North America: Riding a 21 year old Goldwing: 26 - Girdwood

"It's the people, it's all about the people."

While sitting on the Board of Advisors for the Babcock Demon Incubator, I was able to attend an extra-special board meeting during which a serial entrepreneur came as a keynote.

Though his intent was to inspire business people to surround themselves with the right company, his message came to mind after meeting William.

(I met a William in Montana who I may have convinced to buy an old Goldwing. He's a young guy too.)

Anyhow, this William is from B.C. and is a master carpenter. He's been on the road for a couple of years. While in resort towns, General Contractors hire him because he's skilled, he's sober, he's punctual, and he's a perfectionist. Needless to say, his hourly rate is never questioned. His BMW isn't new, nor is is old. It's a late model with high miles. He runs a car tire in the rear so he can put 30k on it without replacement. The luggage system is fashioned from the luggage system from an ATV. His leg guards he made from a snow shovel cut in two. We had a great conversation.

Then off I went, to a Girdwood AK restaurant for breakfast/dinner (it was nearly 6:00.) While eating my bacon and eggs, the girl next to me had overheard my conversations with the bartender and with other patrons. She said "this Tuesday is the biggest night in town in weeks, you can't leave now. Stay and party with us.!" They guys to my right echoed her enthusiasm and so I decided to stay. The Laundry Mat down the road had great showers and fast internet so I went and hung out until 10:00. Clean and laundered, I went to the Chair 5 Bar and Grill for what turned out to be an epic night. Everyone was super friendly, and by closing time, I had a growing list of couches to crash on.

Some of the people I'd been hanging out with strongly recommended that I turn them all down and head into the mountains to their cabin.

We rumbled and rattled up (and I do mean up) a mountain road, singing Hank III loudly the entire way. Finally, we parked.

We walked down through the darkness to a "creek." Given the level of the roaring sound, I expected a raging river in the morning.

There was only one rule: "Don't fall off of the porch."

After hours of conversation and awe at the natural beauty, I finally went to sleep, eagerly anticipating what I knew would be a glorious morning.

I couldn't have been prepared for what I saw when my eyelids parted!

The next picture is of the house next door. The owner built the cabin where I'd stayed.

The power comes from the sun, the lights from LED's, the water from a pump down the path, the toilets from an outhouse out back. It's a work in process. ("Process" was chosen carefully, as I believe "progress" stopped long ago.)

The owner had built an amazing shower house. I didn't go in it, but it sounded really neat. The shower used collected rainwater heated by propane. He'd even built a sauna and Jacuzzi. It was shared between his house and the cabin I stayed in, which he rented. I heard that the water pressure and temperature were the best.

The view from the porch. The outhouse is only feet from the porch. Only a few horizontal feet and a couple of dozen vertical feet.

No one will ever change that view, the property butts up against the National Forest.

I woke up that morning and hooked my index fingers through my bootstraps and heard that familiar sound as my heels clicked into place. It felt so good to know that I'd be riding another day. The breakdown in Chicken was great, but emotionally difficult as I realized that an electrical problem could have proven the end of the adventure. I had a $500 repair limit. Ronnie had gotten me rolling again for half that.