The driving rain made it difficult to make out the bike ahead of me at times, and my goggles had fogged up hours ago. I peered through a tiny clear spot in the lens and tried to fight the wind gusts determined to force us off the road. My hands and feet had turned completely numb, and every passing semi truck would send a wall of water straight for us. No one wanted to be the first to give in and stop, each knowing that we still had quite a few days of hard riding ahead and couldn’t afford to waste any more time. I knew springtime on the Alaskan Highway is a force to be reckoned with, but hadn’t anticipated that it would be this miserable.
Talkeetna, Alaska couldn’t come soon enough.