Leaving Fairbanks this morning, it was fists pumping and feeling great to be on the bikes again rolling to a new place.  It was time to leave Fairbanks.  It felt like we’d been stuck in quicksand, and we were finally pulling ourselves free of its suction.  Brad confirmed this feeling later in the day when he said, “Dude, it feels great to be riding again.  We’re like a couple of fucking cowboys on steel horses!”  Totally dude.  Anytime you can quote Brad Lunsford quoting Jon Bon Jovi before 10am, you know you’re in for an interesting day. We’d gotten so used to Fairbanks that even some of the drives were killing us. I just could not head up to the Haul Road again after doing it twice for oil and once more for Eagle Summit.  I was starting to think about it like driving to Brookfield in rush hour.  Ugh.

The morning’s ride was beautiful as usual, and as we pulled into Denali National Park, the views really started to explode.  As we throttled through the park, we saw a road that entered the park, but we decided to move on.  It was hard to go through without getting a really good view of McKinley, but Alaska is not a place to be devoured and digested in one sitting.  This trip is what it is, and now I have a plan for the next trip.  Stay tuned…  And, as it turns out, the road we were going to take only went in about 15 miles where you pick up a shuttle to go the remaining 50 miles to the mountain.  Yea, wasn’t in the mood to jump on a shuttle with a bunch of giddy tourists and screaming kids.  Really glad we skipped it considering how late we ended up arriving tonight and all that happened… (yes, I’m being cryptic on purpose, hold your horses) Every once in a while, even we make a good decision.

After the park, we made it to the Denali Highway.  Wow.  Ok, I know I’ve said this before (many times), but seriously, this time for reals – this was THE best riding I have ever had.  132 miles of dirt road through massive sweeping valleys, past glaciers and snow capped peaks, along an empty, carless road in almost absolute silence when our machines stilled.  Over the entire 5 hours it took, we saw about 10 cars / cycles.  And did I mention it was all over dirt?  It did rain for a bit, which made things a touch slippery, but it was a piece of cake on the GSs.  They were born for this.  As a result of all this, today is picture day followed by a story of danger and high stakes that our explorers pull through with nary a scratch…  Read on.

THIS is Alaska.  I thought we were remote before.  This is an experience I’ll come back for.  About halfway through the highway, we saw a lodge touting free coffee and wifi for travelers.  We stopped in to caffeinate and catch up on a couple emails and talked for a while with the group of wildlife and game folks who were staying in the lodge while studying fish in the rivers by shocking them.  Great folks, and I got some great fishing tips for my next trip up.

I found myself being disappointed every time I saw the mileposts click down.  I better slow down to make this last!  I think I’ve said that before…

We made a couple of great stops along the way.  These lodges just pop up in the middle of nowhere, and after not seeing a car for almost an hour, it’s a strange experience to walk into a full restaurant.  As you can see, they do like their beef.  Brad wouldn’t order one of these burgers even as they were promoted by these towers of fitness – what a pussy.

We were getting close to the end of the Denali Highway, and the views continued to amaze.  It was almost disappointing to be almost done, but we were getting tired, and there was a good chance the wildlife would start moving soon…   I hope you don’t mind a few more pics of our views for the day.

And then, IT happened.  IT?  IT. Holy shit.  It, or more appropriately, her.

We were about 20 miles from Paxson, our planned destination for the evening, and we were cruising along at about 40 or 45 mph, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement, and then I saw much, much more.  Out of NOWHERE, a HUGE MOOSE came rambling out of the brush and galloped right up next to me all arms and legs and limbs like a 1200 pound great Dane puppy full of all-paw uncoordinated full-body exuberance.

This massive beast was “running,” which was more of a bumbling full body flailing, about two feet from my shoulder.  I think my mind went blank, and somehow I had the focus to stay my line and roll steadily on my accelerator pulling in front of the monster before it slammed into me.  Its shoulders were level with my head, which rides just under 6’ putting its head at close to 7’.  It’s hard to describe the scale of this animal, particularly from that close up. On a motorcycle.  On a dirt road.  In Alaska.

I don’t know how I was able to stay the line and just calmly roll forward.  Something internal in the subconscious kicks in during episodes like this, and carries you through it – a pure instinctual survival mechanism.  It had nothing to do with me. It was pure, dumb, luck or some evolutionary calming that protects us from the reality of the moment. The fear didn’t kick in until the moose had safely escaped into the brush and vanished like a stone through water.  And then the reality hit.

After I pulled ahead, and the unimaginably large mammal was gone, I slowed down a bit.  Then I realized how shaken up I was.  The experience had rocked my core, deeply.  Luckily, Brad pulled up to me with some kind, comforting words yelling over the sound of our engines and music.  “Dude!  Did you just shit yourself?! You should have!”  He always knows just what to say.  We had a good laugh and started to move forward when I realized that my whole body was shaking.  I needed to pull over.  Now.  Struggling, I got the bike over to a pull off, and we had more nervous laughs as I settled down a bit.

After a while, I finally mellowed out enough to get back on the road.  We passed a lodge called Tangle River Inn when we had about 20 miles to go, and realizing that I could only urge La Gigante to about 20-25 miles an hour, we’d need almost a full hour to get to Paxson, so we decided to stop since it was already 9:30, and the wildlife was clearly on the move.  It’s not smart to ride motorcycles at that time anywhere, and particularly dim-witted in remote Alaska.  It was a great relief when we made the decision, and after arriving in the lodge, I can’t believe we even had to think about it.  I literally could not get my bike to move over 20-25mph – it was as if she was saying, “no Wags, not now.  You need to pull over.  Plenty of time, and plenty of riding tomorrow.  Drink some wine.  I’ll be here in the morning.  Tomorrow I’ll drive.”  After we stopped, I couldn’t believe we’d even considered going on.  She was right – I was done.

Luckily, the lodge had rustic rooms available.  Naidine, the owner, was great, and she had additional information on my near moosing.  She said that moose don’t run like that unless they’re being attacked – either by a hunter or a bear.  Probably not a hunter that close to the road, and there had been a grizzly sighting recently right where my attack was.  Sweet.  This was confirmed the next day by the lady selling Indian tacos and reindeer hotdogs – “oh yea, a moose won’t run like that unless a bear, most likely a grizzly is attacking it.”  Now the experience took on a whole new meaning.  Had I gone down, who knows…

We pulled into the lodge like a couple of wild-eyed post-urban maurauders, dusty, muddy, and frazzled, one of us shaken, not stirred, in search of gruel, grog, and women after patrolling the nether regions.  Well, we got fried chicken, French fries and merlot, and it was the best dinner I can remember having in a long time.   I sucked it in like my last breath.

Often times in a situation like this, you think you were a lot closer than you actually were, and the event is magnified in your mind’s eye.  Luckily, Brad was there to confirm the whole thing – the thundering brute was all of 2-3 feet from my shoulder.  I could have leaned over and mouth kissed that big cow.  You’re a naughty, naughty mosse.  You little hussy.

Now, I’ve had close calls before – a gunpoint mugging in college, a flash snow storm at altitude on a hike in Colorado, a belching volcano in Guatemala, but this one, it really shook me.  That much kinetic energy at that speed that close that fast was quite the blast to my system.

And all this after the lady in Joy, Alaska, telling us about the moose ATTACK on a motorcyclist.  The damn thing stomped him nearly to death (he was medivaced out and they had to cut his helmet off, which saved his life), and the moose even stomped his bike to death.  This was probably a very unique situation involving surprising a moose and her calf, but still, this was all cumulatively making for a very shaky Wags…  Alaska is an awesome place.

I finished the day in a heightened state of awareness.  I wasn’t necessarily different, but changed immensely after having a strobe illuminate everything I couldn’t see forcing me to know that I’m alive, fully.  The fine line between tragedy and immense experience is so easily broken, so hard-earned.  Savored, the red wine had a new taste, stronger and more subdued at the same time.  Gallons could not dull the edge.  It had been sharpened and sliced through my consciousness opening up sweet wounds to heal and leave glowing scars.  A fresh map of life’s experience and mystery.

Sleep came slowly through tired eyes.  I was spent, but sleep was fitful for the night…

Our updated map.  Tomorrow, the Yukon.  Again.