Wrights On A Mission

Top of the World Highway: Trusting God Above the Clouds

We woke up at 5:30 this morning to the sound of a phone call. It was the best kind of wake-up call—a friend checking to make sure I was okay after my fall on the bike yesterday. What a blessing it is to have family and friends who genuinely care enough to reach out when life knocks you down. Their prayers and encouragement reminded me that we are never meant to walk—or ride—through life’s difficult moments alone.
We needed an early start anyway because today held one of the most anticipated rides of our entire 66-day journey. Looking back, I don’t think I fully understood just what was waiting for us.
After brewing a fresh pot of coffee in our motel room and finishing off our leftovers for breakfast, we felt refreshed, recharged, and ready for whatever lay ahead. Our destination: the legendary Top of the World Highway.
To begin the adventure, we boarded the George Black Ferry out of Dawson City. As we crossed the Yukon River, it felt like we were leaving the familiar behind and stepping into the unknown. Little did we know, this day would challenge us in ways we had never imagined.
The highway greeted us not with smooth pavement, but with miles of mud. Days of rain had transformed the road into a slick, slippery ribbon winding through the mountains. I stayed in second gear almost the entire time, carefully choosing every line while avoiding deep potholes and ruts.
Before long, we began climbing.
The crisp 40-degree morning air was enough to wake every sense, but as we gained elevation, thick fog swallowed the mountains around us. Visibility shrank to only a short distance ahead. The breathtaking views the highway is famous for were completely hidden behind a wall of white.
The combination of dense fog, freezing temperatures, muddy roads, and sheer drop-offs demanded every ounce of concentration I had. Somewhere beyond the fog were cliffs plunging thousands of feet into the valleys below. In some strange way, I was thankful I couldn’t see just how high we were.
Sometimes God doesn’t show us the entire road ahead. He simply asks us to trust Him for the next few feet.
We crept along at barely 30 miles per hour, climbing higher and higher through switchbacks and hairpin curves. Every turn required patience. Every mile required faith. Several times we pulled over where it was safe just to breathe, settle our nerves, and remind ourselves that God had brought us this far and wasn’t about to leave us now.
Eventually we reached the summit at 4,515 feet above sea level. The wind howled across the mountaintop, making the temperature feel well below freezing. My hands were stiff, my body was shaking, and mentally I was exhausted.
Soon we arrived at the U.S. border crossing. The officer asked for our passports, which meant climbing off the bike to retrieve them from my top case. My legs were trembling—not only from the cold, but from the stress of what had already become the most difficult riding I have ever experienced.
The border agents were incredibly kind. They patiently waited while I gathered everything together, telling me not to rush. They must have seen the anxiety written all over my face.
I finally asked one of them, “How much farther to Chicken?”
“About 45 miles,” he replied, “and around 15 of those are pavement.”
I almost cheered when I heard the word pavement. After days of gravel, mud, and rough roads, pavement sounded like a gift from heaven.
Just beyond the border, we reached the “Welcome to Alaska” sign.
After years of dreaming, months of planning, and nearly two weeks on the road, we had finally made it to Alaska.
We stopped for pictures despite the bitter wind. Then we finished the leftover pizza from last night’s dinner. It wasn’t gourmet, but it was exactly what we needed. Sometimes God provides strength in simple ways—a warm meal, a quiet moment, a familiar face, or just enough energy to keep moving forward.
Back in the saddle, we pressed on through rain, fog, mud, snow, loose gravel, potholes, steep 9% grades, switchbacks, and hairpin turns. It felt like every mile brought a new obstacle.
Then, almost as if God decided to pull back the curtain for just a moment, the fog began to lift.
The mountains suddenly stretched endlessly before us. Deep valleys unfolded beneath us, rivers carved their way through the wilderness, and waterfalls spilled down rugged mountainsides. The views were absolutely breathtaking. In those moments, I finally understood why it’s called the Top of the World Highway. It truly feels as though you’re riding above the clouds, surrounded by the majesty of God’s creation.
Every mile of fear was rewarded by a glimpse of His handiwork.
Would I ride this road again? Probably not. Once is enough for me!
But I’m incredibly thankful God gave me the courage—and the strength—to ride it once.
Finally, we rolled into Chicken, Alaska.
What an incredible feeling! After years of talking about this trip, saving, planning, praying, and preparing, we had finally reached Alaska. It wasn’t just about crossing a state line—it was about seeing God faithfully carry us through every challenge along the way. Every cold morning, every mechanical issue, every storm, every mile had brought us to this moment.
We had arrived in the Land of the Midnight Sun.
Our home for the next four days will be the Chicken Gold Camp—a much-needed break after thirteen straight days of making miles. Time to rest, recover, catch up on videos, and simply enjoy where God has brought us.
When we pulled into the parking lot, we immediately recognized four familiar adventure bikes. It was the same group of riders we had met days earlier at the Sign Forest in Watson Lake!
Laughing, we asked, “Are you guys following us?”
After sharing plenty of laughs over hot coffee and fresh scones, we finally learned their names. We met Curtis, who is 75 years young and preparing to celebrate his 76th birthday, his 17-year-old grandson William, his father Coby, and their friend Craig. They were all from Utah and worked as EMS helicopter pilots.
Although they were continuing on to Tok while we stayed behind, God had crossed our paths one more time. Before they left, we gathered with them for a biker blessing and shared Gospel tracts.
One of the greatest blessings of this journey has been meeting the people God places along our path. Complete strangers become friends as we share stories, encourage one another, and remind each other that God is always working—even in the middle of an adventure.
We were blessed to secure a cabin for three of our four nights here and will spend the last night in our tent. After everything we’ve experienced over the past two weeks, this little cabin feels like a wonderful gift.
We ended the evening with warm soup, sandwiches, and a couple of scoops of ice cream from the café.
After one of the hardest days I’ve ever spent on a motorcycle, I couldn’t have imagined a sweeter ending.
As I reflect on today, I’m reminded that the Top of the World Highway is a lot like our walk with Christ. There are stretches where we can’t see what’s ahead. The road is rough, the winds are strong, and fear whispers for us to turn around. But if we keep trusting the One who knows the way, He faithfully leads us through the fog and eventually reveals breathtaking views we never could have imagined.
Psalm 19:105
“Your word is a lamp to my feet And a light to my path.’”