Whitehorse, Yukon

Midnight Sun!

I couldn’t sleep on the plane from Vancouver to Whitehorse. I was too keyed up—like a little kid. Whitehorse!

Two years ago, I started thinking about riding Lucy from Whitehorse, Yukon, to Anchorage, Alaska. As kids, we saw movies and TV shows about the rugged Yukon Territory. As an adult, I watched Dr. Oakley: Yukon Vet and other series that fueled my curiosity. We think living in Indiana is tough, but these Canadians and Alaskans are truly stalwart.

But when I first planned this R4P trip, Whitehorse wasn’t on the route. I had initially thought I could ride through British Columbia and catch a ferry to Juneau or Skagway.

In March, I helped my 10-year-old granddaughter make a clay map for a school project: the Yukon River running from Whitehorse through Alaska. I told her I wouldn’t be going through Whitehorse this time but riding further south. It was a disappointment to both of us. A couple of months later, when I learned that ferries from Prince Rupert to Juneau weren’t as plentiful as I thought, I was almost relieved. I immediately inserted a Whitehorse stop, which would involve a multi-day ride through Carcross and down to Skagway, Alaska.

While waiting at Gate 30 in Vancouver to board the flight to Whitehorse, I started reading John Muir’s 19th-century classic Travels in Alaska and continued on the plane. I tried to sleep, moved seats, found every position more uncomfortable than the last—so I just stayed awake.

Around midnight, we reached Whitehorse. Just like in Norway last year, I saw the Midnight Sun. I filmed and took photos of the Yukon River and immediately sent them to my granddaughter.

My bags came off more easily than I expected, and I rolled Lucy (still in her box) and her saddlebags to a warm taxi. The Ethiopian driver helped me load Lucy into the back of his van. This time the back hatch closed, and he drove me two miles to the Destination Family Inn.

We spoke about his country. I had visited Addis Ababa a couple of times—brief visits. I loved the food. The people were friendly. Naturally, I told him about R4P.

When I arrived at Destination Family Hotel, Steven was working the desk—a bright young man originally from Calgary who moved to Whitehorse to work and explore the outdoors. He’s particularly interested in mountain climbing, but after four years hasn’t found the enthusiasm among his peers that he expected.

“In Calgary, you have to drive two or three hours to find a spot to climb. Here it’s right outside,” he said.

Steven explained the hotel was expecting me to check in around 3 p.m. today. I apologized for the confusion. Maybe I hadn’t explained it well in the email—my flight arrived just after midnight. I didn’t want to cause trouble. The owner, James Concepcion, and the staff had already been so accommodating. My only goal was to get a little rest and shower before my CBC interview at noon.

“You’re riding the bike, right?” he asked. “Yeah, I was part of that email.” He told me not to worry—he’d figure something out.

While he checked the computer, he asked, “You’re a doctor, right?”

“Yes. Not a medical doctor, but I have a PhD.”

“Well, it’s pretty impressive what you’re doing,” he said.

Steven had dropped out of college after two years. “I’ve regretted it ever since,” he explained.

I encouraged him to go back and told him how my cousin had earned his degree online—Steven could too.

What a cool kid!

As promised, he got me into a room. It was just after 1 a.m. But I was too tired to unpack and too wound up to sleep. I streamed an episode or two of Seinfeld before finally crashing.

Around 6:30 a.m., I woke up. I drank coffee and went down to the lobby in my rubber sandals and pajama-type pants (which can pass for sweats if no one looks too closely).

That’s where I met Maritza, a Chilean woman in her late 40s or early 50s. For the next ten minutes, we spoke Spanish about her trip and mine. She explained that she and her husband, Ricardo, had ridden their motorcycle for 38 days from their home in South America to Yukon, Canada. I was happy to hear how warmly they’d been treated throughout Latin America, the U.S., and into Canada. In a little village nearby, they had a flat tire.

“Five people came out to help us fix it,” she beamed. I knew exactly how she felt. I’ve experienced that kindness almost daily in the past few weeks.

Maritza went outside to join Ricardo. Steven began handling a prickly guest situation, so I stepped out in my rubber sandals and pajama pants and took some selfies with the Chilean couple before they headed off to Vancouver and eventually Las Vegas.

Across the lobby, on the sofa, sat Ruth—the Nigerian day worker who passed my message along to her boss a few days ago. She was at least 30 minutes early for her shift. Another clear sign of a healthy work environment and staff dedication.

Back in my room, I exchanged voice messages with my granddaughter about the photo I sent the night before.

“Is that the Yukon River?” she asked.

CBC Studio On-the-Air Interview with Brenda Barnes

For a late breakfast, I joined the crowd at Tim Hortons. This place was packed. Canadians already know this, but most Americans have never experienced the culinary adventure that is Tim Hortons. Much like McDonald’s to U.S. kids—but with a much better selection of donuts.

I bought a box of 20 assorted donut holes to take to CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) Yukon to share with my broadcasting colleagues.

After strolling about seven blocks to the CBC studios, I was greeted by several broadcasting professionals. I was operating on about four hours of sleep but felt happy to be doing the show.

After some negotiation, the producer limited me to mentioning just a few of my sponsors, so I chose the Whitehorse and Skagway ones.

Brenda Barnes welcomed me into her studio. After some initial reservations about the state of her hair, she agreed to let me film our conversation. (I think one good look at my hair put her at ease.)

I know Brenda is skilled at making people feel comfortable on air, but I sensed something deeper—something genuine—in her demeanor. Having been raised, educated, and managed by strong, intelligent women, I respect them deeply, especially in moments of vulnerability.

She explained that after she came out to her family many years ago, tensions remained high. My heart went out to her.

I come from a relatively conservative family and community in rural Indiana, with strong traditional belief systems. I understand the reluctance—and even resistance—many people feel toward accepting alternative lifestyles.

Yet tolerance and empathy will take us a long way. Releasing bitterness allows us to heal. We don’t always have to understand or even agree with the differences, but embracing our loved ones for who they are enriches everyone’s life.

The ten-minute on-air chat about the Ride for Peace with Brenda was fun. And immediately after the interview, she played Queen’s “Bicycle Race,” which made us both laugh.

“Oh, you and I would really get along,” I said. I loved her sense of humor.

When I left the studio, I noticed the Tim Hortons donut holes had not been touched. I would have to do something about that—so I emailed the producer to remind her.

A few blocks down, I saw six protestors standing up for innocent Palestinians. I walked across to talk with them and shake their hands.

Laundromat Fun

I walked about eight blocks to Icycle Sports to make an appointment to have Lucy looked at first thing in the morning. Then I went down to Walmart for a few supplies and back to the hotel to do laundry.

That’s one big advantage of the Destination Family Hotel—the laundromat is part of the hotel.

I exchanged messages with family and watched Pit Bulls and Parolees for the next two hours while my one load washed and dried. Let’s face it—doing laundry at a laundromat is fun.

It reminded me of childhood. We didn’t have a washer or dryer for many years, and in fourth and fifth grade, I’d ride the family’s hamper of dirty clothes several blocks to the laundromat on my bike. I stuck to the alleys so none of my classmates would see me. I’d wait until the clothes were dry, fold them, pack them back into the hamper, and ride home. Sometimes my mom dropped me off. My aunt worked there during her last two years of high school, so she often helped too.

On this Friday in Whitehorse, it was about 4:30 p.m. before my clothes were dry. I dropped them off in the room and walked down through the Whitehorse sprinkles to A&W. I ate there but felt the exhaustion begin to take over.

Back at the room, I folded clothes and watched the Indiana Fever game, chatting with my dad about it the whole time.

By 7:30 p.m., I was out.