I slept fitfully last night and when I finally did fall asleep late morning came too quickly. As I write this I am incredibly tired, so please forgive me if I ramble.

I showered and quickly moved my gear out of the room to make it out in time for checkout.

The Comfort Inn I was staying at was set up for business travelers and they had a nice work area where I could set up the laptop. Right before I left, we got a little contract. So I spent a couple of hours working on that. We so live in the 21st century. From somewhere in the middle of Iowa I was able to log into the servers sitting in my office, write code and get work done virtually as easily as I could if I were physically there.

I got what I needed to done, sent our new affiliate instructions and packed up my gear. This was one of those really slow days where I could just make no progress despite my best efforts. The hotel clerk who was on duty came out and talked to me about my bike for a while. I tend not to notice, but for a bike that's 18 years old it's in pretty good shape. He was very complimentary. I then got into a conversation with the maintenance guy about my new leathers while I was once again trying to fix something that broke on my nifty power distribution box. It had stopped working, which meant my droid phone didn't charge and subsequently died. Running the "OpenGPSTracker" app to record my routes on it apparently takes alot of juice.

I finally got underway around 12:30. Then I noticed the fuel light was on. Argh. Off to a gas station ... then finally back on the road.

It was overcast with threatening clouds and the occasional hints of rain which didn't materialize while I was riding. It was a country road that slowly made its way through rolling country side. It had become the land of big sky.

I found myself thinking about something that Dave in Chicago said. "Tour buses go up to Deadhorse. It's not really all that." or something to that effect. He's right. This trip, while far, is entirely doable. It's been done many many many times before. It's even become somewhat of a tourist destination. I've heard that bus loads of old ladies will go up there to look around. People do it on Harleys, although someone pointed out it's not clear that they actually make it back under their own power.

So in this context, where it's been done before, what's the point? It's a silly destination to some arbitrary far away point that contains no significance other than it's the farthest I can go to get a sense of "away". As I pondered this question I began to speculate that in the context of a commodity destination,in this case Deadhorse, AK, it's not the trip that matters. It's not the making it that matters. It's the story. The internal journey of the mind. While it's been done before, I haven't done it before. The story, if there even is one, the mental journey, is what makes it worth doing. It's what hopefully makes it unique to me. The destination, the circumstances, are somewhat arbitrary, but the thoughts, the ideas, the insights, are what's important to me. This long motorcycle journey merely unlocks those long locked doors in my soul. And it's those doors I feel I finally have to open.

In a way it's akin to the problems faced by the auto industry, and so many others now a days. In the good 'ol days, building cars was difficult, so doing it well was all that was needed to stand out. But in modern times most cars are "good enough". As a result, manufacturers have to distinguish themselves by the stories they tell. The ideas they attempt to convey.

Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman are an excellent example. They were not the first to do the Long Way Round trip. They were the first to tell the story in a way that really captured the imagination. I heard it said that they actually met up with another group doing the same trip on a shoestring budget but those scenes were edited out to prevent our famous actors from looking to rich and spoiled.

In most things, the doing it no longer seems to matter all that much. I'm an excellent software engineer who can design, develop and manage the development of complex software systems. Does anyone care? No. There are plenty of them out there that do the job good enough.

So I'm off on this commodity adventure trying to tell myself a story.

I continued through the rolling country side zooming along a bit too quickly when in the distance I saw what could possibly be the most awesome shot of a horse on a hill. I slammed on the brake, came to a complete stop, fumbled with my gloves, tried to grab the camera and the damn uncooperative horse started to take a leak and then walked away. So this is a tribute to what would have been the most awesome shot of a horse ever ... this is however not that photo.

I continued on under threatening cloudy skies and rode past something my mind did not comprehend. I turned around through a gas station to take a closer look.

On the side of the road was a completely restored WWII vintage BMW motorcycle with a side car. In the middle of Iowa no doubt. It was just sitting there on the side of the road. No sign. No nothing. Just sitting there.

Some time later I noticed some impressively large birds flying around. One landed on a small structure and I was able to shoot a photo of it. That's one ugly ugly bird.

Eventually the landscape started to change. It was a 60mph road and I was probably doing close to 80 when all of a sudden this impressive wall of asphalt approached. It appeared like a rogue wave on the ocean. Hmmm. "Wall" I thought. Up I went to the very sharp crest. Hmmm. "airborne" I mused as the tires left the pavement. These were some of the most aggressively steep and sharply crested hills I have ever seen on pavement. I mean this was just nuts. It was like a roller coaster ride. Up down up down up up up DOWN!!!!! And so forth.

The photo doesn't do it justice. After about 100 miles I arrived at the Dancing Rabbit Eco Village. Dancing Rabbit is a demonstration and experiment in alternative building and lifestyle choices. They try to do as much as they can to live in a sustainable fashion. Ted, Duncan's youngest brother, has been living here for years now with Sarah. Over Christmas and Thanksgiving they've talked about it for years, and when they invited me to stop by, how could I say no?

Based on what I had been told, what I saw on the "30 Days in the Life" episode I was unprepared for the scene I was greeted with. It was very hot and I was immediately greeted when I arrived so I failed to take pictures of the entrance. I had expected something "earthy", maybe akin to some of the historical villages I have seen in Germany, but this looked more like a post apocalyptic refugee camp at first. It looked like a hodgepodge of improvisational structures surrounded by left over construction materials. There were alot of vehicles and equipment, many internal combustion engines. I stopped and basqued in that awkward feeling of "I'm not in kansas anymore" and wondered how soon would this scene around me seem "normal". As it turned out, not long at all. While the outside of the Inn looks a bit off, the inside is beautiful. They use a kind of renewable construction technique reminiscent of old mud hut construction. Hay bail encased in a lime plaster. The walls are thick, very well insulated but it's all very clean.

There is no commercial power here. Right now I'm typing this email under a 120VAC light powered by an inverter that was charged by solar energy. Power here is a constant challenge, but once inside it doesn't seem like they are lacking for any of the modern conveniences. "The router is the last thing to get shut down", Sarah says about her house.

There's no AC but it's not oppresively hot. Downstairs Kurt and Alline (sp?) were experimenting with making pizza. They hooked me up with some coffee and a snack. I was extremely grateful. Alline and I talked for a good while.

Ted and Sarah took me for a little tour of the village. There are gardens everywhere. Ted and Sarah built their own house.

It's small but cozy and has an artistic flair to it. I had expected to live without here, but soon Ted produced a bottle of Laphroig and said venison was on the menu for dinner.

Their house has this incredibly cool spiral staircase built around a section of tree. I have now forgotten the name of the plaster substance they use to form the walls. Clay, hay and other ingredients form the mixture if memory serves. It looks and feels like plaster. It's a staple building material here at Dancing Rabbit. They have an impressively wild garden where they grow all kinds of things ranging from raspberries to asparagus and brocolli.

All the vegetables at dinner were picked here. We continued our walk. One of my favorite houses looked like something out of Tolkien.

No electricity or running water. At Ted and Sarah's house, they have power provided by an inverter and battery bank powered by solar panels. The water is captured rain water. Most houses seem to have cisterns to hold a few thousand gallons of water.

As promised dinner was venison with garden vegetables including asparagus. It was communal style and I have to admit delicious.

There is so much to say I can't possibly include it all here. We talked for hours about topics ranging from my motorcycle trip to sustainable living, life choices, and what does one need in order to live the life one wants. Sarah at one point said "I've chosen not to live the life I was taught to want".

On the way down here while riding I had at one point considered how I live my life, the stress, the sense of obligation, the worry about the future, the attempting to hedge against all possible downsides. I feel so irresponsible for taking this trip. There are so many things I "should" be doing ... and at one point I thought "just live".

When I was a kid, I had a Harley AMF two stroke my old man had bought for me, somewhat against my wishes. It was always breaking down, making funny noises and otherwise misbehaving. In my 8 year old mind, I always worried that it would break so whenever it acted up I would stop and inspect it carefully. At some point I decided to try and just not worry about it and ride the thing. I had much more fun.

Maybe life is the same way. And it seemed apropos because here I am surrounded by people who have rejected virtually all traditional modern values and are just living life, simply. Between the post apocalyptic scene, the construction materials, the improvisational nature of the buildings, the disorder, there's something very compelling about life here. People here are nice and genuine. There's a sense of calm.

We continued to talk until late in the evening.

Around 9 Sarah left to put Aurelia (sp?) to bed. I have to admit I have always really liked Sarah. There's something very warm, compassionate and understanding about her. Good people. Really good people. She's someone I always look forward to seeing.

Ted and I talked for a while longer about sustainable living, population growth and the limits of this demonstration community. They don't have all the answers, but something that I really appreciate about their approach is that they are not preachy. They do what they do because they choose to, and demonstrate to others that one can take a more sustainable approach to living without really giving up much at all. In some ways I find the "sacrifices" they make there are probably net positives. For instance because power is so limited everyone has to cooperate in it's use. It brings people together.

We walked outside and stood in the dark. It's been years since I've seen such darkness filled with so many fireflies. We listened to the sound of frogs and birds for some time. Then I came back to my room to do a little writing and call it an evening.

This is the so called "hellraiser" room and I've been instructed to raise hell very quietly. :)

I'm supposed to be at breakfast tomorrow at 9:30. I'll probably hang out until the middle of the day then head on towards Kanas City to meet up with Angela and Mike who I met at Deal's Gap.

I have to admit after today, I think I should have scheduled more time to spend here. Life here is definitely outside of my comfort zone in many ways, but that's part of what I came here to experience. At the same time, there's something here that draws you in. Once you get past surface appearances, there's a lot here to experience and ponder. I think I'll return.