OMD Travelogue | Day 60

[x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/2″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_counter num_start=”0″ num_end=”360″ num_speed=”1500″ num_prefix=”” num_suffix=”” num_color=”#2ecc71″ text_above=”Rode for” text_below=”Minutes” text_color=””][x_gap size=”45px” class=”x-hide-xl x-hide-lg x-hide-md “][/x_column][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/2″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_counter num_start=”0″ num_end=”402″ num_speed=”1500″ num_prefix=”” num_suffix=”” num_color=”#3498db” text_above=”Covered” text_below=”Kilometers” text_color=””][/x_column][/x_row][/x_section][x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/1″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_text]A couple years ago I spent my days studying circus arts – trapeze, silks, tightwire, aerial net, anything the school offered. At one point I attended a contortion class. Confident that I was pretty flexible, I wondered if I’d learn much in the class.

Warmed up we got into our first back bends of the day. The instructor came over to me, “oh dear, we have a lot of work to do, look how tight you are.” Upside down, I turned my head to peek at my classmates. My back had a graceful arch, but the other girls were practically folded in half. And while my ability to do splits was applauded in a yoga class, in contortion school the fact that I couldn’t set my head on my foot while in over-splits was an absolute concern. It ended up being one of my favorite experiences – humbling and full of good lessons.

I’m reminded of this almost daily as we travel. For every person that’s amazed with how far we’ve come, someone else will say, “humph, Oregon to Alaska, that’s not that far.” For every three people that say, “wow, he looks so happy, he’s living the dog’s life,” someone voices skepticism, worries that it’s too cold, windy or noisy. And for every person that can’t believe how few belongings we have, someone else will comment about the bags, mention how luxurious it must be to have the space in the sidecar. Whichever end of the spectrum I’m hearing, I remind myself there’s no right or wrong. No use getting a big head over the compliments or hurt feelings over the jabs. Don’t take it personal, do what works best for you, it’s all just a matter of perspective anyways.

Having survived the night, we crawl out of the tent, take a walk along the lakeshore. I’ve yet to master the art of rock skipping, but the calm waters and abundance of stones inspire me to log some time practicing. Though the glassy water and abandoned shore are beautiful, the signs of human life – random chairs, campfire remains, a broken canoe – give the spot an eery vibe. Unable to shake the heeebie jeebies, I pack up camp quickly, head back to the highway.

Stopping in Teslin, I remember the people I met 45 days ago in this same spot. The mother and son on a southbound motorcycle journey before school starts back up. The retired couple on their first big RV trip. The family excitedly camping their way north. The Canadian man on a cross country trip from Toronto to Alaska. So many criss-crossing adventures, kindred spirits passing briefly on the road.

30 miles on, I think I can pinpoint the exact spot from THE DAY. I feel certain it should be marked. A lovely roadside placard that would read, “Here marks the spot of the Great Drain Plug Miracle of 2015. Defying all odds Mike and John happened to arrive at the exact right moment, with the exact right part, in the middle of nowhere Yukon. A roadside miracle that forever changed the scope and trajectory of Operation Moto Dog.”

This moment fresh in my mind, auditory amnesia worries set in. Does the engine still sound right? How exactly did it sound when it was sick? Has there been any change? It always seems that certain noises will be burned irrevocably into my brain, but like the sound of a long-gone loved one’s laughter the memory fades. The exact pitch of a sick Rufio grows fainter in my head each day. I try not to dwell on this, to get stuck in the past. Instead focus on the present moment, give him focused attention, take note of the current sounds, go from there.

Cruising through Watson Lake, stopping at the sign marking entry into British Colombia, my excitement grows. Hundreds of miles of unknown road lies ahead. Having driven up the Cassiar Highway, riding south along the Alaska Highway will be an entirely new adventure. And while there’s always a temptation to return to the beloved known, I can’t help but agree with this sentiment from Charles Dudley,

There is no moment of delight in any pilgrimage like the beginning of it.

New chapter of the adventure begun, we roll on into the night. Delight in the unknown.

60 days down. Many to come.[/x_text][x_image type=”none” src=”http://mallorypaige.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Screen-Shot-2015-08-15-at-3.15.03-PM.png” alt=”” link=”false” href=”#” title=”” target=”” info=”none” info_place=”top” info_trigger=”hover” info_content=””][/x_column][/x_row][/x_section]