MR. HALOGEN

Kathy's Kitchen Restaurnt, Watson Lake, Yukon Territory.  We walked in after a grueling downpour, creating tiny lakes wherever we walked.  What a cross-section of travelers and culture we had joined. Sitting around a table in the back were the local youth, high-spirited and jocular.  Next to them a table of passers-through from California.  Nearer to us a sat six Amish gals from Indiana being driven around the Yukon by Mennonite drivers and wishing they were back home. 

But behind me was a little Korean man from northern California about my age traveling the country by himself.  I happened to catch Kim Chong just before the first forkful.  His head was bowed and eyes shut.  "Oh, are you a Christian?" I asked him when he had finished.  He enthusiastically and cheerfully acknowledged his faith and spoke glowingly of his church, their mission work in Central Americaand his personal mission work.

Have you ever encountered people who can never seem to NOT smile?  I don't think Kim could not smile even if you were peeling his fingernails off.  He just beamed.  If he'd been a light bulb, he would have been a halogen--brilliant and bright.  I introduced myself and we both went back to eating.  Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.  "Mr. Tom?  I am supposed to give you this," he announced with his effusive smile, rolling his eyes up to a higher power as he thumped a Canadian five dollar bill into my palm.  I started to resist until I realized that God had been brought into the drama.  This was all the more generous when I later learned upon inquiry that Mr. Halogen slept in his van to save  money on his journey.

The meal was ended and I once more went to Kim and gave him a shoulder hug, again, thanking him for his mission offering to Mosaic.  Remembering that I was a pastor, Mr. Halogen did the unthinkable:  "Mr. Pastor Tom, would you pray for me?"  

"Like, right now, here in the restaurant?"  I sputtered.  Kim Chong did not answer, for he was already in that 'every head bowed and every eye closed' mode.  So right there, amidst passing servers, conversation, and your cheatin' heart, I prayed for brother Kim, his family, his ministry, and church.

Next morning, I was in the sign park forest, taking pictures when I spotted him--Mr. Halogen.  Seeing me, he grinned and smiled and bowed and stood beside me wanting Menno to catch this magical moment on film for his wife.  As we parted company with smiles and bows and waves, he did it again.

"Mr. Tom Pastor, would you pray for me?"  I didn't even have time to say no.  Kim had dropped on his knees--right there in the dirt--and guided my hands upon his head as if he wanted me to ordain him to the United Methodist ministry.  

Can you imagine how humbling that is?  The guy probably starts his day praying at 4 am.   Mr. Kim Chong is a halogen, so bright, joyful, wholesome.  He emanates the joy of the Spirit and the love of God.  So in front of God, passersby, and 77,000 signs, I prayed for Kim, his family, his ministry, his church--again.

Upon reflection, being with Kim Chong for those few minutes has impacted me.  I have thought about his undeniable joy, his childlike faith, his unselfish, unproud life and then think about how I'm doing in the halogen business.  I still see his halogen presence energizing everyone around him.  And that encourages me to keep returning to the Source of all joy and hope and love.  I just hope that I can have such an impact on others that he's had on me.  

AMBULATORY COMMUNITY

I am amazed at the variety of people making their way across the vast landscape of the great Northwest.  

"BIKER!" Menno had yelled behind to me.  Hmmm, I assessed, incoming at about three hundred yards; it's a mountain bike, medium load, male cyclist.  (When you're pumping pedals for eight hours a day with little human interaction, a single soul approaching from the opposite side of the road approaches Christmas morning excitement.) 

"Where'd you come from?" I asked as he braked to a stop on our side of the road.  Dustin, it turns out, had begun his journey from just south of Minot, North Dakota and was concluding his adventure in Palmer (near Wasilla), Alaska.  

"So why the long trek," I queried. "Well, I just graduated and thought I'd celebrate by biking to Palmer."  Dustin had just earned his Batchelor of Science degree in Paramedics and was hoping to see some back-of-the-ambulance action in Palmer before returning to North Dakota.

Stopping for lunch in Jake's Corner, another cyclist approached us.  Didn't quite catch the name since he spoke better French than English.  But "Lemioux" was a sight.  He wore a disarming smile over his gaunt face and straggly beard and head.  His clothes were worn and weary; his shoes obliterated by layers of duct tape.  Lemioux had been on the road for two years going thither and hither.  His next hither, he thought would be Asia.  

We clicked our phone cameras at one another and prepared to push on.  Our cheerful tattered traveler became even more cheery with the two candy bars Menno gifted him with. So we left another passerby among the thousands that meander on foot, cart, thumb, bike, and wild hog bikes throughout the great Northwest.

CMON, MAKE A MISTAKE!

In most of our lives, successes and failures are as tangled as fishing line after a bad cast.  Or, to put it in another way, failure often births success followed by failure and success. That's why resumes are patently so unreliable.  We take all of our "successes," delete all the miscues, dips, firings, let-gos, and bad choices; then we present our best, but unreal life, to a prospective employer.  

Why don't we rather view our life from both our failures and successes?  I think it because the idea has been ingrained from birth: don't make mistakes.  Avoid mistakes at all costs.    

In the end, winning and losing, success and failure isn't what our life is about.  It's all about intensity and passion. It's living the very fullest, brimming-over life that God offers you.  It's living into Jesus' claim, I have come so you can have overflowing, abundant life.  That's the way I want to live my life.  That's the way I want to leave this life.  Full.  Overflowing.  Passionate.  Intense.  

I recently ran across this thought:  "Pursuing victory and avoiding defeat is not what the highest achievers are about. They're hunting for bigger game."  Are you hunting for bigger game?  Are you risk-hungry or dare-starved?  If so, you may want to talk to the One who is the source of that stuff!
  

MAKE LIFE INTERESTING.  MAKE MISTAKES!

So I've been able to continue the tour from the Arctic to Missoula, Montana, thanks to the quick thinking of one and the willingness and availability of the other.  When Rick felt he would need to leave the tour, he had already befriended a cyclist who had flown in from the Netherlands. 

Menno Dekhuyzen, is a husband and father from Ede, The Netherlands.  He is in my opinion a semi-professional long-distance cyclist, who, six years earlier, flew to the US to pedal from coast to coast on a route called "The TransAm."  

Menno proclaims a strong positive, can-do attitude.  Not a bad attitude to have when most of your tour will be climbing up and down mountains.  But no matter how high the mountain that overshadows us, my colleague is quick to say, "But we can climb it,"  or, "we've climbed higher mountains."  And when the rain dumps on us non-stop, Menno shrugs his shoulder and sighs, "Oh well, it will cool us off."  

By stock and trade, Menno is a physician's assistant and works in what he calls "the surgery theatre."  He has a deep passion for human life, and offering people care--especially when they are facing death.  He's green and when we're taking a break along the way, he'll pick up any debris and stick it on his bike for the trash can when we again come into civilization.

So I want to welcome Menno to the team.  It is an honor and pleasure to try and keep pace with such a cyclist.  If you want to follow Menno's blog, please check it out:

www.mennodekhuyzen.reislogger.nl
EMAIL: mennosolarquest@gmail.com  

WHY I DO WHAT I DO

I have to be honest with you.  I do what I do (pedaling insanely long bike tours) because I like the risk, the challenge, the possiblity of failure, and the sense of accomplishment when I pump that last pedal that reaches my goal--in this case, going from the Arctic to Missoula, about 3,300 miles (plus however miles I get lost with, go shopping around town with, and run from charging bears with).

But I am just as honest when I tell you that I ride to raise support and awareness for a miracle-in-the-making.  What's the miracle?  Changing the world--one family at a time.

I take teams to South Africa to build homes (okay, and we also go sight-seeing, go on safari, and go to museums). And better yet, we work alongside Afrikaaners, black Africans, Germans, youth, and retired people.  Together we build a brick, 600 square foot home in ten days and then invite a worthy township-dweller to live in our neighborhood.  

In turn, she (usually a single mom parent) agrees to blend into her own family two or more HIV-AIDS affected or infected orphaned children. Finally, we--MOSAICSA.ORG--helps this mom to learn a skill and also helps to find markets for her products.  That creates an economic loop of wellness, dignity, and freedom from poverty.  

Through all of the process there is prayer, the presence of Jesus, and God's hands and feet and heart.  

What is it that you might consider doing that might change the world?  Maybe you're already doing it!  Yay!  Keep on!  If, on the other hand, you've not been on a change the world adventure lately, consider joining me in South Africa!  That's right!  South Africa!  Together, we can change the world!  Email me, let's talk!

thall12152@gmail.com

ATIGUN PASS

For geographical nerds, the precise location is 68 07' degrees N and 149 28' 33 degrees W.  That address will bring you on to the North Slope of the Brooks Range in northern Alaska.  Or, for pedalers like me, that is Atigun Pass. This mountain and pass is at the head of the Dietrich River where the Dalton Highway crosses the Continental Divide. This is the highest point in Alaska--at least where a road goes through.  

In my experience, this is one of the most beautiful and dangerous passes I've ever encountered.  There have been TV shows made of the road that leads through Atigun.  As one observer noted, "This pass has been responsible for taking many drivers off the road and is also the home to avalanches during the winter."

The road is unpaved and I'll never forget picking and washboarding through mud, crud, ruts, and dips as we ascended the pass.  Another thing--the weather can change within seconds.  For Rick and I, within moments the clouds blocked any sunlight that might have been shining and the fog was so dense that we could not safely proceed--for two full days!

The final push up Atigun was so steep that we literally did PUSH our bikes up and over the pass in the rain and lingering fog.  That's when we saw it.  On the summit, morning sunlight was breaking through, an eagle soared, catching a funnel of rising air and being lifted straight up in a circular coasting manner.  The scene was idyllic, exquisite.  We were in a moment that took our breath away with its ravines and rivers and colors that defy description.  

Once atop the pass, you look down from where you have just pedaled and see the road below winding so far in the distance that huge riggers now appear like tiny, imperceptively moving ants, and the vast valley below spreading out like a master painter's crowning work of artistry.  You are on top of the world.  You are atop Atigun Pass.

BLOODSUCKING STILETTOS

Whether you bike, trike, hike, or fly a kite, within seconds after stepping into Alaska you'll run into your goliath----killer mosquitoes.

From the beginning, Rick and I have waged a losing battle with these little buggers.  What has kept us sane and steady has been an ample supply of DEET--compliments of Marge, Rick's wife.  

"Mosquitoes are the reigning champions in the 'Most Annoying Bug' category," according to a writer in the Huffington Post.  If you think the lower 48 mosquitoe variety is the same thing, Alaskan researchers would respectfully disagree.  In recent field work, Jesse Krause spent 78 days in the very part of Alaska we've just pedaled through--the Toolik Field Station.  

Here's what his research discovered.  Alaskan mosquitoes  . . . 

• are notoriously aggressive & large
• can drive entire caribou herds from feeding grounds
• swarm
• crawl up sleeves and pant legs

The Alaskan Dispatch notes that recent batches of mosquitoes are, "nastier than they've been in years . . . and seem to be growing in number."  Consider this (I have, since I share a tent with these beasties), one researcher exposed a bare arm in the Alaskan tundra and five minutes later had an ouching 435 bites.  It gets worse--500,000 mosquitoes and one naked man in the Alaskan woods will end in the man's death withinin three hours due to blood loss!

Why?  Why are there so many mosquitoes in Alaska?  My guess is that we've messed with their habitat in a way that has extended their turf.  That is, when the permafrost warms, (often through oil exploration) it forms thermakarsts (big holes filled with water) and thus more and more mosquitoe breeding grounds have been created.

Moral of the story:  never run naked through the woods for more than three hours.  OR better, know thy enemy and be prepared by ample supplies of face / body nets, DEET (my favorite), or by investing in mosquitoe patches--each patch will effectively combat the stiletto-beaked bugs for up to 48 (not 49) hours.

Or, ride a bike faster than seven mph, thus out running the mighty blood-suckers :)  

(LIZ-ENDING:  I hope you've enjoyed reading this blog as much as I have enjoyed researching it.)

PEDALING THE DALTON

Whoever buys into the logic that "a road by another other name is still a road," has never tried pedaling the Dalton. They really should invent a new name for the Dalton Highway like, "Tire-Smasher," or "Rim-Wrecker," or maybe "Mud-Slinger from Hell."  Or how about just plain,"Mean, Nasty?"

As I write, my recumbent lies bruised and battered in a bike hospital in Fairbanks--the ICU wing. It has a pulled groin chain, the left brake is hemorhaging, the sprocket is caked in mud, and the gears are misfiring. Thanks, Dalton Highway. 

Honestly, I have climbed much taller mountains in Washington, Montana, and even New Hampshire, but I've never been on steeper roads than on the Dalton.  At times you just look off into the distance at the long ribbon of dirt road vamping up as if a rocket launch and you wonder, can I even get up to the top?  I've even had to PUSH my bike up the final stages of the climb.  

Yet, the Haul Road--its original name--has a history that is rich with vistas rarely seen by human eye.  Prior to 1968, the road didn't exist. That is, until they discovered gold--black gold. The Trans-Atlantic Pipeline became a pet project of Congress and in a time of oil crisis in the US; over $100,000,000 was dumped into creating a pipeline that could handle severe weather conditions, withstand dangerously low temperatures, could pipe oil over mountain ranges, beneath permafrost, and jump over the wide-mouthed Yukon River.  Incredibly, in 1974 the accompanying Dalton Highway was constructed in only five months, and in 1994, the road was opened to the general public and not just oil riggers.

This morning as we rode, we encountered low temperatures and muddy roads that wound up, up, up onto the summit of Beaver Slide and later, the Finger Mountains.  We were wet, cold, exhausted, but at the top of this section of "Rim Wrecker," we could see miles and miles behind us of the snake-coiling, twisting, gritty Dalton.  

What an exhilerating way to end our ride--fighting for every inch of road, taking on water from the sky, seeing rare beauty, and knowing that we had achieved an extraordinary accomplishment.

Maybe it's time to put Mud-Slinger from Hell on your bucket list.  It may crack your windshield and baptize you in mud, but if you live through the Dalton Experience, you'll discover the greatest beauty this side of heaven.