZ-EKnhF5lG_zUX9MitTU6dgYwe-mulAGvOufkv8I/s400/IMG_20190605_083855794.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the biggest code violations was the undersized windows. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDSDUIneJq4UXb4QAoSXomVIq7YkOZaMuqXwqYRStDsKxPDRF7mKPTgr16uojdT9MDmqPZ6t0Gh1Qf8PwU5YTiebYJwpL0_IuL_UhHVHw3zhQJa6CtxQNC6k3DNINCqJNEbiJZSGmVjU/s1600/IMG_20190606_091623822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDSDUIneJq4UXb4QAoSXomVIq7YkOZaMuqXwqYRStDsKxPDRF7mKPTgr16uojdT9MDmqPZ6t0Gh1Qf8PwU5YTiebYJwpL0_IuL_UhHVHw3zhQJa6CtxQNC6k3DNINCqJNEbiJZSGmVjU/s400/IMG_20190606_091623822.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another oddity was this woman, who was driving her truck at the lead of an<br />
"oversized load" brigade. She rolled down her window to notify us that a 20 foot-wide<br />
truck was about to pass. Notice the matching jacket, nails, hair tie,<br />
<i>and</i> trim around her fighter pilot glasses.<br />
I was a wee bit disappointed that her doggie wasn't similarly color-themed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Trip Takeaways</h3>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Alaska had been on my "Places To Visit" list for a long time. For some reason, it always seemed like there were many barriers to overcome to make a visit happen. What complete'n'utter hogwash! For one, the flight was shorter and cheaper than a flight to see my family in Chicago.</li>
<li>I was concerned that a mid-May to mid-June trip might be too early in the season, but it ended up being a pretty dang good window to visit Alaska. It was cool, but not cold. It was rainy, but not unbearably so. Places were open, but not deep into the pandemonium of tourist season. And the mosquitoes were not a problem -- until the last few days. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWrPEdkRgCsYvtr0jb37FhoEs11-n8YJzwVN-WoTM4FQN-XhpJrLsmQfw29mQebkmxXuyy52l-71aPUeLAN8JzMQ5oWhTg8cruZM1kFa97ZIcdUglno2jy1gDs9b3GH0xgLAg6hfkqE2Y/s1600/IMG_20190606_164750510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWrPEdkRgCsYvtr0jb37FhoEs11-n8YJzwVN-WoTM4FQN-XhpJrLsmQfw29mQebkmxXuyy52l-71aPUeLAN8JzMQ5oWhTg8cruZM1kFa97ZIcdUglno2jy1gDs9b3GH0xgLAg6hfkqE2Y/s400/IMG_20190606_164750510.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While the early season mosquitoes are gigantic, they are sluggish and dumb.<br />
It is the later season mosquitoes,<br />
the ones that started to appear the last few days of our trip, that are an annoyance.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>The sunny'n'warm(ish) days were incredibly beautiful; the rainy'n'cold days were downright brutal. </li>
<li>Alaskans sure are hardy creatures! While Craig and I were bundled up in our puffy jackets and wool caps, the Alaskans were donning shorts and t-shirts -- goosebump-free.</li>
<li>We saw two vehicles with Google Street View cameras in Alaska before we saw out first bear. Even then, we saw only one bear the entire month we were in Alaska. I've experienced a higher density of bears in The Lower 48!</li>
<li>The 21-ish hours of daylight has its pros and cons. On the plus side, there is no need to pack a headlight. On the downside, I really missed seeing the stars when I got up to pee in the middle of the night.</li>
<li>My record for the longest time without a shower stood at 17 days pre-trip. This record was set in March 2016 on my trip to Patagonia. I set a new record on this trip -- 18 days without a shower!</li>
<li>Speaking of Patagonia, Alaska reminds me a whole bunch of Patagonia. It blows my mind that Ushuaia, the southernmost point of South America and where we started our Patagonia trip, is at is 54°48'7"S whereas Cantwell, the northernnost town on our Alaska trip, sits at 63°23'17"N; it felt as though we were way closer to a pole in Patagonia compared to Alaska. Wow, my spatial understanding of the globe is quite skewed!</li>
<li>Oh my, food is crazy expensive in Alaska!</li>
<li>I don't think I'm chemically capable of ever tiring of snow-capped mountains. There was so much clean air and forest bathing on this trip. What a complete turnabout from my trip to Guatemala earlier this year!</li>
</ul>
<br />
This trip was intended to be a bike-only "survey" trip of Alaska. The survey was a success, and I can't wait to go back -- this time with a kayak, a packraft, a backpack, a sailboat, a set of skis, and a whole bunch of other outdoor gear. I have fallen in love. Alaska is my new favorite playground.
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-24070538389646598442019-06-13T02:08:00.001-07:002019-06-27T07:18:46.818-07:00A Photo Journal: Falling in Love With Alaska - Part I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It has taken me my whole life to get to Alaska. It has taken me my whole life to truly fall in love.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyVtjzzGXEzJNBu-O7_A5HrpfKHmSo_AeEr92qG-4b_nRHGR36cdfOyniOiUFwJEopGMA9zs_EFHIfVL0w9YMBGQEZ1rJLrBcKghJa89xp9o8j6OAZo9cVq9rveUrT_XXANx7j2juOO8/s1600/DSC07541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1208" data-original-width="1600" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyVtjzzGXEzJNBu-O7_A5HrpfKHmSo_AeEr92qG-4b_nRHGR36cdfOyniOiUFwJEopGMA9zs_EFHIfVL0w9YMBGQEZ1rJLrBcKghJa89xp9o8j6OAZo9cVq9rveUrT_XXANx7j2juOO8/s400/DSC07541.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt very much in my element in Alaska,<br />
which made me incredibly happy through-and-through.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Just a few minutes before my plane landed in Alaska, I looked outside my window and saw this: </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHR05sXxt1cXIqJo2P2R5EwsMufIQZUvb49vF_JzzVHro-ld7cnW8Tnj_5MpwcmwlVrZ5SSEXadyWqcF4cXTZ5Lojm396LNTZ9MuCiVY9sJ1PgJGtw7VS1BFvArn5UDOGhnnOa-dG_K-s/s1600/IMG_20190513_111604471.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHR05sXxt1cXIqJo2P2R5EwsMufIQZUvb49vF_JzzVHro-ld7cnW8Tnj_5MpwcmwlVrZ5SSEXadyWqcF4cXTZ5Lojm396LNTZ9MuCiVY9sJ1PgJGtw7VS1BFvArn5UDOGhnnOa-dG_K-s/s400/IMG_20190513_111604471.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Triple hubba deliciousness!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It was at this moment that I fell in love.</div>
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<br />
<a name='more'></a>This was the planned route for my month-long bike ride through Alaska:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsdXrtAwuSSMRwqd-ETaQDjnjg-cCyeTezdxoRtq-THhaga1pDv8By7ECfzxIS2NN-yA6TnkeNVtpIA9eV9pav9oDB1CCvUkVvFXdueabRZo-GRcN8LL0H8BMs8UMMDb4G0-XSbpmfSU/s1600/Alaska+Overview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="957" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRsdXrtAwuSSMRwqd-ETaQDjnjg-cCyeTezdxoRtq-THhaga1pDv8By7ECfzxIS2NN-yA6TnkeNVtpIA9eV9pav9oDB1CCvUkVvFXdueabRZo-GRcN8LL0H8BMs8UMMDb4G0-XSbpmfSU/s400/Alaska+Overview.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the planned route for my bike ride,<br />
starting in Anchorage and heading counterclockwise.<br />
The actual route added the spur to Talkeetna<br />
and scratched the Hatcher Pass cut-off from Willow to Palmer,<br />
as the pass didn't open until mid-July.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In addition to making cue sheets of the above route, I also made a <i>very</i> annotated version of The (<i>very</i> heavy) Milepost, in spreadsheet form. For those of you not familiar, <a href="https://www.themilepost.com/" target="_blank"><i>The Milepost</i></a> is "The Bible of North Country Travel." It shows everything you ever cared to know (and didn't care to know) in immaculate detail.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UG668QZ9leId-23x-5GFDLOykUP1t21j31qqcnt1L2aaCEV7ZqDVJXW5DFbKpl2OWb6KTmW0NHR4hL0Eutxh2tTZwHUKeoILipZBwQFBsXzpYsiBpeiliRLtezLldKsC2_hqLNy07Y8/s1600/DSC07470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1600" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UG668QZ9leId-23x-5GFDLOykUP1t21j31qqcnt1L2aaCEV7ZqDVJXW5DFbKpl2OWb6KTmW0NHR4hL0Eutxh2tTZwHUKeoILipZBwQFBsXzpYsiBpeiliRLtezLldKsC2_hqLNy07Y8/s320/DSC07470.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The (Very Annotated) Milepost, in spreadsheet form. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My adventure buddy was Craig, of <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2015/07/the-happily-married-man-rides-olympic.html" target="_blank">The Happily Married Man Rides the Olympic Peninsula</a> fame. This was our third trip together; in addition to cycling around the Olympics, we also biked in Patagonia (see <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2016/01/to-end-of-world.html" target="_blank">To The End of the World</a>).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ji1YWfSjAfmUtFcFBiK2PVCL-AE2FdVl9XVr9MZJUiTivSZsdifXmQZt02KPEbufmlp8Quj0E634OUjsXtK2zOlqGeflT2gyyw1UhgsumTbNkoLhywLKoZ7RSRKol0BkvZMp50crx78/s1600/DSC07199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1600" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ji1YWfSjAfmUtFcFBiK2PVCL-AE2FdVl9XVr9MZJUiTivSZsdifXmQZt02KPEbufmlp8Quj0E634OUjsXtK2zOlqGeflT2gyyw1UhgsumTbNkoLhywLKoZ7RSRKol0BkvZMp50crx78/s400/DSC07199.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craig, guarding his fabric lair.</td></tr>
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Kicking Off the Trip</h3>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdJ4sgsJin5JQLrYg5ssaV9zI7XovbDEmqmXYRTr784uwXRS6gkPVY1WWpiXzMwaiEwNh1tOqVlD0B1xWb1pnrssph_B636-nCvkcmfLt5VsZqGSF00N47cBgDWPZDxrZKkjRHGmq9Ng/s1600/IMG_20190513_110424583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdJ4sgsJin5JQLrYg5ssaV9zI7XovbDEmqmXYRTr784uwXRS6gkPVY1WWpiXzMwaiEwNh1tOqVlD0B1xWb1pnrssph_B636-nCvkcmfLt5VsZqGSF00N47cBgDWPZDxrZKkjRHGmq9Ng/s400/IMG_20190513_110424583.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was everything I brought with me to Alaska.<br />
Thank you to Alaska Airlines for considering a bike box -- even though<br />
overweight and oversized -- to be standard luggage, checked for just $30.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVN4LGBxwwMlCi98yAaOciz2UQ-OfD2CBxDSK4BmdqFLUdsNoJy2qHH1s_NVmrHZzJ_mzs2qdhC8b1PJQbR2ksjPn7-VjfjQAnf7S8KP9f-hJE_NFo99aIA37sNuAA6zLRR0s1zOmw59s/s1600/IMG_20190513_110433451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVN4LGBxwwMlCi98yAaOciz2UQ-OfD2CBxDSK4BmdqFLUdsNoJy2qHH1s_NVmrHZzJ_mzs2qdhC8b1PJQbR2ksjPn7-VjfjQAnf7S8KP9f-hJE_NFo99aIA37sNuAA6zLRR0s1zOmw59s/s400/IMG_20190513_110433451.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've found that a sweet message on my bike box helps to ensure<br />
my box is handled with care.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_9t43z91JMLvcXlyjhyuRGGCzs4u2L9tOCj1O1b_oy-eBxx6RXclPMZKEGzGaHNvbGJMf7-VEZ5MrAIOliHKIU5WpIaZxixUgb6lnu9EnSlDEJbyRNZlHSAqaHoxrPvDT_W5vEsYVWY/s1600/IMG_20180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1584" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_9t43z91JMLvcXlyjhyuRGGCzs4u2L9tOCj1O1b_oy-eBxx6RXclPMZKEGzGaHNvbGJMf7-VEZ5MrAIOliHKIU5WpIaZxixUgb6lnu9EnSlDEJbyRNZlHSAqaHoxrPvDT_W5vEsYVWY/s400/IMG_20180.jpg" width="395" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our home base in Anchorage was provided <br />
by the adventurous'n'hospitable Mike & Ann Marie.<br />
I met Mike when I was leading a trip down the Pacific Coast in 2016.<br />
At that time, Mike and Ann Marie had already been dating for five months.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Mike & Ann Marie.)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9qqy7PH65DK3VAxG5Hq4ON2BbcBEe9jOa7uyg32O1pHRQviEQRZeK9pBvjtMy1hb_lhANrqLMgwiv6uGaE_p6TZeJYJFVOGyMhHgQEwXNBuot9pIWmI9IJZ7bE3gWLiFs-pxkq-ecL8/s1600/DSC07183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1258" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9qqy7PH65DK3VAxG5Hq4ON2BbcBEe9jOa7uyg32O1pHRQviEQRZeK9pBvjtMy1hb_lhANrqLMgwiv6uGaE_p6TZeJYJFVOGyMhHgQEwXNBuot9pIWmI9IJZ7bE3gWLiFs-pxkq-ecL8/s400/DSC07183.JPG" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know your host is cool when he has a photo <br />
on his fridge of himself and Conrad. 😍</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHodYuumqGs_uFGTUYuumJWNCz-m6Nk47esp-YXOePrb0apqMCzQmKfVf2tSIScr1TttvVxf8hWOZ-c8vxo-Nlm3R0RTw1Xax-yO3SdF4DXaQpyNcjXLw_Y2Bu7GHeKDczmpA-S6YXEBU/s1600/DSC07172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHodYuumqGs_uFGTUYuumJWNCz-m6Nk47esp-YXOePrb0apqMCzQmKfVf2tSIScr1TttvVxf8hWOZ-c8vxo-Nlm3R0RTw1Xax-yO3SdF4DXaQpyNcjXLw_Y2Bu7GHeKDczmpA-S6YXEBU/s400/DSC07172.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for Craig to arrive, I rode The Coastal Trail in Anchorage.<br />
I love this view from Point Woronzof, looking up the Knik Arm towards downtown.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
The Seward Highway</h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeuBrEdl3qqSWmhQC_VBRP8qPGI7I90B1EoyOTrO7MB796vBgjaeOey-6GDzduKA4dRXQAWzsIRzePYWXNkaRD97ioniJ147g-aW2KsbgnLAFMstLNKfh81B7yr5XY-LTa1B363W059g/s1600/DSC07188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="1600" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAeuBrEdl3qqSWmhQC_VBRP8qPGI7I90B1EoyOTrO7MB796vBgjaeOey-6GDzduKA4dRXQAWzsIRzePYWXNkaRD97ioniJ147g-aW2KsbgnLAFMstLNKfh81B7yr5XY-LTa1B363W059g/s400/DSC07188.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't resist a "Woohoo! We're off!" jump-for-joy outside<br />
the Bird Treatment & Learning Center just before we turned onto the Seward Highway.<br />
This building has the coolest facade in all of Anchorage!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwe0ZRm6G2Ln938TZgUbVd54zYNGbS1CzcJ7rWtPrK3U4jh6AHIdLklFZstnI9PiHGr4fVlDhuHccZzLKYuMO8quP_zldOHZCo8a2Pl3R1u_Hapcgqvqu6veLz_EQECnxyC-PuLhhnvRs/s1600/DSC07196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwe0ZRm6G2Ln938TZgUbVd54zYNGbS1CzcJ7rWtPrK3U4jh6AHIdLklFZstnI9PiHGr4fVlDhuHccZzLKYuMO8quP_zldOHZCo8a2Pl3R1u_Hapcgqvqu6veLz_EQECnxyC-PuLhhnvRs/s400/DSC07196.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This cone was in the middle of the path leading into Girdwood.<br />
I chuckled when I saw it, as I thought perhaps I'd get a chance<br />
to continue my Spanish practice in Alaska after all!<br />
As it turns out, the piso wasn't mojado on this particular day,<br />
but it certainly was mojado three days later!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4hDeFQ6C28OO8UUvt7qmiXkgCuUw9rlJblbbfGyycmn-jgA7Qj8MPbQjGrWPMKvOhBEwSTDQCWrjXUSieGlETYJ3oib3obmROaxJEWt-xBY5KhEsJxMjxU3SuHG66lq7zofaioqAMbk/s1600/DSC07210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1171" data-original-width="1600" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4hDeFQ6C28OO8UUvt7qmiXkgCuUw9rlJblbbfGyycmn-jgA7Qj8MPbQjGrWPMKvOhBEwSTDQCWrjXUSieGlETYJ3oib3obmROaxJEWt-xBY5KhEsJxMjxU3SuHG66lq7zofaioqAMbk/s400/DSC07210.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had to ride in a pilot car to bypass construction on the way to Seward.<br />
We were entertained by the driver, who reeked of cigarettes<br />
and whose sun-tattered skin advanced her age by at least two decades.<br />
The driver told us about how she had told friends to moon and flash<br />
her (presumably male) boss as they passed by in their RV headed to<br />
weekend festivities in Seward.<br />
Flashing and mooning became an inside joke between me and Craig.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUv7FEPI4-E_H2p5LEzRctSpD7rr2Dx48ZtSAaib_yCwDLBerLYK-Bp99VYmrIbKY7cvGCJQ7OG7-VTbOvq7iKhrvSUZiLQATu8ooac9P2jJ7K0kVs1Od3J6_7VNFVYBtScm2soqj6WSk/s1600/DSC07224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="1600" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUv7FEPI4-E_H2p5LEzRctSpD7rr2Dx48ZtSAaib_yCwDLBerLYK-Bp99VYmrIbKY7cvGCJQ7OG7-VTbOvq7iKhrvSUZiLQATu8ooac9P2jJ7K0kVs1Od3J6_7VNFVYBtScm2soqj6WSk/s400/DSC07224.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These folks were dipnetting for hooligans in the Twenty Mile River.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPT07HJqNno3O3ltLgemK60Pc1vsUdbESr086A4zDFUaU56RgwUo1staRzXJ4hHShcRwptyXWE14tQHtksW1EZuPgz1Fg41Vaof-NWGGNzY7vRtsZ6Or5-_YUr9yOcrS1EhecoGbKTgs/s1600/DSC07225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1039" data-original-width="1600" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPT07HJqNno3O3ltLgemK60Pc1vsUdbESr086A4zDFUaU56RgwUo1staRzXJ4hHShcRwptyXWE14tQHtksW1EZuPgz1Fg41Vaof-NWGGNzY7vRtsZ6Or5-_YUr9yOcrS1EhecoGbKTgs/s400/DSC07225.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seward is located on the Kenai Peninsula.<br />
The Kenai Peninsula is the favorite place of many Alaskans.<br />
I can't wait to come back and explore the peninsula more thoroughly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1251" data-original-width="1600" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPGcOtHB9cnem21nNIB3TVHwcs9J6v64hCLb2howytSc5Xz0_eVElhyphenhyphenXI1XRyLRXS0eJ_aip8FCKDhcZIDAYNZd_uzs0ticUicCJpRO4Flq1WQgQaX2yGTJUQYujnjiQtV1BF3A6EQLRU/s400/DSC07248.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seward welcomed us with cold, blustery weather <br />
and a flood of tourists fresh off the cruise ships.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilSYcE2xuKw4o1zBz6WjKOkbXyCPhJFplg2b3DnJHUVbRe3gLE3wUIIzX5cFHEMFPGC3P7_wkKPn70Adtwuf_hgEtEY5guT2VLJXgwp-QqZhUBkVagGfEdE_vEFvByT2BeoxRcKZAgv0/s1600/DSC07259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="1600" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilSYcE2xuKw4o1zBz6WjKOkbXyCPhJFplg2b3DnJHUVbRe3gLE3wUIIzX5cFHEMFPGC3P7_wkKPn70Adtwuf_hgEtEY5guT2VLJXgwp-QqZhUBkVagGfEdE_vEFvByT2BeoxRcKZAgv0/s400/DSC07259.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After visiting the town of Seward, we headed to the<br />
Kenai Fjords National Park to see the Exit Glacier.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRFuAydOjhCpaHP3og5gCKjmplcAlHu_XHBc3gPg6Yp0nYixzsrOonA27tPr23MZnT7iP2EPX1Xu_HLq0h3GQCRarRUZ4jBQV1gxifylOY-jN-5S4jc3X7JzrGqkxoH1bn69NyPlaRUc/s1600/DSC07257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1217" data-original-width="1600" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihRFuAydOjhCpaHP3og5gCKjmplcAlHu_XHBc3gPg6Yp0nYixzsrOonA27tPr23MZnT7iP2EPX1Xu_HLq0h3GQCRarRUZ4jBQV1gxifylOY-jN-5S4jc3X7JzrGqkxoH1bn69NyPlaRUc/s400/DSC07257.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craig found this decorative rock sitting aside the National Park sign.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6d0nsIkKmMZ35eSYxoZBxUETFIz4kQY5nBh_DOcB9KlQQqI3lpi0dCo19wU2jXt3HZNwxpSNLnXRAB2dcvsTk9pvyodreKwVjj9vcb7AtwjeLu9eJklm8kojY5EmfMR7s05_b3V7iQ04/s1600/DSC07258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6d0nsIkKmMZ35eSYxoZBxUETFIz4kQY5nBh_DOcB9KlQQqI3lpi0dCo19wU2jXt3HZNwxpSNLnXRAB2dcvsTk9pvyodreKwVjj9vcb7AtwjeLu9eJklm8kojY5EmfMR7s05_b3V7iQ04/s400/DSC07258.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How fun! I've heard that Homer rocks.<br />
I can't wait to visit Homer on a future trip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23Y1v0CeXlvFrYdJTOgieQnDgjNnZfXgReIVYyuu8EWwKl3tTjiNCofo6mxAmOVPyq1TpdzlGmdka0hVuqv23yhQbfWARPiKtMrkJo5UBI92NVfQ11fdPUuBgm9ejyaFQFPiEbSNmHKY/s1600/DSC07263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23Y1v0CeXlvFrYdJTOgieQnDgjNnZfXgReIVYyuu8EWwKl3tTjiNCofo6mxAmOVPyq1TpdzlGmdka0hVuqv23yhQbfWARPiKtMrkJo5UBI92NVfQ11fdPUuBgm9ejyaFQFPiEbSNmHKY/s400/DSC07263.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like most glaciers, the Exit Glacier has been receding for years.<br />
This sign shows the location of the glacier's toe nearly fifteen years ago.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1229" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgHOKA429xzQd5JS3cx-XF0l5iRXeTbE-gJOFlRIPtdX_StQkstNnR5ZkJcHoLBYAvxnRyxnTQrkd_BmRlt68lQIF_YmpL5N-CqdPv5qT0dgEGH6aC8AczOAkaWT9kbWkZQ_TphBkurU/s400/DSC07265.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="306" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are the prettiest girls in Alaska. <br />
Seriously.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiD3AiNt5K-pWYaxfoqTCG1npislFHaRfvfSAjuB8Cp3IkWFC8nPTirw7_f76i3SC0isbjTWqMnqXhCln14HSu-22sOTnZbTshJq9JN5dHfmJqoECO1l80PNZXPKE0xztX-zSW8_1Nyhc/s1600/DSC07268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiD3AiNt5K-pWYaxfoqTCG1npislFHaRfvfSAjuB8Cp3IkWFC8nPTirw7_f76i3SC0isbjTWqMnqXhCln14HSu-22sOTnZbTshJq9JN5dHfmJqoECO1l80PNZXPKE0xztX-zSW8_1Nyhc/s400/DSC07268.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were pummeled by cold rain on our ride from <br />
Seward back to Anchorage. <br />
We decided to bike 85 miles (instead of the intended 45) <br />
so we could get back to a warm'n'dry night at Mike & Ann Marie's.<br />
Though we rode a couple hundred miles of dirt and gravel roads on this trip,<br />
Shirley and I got the dirtiest riding on the shoulder of <br />
The Seward Highway in the rain. Yuck!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Glenn Highway</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisgXX13CxXntIwhAW3Tbrl0ESpito-CvmwcwvUHHUWzTfbThPnyJvgifMSZDEOcXpDKD_6xRKLU5661dTtEDsNrQEOhpb-tQzJmr9GFIy5bQkhtYVbRoWS8OYO_Eeh41U4tdydqf-CbM0/s1600/DSC07292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisgXX13CxXntIwhAW3Tbrl0ESpito-CvmwcwvUHHUWzTfbThPnyJvgifMSZDEOcXpDKD_6xRKLU5661dTtEDsNrQEOhpb-tQzJmr9GFIy5bQkhtYVbRoWS8OYO_Eeh41U4tdydqf-CbM0/s400/DSC07292.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The views along The Glenn Highway are hubba hubba.<br />
The dandelions were the first wildflowers to bloom. <br />
I've never seen such ginormous'n'beautiful dandelions.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK8cHe-I6LzucMc4aFExW8oZ9PeY7NZWauEeaKih4pnWxqyg8CqKGm-AhHK52zNxaIl2EwU4i5ZQrrKjOz5jZr1wbVvvmW9Ml5wmxmxXC64WiZswd3sm605JE66z2moFbX9hwEGtvKTI/s1600/DSC07299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK8cHe-I6LzucMc4aFExW8oZ9PeY7NZWauEeaKih4pnWxqyg8CqKGm-AhHK52zNxaIl2EwU4i5ZQrrKjOz5jZr1wbVvvmW9Ml5wmxmxXC64WiZswd3sm605JE66z2moFbX9hwEGtvKTI/s400/DSC07299.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We enjoyed views of the impressive Matanuska Glacier along The Glenn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Road to McCarthy</h3>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip1SARbvBxiywtin2TQNu0uTVwBcArwvyzFHUnuDlWDSZqWzZNjjJCLW6WQzWznqy_D9PJXDuEQoTxDI8pV-RVjDejQxQN-d6u2BVQiYG10jtnbHbHRHvnO1FRgXwJ92nn4E5f8r2ZrZg/s1600/DSC07305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip1SARbvBxiywtin2TQNu0uTVwBcArwvyzFHUnuDlWDSZqWzZNjjJCLW6WQzWznqy_D9PJXDuEQoTxDI8pV-RVjDejQxQN-d6u2BVQiYG10jtnbHbHRHvnO1FRgXwJ92nn4E5f8r2ZrZg/s400/DSC07305.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After three days on the Glenn Highway, we headed south towards McCarthy.<br />
In doing so, we entered the Wrangell - St. Elias National Park, <br />
the largest of America's national parks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAztyCv8B_1b7mBMA0ejuQ_MaRuhe3CEOxQWAp40H6wlMTVeHd0FeO6hNz1cky5NomZfNH3_XsJUMnoWYsse3CwpiSgPNav4Ou9enaLeFFPfMGE7s-948wI3XzBqWsOzdNgL-GbYgOh0/s1600/DSC07307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAztyCv8B_1b7mBMA0ejuQ_MaRuhe3CEOxQWAp40H6wlMTVeHd0FeO6hNz1cky5NomZfNH3_XsJUMnoWYsse3CwpiSgPNav4Ou9enaLeFFPfMGE7s-948wI3XzBqWsOzdNgL-GbYgOh0/s400/DSC07307.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throughout our trip, we saw various sections of the Alaska Pipeline.<br />
In this age of digital communications, it seems foreign to me<br />
that we have a physical pipeline transporting oil.<br />
(I know this doesn't make any sense, but that's just the way my brain works.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPb3_AGYFBS_fNy5HqMxcj6e1Fhqqrn8H3q8TSvq3zOojwZ4Ja5_5HzMpx3s7Pv5t3fOwiKwVj5IuqCls9qy54nqeeGDZoZrdkqp3HKlQeXDCSc_6FROVCdz0ztRXEnG00_Lg5NAJMJI/s1600/DSC07310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1083" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPb3_AGYFBS_fNy5HqMxcj6e1Fhqqrn8H3q8TSvq3zOojwZ4Ja5_5HzMpx3s7Pv5t3fOwiKwVj5IuqCls9qy54nqeeGDZoZrdkqp3HKlQeXDCSc_6FROVCdz0ztRXEnG00_Lg5NAJMJI/s400/DSC07310.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alaskans are not shy about their "Private Property" and "No Trespassing" signs.<br />
Look closely at the image below the words on this sign.<br />
As one who prefers flowers over guns, <br />
this sign certainly does not extend a warm welcome.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kdqYPtoFCDV1DPpCeyQV0sHXuo0KMYTBs3WV2PNxk8pyntPKPMCDCvmo2vqHWNWWfPCIm-BCpK4ItgSuTd1UPvTqyTJycGR3EevB8mtZ3fRIJJVk2S5tIbCPV2XSijbT_WPzco4GKCo/s1600/DSC07315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1233" data-original-width="1600" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_kdqYPtoFCDV1DPpCeyQV0sHXuo0KMYTBs3WV2PNxk8pyntPKPMCDCvmo2vqHWNWWfPCIm-BCpK4ItgSuTd1UPvTqyTJycGR3EevB8mtZ3fRIJJVk2S5tIbCPV2XSijbT_WPzco4GKCo/s400/DSC07315.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shortly after passing Kenny Lake, we saw a heard of Alaskan Yaks<br />
on the side of the road. We sat down and had lunch with them.<br />
This was the only yak curious enough to cross the field to check out us cyclists.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l3Mu_Es2UI583JfXj7bsE9xOmvtzxizu0D10u6tEM8r9FQB149rAql-Hny8bQQhCg_dhATvA0yTc3g3kDeuOUQhalfq4RRP7ZfAzp5KgTFA1JkJ2roclyE_4fIRLjLtWqwRdPtwDAhg/s1600/DSC07320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1172" data-original-width="1600" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9l3Mu_Es2UI583JfXj7bsE9xOmvtzxizu0D10u6tEM8r9FQB149rAql-Hny8bQQhCg_dhATvA0yTc3g3kDeuOUQhalfq4RRP7ZfAzp5KgTFA1JkJ2roclyE_4fIRLjLtWqwRdPtwDAhg/s400/DSC07320.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just after passing Chitina, we began our 60-mile pedal on the gravel road to McCarthy.<br />
This was my favorite riding of our entire trip.<br />
There were so many sections that reminded me<br />
of our adventure through Patagonia three years earlier.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiti5QRpMNyEzANedpdqNjWy-FYsIa0FU4AX9xH_YaPVR1J5V1QZAfNdUW0dNRhhc44XYtzijW7uJK35dv_wgRc6XHTv0Qnh0YpkPvdzBVkSUxpEIbQZxJ9iGpVcaYVAFPpilbamYdjiGQ/s1600/DSC07322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1112" data-original-width="1600" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiti5QRpMNyEzANedpdqNjWy-FYsIa0FU4AX9xH_YaPVR1J5V1QZAfNdUW0dNRhhc44XYtzijW7uJK35dv_wgRc6XHTv0Qnh0YpkPvdzBVkSUxpEIbQZxJ9iGpVcaYVAFPpilbamYdjiGQ/s400/DSC07322.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first view of the braided Copper River. Gooooorgeous!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4Ebku5240BejZky8YJ_NxSxqiB9BeiYT47oLADfGYTeXy24Tcji493fEWjuokL_at9obmNMZzLD7SgJhA3_ewWVD9D_Egf0TRm2TXXmKQRXKF-4Q6hk3G7uzHTWl2W0Rses1L1XGQxY/s1600/DSC07327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1097" data-original-width="1600" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4Ebku5240BejZky8YJ_NxSxqiB9BeiYT47oLADfGYTeXy24Tcji493fEWjuokL_at9obmNMZzLD7SgJhA3_ewWVD9D_Egf0TRm2TXXmKQRXKF-4Q6hk3G7uzHTWl2W0Rses1L1XGQxY/s400/DSC07327.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Copper River is well known for prolific runs of salmon.<br />
(It is also well known for RVs that drive too close to the water <br />
and get sucked into the silt. If you look closely, you can see some of these RVs.)<br />
The salmon weren't running when we passed through...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFBRQ8LTvNiOd-GH3vSCgWk3oVp-BYRSfxkr1gCff6e6mOq2dW3kdQXS9CZgd979xl7oGZgTDwSMDpZxvdSILmy74JIEaFuKWaqQEFhnc7Cp-tjgQg5vA3Gshfq8SS0RKj_96VHSncxE/s1600/IMG_20190608_191607190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1261" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFBRQ8LTvNiOd-GH3vSCgWk3oVp-BYRSfxkr1gCff6e6mOq2dW3kdQXS9CZgd979xl7oGZgTDwSMDpZxvdSILmy74JIEaFuKWaqQEFhnc7Cp-tjgQg5vA3Gshfq8SS0RKj_96VHSncxE/s400/IMG_20190608_191607190.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but look at the salmon Mike & Ann Marie caught on the Copper River<br />
just two weeks later -- 19 sockeye and 2 kings!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAiqvskM7C5unF6ZVFErMeiUww7beYQMdAAiF3KVcHt80B6Tb_OvOYYkD8bTNp2GY0j4UO_T4Xr4sWYYcdJzZQp9ZHQQ0icpfYVSZmeLbglVih1sKYehFL5ANG07tRVmqDfRkwvhGmjlo/s1600/DSC07334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="1600" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAiqvskM7C5unF6ZVFErMeiUww7beYQMdAAiF3KVcHt80B6Tb_OvOYYkD8bTNp2GY0j4UO_T4Xr4sWYYcdJzZQp9ZHQQ0icpfYVSZmeLbglVih1sKYehFL5ANG07tRVmqDfRkwvhGmjlo/s400/DSC07334.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seventeen miles into McCarthy Road, we saw this in the distance...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSCd-r5MTxA3W_Pc5Z8yZU2flxpvoV0Z3lTg5GrzQbndKYnKPOomIGhdy-hSyzE-Y9dEl_O2X2mjSUegevRweOrSq4FyyL7wO5GBC5El8BIRoSvlEj0ltahamCEmb3oEAOV4_1uPWL8A/s1600/DSC07336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1218" data-original-width="1600" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSCd-r5MTxA3W_Pc5Z8yZU2flxpvoV0Z3lTg5GrzQbndKYnKPOomIGhdy-hSyzE-Y9dEl_O2X2mjSUegevRweOrSq4FyyL7wO5GBC5El8BIRoSvlEj0ltahamCEmb3oEAOV4_1uPWL8A/s400/DSC07336.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...the bridge over the Kuskulana River!<br />
Little did I know at the time I took this photo that not only would this<br />
be the location of my favorite campsite,<br />
but that I was also just about to meet two awesome people.<br />
More on the awesome people later.<br />
For now, just know that there are two people in this photo<br />
at the far end of the bridge and that I was hoping they would disappear<br />
so I could capture a truly pristine, people-free photo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCapUfImh_hIj5-LvLcz0vaF3XWJjzlcYYUk0wtWDUsUi3jCDL1mkQDjvsR1e56mJJH4hgKaXZrgQkqGkF7xzg-EDR6Di-xAWafc73GLQGkg8Wr3Zw732r5qK1xuV2TzghSOG-6nwjQ4/s1600/DSC07351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1600" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCapUfImh_hIj5-LvLcz0vaF3XWJjzlcYYUk0wtWDUsUi3jCDL1mkQDjvsR1e56mJJH4hgKaXZrgQkqGkF7xzg-EDR6Di-xAWafc73GLQGkg8Wr3Zw732r5qK1xuV2TzghSOG-6nwjQ4/s400/DSC07351.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craig and I set up our tents beside the river.<br />
<i>Above</i> may be a more apt preposition, as the river is waaaay down below.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivt-CSmNmkTijiUIA_C5X5IIurQlByzbQBhFZdfKof6Qt76qEbqHIXq8v9OWU3QnSJNk4Nvquyksu12uWZdNdogcaBJEkKbHlhqy-g9LCp7yoIbKjTp26rgqrLVm0WkAHhRa7o5je8fKw/s1600/DSC07370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1165" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivt-CSmNmkTijiUIA_C5X5IIurQlByzbQBhFZdfKof6Qt76qEbqHIXq8v9OWU3QnSJNk4Nvquyksu12uWZdNdogcaBJEkKbHlhqy-g9LCp7yoIbKjTp26rgqrLVm0WkAHhRa7o5je8fKw/s400/DSC07370.JPG" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the suggestion of the ranger we talked to at the Chitina Ranger Station,<br />
Craig and I climbed onto the bridge and walked the catwalk.<br />
There's no ranger in the Lower 48 who would dare suggest such a thing --<br />
'tis proof that Alaska is indeed a Wild West.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREGko0JZYD7j2MUbkdMIFECkE9NZuanJfAC-0iJ9T6kO5DtaWiXZ3tRgMlcyavupzKc97iQpBnr3HSFVxqUrT7LCzu11VMKL53Gvdu75uXJ94DSQOBMUePwTXH331QLWLpDB-NHdquTI/s1600/DSC07364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgREGko0JZYD7j2MUbkdMIFECkE9NZuanJfAC-0iJ9T6kO5DtaWiXZ3tRgMlcyavupzKc97iQpBnr3HSFVxqUrT7LCzu11VMKL53Gvdu75uXJ94DSQOBMUePwTXH331QLWLpDB-NHdquTI/s400/DSC07364.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doin' my walk on the catwalk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkzPdpwartB5yCE6uJ97RgbWfik07BImZtYDiEMLcTrWl4Hk3waUm9ztY4OAmHI0e6nf6soDGknPN93umNAcSw8h0AWiXliY4XYJcevdi1SUvhU7PT_A9FU10RXlEjCPo7Wm08dz2WYs/s1600/DSC07368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkzPdpwartB5yCE6uJ97RgbWfik07BImZtYDiEMLcTrWl4Hk3waUm9ztY4OAmHI0e6nf6soDGknPN93umNAcSw8h0AWiXliY4XYJcevdi1SUvhU7PT_A9FU10RXlEjCPo7Wm08dz2WYs/s400/DSC07368.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kuskulana River rages 238 feet below.<br />
What a rush to have a few inches of metal suspending us above the river.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazHezqHq-hdD_LaT9EoNEl83Ec79FoLkxeEYD1Ky_NXAzZDf4VTo_c7PR3FJj_nArRtUraujy5JH8l0t2DxywsAdwNVTYiykb32iw7rW9KAfq7ViCdYrxisP6C5FIHAyDLWehOc_qJF8/s1600/DSC07373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1162" data-original-width="1600" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazHezqHq-hdD_LaT9EoNEl83Ec79FoLkxeEYD1Ky_NXAzZDf4VTo_c7PR3FJj_nArRtUraujy5JH8l0t2DxywsAdwNVTYiykb32iw7rW9KAfq7ViCdYrxisP6C5FIHAyDLWehOc_qJF8/s400/DSC07373.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When it started to sprinkle, I moved my tent under the bridge.<br />
Craig kept his tent out amongst the trees and got more wet than me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8yfzI32V68QqeCiLScZset2UWCwmTZ9BxXaKSAG8K3fsF6qa_wg1x-n2zVeTru4bLf_TcKxuQ_B44o823Oe0xxDel4iKB2KE_XTUuF0-9F4NxYSaI9JrQlvzQeZuH8a71pmThuBgYWP4/s1600/DSC07385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8yfzI32V68QqeCiLScZset2UWCwmTZ9BxXaKSAG8K3fsF6qa_wg1x-n2zVeTru4bLf_TcKxuQ_B44o823Oe0xxDel4iKB2KE_XTUuF0-9F4NxYSaI9JrQlvzQeZuH8a71pmThuBgYWP4/s400/DSC07385.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This view of the red prop planes against the green trees and<br />
the snow-capped mountains captivates me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk24IBMw-05HXHFFRQG1kh4WU-psV7Ch5VBtiV50TUgymzHn-RKzvD7W7w9e_eqqkLqRfmwAvkcxUN_zagCLXAvJXNUtfJ1tTm2q1Uaa_feBASrG-lMCvgT4hb3sUHAHwQhTZGv3bH20k/s1600/DSC07387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1146" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk24IBMw-05HXHFFRQG1kh4WU-psV7Ch5VBtiV50TUgymzHn-RKzvD7W7w9e_eqqkLqRfmwAvkcxUN_zagCLXAvJXNUtfJ1tTm2q1Uaa_feBASrG-lMCvgT4hb3sUHAHwQhTZGv3bH20k/s400/DSC07387.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few miles shy of McCarthy, we came across this sign.<br />
"Travel beyond this point not recommended. If you must use this road, <br />
expect cold/heavy snow, carry cold weather survival gear, <br />
and tell someone where you are going."<br />
And onward we went!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7kjo-7WZO9AJfh8OoTmJPfR_e7eYGUwkCSaGQ1KVKQsTtLZWie7X7-5bn8zaVIaYvLQPx6jdXy-9CPg_GxY9W4GSNzbYdsHRFN_h6tTRUrT54fFFpAvwPQ77fblqW59SSw_0tx2AALY/s1600/DSC07390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7kjo-7WZO9AJfh8OoTmJPfR_e7eYGUwkCSaGQ1KVKQsTtLZWie7X7-5bn8zaVIaYvLQPx6jdXy-9CPg_GxY9W4GSNzbYdsHRFN_h6tTRUrT54fFFpAvwPQ77fblqW59SSw_0tx2AALY/s400/DSC07390.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the end of McCarthy Road, cars can go no further.<br />
Folks must walk (or bicycle!) across the above bridge to travel<br />
the final stretch into the town of McCarthy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSnMkqH6N1SI6t2fY14JkmsmlFSPMkYKvKD4yK14YlTZRcOwHENime81h5zbthRgSoGJKscRqn14tJgfALaz1ikrwtlp5E8uyXfMntZFbsF3EKQbFrrKTOlff_qCJugIR5FkhyphenhyphenMqfzWg/s1600/DSC07396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1215" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSnMkqH6N1SI6t2fY14JkmsmlFSPMkYKvKD4yK14YlTZRcOwHENime81h5zbthRgSoGJKscRqn14tJgfALaz1ikrwtlp5E8uyXfMntZFbsF3EKQbFrrKTOlff_qCJugIR5FkhyphenhyphenMqfzWg/s400/DSC07396.JPG" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McCarthy is colorful...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEacjCJxd7ZT53ynM5AYrupag3bXU8vvtV-3IsXtGj-GjLYeHi2D7N78pcZLyfghMjUwzj72zv2IvvuQwreJ9yW7Lz7snflr0EVC7u3GMw8JGDa2fB8mj6mwm4nBgzRABpY39-iPEN7s/s1600/DSC07397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEacjCJxd7ZT53ynM5AYrupag3bXU8vvtV-3IsXtGj-GjLYeHi2D7N78pcZLyfghMjUwzj72zv2IvvuQwreJ9yW7Lz7snflr0EVC7u3GMw8JGDa2fB8mj6mwm4nBgzRABpY39-iPEN7s/s400/DSC07397.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and somewhat rundown, but in a quaint way.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOITOhE-x5ERG34llBwszg_5z1bQcql7LG5CBFWWIVkt8cQ6eQaRJBg4RU_Ee7ynn5tuM6ZAhAnt3jLeDPBDxmwhIrzcyLyzfua3PIb9YxWb3sjRGNdLpzHaXAquxG2uJ0j3pJKeMIsJI/s1600/DSC07403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOITOhE-x5ERG34llBwszg_5z1bQcql7LG5CBFWWIVkt8cQ6eQaRJBg4RU_Ee7ynn5tuM6ZAhAnt3jLeDPBDxmwhIrzcyLyzfua3PIb9YxWb3sjRGNdLpzHaXAquxG2uJ0j3pJKeMIsJI/s400/DSC07403.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bumper stickers on this old Datsun include<br />
"I 🧡Gluten" and "Pee Free or Die."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMC9AaJKpX1x8fjWYBdFzOMgCI_20ZwyBxaIXYfJnPsan91z_G8L_rOT8mTEI10QkOgjspLnk0v3LJ3LB9Rf1qe8L1A1KTT5cpAf2re9f_9cFm6BNRZkd-8CzGzBV-9vQ_4f1D-nYpdM/s1600/DSC07404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMC9AaJKpX1x8fjWYBdFzOMgCI_20ZwyBxaIXYfJnPsan91z_G8L_rOT8mTEI10QkOgjspLnk0v3LJ3LB9Rf1qe8L1A1KTT5cpAf2re9f_9cFm6BNRZkd-8CzGzBV-9vQ_4f1D-nYpdM/s400/DSC07404.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is something whimsical about seeing this lush greenery, <br />
framed by the broken windshield of an old, beat-up truck.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqsOeVw9NOiuZbL93EUJmVjyOteuSdskGBW_NbkhXgfvX3I36gekh8RQElRtB5krCecF8szhSzBOq336uKe5BwOJMLUm8lMB1yno0MtFglF0pMAKLmnnJDJgSFs9ztwn5X9wK1EqU_q8/s1600/DSC07410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1083" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqsOeVw9NOiuZbL93EUJmVjyOteuSdskGBW_NbkhXgfvX3I36gekh8RQElRtB5krCecF8szhSzBOq336uKe5BwOJMLUm8lMB1yno0MtFglF0pMAKLmnnJDJgSFs9ztwn5X9wK1EqU_q8/s400/DSC07410.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a few miles beyond McCarthy was Kennicott, my true interest <br />
in traveling to this part of Alaska. The valley, neighboring 27 mile-long glacier, <br />
and river are all named in honor of Robert Kennicott, <br />
the scientific director of the 1865 Western Union Telegraph Expedition. <br />
Robert Kennicott lived in the town where I grew up; his home, called "The Grove,"<br />
is located in Glenview, a northern suburb of Chicago.<br />
The visit to Kennicott was particularly meaningful for me;<br />
not only were my visits to The Grove<br />
as a child instrumental in developing my love for nature, but... </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgSaCHR731Mj73Db2bn6bh5ezg-3c-HeiFuz98RUxxCA7g1VCfyuRGA26t5wHA7aqpCDkwwvdzTujlCTIy_3hwcjO_LmoI13Ld9S1WVI1IZ1rkMyK-ptaSOZD0IfilkAdo63z7rGhUrw/s1600/Weddding+Photo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="741" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgSaCHR731Mj73Db2bn6bh5ezg-3c-HeiFuz98RUxxCA7g1VCfyuRGA26t5wHA7aqpCDkwwvdzTujlCTIy_3hwcjO_LmoI13Ld9S1WVI1IZ1rkMyK-ptaSOZD0IfilkAdo63z7rGhUrw/s400/Weddding+Photo.png" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...I also got married at The Grove exactly 18 years,
to-the-day,<br />
that I cycled to Kennicott, Alaska. I hadn't planned to visit<br />
Kennicott on my anniversary -- it just happened that way.<br />
Though I am no longer married, my anniversary reminds me<br />
of a special
landmark in my own personal history.
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhuJr706cY936joKQuEs5_pebz0zgox-FgtZnvdJQDq7UNHrhqt_aG0VLQbIlvKeYQB2lKNKujNaRNhzCwuZgaZr07A6vuE31Fthz1oFeT1tDZgaxKJNF1TcAbxQ_uSIFAUzUJlStlds/s1600/DSC07413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="887" data-original-width="1600" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhuJr706cY936joKQuEs5_pebz0zgox-FgtZnvdJQDq7UNHrhqt_aG0VLQbIlvKeYQB2lKNKujNaRNhzCwuZgaZr07A6vuE31Fthz1oFeT1tDZgaxKJNF1TcAbxQ_uSIFAUzUJlStlds/s400/DSC07413.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kennecott Mines, pictured above, are also named after Kennicott.<br />
Notice the misspelling, which has stuck after all these years.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cqv8APkycCwVj7stQhCwbRnR-Dj2jn8x0MWsmMWpfOxlCXPIcRDRbpzSoUq596gaHTxDNVs0KzsVTM8rXPhVsPgOMyMGVzYSIb3S9WCMar4jSj3R_avYUSFBUaQJWAO6iEBmf7FOybA/s1600/DSC07416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1205" data-original-width="1600" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cqv8APkycCwVj7stQhCwbRnR-Dj2jn8x0MWsmMWpfOxlCXPIcRDRbpzSoUq596gaHTxDNVs0KzsVTM8rXPhVsPgOMyMGVzYSIb3S9WCMar4jSj3R_avYUSFBUaQJWAO6iEBmf7FOybA/s400/DSC07416.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just past the Kennecott Mines is the trail to the Root Glacier.<br />
Along the trail are primitive campsites, where we camped for the night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOD09nbZhZ03KEvZTsOyVcKmccLR25zF4vzlN0HvAOlBwaItz401-mlz1EJOS3lc7xhj8F9vz5Rp-8sisg1joQqcOdb-1HPHLScvw5_SUz7bTlIQYNbFmp7YeKnHWNNnTaRGp0LHr3LE/s1600/DSC07430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOD09nbZhZ03KEvZTsOyVcKmccLR25zF4vzlN0HvAOlBwaItz401-mlz1EJOS3lc7xhj8F9vz5Rp-8sisg1joQqcOdb-1HPHLScvw5_SUz7bTlIQYNbFmp7YeKnHWNNnTaRGp0LHr3LE/s400/DSC07430.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the trail was rideable. Some of it was not -- <br />
at least not on our fully-loaded, sans suspension bikes.<br />
It was fun nonetheless. Shirley, my Surly, had a blast!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMp-2360nuP9bzzQAInLpEZVAnKTCPySvSIKmvyy0_ioaGkJANSxLKfR_mFp4-GIz-90Ryfqi2ACsM6Dj2NGx7JSxCqH3HHk0oOwDcZ9JHjwItWh0LXnIgjOhWwqGFCt7KliuqKDd03Y/s1600/IMG_20190526_153759904_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMp-2360nuP9bzzQAInLpEZVAnKTCPySvSIKmvyy0_ioaGkJANSxLKfR_mFp4-GIz-90Ryfqi2ACsM6Dj2NGx7JSxCqH3HHk0oOwDcZ9JHjwItWh0LXnIgjOhWwqGFCt7KliuqKDd03Y/s400/IMG_20190526_153759904_HDR.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Root Glacier Trail, we had to pass this makeshift<br />
bridge over Jumbo Creek. Once we were past the bridge,<br />
we found our primitive sites.<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photo: Craig)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bilq9qDHUpDZP32_D5KtLf9l6t3KKHcIYul8pK-isKOLmkl_m6QWDyNgz1PUj-Qx7axxD_Q88_oSaJkiwcoWh2xFQ2cc8NeX33fYDMzKJ1RhKDyxcLPNbpn-Ic2RkQyhwREnzQ3_PK0/s1600/DSC07419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bilq9qDHUpDZP32_D5KtLf9l6t3KKHcIYul8pK-isKOLmkl_m6QWDyNgz1PUj-Qx7axxD_Q88_oSaJkiwcoWh2xFQ2cc8NeX33fYDMzKJ1RhKDyxcLPNbpn-Ic2RkQyhwREnzQ3_PK0/s400/DSC07419.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After setting up camp, we hiked down to the Root Glacier. <br />
If you look closely at the glacier, <br />
you can see two sets of people walking. How's that for scale?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0u4Rc_wAmEpu2mBKgr0Gl7rgkWGr_rrsMqn8bUHJgl34kLWjBu0I8wCHN-pHgTVXkhwO_Nd9gEDz2k4VmO6kfX0UKO7ZZoEAINQHJijFeqnqvgah1OJk7SaNlyZZ2kNJgdBH0abLaoA/s1600/DSC07420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0u4Rc_wAmEpu2mBKgr0Gl7rgkWGr_rrsMqn8bUHJgl34kLWjBu0I8wCHN-pHgTVXkhwO_Nd9gEDz2k4VmO6kfX0UKO7ZZoEAINQHJijFeqnqvgah1OJk7SaNlyZZ2kNJgdBH0abLaoA/s400/DSC07420.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The previous photo actually shows the convergence of two glaciers --<br />
the Root Glacier converges with a<br />
surface moraine-covered glacier.<br />
This "dirty glacier" is the Kennicott Glacier.<br />
In the photo immediately above, you can see better see that the glacier<br />
is covered with a layer of eroded rock and dirt.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQr76wez9MsSQ-XJCRNWwt2KDAD3krm_DdMuF9xIYlANMGZ5s3xhYkPl9X5EC7d7w3ObFWGWbXpRT6RapoI1wrn4yWsZ9VCigpeWsqiW9p_Kj4JuPSKMCWrVkbGpyXYyfVSZoic-l7cA/s1600/DSC07435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQr76wez9MsSQ-XJCRNWwt2KDAD3krm_DdMuF9xIYlANMGZ5s3xhYkPl9X5EC7d7w3ObFWGWbXpRT6RapoI1wrn4yWsZ9VCigpeWsqiW9p_Kj4JuPSKMCWrVkbGpyXYyfVSZoic-l7cA/s400/DSC07435.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We got poured on that night, and so the next morning we took the liberty<br />
to air out our sodden tents beneath the overhang of the<br />
Kennicott Wilderness Guides...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MjwsEMoq6aupJPctcqDygKB0rASO7B5M4-_8zYEzFbxOnVwxcTDEI9UVwPGIi3pYbPZMCzAC78MehM7Zmjlz2vJFitEYRZOEiLnJTd1t7sVBcXw-70HudtBJ01lMImmAnRtK75oYYfM/s1600/DSC07433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1145" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MjwsEMoq6aupJPctcqDygKB0rASO7B5M4-_8zYEzFbxOnVwxcTDEI9UVwPGIi3pYbPZMCzAC78MehM7Zmjlz2vJFitEYRZOEiLnJTd1t7sVBcXw-70HudtBJ01lMImmAnRtK75oYYfM/s400/DSC07433.JPG" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...which had this irresistibly cute flower sitting aside its front door.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvaDC4yd72kfEpnfMX5naQHwIaQODOXp-GUe1gb2U2yTKybDbk3RLNPJbY9GiWSrrgmodCZNPV3rlqVImMf0jIv9rGO8liPfmTVqt6Iidcypy36RhEkmYSXHXbIXZAljhO5fmnIj2Ieg/s1600/DSC07441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1288" data-original-width="1600" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvaDC4yd72kfEpnfMX5naQHwIaQODOXp-GUe1gb2U2yTKybDbk3RLNPJbY9GiWSrrgmodCZNPV3rlqVImMf0jIv9rGO8liPfmTVqt6Iidcypy36RhEkmYSXHXbIXZAljhO5fmnIj2Ieg/s400/DSC07441.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember those two people who I was annoyed to have in my photo <br />
of the Kuskulana Bridge? Well, I'm now grateful to have those two dots in my photo.<br />
Meet the two dots -- Robyn & Chuck.<br />
We met Robyn & Chuck on the Kuskulana Bridge and two days later,<br />
Robyn & Chuck were kind enough to give us two bike bums and our two dirty bikes<br />
a lift back to GlenAllen so we didn't have to backtrack so many miles.<br />
We were incredibly grateful to have met Robyn & Chuck; not only did we get<br />
to pass a few hours of enjoyable conversation with Robyn & Chuck in their truck,<br />
but we later spent two days with them in Anchorage,<br />
where we were regarded as royalty!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3 style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Richardson Highway</h3>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHZ0y56IvYYPqoXFsM4wEdZAoxYziNhYQhfN1Fdu8IMEviVeKvh0_W5fAqsTxvlUCmam5Vcy60O1wTbwhFBq6BRVfEbCHuwM_Ur-0Aw-uAvBUoNyuaw33M3v2KY3ZmF29jli1-e-3Agg/s1600/DSC07344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1070" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHZ0y56IvYYPqoXFsM4wEdZAoxYziNhYQhfN1Fdu8IMEviVeKvh0_W5fAqsTxvlUCmam5Vcy60O1wTbwhFBq6BRVfEbCHuwM_Ur-0Aw-uAvBUoNyuaw33M3v2KY3ZmF29jli1-e-3Agg/s400/DSC07344.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robyn & Chuck dropped us off at the IGA in GlenAllen so we could<br />
restock before we headed out on the next leg of our journey. We wouldn't see<br />
another true-ish grocery store for more than a week, and so I stocked up on<br />
five cans of garbanzo beans. Beans were my main dinner course on this ride.<br />
One thing is for certain: I can compete with the best of the bachelors<br />
when it comes to eating grub!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqupOm6EJBK_RRph3b8NpOIHYNpflIXcXQz48A7pBnR5UgBLj8m69Wh_zU2ias990NV8_PIQbdrhnW9aJJQ9ZiMtB4fX6wBCQnoybIwPbFHtoQ10_2QroH1V3r-D5DD_1heEiBFj9q4XA/s1600/DSC07443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqupOm6EJBK_RRph3b8NpOIHYNpflIXcXQz48A7pBnR5UgBLj8m69Wh_zU2ias990NV8_PIQbdrhnW9aJJQ9ZiMtB4fX6wBCQnoybIwPbFHtoQ10_2QroH1V3r-D5DD_1heEiBFj9q4XA/s400/DSC07443.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were treated to an amazing display of clouds as we started out north<br />
from GlenAllen along the Richardson Highway. (Note: The above photo is <i>not</i> doctored.<br />
Nor nursed either.) We were also treated to an amazing tailwind.<br />
Truth be told, we had tailwinds nearly every day of our ride, which is pretty incredible<br />
considering that our route was a loop.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUSiblu-xppu0crHeRUupOeM_rPrCsYMrmzOirjD8BKlHLYEC5dwJod33E5xW5cIWZe9GRElFJwBZ7iIpiew5ri0OVHOyUXeKV8Kw-1CLuhrkziRhEXMwSgAbEW5WFlhIOdz1st_jNJI/s1600/DSC07451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1159" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUSiblu-xppu0crHeRUupOeM_rPrCsYMrmzOirjD8BKlHLYEC5dwJod33E5xW5cIWZe9GRElFJwBZ7iIpiew5ri0OVHOyUXeKV8Kw-1CLuhrkziRhEXMwSgAbEW5WFlhIOdz1st_jNJI/s400/DSC07451.JPG" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Richardson Highway had some oddities. I'm certain all the kookiest<br />
of the Alaskan kookies live on or near this road. One stretch of the highway<br />
had different stuffed animals tethered to anything and everything vertical --<br />
mailboxes, trees, etc. That's weird. Just plain weird.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iuB8Ueje2hvHHbQLLsf2tjJ0D9LUeGli5fRzODqu1uTKILTqAC2XWi4F4XaniRF7VJZX2cTD1S-hCsIS5miURB-T79qFm0UVHshRyks-fZZy-a1X-8liNh1b-I6DmXmxxLRWYe__2x8/s1600/DSC07452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iuB8Ueje2hvHHbQLLsf2tjJ0D9LUeGli5fRzODqu1uTKILTqAC2XWi4F4XaniRF7VJZX2cTD1S-hCsIS5miURB-T79qFm0UVHshRyks-fZZy-a1X-8liNh1b-I6DmXmxxLRWYe__2x8/s400/DSC07452.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Between Mileposts 135 & 136, Craig and I came across the most unique<br />
shoulder rubbish I have yet to come across.<br />
Here Craig is propping up the roadside find with his foot,<br />
for scale, of course.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOHB88Os07ppiuUrfXJZACRbO38uEC-vUbV47zcXt7L6rePuEQ6oBEZ4VErimg6ETgeeUKQnEK4L25L-7yitGqHirWQaL2r3xCIFXYckM8sLR5kB5d_8-hG1L4hMuAMarng3XbUiT7NY/s1600/DSC07453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1193" data-original-width="1600" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOHB88Os07ppiuUrfXJZACRbO38uEC-vUbV47zcXt7L6rePuEQ6oBEZ4VErimg6ETgeeUKQnEK4L25L-7yitGqHirWQaL2r3xCIFXYckM8sLR5kB5d_8-hG1L4hMuAMarng3XbUiT7NY/s400/DSC07453.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's even a wire attached! This roadside rubbish vibrates!<br />
I commented to Craig that the Alaskan ladies must be lonely.<br />
Craig corrected me; certainly this was owned by an Alaskan man.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlE7dX0AkNEWVTF1cA3nItqauaSUm-W_QyeYvCJ8NatMByQsu6xUXvsQmR8w-rbuYIAj5jtlwKV5H-9WSMKvQ2by1vk7oMLmGCXrPFn9WUzDSPUdlV-TiulqXOt6qhU93G0OPJC4rp-M/s1600/DSC07454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="1600" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlE7dX0AkNEWVTF1cA3nItqauaSUm-W_QyeYvCJ8NatMByQsu6xUXvsQmR8w-rbuYIAj5jtlwKV5H-9WSMKvQ2by1vk7oMLmGCXrPFn9WUzDSPUdlV-TiulqXOt6qhU93G0OPJC4rp-M/s400/DSC07454.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just one more photo of the roadside treasure -- a more artsy photo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjsLycZsp4dUvtxpSIBjERWumwppvRbNHwPxdiMJupbi_GanFgZ22IJNWXz6dB3CfCAf7tBXNUNxZCPTqzk-F0RNUu_6VLN9CemX6FEwwXsqumtNhhdOY5xRKkNN_vmoEg0g-8Gj3nTcQ/s1600/DSC07460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjsLycZsp4dUvtxpSIBjERWumwppvRbNHwPxdiMJupbi_GanFgZ22IJNWXz6dB3CfCAf7tBXNUNxZCPTqzk-F0RNUu_6VLN9CemX6FEwwXsqumtNhhdOY5xRKkNN_vmoEg0g-8Gj3nTcQ/s400/DSC07460.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As we pedaled under the blue skies, we noticed violent storm clouds off in the distance.<br />
We knew they were headed in our direction and us in theirs.<br />
Impending doom is never a stellar feeling. At Milepost 168, the skies began to tear.<br />
Craig and I pedaled like crazy, as we knew there was a roadhouse at Milepost 170.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WJfMmo7OXZTP0cwzWYSKeqmA818zzRz_hVGbpH75prJihIJQK7LIhM81O6hpkO0fj1r-RTOZjneoQleQU8n6Uz8QbrpTlefNsE8Q-Zm9ele_do33jWXsRuPd-iMerscTs4ajtshMpJg/s1600/DSC07471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9WJfMmo7OXZTP0cwzWYSKeqmA818zzRz_hVGbpH75prJihIJQK7LIhM81O6hpkO0fj1r-RTOZjneoQleQU8n6Uz8QbrpTlefNsE8Q-Zm9ele_do33jWXsRuPd-iMerscTs4ajtshMpJg/s400/DSC07471.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just as we pulled into the Meier's Lake Roadhouse, all hell<br />
broke loose from the skies. We ditched our bikes and ran inside.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivB8yrDNDejKC_JugngAZfyiZQMwDRfggFLSu69xQ8zPT5Bt94ygSo7suM6d-ZLGTYIkhkBoAzD0L2dvQBIP9mGUbO6ETZiMkQSjkOpPNanxF-JKtcwGGFTP_Kxq3kcSjkpyow6e8BNzk/s1600/DSC07467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1119" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivB8yrDNDejKC_JugngAZfyiZQMwDRfggFLSu69xQ8zPT5Bt94ygSo7suM6d-ZLGTYIkhkBoAzD0L2dvQBIP9mGUbO6ETZiMkQSjkOpPNanxF-JKtcwGGFTP_Kxq3kcSjkpyow6e8BNzk/s400/DSC07467.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For the next few hours, Linda and the crew at the Roadhouse took good care of us.<br />
They served warm beverages and the best dang food we had eaten in miles.<br />
Linda empathized with our concern (hypothermia!) of riding in the cold rain.<br />
She kindly offered that we stay in her little cabin aside Meiers Lake.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1LnTUjt-QR5o2tvQJvI2f7h3VtoEQYn2HhrMpwntkqtF0uqkwiZTyMCzQDPUh5HyfxWYlUStuGUd6nsbUBrQ3fZuqGhINzKU2Gu_rErQGuAhwHZKEr6YGxtmgg499sVtLJoTewnopfI/s1600/DSC07463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1LnTUjt-QR5o2tvQJvI2f7h3VtoEQYn2HhrMpwntkqtF0uqkwiZTyMCzQDPUh5HyfxWYlUStuGUd6nsbUBrQ3fZuqGhINzKU2Gu_rErQGuAhwHZKEr6YGxtmgg499sVtLJoTewnopfI/s400/DSC07463.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's the adorable little cabin we stayed in for the night. <br />
The most wonderful things about this cabin were the roof and the walls;<br />
a solid roof over our heads and solid walls around our sides<br />
ensured a dry and warm night!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGinv_xAeQ-PIWeykD-6BomHq2xoFYmg8W2U0607x7y5AuEMibiXc9QmURnc3wc9jSX5vFcXbdXN03YsoJZFTKI80HrxbD5SAW_ryQzk_CSDPAIzyVVhgE-NS42r0gjloTep2rJqBbsXE/s1600/DSC07465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGinv_xAeQ-PIWeykD-6BomHq2xoFYmg8W2U0607x7y5AuEMibiXc9QmURnc3wc9jSX5vFcXbdXN03YsoJZFTKI80HrxbD5SAW_ryQzk_CSDPAIzyVVhgE-NS42r0gjloTep2rJqBbsXE/s400/DSC07465.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved this little cabin in the grass outside the bigger cabin.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lx4WYurpIbRV4I6JIAIKqoYPf2CxZ_D-GPbgCOVgSFRPYLc5b2kIiE24Nufdb5wnuOAv-cmfrS7P-ownqCr2SE1dtOPuuJ85Jt6e1lWmw2rXcTTPWyYdO2Fr0EgyEbb9zjO4azfWDs0/s1600/DSC07466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lx4WYurpIbRV4I6JIAIKqoYPf2CxZ_D-GPbgCOVgSFRPYLc5b2kIiE24Nufdb5wnuOAv-cmfrS7P-ownqCr2SE1dtOPuuJ85Jt6e1lWmw2rXcTTPWyYdO2Fr0EgyEbb9zjO4azfWDs0/s400/DSC07466.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Linda's hospitality was amazing.<br />
We left this note for her in her guestbook.<br />
Thank you, Linda, for being our road angel!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpwlcKhKpbb-kgI_hAjz7_OMY9wDm0LvkYjVsgQtrEhPhPx9qco6J91EVgDSBj6TDD2di8IgOflvo_H5g75iWrdbsHr9g77KEPuTmd1xcMiPtjGdhYP8LzPWxUMVTqaroVVtJ_t3l99g/s1600/DSC07456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1087" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpwlcKhKpbb-kgI_hAjz7_OMY9wDm0LvkYjVsgQtrEhPhPx9qco6J91EVgDSBj6TDD2di8IgOflvo_H5g75iWrdbsHr9g77KEPuTmd1xcMiPtjGdhYP8LzPWxUMVTqaroVVtJ_t3l99g/s400/DSC07456.JPG" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every time I saw these Caribou Crossing signs,<br />
I was troubled by the perspective;<br />
it looks as though these guys have TV antennas strapped to their noggins.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBzDhS9IlEN5sm1iuCNkKcguCPqk-nhf41Nn8fW10Ctk8Mph5pDWZ4zkZAVjNsa4vHTALUfQxbW3-gmVGyy0li3HfZPrql3MPdodt4fwhoQEetiCn-wnxQ_8cJjQ7ATrLCMO3fG6OyKQ/s1600/DSC07475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBzDhS9IlEN5sm1iuCNkKcguCPqk-nhf41Nn8fW10Ctk8Mph5pDWZ4zkZAVjNsa4vHTALUfQxbW3-gmVGyy0li3HfZPrql3MPdodt4fwhoQEetiCn-wnxQ_8cJjQ7ATrLCMO3fG6OyKQ/s400/DSC07475.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of large creatures...we saw lots of 'em.<br />
I won't bore you with wildlife photos <i>except</i> for this one -- my favorite -- of a moose.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAfk1mSwOSYeB-2VJotn5IO1jt8z9TxJq3gHm-LJMGlvVpqC4AtAvrOYH3xNopTuXL6Rx1zFiVlyok6XKBAEeQm7MGknEwcfCiQK-ZZ8ybk8ontUiIJTT7WoO-EboJiJr-pP1Xas_pm4/s1600/DSC07477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1261" data-original-width="1600" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAfk1mSwOSYeB-2VJotn5IO1jt8z9TxJq3gHm-LJMGlvVpqC4AtAvrOYH3xNopTuXL6Rx1zFiVlyok6XKBAEeQm7MGknEwcfCiQK-ZZ8ybk8ontUiIJTT7WoO-EboJiJr-pP1Xas_pm4/s400/DSC07477.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Craig had pre-scheduled, weekly calls with his wife, Dianne.<br />
Before we turned off onto The Denali Highway,<br />
Craig called Dianne from this payphone in Paxson.<br />
Nah, just kidding. This payphone hasn't worked in ages. <br />
Paxson, like many Alaskan towns, is entirely defunct.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
To be continued...</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7227121216820368236.post-20953042227043707702019-05-05T12:17:00.000-07:002019-05-05T12:17:28.727-07:00Introducing Shirley Too & Her New Dynamo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes the best things come in cardboard boxes. And sometimes a delay in opening those cardboard boxes makes the contents even <i>more</i> appreciated.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7vYP91rnNJ1w-b5hKKLqrSoJAIn0NVELRpMLaN6_nipcjhGahdQVUJ1DPOrD2o8qKVB8yqwAVH6CU_quijfDet2bW8fRXqqTfQ5NY6CyC9qABZsiqcvqXADjkpf62zHCFrAwODT24ZU/s1600/DSC07099Rev.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1225" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7vYP91rnNJ1w-b5hKKLqrSoJAIn0NVELRpMLaN6_nipcjhGahdQVUJ1DPOrD2o8qKVB8yqwAVH6CU_quijfDet2bW8fRXqqTfQ5NY6CyC9qABZsiqcvqXADjkpf62zHCFrAwODT24ZU/s400/DSC07099Rev.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a <i>long</i> wait to get my hands<br />
on the contents of this cardboard box.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What's inside, what's inside, what's inside, you ask? Be patient, my friend! First, some backstory...<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I acquired Shirley, my trusty Surly Long Haul Trucker, in 2011. Over the years, Shirley and I had been on a couple handfuls of fantastic adventures. Some of the widest smiles that had crossed my face had been shared with Shirley. Alas, after seven years of adventuring, Shirley had grown tired and was seeking a more low-key life. I knew exactly how she felt; after all, I had made a similar transition myself a number of years ago.<br />
<br />
So Shirley could properly retire, I acquired a new touring bike in late December 2018. A die-hard fan of Surly Truckers, I replaced my Surly Long Haul Trucker with a Surly Disc Trucker. I christened my new Surly Trucker "Shirley Too."<br />
<br />
After thousands of miles of riding together, Shirley and I had dialed-in on a comfortable ride. And so aside from the disc brakes, I wanted Shirley Too to be <i>exactly</i> like her older sister. I ported over my Terry saddle from Shirley to Shirley Too, and I ported over my Tubus Rack, too. The porting of my Jones bars was a bit more involved, as Shirley Too has ten speeds instead of Shirley's nine. As I needed to acquire new shifters, I decided to experiment with Microshift Thumb Shifters on the new bike instead of the trigger shifters I used on the old bike. The one thing I could not transfer over, much to my dismay, was the dynamo hub. Shirley's dynamo, which was sized for a wheel without disc brakes, would not fit Shirley Too's wheel.<br />
<br />
Purchasing the Schmidt Dynamo and Busch and Muller light system for Shirley was a big deal for me seven years ago. The whole system was pricey -- roughly half the cost of the bike. After much deliberation, I finally bit the bullet. I am so glad I did; having instant lights that don't require batteries or a USB charge has been awesome. And, unlike my friends, who are constantly worried about their easy-to-remove lights being stolen, I have been entirely comfortable locking up my bike to a rack, confident that my lights will still be there when I return. Though the investment was expensive, I convinced myself that this was a one-time, life-long investment, as the dynamo system could be easily moved to any bike(s) I might acquire in the future. Alas, I failed to contemplate that a change to a bike with disc brakes would require a different dynamo hub.<br />
<br />
Having acquired Shirley Too, I found myself deliberating the same dynamo debate. A dynamo <i>alone</i> was going to cost $315. That didn't include the rim, spokes, and labor to build the dynamo into a wheel. And although I could have repurposed Shirley's front and rear lights, light technology sure has evolved over the years. I was looking into dropping at least $650 into a new dynamo lighting system for Shirley Too. That's a <i>lot of money</i> for lights. Then again, as <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2018/12/i-am-car-free.html" target="_blank">I Am Carfree!</a>, my bike is my main means of getting around, and having a good light system makes nighttime driving all that much better.<br />
<br />
After bouncing the purchase of another dynamo system around my mind for a few days, the thought materialized that perhaps I could buy the hub and lights from overseas. After all, Schmidt and Busch & Müller are German companies. Perhaps ordering these items from Germany, cutting out multiple layers of middlepersons, would be worthwhile. I had ordered bike parts from overseas before (see <a href="http://www.honoringmycompass.com/2014/05/on-bike-off-grid.html" target="_blank">On the Bike & Off the Grid</a>), and doing so had made good financial sense.<br />
<br />
I fired up my laptop and summoned Google. High in the search ranks for German companies selling bike parts was <a href="http://starbike.com/" target="_blank">Starbike</a>. I poked around the site. Starbike had everything I was looking for -- the dynamo, the front and rear lights, a rim, wheel building service, and overseas shipping -- all at reasonable prices. Sweet!<br />
<br />
Before placing my order, I emailed Starbike's customer service and requested that they bless the dynamo, AlexRims rim (this rim comes stock on Surly Truckers and I've been happy with it for the last seven years), and spokes in my cart. After all, Starbike would be using these components to build my wheel. Starbike quickly replied and informed me that the rim I had requested was out-of-stock. Starbike recommended instead that I have my dynamo built into a DT Swiss 545 rim; Starbike assured me that the wheel would be even stronger with this rim. I saw no fault with the suggestion, and so I altered the rim and spoke selections in my cart, and I placed my order. It was December 24.<br />
<br />
The Starbike website cautioned that the wheel build would take some time:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Caution: Currently our wheel-building queue is <u>very</u> long and hence there might occur major delays. We are <u>not</u> able to claim a exact delivery date.</i></blockquote>
I wasn't too concerned about the time frame. I was leaving in mid-January to head to Guatemala for three months, and so there was no urgency in receiving the shipment.<br />
<br />
Surprisingly, the box arrived from Germany on January 22. That's an impressive delivery time -- that's less than one month (over the holidays, not to mention!) for a bike wheel to be custom built and shipped overseas. The only "problem" was that delivery arrived the day after I left for Guatemala; I would have to wait three (more) months to install my new dynamo system!<br />
<br />
When I returned home from my trip to Central America, I was <i>finally</i> able to open the cardboard box from Starbike. This is what I found inside:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggof93LwWxwjpzap719F9fXvVLCHlnRol3hRI_L7zwEce6f-DNerRzL-1llrqBQU9sY-P-crYzNPXLcdCe6XLHivreOOzGYR54ralrLnmnB9FhuMNg5xLJFdHyiHcXKLols8zMHV6ZY90/s1600/DSC07102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggof93LwWxwjpzap719F9fXvVLCHlnRol3hRI_L7zwEce6f-DNerRzL-1llrqBQU9sY-P-crYzNPXLcdCe6XLHivreOOzGYR54ralrLnmnB9FhuMNg5xLJFdHyiHcXKLols8zMHV6ZY90/s400/DSC07102.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was inside the cardboard box!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>A Schmidt SON 28 Dynamo Hub, beautifully built into a DT Swiss 545 rim</li>
</ul>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<ol>Schmidt makes rock-solid dynamo hubs. They are reliable and have very little drag.
</ol>
</ol>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>A Busch & Müller Lumotec IQ-X LED front light</li>
</ul>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<ol>
At 100 Lux, this is the brightest dynamo-powered light on the market. It has a standlight (which provides light for several minutes after stopping), daytime running lights, automatic switching between daytime and nighttime modes, and a great distribution of light rays.
</ol>
</ol>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>A Busch & Müller Toplight Line Plus BrakeTex rear light</li>
</ul>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<ol>
This fancy rear light senses when the bike slows and makes the taillight flicker to draw attention to the rear light. So cool!</ol>
</ol>
<br />
I installed the wheel and lights onto Shirley Too as quickly as I could and took her for a spin. Thanks to her new dazzling dynamo, her frontside shined brightly white, and her backside shined brightly red. Voilà, perfect! Just what I wanted!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIA5zIrviOsedcOfNzA0o9tMBsjSC-Ulw152bayprqPOqWg8bkC_Y-xuVTNhlR8jz_nRTeMu3NL-bAzLAaqNLUMk_jLsGYLOZgBALfl55hqIyRiR4JreO0Vh0S6iJ3Mwl_lv1IEZpm6z4/s1600/DSC07146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1109" data-original-width="1600" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIA5zIrviOsedcOfNzA0o9tMBsjSC-Ulw152bayprqPOqWg8bkC_Y-xuVTNhlR8jz_nRTeMu3NL-bAzLAaqNLUMk_jLsGYLOZgBALfl55hqIyRiR4JreO0Vh0S6iJ3Mwl_lv1IEZpm6z4/s400/DSC07146.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Shirley Too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FMSvT-zpJhCdKK_ukxwAk52HX4ZbDagYTvmGv4I5F-M6mqQLNuFgDPKCGbTLXwAkC6PtiIjEgn87LOzKiBJcjE5wTi8pwPeAvNzzzLCa2E1zS2zKPYZtiJVEUZeEA0DD0Omz645VkJw/s1600/DSC07156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1115" data-original-width="1600" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-FMSvT-zpJhCdKK_ukxwAk52HX4ZbDagYTvmGv4I5F-M6mqQLNuFgDPKCGbTLXwAkC6PtiIjEgn87LOzKiBJcjE5wTi8pwPeAvNzzzLCa2E1zS2zKPYZtiJVEUZeEA0DD0Omz645VkJw/s400/DSC07156.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Shirley Too's new Schmidt Dynamo hub...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1jRc6tE3rt8hxg7W2fvbjaCrBquLXRGyNMeajESWM05CZx6RvIj0mari9acpIL4yPIesxujIqSH_HzXUfs5pyMRcbuyvUM_MWdNMTG51-P4GjeJNVYm78qBsEt-jObUYaCB0vzc_ZHc/s1600/DSC07160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1262" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN1jRc6tE3rt8hxg7W2fvbjaCrBquLXRGyNMeajESWM05CZx6RvIj0mari9acpIL4yPIesxujIqSH_HzXUfs5pyMRcbuyvUM_MWdNMTG51-P4GjeJNVYm78qBsEt-jObUYaCB0vzc_ZHc/s400/DSC07160.JPG" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and her new Busch & Müller 100 Lux Lumotec IQ-X LED front light...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-TCN7NQtJMxWeqzibDyDCTEg05cX2AOOwEVrjWJj0fQndnWTp2fTS0mdRkx6LGKOSgFxBkwQ5yJhk1X-lr37toCAwSaZEl-5PSxWam8uZK_-hRthllNMpaOFs38tirzbQa004wMu8M0/s1600/DSC07141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1229" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-TCN7NQtJMxWeqzibDyDCTEg05cX2AOOwEVrjWJj0fQndnWTp2fTS0mdRkx6LGKOSgFxBkwQ5yJhk1X-lr37toCAwSaZEl-5PSxWam8uZK_-hRthllNMpaOFs38tirzbQa004wMu8M0/s400/DSC07141.JPG" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and her new Busch & Müller Toplight Line Plus Brake rear light.<br />
Sexy, if I may say!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
What made the whole deal <i>even</i> more <i>perfect</i> was that the <i>entire dynamo system</i> cost me less than $410 USD from Starbike. This included overseas shipping as well as a credit for value-added tax (VAT). That's right, not only did I <i>not</i> pay sales tax, but the already low price (which bakes in VAT) was further reduced by backing out the VAT, as is done for customers who don't reside in Europe. (Note: There were no custom duties owed on the delivery.)<br />
<br />
Here's the cost breakdown of what I paid at Starbike versus what I would have paid at <a href="https://www.peterwhitecycles.com/" target="_blank">Peter White Cycles</a>, the primary importer of Schmidt and Busch & Müller products in the United States. Note that the Peter Write price does not include the rim, the spokes, the labor for the wheel build, shipping, and any applicable taxes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<h4>
<strong>COST OF DYNAMO SYSTEM</strong></h4>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" dir="ltr" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><colgroup><col width="379"></col><col width="88"></col><col width="84"></col></colgroup>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Peter White"}" style="text-align: right;"><strong>Peter White</strong></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Starbike*"}" style="text-align: right;"><strong>Starbike*</strong></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Schmidt SON 28 Dynamo Hub, Disc 6 Hole, 36-Spoke Holes, Black"}">Schmidt SON 28 Dynamo Hub, Disc 6 Hole, 36-Spoke Holes, Black</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":315}" style="text-align: right;">315.00</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":271.6952}" style="text-align: right;">271.70</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Busch und Müller Lumotec IQ-X LED Front Light, 100 Lux, Black"}">Busch & Müller Lumotec IQ-X LED Front Light, 100 Lux, Black</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":160}" style="text-align: right;">160.00</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":87.41992}" style="text-align: right;">87.42</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Busch und Müller Toplight Line Plus BrakeTec Rear Light, 50mm"}">Busch & Müller Toplight Line Plus BrakeTec Rear Light, 50mm</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":59}" style="text-align: right;">59.00</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":29.44312}" style="text-align: right;">29.44</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"DT Swiss 545D Disc Rim, 26'/559 36-Holes, Black,"}">DT Swiss 545D Disc Rim, 26'/559 36-Holes, Black,</td>
<td style="text-align: right;"></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":23.75912}" style="text-align: right;">23.76</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"DT Swiss Competition Spokes, J-Bend Silver, 2.0/1.8, 260mm (36 + 2 spares)"}">DT Swiss Competition Spokes, J-Bend Silver, 2.0/1.8, 260mm (36 + 2 spares)</td>
<td style="text-align: right;"></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":25.919040000000003}" style="text-align: right;">25.92</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Wheel Building Service"}">Wheel Building Service</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-style="text-align: right;"></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":33.99032}" style="text-align: right;">33.99</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Shipping"}">Shipping</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-style="text-align: right;"></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":19.894000000000002}" style="text-align: right;">19.89</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Less 5 Euro Coupon"}">Less 5 Euro Coupon</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-style="text-align: right;"></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":-5.684}" style="text-align: right;">-5.68</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"Less 19% VAT"}">Less 19% VAT</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-style="text-align: right;"></td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=R[0]C[2]*1.1368" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":-77.666176}" style="text-align: right;">-77.67</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"TOTAL"}" data-blogger-escaped-style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: right;">
<strong>TOTAL</strong></div>
</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=sum(R[-9]C[0]:R[-7]C[0])" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,2,"0.00",1]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":534}" data-blogger-escaped-style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: right;">
<strong> > $534.00</strong></div>
</td>
<td data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-formula="=sum(R[-9]C[0]:R[-1]C[0])" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-numberformat="[null,4,"\"$\"#,##0.00"]" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":3,"3":408.770544}" style="text-align: right;"><strong>$408.77</strong></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<span data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-userformat="{"2":8705,"3":{"1":0},"12":0,"16":6}" data-blogger-escaped-data-sheets-value="{"1":2,"2":"* Euros converted to USD"}"> * Euros converted to USD</span><br />
<br />
Amazing! The <i>entire dynamo system</i>, including the wheel and shipping, <i>cost less from Starbike</i> than just the wheel and lights alone from Peter White Cycles. What a great deal! I would highly recommend <a href="http://www.starbike.com/" target="_blank">Starbike</a>. They have great prices, great selection, great customer service, and inexpensive shipping. Ordering from Starbike made me feel much better about acquiring my <i>second</i> one-time, life-long dynamo system.<br />
<br />
I waited months -- four to be exact -- to take Shirley Too for her first spin with her new dynamo system. It was definitely worth the wait. My love for adventuring with Shirley will live on with Shirley Too.<br />
<br />
May Shirley enjoy relaxing rides with her new owner. Shirley Too, rocking her new dynamo light system, and I are soon off for another summer of biking! Cheers!</div>
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