Landing in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska was a surreal experience. Here I was with Mark, feet on the ground in one of the most remote habitations in North America. I'd been anticipating this moment for more than a year now, imagining what Arctic Alaska would look like, smell like, feel like. We had arrived. It was cold and muddy and wet, and flatter than Nebraska.
Less than a week later, we had pedaled our way to a new world: one where mountains lorded over the horizon in every direction. Battling mosquitoes, stifling heat, and seemingly endless, maddeningly vertical climbs, we made it to Fairbanks, the home of our hosts and new friends Scott and Rita.
After treating us like family in Fairbanks, Scott took us to their cabin at Fielding Lake in the Alaska Range. We fished, shot guns, and chatted into the night in their perfectly rustic lakeside A-Frame.
From there, we were off to the Yukon.
We are lucky.