It had been raining for days when I arrived back in Fairbanks yesterday afternoon. The Chena river was running high. The drizzle made everything damp, but not miserable. Alaskans don't give any mind to the weather. I spent the night in the university dorms (cheapest place to stay in the town), which I shared with a group of 30 Athabascan teenagers being taught survival and leadership skills by a team of US Marshalls. Intriguing. Alaska is different.

I was up early this morning to get my bike oiled up and serviced for the journey home . At the mechanic's shop met a group of four riders from Sinaloa Mexico, just back from the mud and stones of the Dalton Highway. Nice to share riding experiences. They expressed their love for Mujica, the recent president of Uruguay, and said they think of him, with his humble style and absence of personal corruption, as a shining example for the rest of the continent. Its not the first time people have said this to me.

Sitting on the curb outside Office Depot waiting in the rain for a ride back to the BMW dealership, I was mistaken for a homeless person by a very drunk Native American guy stumbling by. We talked a little, I shared my phone, but I didn't realize what was going on until he pulled his blanket out of his old rucksack and offered it to me.   This was a new experience. I don't think I reacted right, 'cause he ended up getting angry, shouting at me and moving on.

Once again, the tonic still works. The Richardson Highway was a delight to follow, South towards Tok and the mountains. The rain had stopped by midday. The road ahead was open -- no cars in sight in either direction.   A range of green mountains came in on the West. Short stubby spruce and wetlands stretched out to the East and the Tanana River which we were following. All cried out 'we are not in Virginia any more'. Not a sign of human settlement away from the road, until the towers for the the Alaska Pipeline bridge over the river remind me there is a lot going in this wilderness that I do not see.