Release the hounds.

We knew even before starting out that it would likely go somewhere along the way. It was just a question of where. Along the Cassiar was not our top pick. But as we continued south Martha's rear wheel kept getting closer to collapsing.

Since wheel failure was not so much an if as a when we decided to push for Smithers. A 95 mile day followed by a 5:00 AM wakeup and 72 more miles put us into town before the bike shop closed. Within 15 minutes of arrival we were invited to set up at a stand in the back. I switched over Martha's wheel and my rear tire, the last remaining reject from the Armadillo farm. Suggesting/allowing us to do the labor ourselves was a sweet favor. Thanks again to Eric and the guys at McBike.

We left with reservations for the guest house, directions to the Mexican Cantina and suggestions to stop in at the Farmer's Market in the morning. Since then we have been enjoying our first real rest day since Anchorage. Smithers is a sleepy little town with a healthy outdoor vibe that Martha and I have enjoyed soaking up for a couple days. We will miss it as we pedal away in the morning.

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Making headway.

You know the sun is shining when everyone you can see has an ice cream cone in hand. Good weather helps the hills become more manageable and miles melt away like so much soft serve. We broke 1000 on Sunday and pushed 67 yesterday. With mileage piling up and ice cream demands met, all that remains is to quench this pie drought we have found ourselves in.

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Back in AK, briefly

The theme of the last week has been headwinds and hills. Five days in a row of sustained headwinds with gusts 20 mph or more. The 10 mile descent into Haines Junction has steep hill warning signs for trucks and we worked hard to stay at 10 mph against the washing machine winds. By the time we hit Haines we were ground down a fair bit.

Haines, however, held friends with fresh fish to grill and an amazing view. A little relaxation at Chez Denker has healed us up and filled our bellies while the scenery has helped us remember why we are pedaling along this road. We head on the ferry this evening and back on the bikes tomorrow for the long grind up and out of Skagway.

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Who does that?

Human nature allows many variations of normal. There are, however, times when you have to ask yourself: Who does that?

-Turd on the seat at Canyon Creek toilets.
-Guy in F-150 crashing through brush with apologetic/bewildered looking wife when identifiable road is 15 ft to the right.
-Double date camping at the other end of the lake from your house when two cycle-tourists are already camped there.
-Dude from double date who hosts 1:00 AM pity party 10 ft from our tent in running car by himself playing complaint rock to soothe his broken heart (think Dwight from the Office playing Everybody Hurts in the parking lot).

Who does that?

Bikes of a feather

Sitting at lunch, overlooking the valley below we heard a hello and the sound of bikes pulling up. We turned to meet the first cycle-tourists of our ride.

Marion and Andi were just finishing up a Panamerican ride from Ushuaia, Argentina to Prudhoe Bay, AK. They had met up with a Quebecois who had not been to Anchorage so they were diverting about five hundred miles to take the long route up to Prudhoe. I guess at the end of 13,000 miles or so - why not?.

The evening prior, Joan and David, a retired couple not even riding bikes came right over to introduce themselves when they saw us pull in. They had ridden from Ushuaia to Prudhoe ten years ago. After talking with Joan that evening we found out they had ridden pretty much everywhere else too.

We have only seen one other couple who did not stop to show us their recumbant trikes. Perhaps they do not associate with wedgies.

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Pedaling Begins

The 'aska Tour is underway. The shores of Seward sent us off. Good friends put us up. Good friends put up with us. And good friends gave us an extended farewell that still seems to be saying so long.

After a few minutes in the saddle we were excited. Now, after a few days, we are elated. The roads ahead will not have, perhaps, the social agenda or conveniences of the stomping grounds we have pedaled through. They will have, we expect, a fresh familiarity and the rhythms and cycles that we are beginning to remember.

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