The Kitwanga Decision - Alaskan Moonlight by Eric Matthes

Kitwanga, British Columbia

This is my northernmost solstice to date. I am still at the 55th parallel, but starting tomorrow I should gain about one degree of latitude a day until I reach the Alaska Highway in the Yukon.

I am sitting on the edge of a little hill looking down on the Cassiar Highway, and up at a ridge of mountains in the unusually clear air. I can see these peaks for the first time all day. Dark forested flanks rise gradually to the steeper mountain walls, trees giving way to bare summits with snow bowls. One peak, taller than the rest and with fuller snow fields, is still in the clouds.

I was quiet most of the day, because I knew I’d reach the Cassiar today. It is the only other road besides the Alaska Highway that connects Alaska to the lower 48. It is much smaller and lesser-traveled, though, so it is wilder. This is the real wilderness I’ve been contemplating for such a long time. Taking the turn onto this highway was a choice to face bears and true wilderness, a choice I was not sure I would make until I got here. I could easily have continued on to Prince Rupert, taken a ferry back down to Washington, and called it a trip. But I chose to face my fears, and now I wait a little anxiously for the morning. It is a good anxious; I feel completely focused on the next few days’ riding. It’s what this entire trip has been preparing me for.

It was a wild moment. I sat in a combination restaurant and bar at the junction, thinking about my decision one last time. I stepped outside, got on my bike, and took one last look at the road continuing on a short ways to Prince Rupert. Then I turned to the right, crossed a small bridge over a river, and rode into the unknown.

_____

The beauty up here is riding for hours at a time, head down in the rain and the splash of passing trucks, covered in road grime but happy all the same. As the rain lets up you look around and everything is glowing a soft wet green, and in all you can see there is one red Indian paintbrush bright in the bushes by the side of the road, and suddenly you see everything in the red of those flowers.

_____

On a day like this, on a flat road winding gently through a Continental Divide meadow, watching a frog hop haphazardly near a creek as I take my jacket off in the warmth of exercise, I want for nothing.

	Excerpt: The Kitwanga Decision
	I stayed off the Alaska Highway as much as possible. Instead, I looked for lesser-traveled roads that would take me through wilder areas. It's where I wanted to be, but I had fears built up from so many people telling me, "You can't go up ther on a bike! You'll be eaten alive!" There was no way to know if they were right or not, except to try.
	Kitwanga, British Columbia This is my northernmost solstice to date. I am still at the 55th parallel, but starting tomorrow I should gain about one degree of latitude a day until I reach the Alaska Highway in the Yukon. I am sitting on the edge of a little hill looking down on the Cassiar Highway, and up at a ridge of mountains in the unusually clear air. I can see these peaks for the first time all day. Dark forested flanks rise gradually to the steeper mountain walls, trees giving way to bare summits with snow bowls. One peak, taller than the rest and with fuller snow fields, is still in the clouds. I was quiet most of the day, because I knew I’d reach the Cassiar today. It is the only other road besides the Alaska Highway that connects Alaska to the lower 48. It is much smaller and lesser-traveled, though, so it is wilder. This is the real wilderness I’ve been contemplating for such a long time. Taking the turn onto this highway was a choice to face bears and true wilderness, a choice I was not sure I would make until I got here. I could easily have continued on to Prince Rupert, taken a ferry back down to Washington, and called it a trip. But I chose to face my fears, and now I wait a little anxiously for the morning. It is a good anxious; I feel completely focused on the next few days’ riding. It’s what this entire trip has been preparing me for. It was a wild moment. I sat in a combination restaurant and bar at the junction, thinking about my decision one last time. I stepped outside, got on my bike, and took one last look at the road continuing on a short ways to Prince Rupert. Then I turned to the right, crossed a small bridge over a river, and rode into the unknown. _____ The beauty up here is riding for hours at a time, head down in the rain and the splash of passing trucks, covered in road grime but happy all the same. As the rain lets up you look around and everything is glowing a soft wet green, and in all you can see there is one red Indian paintbrush bright in the bushes by the side of the road, and suddenly you see everything in the red of those flowers. _____ On a day like this, on a flat road winding gently through a Continental Divide meadow, watching a frog hop haphazardly near a creek as I take my jacket off in the warmth of exercise, I want for nothing.
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