The last couple weeks, before this last, were cold and rainy in Fairbanks. The big migratory birds; geese, swans, and sandhill cranes could be seen and heard gathering in Fairbanks. Their journey to the fertile arctic fulfilled for the season. The weather, though seemingly early, premature, had triggered the motion South. In my more rational human mind, I knew that Indian Summer would come. The leaves had yet to change and of course it was raining... The Tanana Valley State Fair was going on. Even though I knew it was early, that strange archaic creaking and clicking of the Sandhills struck a familiar chord deep in my consciousness. Time to move. Time to migrate.
With haste, I buttoned up my summer belongings, re-packed my travel kit, loaded my bike, gave long hugs to those that love me regardless of my inability to settle for more than six months at a time, and saddled up for another long migration south.
The weather had come. Indian Summer brought 70's to Fairbanks, lots of sun, and now the leaves were popping! A rush of color to boost the morale of those hardy folks who will button down and persevere the harsh cold and dark winter of the true North. But they will revel in their grit. And they will celebrate their hardiness with those around them, through -40*F and ice fog so thick you can eat it from the air.
Haha. Just kidding... You guys invented hockey. Oh wait, maybe that was Minnesota! Anyway. Bike is loaded, sun is up, coffee drank, time to ride... The beauty of Kluane Lake on a sunny fall day awaits me. Glorious Yukon Territory beckons.