The Hoka Hey Ride to Alaska
was incredible and the Challengers were not a bunch of boys from the hood putting on their leathers and riding all the way to Starbucks on a sunny weekend morning.
We were riders from all around the world
and we rode from Key West, Florida, to Homer, Alaska. We rode through several storms, hit a million bugs, dodged numerous critters, slept on the ground as we went, lived mostly on jerky, trail-mix and water, as we ride in the longest Harley-Davidson ride in the world, the first ever:
Hoka Hey Motorcycle Challenge.
Sign in. Registration took place weeks and months ago. The line had been going for hours. At sign in, we got our rider's coin, (mine is number 321) more this and that's and my prized yellow Hoka Hey bandanna. I wore it for the next 30 days. It has yet to be washed.
Mike Martenille and Doug Haynes both professional Harley-Davidson Test Riders from the HD testing grounds in Yucca, Arizona. When they found out that I was going to be sleeping in the parking lot at the Marriott, Mike opened their door and told me to come in. Great people, great hearts, premium riders and a ton of fun. We are enjoying our last "real" breakfast at the local "Greasy Spoon Resturant" in Key West.
Travis Metcalf. His second time to Alaska on a motorcycle. On his first trip, he rode over 16 thousand miles, up the Casiar Highway, down the ALCAN, over to Sturgis and back home. Unfortunately, one of the two riders he rode with was killed by a dear that jumped out in front of him.
Big James Red Cloud. Lead organizer and great fellow. He and his crew worked hard to make sure the rest of us had the ride of a lifetime. ...And we did. ...The absolute ride of a lifetime
Elijah Whirlwindhorse. Fellow organizer, son of Arlyn Whirlwindhorse. Elijah and his father sang a native song in their native language to the riders in the Riders Briefing, the night before the event. Elijah is seen here mounted on his Indian motorcycle. Eligible to ride, but not eligible to win the gold. As a sidenote, the handmade Indian's are the biggest motorcycle in the world. They have almost a 68 inch wheelbase. HD's biggest tourer by comparison is a 63 inch WB. The big metric bikes vacilate around a 66 inch WB and my Sportster? 60 inch.
My friend Travis again and the guy in the red hat? EB Chester, owner of Chester's Harley-Davidson. This is his second trip to Alaska on a bike. I have his book about his adventures and it's a good book.
The lady? Judy Wagner. Her boyfriend Gib Donavon, the guy between her and Travis, would end up going down on his bike. Too bunged up to continue and much closer to home than to Alaska, he would choose to take his time and work his way home.
The guy at the end of the bar? Gene Adee. He's a professional pilot and when Gib would need to head for home, Judy would want to keep riding to Alaska and so would end up partnering with Gene for the rest of the ride.
Gene would end up becoming ill and in British Columbia, would need to be hospitalized. Judy, too far from Alaska and too far behind the other riders, would make the decision to turn south and head for home.
Gene would end up being released from the hospital the following day and would make the decision to press on. He would end up making it to Homer, Alaska late Saturday night just hours before the deadline.
And what about EB? He would end up having a close encounter with a deer south of Rock Springs, Wyoming. Clipping the deer with his front fender as it ran between EB and Travis, riding through Flaming Gorge.
Funny isn't it. How the future holds things for us that are so close, even just around the corner, yet still so far out of sight.
Meet Dennis. When he found out I was going to sleep in the parking lot, he too offered me his room for a shower and a place to rest up. I met some really great, Christian people on this ride. In the organizers, the riders, and the everyday people. Dennis was one of the many.
The Riders Briefing. The rear wall and lobby had people standing. I am sitting in center isle of 3 isles, not including the isles along the walls and about 3/4 of the way back. There were no rookies here. No momma's boys, no wannabe's and no outlaw bikers. Just hard-core veteran riders. Guys and gals both.
The next time I would see this bike would be in Wyoming, headed for Montana and the Canadian boarder.
His name is Mark. And up, he built a hammeck for his Harley.
This site, starting in Key West, became real familiar. Stormclouds.
The Marriott Convention Center in Key West, Florida and the beginning of a great adventure. One I am sure I will eventually forget about.
...In about a thousand years or so.
Samuel
click on "18-States" to continue the journey
