It has been almost two weeks since Prince George and my last internet access / posting. We have journeyed well into the Yukon by now, and quite a lot has happened.

First, the season has been unseasonably warm for the Yukon. We have seen essentially no rain and the temps soar into the 90s, both of which are supposedly uncommon for this area. However, the last couple of days have brought a cold snap, bringing the temps down to lows in the 40s and highs in the 60s-70s.

We met up with the Sierra Nevada team two days ago in Whitehorse. While we have seen rain regularly, and have had the accompanying bike maintenance issues, they have had no rain since Stillwater, TX, on June 3! I'm a bit envious. The teams operate very differently, as well, and now that we are working together, riding together, and staying together, this disparity has raised some eyebrows. Not that one team is better than the other, but we operate differently and are trying to maintain our individual styles.

Whitehorse, YT, was our last big "city" until Anchorage. Yukon has roughly 30,000 inhabitants, over 20,000 of which live in Whitehorse. That leaves 10,000 to be spread very thinly over the rest of the land.

We continue to meet folks afflicted by cancer. In Whitehorse, we met a woman who lived in a small town down in the south of YT. All of the families there have had members fall ill to cancer, and in her specific family, 5 members have had cancer.

A day prior to Whitehorse, we met a fellow who was in his 70s by the name of Buckingham. He and his wife were broken down in the 94 Dodge Ram 24-valve Cummins Turbo Diesel, and we talked with them for quite a while. He related how his first wife had wanted kids very badly, and after 7 years, they finally had a son. They were 29, and when the son was 9 months old, she succombed to cancer. How tragic! In his words, "I wasn't very happy with this old world back then." He remarried eventually and things began to look up, but all healing takes time--sometimes quite a lot.

It seems like everybody we talk with at length has a story to tell about how cancer has touched them, and these talks are instrumental in keeping us focused and, moreover, encouraged in the ride. Some days get really tough, with rain and numb feet and grinding gears that won't shift and shivering temps, and at these times, remembering how much worse cancer is than anything we experience helps keep the team on track.

I continue to have my share of physical ailments, namely my right Achille's Heel. A sports medicine specialist in Fort Collins told me that it would not heal until I took significant time off, and my heel has proven her word to be true. I had to sag again today after 40 miles, as it was causing me grief, and it will undoubtedly do so until Anchorage. I can't wait until I can push hard on the bike and hang with some of the faster riders again... but these are selfish concerns, and all of my frustration with my body pales compared to what we fight. I am reminded of this again and again, including by Chris Condit himself.

The time has come for sleep, so I will sign off and write again as soon as I get the chance.