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Published: September 5th 2008
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European Bright
My gloves on the seat made for some nice color. My planned afternoon of repacking and organizing documents turned into a four hour motorcycle ride out to a place called Murphy Dome. The ride out to Murphy Dome doesn’t take four hours unless a person (or in our case, persons) drives from North Pole and back with frequent stops and off-roading. I imagined spending my time cleaning my little cabin, studying, and living in a quiet and simple manner for the last few weeks until I leave for Peru. However, thanks to adventurous friends, this was not the case, at least for the first two days.
It all began when I was sitting on Jason’s only piece of furniture left in the living room, an ornamental carpet of red and black. He was trying to sell his house and had sold or given away most of the furniture, leaving me with only one option for comfort. Being a guest was awkward, but I made do. “Would you like to go out on the bike?” Jason asked, walking out of the kitchen with a glass of juice in hand. I snuggled one last time with his cat, Mishka, before she struggled out of my arms. “Sure! Just let me make sure
The Logo
I should get paid for the product placement. my afternoon is free. Where do you want to go? How long will we be gone?”
As Jason explained the technicalities of the trip, my excitement grew. I had never ridden on a motorcycle before, at least not for a trip longer than around the block. Motorcycles lived in that realm of fat men with beards and tattoos, not people I normally associate with on a daily bases. However, Jason was a pilot in the military and money was not an option. I often envied my friends in the military. Yeah, their schedules suck and there is that little problem with Iraq, but all of them have the latest in outdoor gear. For someone who scrimps and saves and shops for outdoor gear at garage sales, I felt I was entitled to envy.
Jason’s bike was a BMW with red painting on the sides and a yellow seat. Apparently the color scheme was considered to be “European” due to its brightness. Jason, ever the player, had even bought a white female jacket made of leather to take out his ladies. I was never a “lady” of his, but somehow wound up being like a sister, which in my
Lots of Love
And the horse just kept on eating. opinion was way better.
We had planned to leave at noon, but after packing lunch, putting break fluid in the handles (yeah, interestingly enough that’s where it goes), and charging phones, we did not leave until one. Jason’s bike phase is somewhat new. He was into salt water fish tanks, then buying a plane, then making a plane, then finally got on the bike kick after seeing how much fun one of his friends was having. When a guy doesn’t have a wife, I guess the only other amusement is a life of toys.
We packed a lunch of steak, fried potatoes, and corn on the cob. My purse and extra shoes where placed in side containers of the motorcycle. We donned our leather jackets and gloves, and berthed our heads into the helmets. My main dilemma was not falling off of the bike. I experimented with how to hold on. Wrapping my arms around Jason’s chest made my arms too tired, and I found that motorcycles are not that jerky, so falling off wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I finally discovered that sitting up straight and holding onto the edges of his jacket
Me in the Fall
Can't get over the yellow! not only eased the arm pain, it kept our helmets from clacking together. I no longer had to cling like a possum.
Seriously, if biking was a long-term option for my life, I would buy my own bike. I wanted my OWN bike. Being a passenger was not as much fun as being the driver, specially when Jason’s bobble head obstructed pretty much every panoramic view I could have had. I craned my neck from side to side, catching glimpses of fall colors as we whizzed by. By the time we returned I home five hours later I had cricks reminiscent of my college days when I spent hours stooped over books.
We left North Pole and cut across Nordale Road to Chena Hot Springs Road, then onto the Elliot Highway towards Fox (which has a great brew house for beer enthusiasts). We stopped outside the trail head and ate lunch, tossing corn cobs and steak bones into the brush. Most of the trials are off-limits to mechanized transportation (four wheelers and snow machines mainly) but we broke a few rules by zooming up a path for a better view of the valleys.
We continued to explore
Searching for Moose
We met some people at the top of a rise looking for moose out over the valley. The had a cute chocolate lab pup with them. other back roads, the bike bouncing and tilting in combat with the ground. Our most memorable event was running into a woman named Joi and her three Swedish Fjords. The horses were short and stocky, with brushy tan manes. Joi was out camping for a month in a trailer on the lookout for moose. Apparently the season is only open for the month of September. Horses are sometimes used as pack animals to access off-road areas for hunting. Not only are they quieter than four-wheelers, some say that their presence may draw in a curious moose. Or, as Joi said, a male moose might be desperate enough to hump a mare.
I ran my hands along their smooth sides, watching them loop their lips around grass and clover, severing the bouquet with a chomp. Swedish Fjords are considered to be one of the hardier breeds. They tend to eat fifteen bales of hay while a normal horse eats twenty-five. Their hooves are also harder than average, I assume for treks across the hard rocks of Sweden. Joi thought Jason and I were married, and tried to get us to invest in horses ourselves. Jason was interested in getting a
Flued Check
Lots of tool action. horse some day (although I think it was another one of those phases like the bike and plane) and I supported the idea. Hey, if I get free bike rides why not free horse rides too!
Jason had to be back for work at seven (that ridiculous military schedule) so our stops in the valleys were quick. We parked along the edge of a long road strip, propping the bike with its stand, and headed off into the soft marsh. The bogs were turning red, with spattering of white fungus. Stumpy needle trees tried—in vain—to grow in the shallow ground. Their limbs twisted and short, many growing sideways, then up, as if they had lost the direction of the sun. I dubbed them “Dr. Suess Trees” for their other worldly appearance.
After appreciating the fall colors, we swung aboard and zipped from the present to the future and back to town life.
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