Anchorage is South King County in the late 1970s. Weird. Can’t shake the feeling I’m in Renton, Kent, Burien, Auburn. The sky is gray, but I’m optimistic. I decide to walk to the bike rental place, about 3.5 miles north of the hotel. I have a hard time trying to figure out how to get from the parking lot onto the path/sidewalk.

Clearly, I made it to Pablo’s and picked up the bike.


I was considering taking a spin along the coastal bike trail, but the warnings about bears and the urgency of getting to REI to pick up my camping gear drove my decision to take care of business.

Even through the starting point was across the street from the hotel, again there was the issue of how to get from the parking lot to the trail to the other side of the street to the parking lot. The seven-lane street had a median and no clear entry to my start or destination. There was a certain amount of “cross-countrying” it to get my luggage, my bike, and a caffeinated rider to the colon we were starting from:


I think this pre-ride speech by Larry Holman, the founder of Ride for Life Alaska, says everything I’d like to say, far more eloquently, so I’ll just let you watch:

As always, I made lots of new friends at the rest stops:



And would a bike ride be complete without a flat and help changing it?



No ride would be complete without a little rain, and as promised, it begins to drizzle Sunday morning. 15 miles to go. I got this.