Convalescence in Ballard. May 30 - June 28, 2017.

Bling on my sling, thanks to Gwynne and Fred.
"I wear black on the outside, 'cause black is how I feel on the inside" patch is available here!
Felix on a blue scooter pin is not available. ;)

Home was always a conundrum for me. Is it the place you're born, or the place where most of your stuff is kept? Is it a feeling, a state of mind, or certain people?

Where does someone without a physical home go, when they need to recover from more than just travel fatigue?

Between the cloudiness of painkillers, I made the verdict for where I wanted to spend a month recuperating. Not San Francisco or Providence or Boston, though I'd find my way back there eventually. The summer wasn't over for me. My boxes from Fairbanks were shipped to Boston, but I knew where I wanted to make my memories of healing: Seattle, near Gwynne and Tom.

The Dalton vs My Right Clavicle. Fractures in Arctic Circle. May 27 - 30, 2017.

The Top of the World Highway had given me some confidence taking my Vespa on rougher terrain, but from Fairbanks I wanted to ride at least to the Arctic Circle on the Dalton Highway. I anticipated the stretch ahead to be the most challenging – the sheer distance without a soul in sight was intimidating. I went back and forth as to how far north I would travel, and to this day I'm unsure what informed my final decision. Maybe it was sleep debt. Maybe it was FOMO. Maybe it was hubris.

As you may have guessed from the title, this doesn't end particularly well.