First Impressions of Myanmar: Burmese Cultural Insight 101

Thailand on the left, and Myanmar on the other side of the river.  100 meters apart and a world of a difference

You learn so much about a country by crossing it's border, in my case, simply rolling across that dividing line from one country to the next. I like to go into a country without researching too much. I do however, plan my route some, but I don't want to form too a lot of pre-conceived notions about a culture and their customs before I start to witness and observe. It is my way of investigating:observe, find out, form opinions, and continue to refine them.....The famous inquiry cycle I use with my students when teaching mirrors the real world.  Once, I'm in the thick of it, deep in the country, I'm doing my research daily with every kilometer, which is exactly what happened when I pedaled across to Myanmar 3 days ago.

Immigration and police, ever so friendly at the border.  They are everywhere in this country!

It's as easy as the sign says!

Departing Thailand was painless, I pedaled 100 meters and was in Myanmar. I went to the foreigner building expecting a long line, but to my surprise, there were only two other older gentlemen in the office, and they were doing a Thai visa run. Two men handled my entrance, one in uniform in one in civilian clothes. Both spoke perfect English, enough to interrogate me in a friendly way. Are you alone? No group? Where have you been? Where do you go? What is your job? Looking over my passport and it's many stamps, they found my Myanmar Visa, stamped it, I smiled for the camera, and I was all set. However, I wasn't allowed on the road today. There is one main road between the bustling border town of Myawaddy and Hpa-An, the next big city 150 kilometers to the west and it is so small and narrow and climbs over a major mountain pass, it operates in one direction only on opposite days. The day I crosse the border an odd day, traffic was headed towards Thailand. Tomorrow, the road was open for traveling west. I thought about ignoring this and cycling on, but decided an afternoon to get some logistics sorted out in a new country seemed more sensible.

Since there was no one waiting around and these two men were plenty friendly, I decided it was my turn to ask the questions. Have you seen other cyclists? Where can I change money? What SIM card do I want to buy? Where is a guesthouse in town for foreigners? They answered all these questions quickly and to my surprise there was another cyclist in town, 3 others for that matter: one English and two Aussies. Their English was so good, I asked them if they would help me with basic Burmese for my little cheat sheet, and so they did and I even got so lucky to get a photocopy of basic Burmese as well. Just when I was starting to get the tones and pronunciation of Thai under my belt, Burmese is considerably different, even the alphabet, or so it appears.

After a good half hour in their air conditioned room I set off to find a hotel. They had recommended a cheaper one to me, although I didn't know if it really was a cheap hotel or they were trying to send me to their friend's hotel and give him business. And so my basic Myanmar cultural lessons began.

Priceless faces on these kids.  They are still shy with tourists and say "Min Ga La Bar" rather than "Hello"!

The People

You'd think that living in a border town the people were used to seeing foreigners, but they aren't. Foreigners, westerns and people with white skin, seem to be a novelty. Although they seem rather shy and humble, they go out of their way to say hello, smile, and say a word or two in English, usually “Hello!”, “Hey you!”, “Where you go?” They certainly are honest and haven't sold their sole to tourism, at least not yet. I bought coconut meat and I thought the man said it's price was the equivalent to $7, a steep price to pay, but I handed him the money. He shook his head, appalled, and realized he had confused the number 7 hundred for 7 thousand and gave me back the wad of cash. Had this happen in a country where locals are eager to make a quick buck off tourists, I think they would have taken the money and run!

I was the guest of honor at the Full Moon festival I stumbled upon and this women was so excited to feed me!

The immigration officer who advised me on the hotel really did send me to the cheapest hotel in town for foreigners. Later that afternoon, walking around, I found two others and inquired about their prices. Both were three times as expensive.

Women here carry things on their head, similar to women in Africa I've seen

Exploring the market, which I'd also say was much more primitive than any Thai market and consisted of a single alleyway rather than a network of streets or even a covered shelter area. There was a lot of loud music at the end of the way and when I approached it seemed like there was some sort of party. Indeed it was, the full moon festival, a young teenager informed me and they were happy to have foreigners participate which meant they treated me to several mugs of sugar cane juice and this sticky rice dish mixed with all sorts of energy laden goodies mixed in including coconut, peanuts, sesame seeds, and garlic. I wish I could have stashed some away for the following day's ride. During my first day cycling, I was given an energy drink and a liter of water handed out the window by two different cars. Watermelon stands line the road in this area and I can't help but stop every 30 to 40 kilometers, it's about 35C (100F) during the day. Every time I try to pay, they refuse money!

Can't get enough of my watermelon with the heat

Tourism

Myanmar has yet to be exploited by tourism which is what gives it it's charm. The doors have been open so recently that they are still so excited to see foreigners. However, the government is still uneasy from having so many outsiders in their country they have tight control on the tourism industry here, making for more of an adventure. I read the blogs of several cyclists, both of those unemployed on a global trek, and those with a bit heftier budgets , and their stories differ quite a bit. Those who try to free camp and do it on a budget have great stories to tell about escaping the police and border controls. Thailand had their fair share of border controls, but they were rather pointless and more to be seen than actually enforce. I passed maybe a two dozen in a months time, and was stopped at one, and never did they ask me for my passport, they simply wanted to chat and practice their English. In Myanmar, during my first day of pedaling, I passed 5 border controls in the first 20 km and was stopped at one, who took my passport details and wanted to know my planned itinerary both of that day and the month, basically. Towards the middle of the afternoon, I came across another border control and they also stopped me basically telling me I should “stay here, at nice guesthouse, tomorrow go to Hpa-An.”

So what's the deal with accommodation for tourists in Myanmar? There are hotels and guesthouses, and plenty of resorts, especially in the tourist “hot spots” and beach resorts. But in places that are more off the beaten track, they are fewer and harder to come by. The problem is, the government has determined which guesthouses can accept foreigners. Therefore, you might find a guesthouse in a small town, but they aren't allowed to let you stay. The ones sanctioned by the government are pricey and the hefty prices don't reflect any sort of added value, unfortunately, or else I would splurge! In comparison to the rest of southeast Asia, it is not uncommon to pay 25-50 USD a night for a basic room with a cold water shower, which would cost about 4 to 10 USD in Thailand or Vietnam. So why not camp, knock on a door, or stay at a temple? Basically it is illegal. The citizens of Myanmar are not allowed to invite visitors into their home, nor are temples, and those who do risk heavy consequences. Police and immigration officers wear civilian clothing, making it hard to determine who they are and where they are.

A very basic hotel for foreigners, for the same amount of money in Thailand ($8) you have a really nice room!

Infrastructure

Or perhaps I should say lack of. Just walking down the main street in Myawaddy, life carried on in much the same was as in Thailand. However, you step on the main drag and you are in for a surprise. Many of the streets in towns aren't paved, houses are in shambles, put together in a makeshift manner with any sort of material that could be found. In rural areas, houses are made out of bamboo, tarp, or dried banana leaves. Some are delicately built on bamboo stilts and look like a good wind storm would blow them over.

A more modern house next to an older run down wooden house

A typical house, one of many made from dried banana leaves.  I don't know how they survive the rainy season.

A primitive bridge connecting a river village to the main road

PArt of the one lane road I used to cross the border

Primitive (but charming) if the adjective that comes to mind. My initial conclusion that there can't be too much modern infrastructure here can to my mind quickly as all the products in the stores had Thai Baht price tags on them and were written in Thai. They border may have opened for foreigners recently but for commerce it seems to have been open for years with a steady flow of Thai products being imported. For instance the cars seem to come from Thailand or Malaysia, cheaper to manufacture there I'm sure. The problem is that in both those countries, cars drive on the left. In Myanmar they drive on the right, but they drive a car made for driving on the left, only slightly hazardous in my opinion!

Local Customs: Men in Skirts, Yellow Face Paint, & Bleeding Mouths

I know their proper name is a sarong, but I can't stop thinking of them as “man skirts”. A long tubular piece of fabric that the men wrap around their waist and tuck. Voila, a comfy skirt! Seeing a few men come out of a public restroom, I gathered they wear shorts underneath, or at least some. You don't see nearly as many women in the skirts, but 95% of all the men wear them.

The typical man skirt on these men at the Half Moon Festival making the delicious sweet rice

If the skirts don't make you chuckle then the yellow face paint will! Again, it isn't face paint, it is the whitening cream that is ever so popular in southeast Asia. This one has a yellow tint to it and is painted more deliberately in circles on the cheeks and nose, but some seem to bathe in it! Sunscreen is hard to come by because they go straight for the hard core stuff that is suppose to turn your skin white. Why is it that the darker complexion people always want to be lighter skinned and the fair-skinned people darker?

Typical Burmese yellow whitening cream applied to the cheeks and forehead, sometimes a dot on the nose....

I was caught off guard when I stepped out of the immigration office and talked with the first local. What the hell happened to your mouth? Are you bleeding? Do you need help? Did someone punch you in the mouth? But behind the mouthful of red saliva there is a huge smile, and then a disgusting and robust spat, and a red liquid stains the sidewalk. Beetle nut. I had been warned about this habit in Thailand, but never witnessed it during my travels. In Myanmar I have seen only a handful of men's mouths that aren't stained red. I've seen countless “bleeding” mouths now and I'm still startled every time I see it seeping out. Dentist would have a heyday here, so would Oncologists. At the end of the day it is basically nicotine they are getting form the Beetle nut. At first I thought I saw a stall with something sweet wrapped in a banana leaf, so I went closer to investigate as my mouth started to salivate. But when I saw the women brush on a white paste and fill it with bits of this beautiful nut cut up and folded like a small package, I gathered this wasn't a sweet edible treat. I watch a guy place one of the packages in his mouth carefully between his lower lip and teeth, and gathered it was the Burmese version of chewing tobacco, only it was addictive and stained their teeth blood red. The stalls to make the Beetle nut packages are everywhere, equivalent in presence to coffee stands in Thailand.

She's making the Beetle nut pouches

A beautiful nut before it does damage to your teeth

Money

I had recently withdrawn more Thai Baht than I knew I would need in Thailand, but I thought I could exchange the left over currency to Myanmar Kyat. Up until a year ago, there were only a handful of ATM's in the entire country. I went to the bank that advertised money exchange in Myawaddy only to find out, they didn't exchange Baht, only Dollars and Euros. I did have some of each, but only one 20 euro bill passed the “mint condition” test. While I was waiting in the bank, the employees were carrying handfuls of cash from one corner to another wall. Of course there were armed security guards with small pistols in holsters, but I still felt as though I was witnessing some sort of bank robbery. I had never seen so many paper bills in my life, it was shocking! Since my attempt to exchange money failed at a proper bank, I went to a “black market” stall, I had done my research. A man and his daughter had a small wooden table and a cloth over top with a calculator as well. I asked them the exchange rate and it was just slightly lower than what my currency exchange app told me I should get, so I proceeded. If I felt like I has witnessing a robbery in the bank seeing the stacks of cash, I felt like I was a bank robber when he laid before me two big stacks of bills. With no coins in the Myanmar currency, kyat, (pronounced chat) 1,000 Kyat is equal to about 1 USD, an easy conversion for all and many places will take dollars. This makes for an incredible amount of bills. They even have a bill that is equivalent to 1 cent! In reality I had only exchanged about 250 dollars but I felt like the richest person in the whole world with those hunks of bills in front of me. Uneasy and nervous, I quickly went back to my hotel and stashed the extra money.

The little black market stall where I converted Thai Baht as the banks only want dollars and euros.  Look closely and you will see his red teeth....

Boy do I feel rich, although those hunks of cash are equivalent to 200USD

The Land of Pagodas

Regardless of the direction you look, there is always a Pagoda whether it be up on a hilltop, balancing precariously on a rock on a mountainside, or in the small villages. Pagodas are everywhere, as temples were in Thailand, but even more present. Monks have also changed color, they are dressed in red gowns and never have I seen so many young monks. Buddhism also seems to be much more relaxed here in Myanmar. I've seen countless monks smoking cigarettes, driving motor scooters, chewing Beetle nut, and even drinking. Next thing you know I'll see one with a wedding ring. With so many pagodas, it's no wonder every-other-person I see is a monk, not really, but their presence is more noted than in Thailand, Cambodia, or Laos. As a result there are also quite a few monasteries, which seem to be the place to stay for tour cyclists to avoid the higher guesthouse prices. I'm sure I will experience a monastery, or two, on this trip!

Bago's impressive pagoda at sunset, the best time to go

The Golden Rock and a couple dozen more pagodas dotted the hillside

There are massive amounts of monks here, especially little boys

Technology

I spent my first hours in Myanmar wandering the streets of Myawaddy. It seemed every other shop was a food or tobacco stall or a mobile phone store. How many mobile phone stores does one town possibly need? I went to inquire about a SIM card, and it seemed as simple as Thailand. Basically for about $8 you get a Myanmar SIM card with about 1GB of data and cheap local phone calls and text messages, about 3cents a minute. I went for one of the SIM cards the immigration officer had mentioned and they helped me set it up. Internet wasn't working, so I left my phone there and came back in a few hours. The young man that spoke good English was no longer behind the counter but the women in basic English said “Internet no work today!” I was thinking, ok no big deal, so I asked, “What about tomorrow?” In her basic English, she replied again, “Internet no work this week!” I tried to hold back from laughing and just thought, Gee, couldn't you have told me that before I bought the SIM card, I just assumed the network connection would be working, after all, that is what you pay for......I took it with a grain of salt, no big deal, wifi does seem to be advertised everywhere, although the connection is incredibly spotty and works intermittently!

While walking through the local market, I saw a few local joints packed with people sitting in chairs. They weren't consuming anything, but rather glued to the TV screen. It dawned on me, obviously TV isn't a commodity not found in many households. Unfortunately they were watching some god awful karaoke session. Fascinating though, how watching TV can be a very social even in a developing country.

A quick makeshift way to widen a road in Myanmar

Roads

I knew going into this country, the roads were not optimal for cyclists. Many are in awful condition and extremely crowded. I experienced this on Day one. New roads are being built, but again, some of the road construction is so primitive and being done completely by had with little machinery. Rather than resurfacing and adding on an entire lane, they seem to work on a smaller scale, adding a meter to each side of the road, enough so that cars can pass one another on a single lane road. I didn't see any painted lines on the roads for the first two days and traffic was heavy. But what you don't hear in a picture is the noise coming from the road. They love to use their horn in southeast Asia, that I knew, but in Myanmar horns sound every second as if it is a ticking of a clock. Every time a car passes you, it honk to let you know it is coming. Do they really think I can't hear their load motor, some of the cars look like they are from the turn of the 20^th century! I had a continuous headache for the first two days from all the noise, it was relentless. To some extent it gives the country character, but I desperately wish the drivers went to the same driving school I attended. I'm thinking of making as sign for the back of my bike that reads: “Nice to see you too, but please don't honk.” Somehow I don't think it will help!

I don't know how I caught a restful moment on this road, it looks rather serene.  The dirt shoulder here will shortly be asphalted and expanded I'm sure!

The border road in "good condition". When I see vehicles like this, I'm glad I have my own two wheels!

Myanmar was an afterthought for this trip. I was originally deterred due to the tight government control which can make for an awfully expensive bike tour. After several encounters with cyclists and tourists headed to Myanmar via land border, I was too curious not to go! What a great decision I ended up making. The read adventure is about to begin!

Bellingham or Bust!

The US/Canadian border north of Bellingham, WA

Bellingham, Bellingham, Bellingham.....Oh, how I wanted to get to Bellingham! It wasn't my final destination, but it could have been, really, because it was there that I was meeting my sister and her family, including a nephew I had never met, little Owen Seilo, now 11 months old! I've seen my parents twice on this trip, and one of my three brothers and his kids, but I had yet to meet my sister, Jenny.  She likes to think of my trip as a pregnancy.  The 14 month gestation period being the length of my trip and my arrival in Oregon equivalent to the arrival of a new family member.  I haven't actually seen my sister's family since February of 2013, almost two years ago, so you can imagine how anxious I was to arrive in Bellingham. With my life on the road, I do well being in the present and living in the moment but I have to admit, I was eager to get to Bellingham as I approached the US and Canadian border. It was a challenge to try not to fast forward with every revolution of my pedal the closer I got to The United States.

Riding down to Horseshoe Bay, the road Sea-to-Sky is appropriately named

BC Ferries, I'm not a big fan.....they could use some schedule improvements and lower fares

I intended to explore the Vancouver, pedal the Sunshine Coast and Vancouver Island but being the optimist that I am after rerouting myself through southern British Columbia, I ended up running out of time and my visit to Vancouver was shorter than I would have liked.  Looking back at it now, I know that I subconsciously put off my visit to Vancouver. After pedaling though remoteness and places where there is only one highway, Vancouver, although a bike friendly city, scared me! So many people, mazes of roads, neighborhood after neighborhood, and countless stores, cafes, restaurants, and other services. Overwhelmed would be an understatement to express my feelings regarding my arrival to British Columbia's metropolis. Therefore, I delayed my arrival, taking a detour to the Sunshine Coast, hoping that the name of this region would be promising, gifting me with some delightful weather. Rather than pedaling from Whistler and Squamish directly into Vancouver, I opted for the Horseshoe Bay ferry across to Gibson, the first town on the Sunshine Coast. Although Gibson is at sea level, contrary to intuition, the road from Whistler is not one big downhill!

More great views from the ferry

By the time I arrived at Suzie and Jim's house in Gibson, on the Sunshine Coast, I was beat! This family was new to Warmshowers, but by no means did they lack experience in hosting.  I got extremely lucky because Suzie, like me, loves to bake and she had just baked up a storm, not even knowing I was coming. In fact she probably regretted making a fresh batch of cinnamon buns, cookies, and rolls because I had a hard time controlling myself around all those delicious sweet treats. Not only was I spoiled with the food, but they also had a jacuzzi.  Minutes after my arrival I was soaking in it.  In my opinion, a jacuzzi is the next best thing to a massage chair, which I've experienced at the house of a couple of my hosts. Pure luxury!! The next morning it was hard to leave the fresh baked goods and nice company, but I went off to explore the area (with a bag of goodies of course)!

Uuuu-la-la!!! Fresh baked goods!

Keen sandal tan lines enjoying a soak in the jacuzzi

Exploring the Sunshine Coast and some of the towns

Dark clouds loomed over Vancouver Island in the distance, but my skies were sunny!

The Sunshine Coast held true to it's name and despite the dark clouds, not a drop of rain fell as I did a circular route and headed back to the ferry into Vancouver. As I cycled into the city, I was intimidated by the dense urban center.  Las Vegas was the last "big city" I cycled and after that, I used the term big city rather generously meaning, any town that had a supermarket where bananas sold for less than two dollars a piece.  Big cities had proper grocery stores rather than a gas station convenience store, and a visitor center if I was lucky.  Vancouver, I concluded, is a cross between Melbourne and Sydney with Portland's climate. With a large international population this cosmopolitan city is a foodie capital and has various ethnic neighborhoods. Vancouver is also bike friendly, although I wouldn't say the same for the surrounding area. It was suicide riding the Sea-to-Sky highway and the roads on the Sunshine Coast are far from ideal for cycling.

Some buildings in downtown Vancouver

Decorated granaries on Granville Island

Vancouver BC's skyline

Ken and Patsy were my hosts in Vancouver; friends-of-friends, and extremely patient hosts with my ever changing itinerary and arrival date. I stayed with them for three nights. On the first day, I made it out for a long run around the University of British Columbia campus before the rain started, which I actually welcomed so as to not feel guilty spending the day inside doing some trip logistics. The following day I got poured on during my morning run, but had gorgeous weather for sight seeing afterwards. I met a friend for lunch, Robbin, who runs a bike touring company.  He set me up with a rental bike to pedal around town. I spent the afternoon pedaling around Granville Island, Stanley Park, downtown, the inlet, and then out to his house for a potluck dinner with other tour cyclists. He had invited a Swiss cyclist who I had heard of, and a couple of other tour cyclists and we all shared our experiences on the road with videos and photos. Just as I was starting to accept the idea of ending my trip, I felt a sudden urge to continue pedaling to more far off places. I left the potluck feeling rather nostalgic and confused, uncertain and sad about the near future. Feelings that would visit me again a few days later.

With the dark rain clouds, Vancouver's architecture glowed.  No, of course I didn't get rained on- Lucky me!

Great art all around Vancouver

The next morning, I left for Bellingham, excited to see my sister. Crossing the US and Canadian border was much easier than I thought, both the route and customs. The key to avoiding long lines at an American border is biking. Cyclists get to use the express lane and have virtually no wait time compared to vehicles and foot passengers. What a perk, eh?!?!

The cyclists drooling in awe with Chris' slide show

Welcome back to the US of A! 

I was tickled to see the bike sign and even more to see there was no cue in my lane

From the American border to Ferndale, a town north of Bellingham, I had more smooth riding on almost all flat roads. I spent the evening family friends of the Seilo's, Annmarie and Mack. What a perfect place to stay! AnnMarie is a potter and Mack, a commercial fishermen in Alaska. They live in a artsy farmhouse on a gorgeous piece of property  with a garden full of fresh veggies and have a freezer full of Alaska fish! I was in heaven to say the least, both with my art and ceramic background and my new profound respect for Alaska and the fishing industry. The conversation and food that night was endless.

Mack, Annmarie, and Me

The next morning I went to Ferndale High School to talk with the Spanish 4 and 5 classes before pedaling into Bellingham. Grade 2 is my comfort zone for my presentation, but I was surprised how much I enjoyed talking with the older kids about my trip, especially in Spanish. The students had an unbelievably high level of Spanish and had been studying the concept of travel, which was a perfect way to tie in my trip. I enjoyed my visit so much, I could have stayed and talked with them for another hour, but my sister was waiting in Bellingham and I was eager to see them.

Talking at Ferndale High School Spanish 4 and 5

The long awaited arrival

Gwyneth and Peter had on the t-shirts Viçens had made for me

Not even the constant showers on the way down to Bellingham stopped me as Mack rode with me, leading the way into town, making the ride go even faster.  Had it been any other day, I would have rode more leisurely and looked at the scenery for this 15 miles stretch, but I couldn't wait another mile, Bellingham or bust was all I could think about! Finally, after a year and a half, I would get to see my niece and nephew and meet Owen! I could hear them talking a ways down the main street of town and they started cheering as I got closer.  Gwyneth 6, and more grown up in person than she looked in the pictures wasn't shy at all. She came right up for a big hug, while her brother Peter, 3, seemed more reluctant and stood behind my sister, not knowing what to think. He quickly warmed up to me while it was Owen who looked perplexed, assessing this new person whose voice somewhat resembled his mom's along with her mannerisms.

Wheres Waldo, hours (minutes) of endless fun

Owen at his finest, feeding himself

I wasn't counting on any big plans during the weekend. It's hard to plan activities with three little kids all on different nap schedules.  I was content just having time with them, hanging out at the Seilo's house that backs up to Whatcom Lake, a gorgeous lake with fir trees lining the shore. It is familiar scenery, similar to what I had seen in the Vancouver area. I played with Peter and Gwyneth, read stories them stories, and helped with bedtime. I experienced feeding Owen which is a lost cause because he wants so badly to do it himself, but half the food if not more ends up in his high chair or on the floor.  I was thrilled to have time with them, but didn't realize how much I was craving sister time as well! Jenny and I managed to escape and do a nice long walk and stayed up at night talking, talking, and talking even more. Conversation was endless and so was the laughing! After a half day with Jenny, Paul and family, it felt as though my bike trip was a thing of the past, as if I'd been home all this time and we'd never skipped a beat!

fishing on the lake before departing Sunday morning

Owen could tell we were sisters. My voice and mannerisms are awfully similar to his Mom's

For the past month, I'd been imagining my arrival to Bellingham and the excitement I'd experience. I didn't anticipate the parallel feeling of sadness, confusion, and nostalgia. It's strange how your reality can change abruptly without any warning. A year ago, I left my conventional life (although some might argue that living and working abroad is not that conventional) and went off to explore the world pedaling my bike. In that year, I experienced a lot of other people's realities and got a glimpse of their daily life: people young and old, rich and poor, religious and secular . My world collided with theirs momentarily, going back and forth as if on a teeter-toter, from living my dream to their reality. Visiting my family, I suddenly realized that I was about to be immersed in the “real world”. My bike trip would soon be a thing of the past, a fond memory that brings a smile to my face or tears to my eyes reminiscing about the abundance of experiences I've had all over the world that have become anecdotes and stories, both funny and scary. From the day I departed, I knew that my trip would eventually come to an end, but I didn't expect the feelings of sadness to accompany those of joy when I saw my family.

What's next? Are you going to go back to Barcelona? Will you have a more conventional life now that your trip is over? Everyone asks me these questions, expecting that I have an answer.  If they don't dare ask me, they ask my sister, or my family. I should know the answer to these questions, after all I've had a year to think about it. But ideas that flutter through your head are much different than those that come about when there is a specific destination or an end in sight. With about two weeks left on the road, I hope more than ever, that time passes slowly. If I pedal slower, my trip will last longer? I need some alone time to digest what is to come and to cherish this moment, making it last as long as possible.

I opted for my bike, but I'm sure this is an entertaining car with so many little bodies

I could have just hopped in the car with them and driven down to Portland and been done with my trip. I'm actually not sure which is harder, riding in a car full of kids and luggage for five hours or riding a bike with an extra 100 lbs? I've never been so close to a destination, but felt so far away, both mentally and physically. It took Jenny's family 5 hours in a car to drive from Bellingham to Portland, but I won't be there for another 10 days as I leisurely make my way down south, timing my visit in Portland with Columbus Day weekend cherishing every moment I have on my bike.

A Night and Day Difference

Alas, ALASKA!!!!

It's amazing how things can change just like that,.....with the turn of a pedal. I had made it to Alaska, finally! After seeing signs for the last frontier three weeks on end, some 2,000km (1,200mi.) later, after listening to 6 audiobooks, approximately 50 podcasts, countless replays of the “Pedal Power” playlist on my ipod, and doing lots of humming and silent meditation, I had arrived!!! I had built up the 49^th state so much the arrival was climatic and emotional!

One more hour of daylight to pedal!

No people running this border!

Not even the countless motorhomes I saw high tailing it south could discourage me from arriving to Alaska. Everyone who asked me where I was going was adament on laughing while saying “You're headed north? You are awfully late!” Thanks for the motivation! Obviously I ignored them, semdom do I take people with motors seriously! When I reached the historical marker at the border, I was alone, and took my time getting just the right pictures with the signs and making a few videos. What a great feeling of accomplishment! I had arrived!! Scenery wise, things looked the same in Alaska as they did the Yukon, so if it hadn't been for the fresh stretch of tarmac (I warmly welcomed after Yukon's beat up roads) and the signs that read, “Welcome to Alaska,” and “Entering Alaska Time Zone” I would have never known I had crossed the border. Oh, there is of course an border crossing with US Customs, unlike Hyder, AK. I had all the right answers for the customs officer and didn't even have to lie about having fresh fruits and veggies because I hadn't seen any of those commodities since Whitehorse!

Cars must laugh when they have to wait for a bicycle to go across the border!

After so much build up and soooo many kilometers, I had reached the last of my far fetched destinations before heading south to Oregon. I was motivated and excited to be in Alaska; the homestretch of my trip, well almost! I was headed to Homer via Valdez, but Tok was my destination for that day. I had already pedaled 20 miles and had 80 miles before arriving in Tok, another big day indeed! I had gained an hour of light with the time difference and again there was “nothing” on the road to distract me. I had the whole day ahead of me to pedal! I'll admit that I had heard of an RV park in Tok with a famous “all-you-can-eat” pancake breakfast, which of course is enough to motivate me to pedal any distance! I crossed the border feeling like I was on top of the world, literally, but unfortunately it only went downhill from there, well, everything except the road!

Fall has arrived in  The Yukon and Alaska

This is the reason why you head north when everyone else is going south!

Head wind? What's this? Hills? Where did they come from? I had pedaled with a tail wind basically since I left Watson Lake. Of course you never notice a tail wind because you just don't hear anything. With a tail wind and minor downhill grade, you pedal like a rock star! But today I was differently not going to feel like a rock star! After a year on the road, I'm still not sure if headwind is worse than rain, but let's just say that if there is one thing I hate, it is a head wind, and of course a “false flat”. There is nothing that demoralizes a rider carrying 100 pounds than the continual deception of a climb, that although it looks as though it is flat or even downhill, goes up and up! I was in for a challenge with the terrain, and it looked as though it was relentless all the way to Tok. Looking on the bright side, the temperature didn't bother me because I was working up quite a sweat, and the rain seemed to hold off.

The scenery was pretty, but it is hard to appreciate with the howling wind

I say it is better than the colors in New England with the green mixed in

I was making incredibly slow progress and could hardly hear myself think with all the wind. I did the math and realized it was going to be 10:30 pm before I hit Tok. I could do it, but I was loosing motivation, I couldn't cope! It was just too frustrating to cycle in these conditions. At my last pit stop, a gas station and convenience store 50 miles from Tok, I made sure to eat a warm meal in case I didn't make it to Tok. I asked if there was a campground or a cafe along the road, but they told me there was nothing, not even at the junction town that appeared on my map. Normal people would have probably stopped there, where I could have camped, taken a hot shower, and even washed laundry, but I decided to continue pedaling, there was a wee bit of hope left inside me that I could make it to Tok.

Bad decision. Occasionally I have a few of these. It was getting dark and cold, and I was out of gas! I started looking for places to pull over on the road, but there weren't any rest stops, no litter stops with bear bins, so I pedaled to the road junction where they might have an old abandoned gas station or cafe. The road junction was my saving grace. It was about 9pm and a rain or sleet storm was looming and there were several abandoned buildings scattered where I could take shelter and not have to pack up my tent wet in the morning. I was 15 miles from Tok, which was doable bright and early, still in time for the pancake breakfast. I choose an old garage, a ways back from the road with the door opened. There wasn't anything but an old beat-up pick-up inside all the doors opened and a fruit stand sign. One of the garage doors was open so I went in, closed it, and shut up the other door with the fruit stand sign thinking this would keep me protected from bears, although I hadn't seen signs of them in the area for weeks!

I thought this would be the perfect place to camp.....

I set up my tent, gave myself a quick washing with baby wipes, and got cozy in my sleeping bag. I needed to sleep, I was exhausted! I went to bed listening to the sound of the wind howl outside and rain pelt down. If I was lucky, it would stop by morning time. That was the last thought on my mind until at some time in the middle of the night I heard a loud, BOOM! It sounded like the wind had blown down the fruit sign blocking the door, I convinced myself that was all it had been, eager to continue sleeping. Shortly after I heard another sound, the garage door, being pushed open. This time, the wind wasn't responsible. My heart started to pound faster than it had even on the hardest days on my bike! What was that? Who was that? Stay calm I thought, you need to sleep. I was a bit disoriented and didn't know what was going on, but decided to pop my head out of the tent and shout. The garage door was up, the mop, that had been on the floor placed nicely against the wall and there was a truck with it's red lights pulling away. No way! How did someone find me? How did they know I was here? Did they see me? Did they take anything off my bike? I was scared, startled, and unsettled. But thankfully I was so tired and knew that I needed my sleep, so eventually I was able to convince myself whoever had come was “innocent” and didn't take anything so I went back to bed again.

The early bird only catches cold here in Alaska pedaling at the crack of dawn, not a wise decision!

Sunrise just outside of Tok, AK 30F (-1C)

I managed to sleep until the wee hours of the morning when I awoke to confirm that the garage door was still open and that what had happened wasn't just a dream. I've never packed up my gear faster than I did that morning and was on my bike at 6am, pedaling as fast I could to Tok. The sun wasn't out, temperatures were below freezing and my confidence was all shook up. Whoever had come last night could have done anything to me and no one would have ever known.....Reality sunk in. What the hell am I doing up here in Alaska? I'm not prepared for this? I don't have what it takes to survive out here in the cold wet weather. Services are limited, I still have a good 600 miles to pedal to the ferry......

Tillamook yogurt in Alaska, now that was treat and so were the 2 donuts I ate in the back of the supermarket!

Along with the temperatures, I had hit an an all time low! I'm always positive, optimistic, try not to over think situations, and just pedal. Up until now, that had gotten me through 4 continents and 26 countries, but now I was starting to doubt my ability to take on Alaska. I needed some comfort, some reassurance.....Fresh fruit, donuts, warm coffee, that helped. I sat in the back of the supermarket charging my appliances contemplating my options. Just then, after not having cell service for about a week, three of my teaching partners from Barcelona Skyped me. The timing of their call was critical, it helped distract me. They were all together in Barcelona for a baby shower and wanted to know where I was. They laughed when I showed them the storage room and the apple fritters I was devouring! After we hung up, I decided to call my sister, another great distraction. She and I have such different lives right now, it makes for a great source of entertainment just to hear about her weekly activities with her husband and kids.

To put a picture with the voice that said, "But you CAN'T Aunt Melissa......and little brother Peter protesting the picture

This picture is worth 1,000 km of pedaled roads!  My daily kph goes up when I look at this picture! Can't wait to meet my new nephew Owen

I can confide in her and know she won't freak out. I told her I was having a tough morning, which is when she put my niece, Gwyneth, on the phone. She couldn't stop talking about the bear postcard I had recently sent. Then I heard Jenny in the background coach her to say, “tell Aunt Melissa she can do it!” Gwyneth has a mind of her own and obviously the bear really impacted her because she kept repeating, “But she CAN'T do it! She can't!” At my end of the phone, my jaw dropped!  That is NOT what I wanted to hear, but then again those were words of encouragement coming out of the mouth of a 6 year old,....I had to laugh. Kids, they tell you the truth and Gwyneth was right in one regard.  Alaska was going to be the most challenging part of my trip.  After a few good hours to regroup my thoughts, do a bit more research for the upcoming days, and finishing up my conversation with my sister, I was determined Alaska was not going to get the best of me!

You only talk for a couple of minutes to other cyclists on the road, but in that short time, your feel like you've found a lifelong friend after many years of separation

The road out of Tok, mountains galore!

I started pedaling on the road towards Anchorage.  I was basically alone, very few cars, but within minutes came across another cyclist. He was the Chinese cyclist I was expecting to see at some point.  My hosts had told me about him way back in Haines Junction.  Yung brightened my spirits even more telling me about his past few days.  He had been cycling all around the world and was on the last leg of his trip, Alaska to Argentina. Yung told me he had started camping in people's yards since the cold weather set in and campgrounds were closing.  He had a great story about shooting guns with the people he stayed with that past night and kept saying, "in America many guns!".   Yung, just wait until you get to Arizona!  I set off to pedal even more refreshed and optimistic!

Fresh snow dusted all the mountain tops

The road had quite a bit of downhill which is why I made great time that day, and I had a tail wind

The map shows a lake or two, but really they are everywhere!

The scenery changed drastically and all of a sudden I was in the middle of mountains, surrounding me in every possible direction. There were glaciers, lakes, rivers, peaks lost in the top of clouds, and no rain! I had made a little pact with mother nature when I hit bottom and she was listening! I was entertained by the scenery and making such good time, I arrived at the campground where I planned on staying so early I decided to keep rolling. This time, I made a rule, come 8 pm start looking for a mailbox and house to take refuge. The next town of Chistochina was way too far,...or wasn't it?!?! I was so motivated it's like I had never hit bottom that same morning, in fact, I was so motivated that I ended up arriving in Chistochina, 105 miles from where I started pedaling that morning at 6am!

Fall and winter battling it out for a more dominant presence

Another massive river with mountains in the background

The sun going down shortly before arriving in Chistochina

I spotted the lodge because of the huge bon fire on the front lawn. Judy approached me and I asked her if I could hide my tent behind her lodge. I knew there was a lodge in Chistochina, what I didn't know was that they allowed camping in their front yard. She told me I could camp there and had the option of having her amazing breakfast the next morning, plus there was unlimited hot water! I was so delighted to head this that that I gave her what she later described as the “most heart-filled hug she'd received in a long time!” I had hit the jack pot too because there was another French cyclist, Tomás, camping AND they were having a huge BBQ which I was invited to join. I had delightful company that night and learned a lot about the local Alaskan way of life.

The Red Eagle Lodge.....a huge bon fire, delicious food and wonderful company

Here I was roasting hot dogs indulging in fresh veggies, baked beans, roasting marshmallows to make s'mores, topping it all off with delicious homemade carrot cake, my favorite with chunky grated carrots, nuts, and raisins! Judy said the magic words, “I don't want any left overs!” and abided going back for second thirds, and fourths. I finally had to stop when I sat down to roast my last marshmallow and all of a sudden my top pant button popped. I had reached my limit, that or I needed to change into my stretchy leggings!

Judy, the owner of The Red Lodge and Tomás the French cyclist

What a difference between the night and day upon arriving in Alaska. I had gone from hitting an all time low of my trip, my confidence had been completely shaken, doubting my ability to cycle the Alaskan frontier as winter approaches to feeling like nothing could stop me in just 24 hours! I even got my delicious pancake breakfast, one day late, but it was well worth the wait. They stacked them high on both my plate and Tomás'. In fact, I needed a few hours to digest before riding, so I decided to hang out and keep cozy inside using the internet in the meantime.

The s'mores took priority over the hot shower....

Judy preparing an amazing breakfast the next morning to help get some "meat on my bones" as they all say!

Tomás and I posing with the advertisement for the Red Eagle Lodge at the Glenallen visitor center.  We LOVED this place!

Mother Nature is keeping her end of the deal and I'm holding mine. I don't mind the cold, the rain doesn't bother me that much, but the combination of the two, camping in the wilderness is not particularly my favorite way to spend a night. It looks as though my itinerary brings me through the next several days with “good” weather and I can't complain. I'm prepared now, both mentally and physically, for whatever comes my way in the last frontier!