The two days that I was potentially least excited about have been the most interesting. To tiny Teslin, and to smaller Beaver Creek. But we have been riding through the Yukon. And it is simply bigger than life.

Saturday two-past, our trip to Teslin was an incredible ride and left us thirsty and ready for the Warriors game and whatever grub we could rustle up. No time to write as there were too many cold beverages to quaff, too much basketball to watch and too much cribbage to lose. No bandwidth to post videos, not mine, but the hotel’s. And watching the tiny progress bar crawl to nowhere was much too hard given the vastness of what we had experienced. But there were some pictures, as you may have seen.

And yesterday was stunning and different and there is NO network, cell coverage or access even to email, so we’ll post this from Fairbanks whenever.

Whoa! WHAT a DAY. The recent Warriors game was yet another reminder of how tired we all are of interviewees saying “there are no words right now, it hasn’t soaked in yet, maybe in a couple of days with a little perspective….” Except for Stephen Curry. Is there no end to his greatness? Anyway, as for me, in my huge ol’ noggin’ (see pictures) I am thinking: “hey, buck up, buddy and tell them something about your recent experiences. So that is what I am going to try to do.

We broke from Teslin wanting to take extra photos of the huge lake and spectacular vistas that we saw entering town the night before. Charlie went straight to the overlook. Doug and I took the Great Circle route, perhaps because we wanted to further honor the far north, and perhaps because we failed to see Charlie waving madly from the Rest Area. He was never scared…, he knew we would come back. In the fabled words of Todd Snider at the Devil’s Backbone Tavern, “so we did!”

Yesterday was a late start – something that is newly possible as it never really gets dark. No one likes to ride at night, particularly here, when larger animals are about and gravel can be on the road. But we realized, “hey it never gets truly dark, so 9 elapsed hours is nothing, even if we arrive at 845pm. So we did!

It was calm and clear and beautiful to the relatively large town of Whitehorse. By that time, we were looking for pie, and all we found was gas. The skies were bright blue and all was well until we hit the longest light in the world. I know you all feel like YOU have hit that light somewhere. But I swear to you, it was 5 minutes long and every other direction, including our left hand turn lanes and each of the other 3 entry points each went TWICE. Annnyway…

The majestic skyline grew and gas grew a little concerning – did we have the gas for Haines Junction…, uh, no. So Otter Falls was a great and expected gas find, but little did we expect great pie. Pie and 5-hour Energy for lunch…, yum!

So it began. From Otter Falls to Destruction Bay was some of the most stunning, majestic, incredible, huge, sights this poor-excuse-for-a-scribe has ever seen. Crazy lightening, pouring rain, bright rays of sun, perpetual glaciers, dazzling vistas,  storm-tossed seas, all in a 2 hour, high-speed dance of a ride.As Teri Tibbets, friend of Bob Berg and the MSME (Midnight Sun Motorcyle whatever) says,  “even pictures don’t do it justice. You have to be in it.” Truer words…. And then there was the bear – a nice-sized grizzly just hanging out and munching clover.

More gas, then about 20 miles (30 clicks, I’ll be glad to be done with kilometers, but not with 80-cent dollars) of pilot-car, dusty, truck-filled, dusty, slippery, dusty gravel. Pleah. AND there was one helluva ski-jump that we all hit. All day long there were signs about frost heaves that were little more than little bumps and rollers. We came around a corner, and six feet across with an 8 inch lip/launch. Charlie’s Harley actually left the ground completely at about 70 mph. I was able to move right 2 feet and catch a smaller lip and big bump. Doug hit it square, and I have no idea if he lifted off. We all were fine, but more than a little adrenalized by Charlie’s leap. We had no sore asses before the jump — and three after.

We hit Beaver Creek thirsty and, well, thirsty. We each had awesome little cabins and sleep came fast and completely. FINALLY, great blackout curtains! Another late Saturday would start…, whenever. I did wake up for no apparent reason at 135am for a couple of minutes. Looked outside. It looked like 8pm at home – bright with plenty of time to play 3 more holes or keep on building the chicken coop.

As to the Bathtub Rinks – I can only surmise that these wonderful, friendly and more-than-occasioanlly soary Canadian peoples are trying to rid themselves of tourists. Because every bathtub shower is ice-slick and simply ready to host a hockey game or a brain-crushing event at the drop of a soap. And while, yes, there is occasionally a non-slip mat available, to turn around in the tiny rink is to pirouette like a Canadian ice dancer.

Finally, the adjective dance. Words like vast, beautiful, spectacular, bright, incredible…, just do not do this country justice. Teri was right – you need to be in it. Something I cannot recommend highly enough.