Being a curious great ape in the land of Manifest Destiny makes the planning of road trips a joy. Names such as Big Sky, Great Plains, Great Basin, Great Lakes, Badlands, and Grand Canyon disturb the domestic tranquility with their invitation to wander off over the horizon to see if they are true. Who would not want to visit a place called Death Valley? Shoot, from my office window, I can see three of the major volcanoes that help comprise the Ring of Fire. What names!

Maps get scrutinized for routes to cross the greatest number of borders in the fewest possible miles while traversing the broadest set of geographic features of the most significant historical interest. When I was a boy, our family had a map of the continent on the kitchen wall strung with yarn pinned to it that traced our travels east, west, north, and south and fostered the enthusiasm I have today for going somewhere I have not yet been. Even when only a few hours can be set aside for rambling, I am fortunate to live in a part of the country where launching myself at any cardinal point is sure to form a trajectory along a noteworthy line on the map.

Living near an international border provokes interest in the establishment of that boundary, which was made complex in this part of the world by the maze of islands that produced many conflicting opinions about where that border should be drawn. One such dispute led to the joint armed British and American occupation of San Juan Island for 12 years. (During which local leaders in the British colonial government agitated for seizure of the entirety of the Puget Sound region, believing that the American Civil War would keep U.S. armed forces too busy elsewhere to deal with any such action.) The dispute over the U.S./Canada boundary between the islands was settled in 1872 by a German commission organized by Kaiser Wilhelm. To this day, there remains a dispute over the boundary in the Strait of Juan de Fuca to the west of the islands.

Further north, the story of the establishment of the border of the Alaska Panhandle is equally fascinating. Disputes with Britain were inherited by the United States when it purchased the territory from the Russian emperor in 1867. Indeed, in prior decades, the United States and Britain had entered into joint occupation of coastal territory claimed by the Russian emperor in a successful move to force the boundary of the Russian claim northward to 54°40'N (the Oregon Treaty of 1846 between the United States and Britain later established the 49th parallel to the Strait of Georgia as the U.S./Canada border). It was not until the Yukon Gold Rush began in 1897 that tensions between the United States and Britain forced them to negotiate the matter of the Panhandle border. The agreement — completed in 1903 — was not signed by the Canadian delegates, who objected to the composition of the tribunal. I wonder if the Canadians ever signed off on the thing.

Folding open a map to study the effects of these events eventually leads one to discover Hyder, Alaska, the easternmost community in that state, situated near the southern edge of the panhandle. The international border forms the town limits (population 87), and on its far side is a dead end. One is inclined to think of Alaska as being remote (been there, done that), but Hyder is a mere 1,000 miles from home. Road trip!

A day after celebrating the 237th anniversary of independence from merry old England, my brother John and I headed for the Canadian border on our motorcycles, crossing at Langley into British Columbia after a sun‐baked hour‐long beep‐and‐creep to reach the customs station. From there, we opted to take the Sea to Sky route until it joined Highway 97 on the far side of Lillooet. The route was less direct than the TransCanada Highway along the Fraser River, but worth it for the views and the road itself.

The Sea to Sky highway was overhauled in preparation for the 2010 Winter Olympics to improve access to Whistler, and much like a big‐budget film’s special effects, it was easy to see where the money had been spent. It was also amusing to observe how the road returned to a much more primitive condition immediately after the last stop light on the way north out of Whistler. All was forgiven for the poorer road after an hour of hard riding failed to overtake a single vehicle. Aside from a very occasional car traveling the opposite direction, there was no one on the road, and the ride itself was through beautiful terrain. With one stomp on the brakes to accommodate a bear crossing the highway, the town of Lillooet (Guaranteed Rugged) materialized on the edge of the GPS, and we were soon enough settled into seats at the Cookhouse Restaurant in the Reynolds Hotel for dinner. Two hours further north after eating, we pulled into Lac La Hache Provincial Park to get our tents set up just as the sun set on a great first day.

One of our rules of the road is not to eat at chain restaurants. (Starbucks is the exception.) We have been pretty successful at finding at least good — and in many cases, exceptional — food in small‐town establishments. As we headed north from Lac La Hache the next day, we sniffed around at a couple of places to eat breakfast and kept moving. It turned out that waiting until we rolled up to the Fort Alexandria Cafe was another successful judgment, as the meal and atmosphere were a treat.

The worst luck we have had while adhering to the eat‐local rule was in central Idaho. The few small towns along that morning’s route featured only really questionable truck stop greasy spoons, and we kept pushing north, hoping to find more inviting fare. We ended up at a gas station with a couple of shrink‐wrapped muffins of dubious origin from the end cap and a hot drink brewed by a self‐serve machine with a button labeled Latté — but it wasn’t, really.

We enjoyed the food from Alexandria well enough that we took a couple of sandwiches to go for lunch, which we ate at the side of the road in Vanderhoof. Shortly after lunch, a moose and its calf ambled across the highway in front of me (just after John had driven through), and a while later, about five minutes of rain fell on us (that weather system can be seen in the photo below); otherwise, the ride was uneventful and under sunny skies for the remainder of the day. We arrived at our hotel in Smithers just before 6 PM. Dinner down the street at Alpenhorn Bistro was good, after which it was time for a good night’s sleep in anticipation of reaching Hyder the following day.

The availability of gas north of Smithers en route to Hyder was a bit of a question, but the solution turned out to be more a matter of tinkering with the Garmin’s search function to identify locations than a function of dealing with scarcity. There is a station in Stewart, British Columbia, just two miles outside Hyder, and a handful of others are scattered along the way, so barring a puncture to the tank, sufficient fuel to make the trip is at hand.

We hit the road at a reasonable hour, as we would be returning to the hotel in Smithers that night, and so did not have to worry about finding a place to stop and eat dinner and then again to find a place to pitch tents before reaching maximum saddle time tolerance. It was also only a little more than 400 miles round trip, which for us is roughly an average day for these trips. In other words, we did not have to kill ourselves to get to Hyder and back within the day, so we took our time and enjoyed the ride.

Although, of course, photo opportunities abound along the way, the left‐hand turn from Highway 37 onto the Glacier Highway is where camera batteries should be tested and the GoPro’s SD card checked. The trip through the coastal mountains made for a great, scenic ride, and as the road reached the river’s bottom and began threading its way along the plain, I started grinning at the realization that the trip’s objective was just a few miles ahead.

There is no U.S. customs station at Hyder. I imagine the U.S. figures there is not much one can do with smuggled goods or people once there, so why bother with an interdiction effort. The Canadian customs station is just to the left of the frame of the adjacent photo. The bikes are parked I think more or less straddling the international border that was negotiated in 1903.

Activities in Hyder are limited, but do include a fantastic bear watching platform that is managed by the U.S. Forest Service at Fish Creek. When I started on the trip, I had the idea that I would never have a reason to return to Hyder having once visited it, but returning to watch the bears during the salmon’s spawning season might have to be added to the bucket list (according to the ranger, we were about two weeks early in the year to see any activity). Even if not, I am glad to be able to say I have been in Hyder at least long enough to take a picture.