Camped in the garden. Anchorage, 2am.
I’ve arrived!
The plane touched down at 9.30pm in Anchorage, swooping in over the sea, to an impressive backdrop of layer apon layer of mountains and glaciers. A pin crisp, clear, evening light. After bolting the bike together in the airport, it was gone 11pm by the time I rode into town, along an indentikit American highway lined with strip malls. Taco Bell and Mc D’s. Big pickup trucks thundered past. Even in my jet-lagged state, didn’t take too long to track down an address I’d been given by Sage, a fellow bike traveller, and I’m now camped in the yard. Clearly a biker’s yard; tyres and frames are scattered all around like plants sprouting out of the grass.
It’s been an 18 hour odyssey of a journey, on top of the last 24 sleep-free hours of last minute packing, working and emotional goodbye-ing. I’m in that no mans land of utter exhaustion and anticipatory excitement for the days ahead. My body is in Alaska, but my body clock is all over the place.
It’s nearly 2am local time here, and at this latitude, still incredibly light. Fireworks are popping and crackling all around, marking Independence Day. Somehow, I know they won’t keep me from slumber. Heavy lids. Must sleep…
Time for bed!
