Wrights On A Mission

Beauty from the Broken Places

The cool, damp morning greeted us long before the sun ever warmed the earth. At 7:30 the alarm sounded, and I quickly hit the snooze button, reluctant to leave the warmth of my sleeping bag. When it buzzed a second time, I knew it was time to brave the chilly air and make the walk to the campground bathrooms. A fine mist floated through the air, giving the whole morning a peaceful, almost reverent feeling.

Along the way I ran into Jay, the fisherman who had so generously given us a fresh salmon the evening before.

“Hi Jay! That salmon was absolutely delicious! Thank you again.”

He smiled and asked, “Have you ever had fresh Alaskan salmon before?”

“No,” I replied. “That was the best salmon we’ve ever eaten.”

He wished us a safe journey and said, “I hope you come back to Alaska again someday.”

“We hope we can too,” I answered. “Take care. It was a blessing meeting you.”

Sometimes God reminds us that the greatest gifts aren’t wrapped in paper. They’re wrapped in kindness. Jay had no idea how much his generosity encouraged us. Hebrews 13:2 reminds us, “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” Throughout this journey, we’ve discovered that God’s love is often delivered through ordinary people with generous hearts.

Back at camp, I fired up the JetBoil and brewed coffee with the AeroPress while Melvin and I enjoyed the scones we had picked up from Mel’s Bakery the day before. Wrapped in our jackets beneath the shelter of the tent vestibule, we watched the mist drift through the campground while savoring another slow Alaskan morning. There is something sacred about slowing down long enough to notice God’s creation. We spend so much of life rushing that we often miss the quiet whispers of His presence.

Soon we settled into our familiar routine of packing the tent, loading the bikes, and preparing for another day on the road. Today’s ride would only be about an hour and a half to Homer.

Or so we thought.

As we pulled out of the campground’s gravel driveway, riddled with deep potholes, I was almost to the pavement when one hidden rut caught my front tire. Before I could recover, I calmly called out to Melvin, “I’m going down…again.”

And down we went.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a hard fall. Gracie gently laid down beside me like she’d done it before. We picked her back up, brushed ourselves off, and she fired right up as if nothing had happened.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

These gravel roads have humbled me more times than I care to admit, but they’ve also taught me something valuable. Falling isn’t failure if you’re willing to get back up. Proverbs 24:16 says, “Though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.” Every drop has reminded me that God isn’t asking for perfection—He’s asking for perseverance. And with every fall, His grace has faithfully lifted me back to my feet.

We continued south on the Sterling Highway as a light rain fell on and off throughout the ride. The waters of Cook Inlet stretched beside us while low clouds danced across the shoreline. Then, as we began descending toward Homer, the landscape suddenly opened before us.

I honestly wasn’t prepared for what we saw.

Across Kachemak Bay stood a line of towering snow-covered volcanoes—Mount Douglas, Mount Augustine, Mount Iliamna, Mount Redoubt, and Mount Spurr. Rising majestically above the clouds, they looked almost too beautiful to be real. The mountains reflected off the water while streaks of sunlight occasionally broke through the gray skies.

It took my breath away.

Moments like these remind me why King David wrote, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands” (Psalm 19:1). No photograph could fully capture what our eyes were seeing. We simply rode in silence, overwhelmed by the majesty of the Creator. Every mile through Alaska has become another page in God’s masterpiece.

By late morning we arrived at the Beachcrest/Homer KOA. The office was temporarily closed while the owner worked elsewhere in the campground, so we wandered next door to warm up with a cup of coffee before returning to check in.

As we set up our tent, the gentle drizzle turned into a steady rain.

One of the campground employees, Michael, walked over and said, “I had to look twice at your license plate. I wanted to see if you really rode all the way here from New York.”

I smiled.

“Yes, we did. We’ve traveled over 6,000 miles now.”

His eyes widened.

We shared one of our “What Would Jesus Ride?” gospel tracts with him, and he immediately smiled and told us he was a follower of Jesus. Before leaving, he shared Scripture with us, and once again we were reminded that no matter where we travel, we are family in Christ. It’s amazing how quickly strangers become brothers and sisters when Jesus is at the center of the conversation.

After camp was set up, we rode into town for a few groceries. This time I hopped on the back of Melvin’s bike. Every once in a while it’s nice to simply enjoy being the passenger. I could relax, soak in the scenery, and let someone else worry about the road.

Back at camp, I transformed the leftover salmon into fish tacos with soft tortillas, pepper jack cheese, and salsa.

Without exaggeration…

They were the best fish tacos we’ve ever eaten.

What began as an unexpected gift from a fisherman had turned into another memorable meal around our campsite. James 1:17 tells us, “Every good and perfect gift is from above.” Sometimes God’s blessings arrive as something as simple as a piece of fresh salmon shared between new friends.

The cold, damp weather had settled deep into our bones, so hot showers felt like pure luxury. While our clothes tumbled in the campground laundry, we rewarded ourselves with bowls of ice cream next door.

Waiting for the dryer, I met Angelica and Gabe. She had just flown in to visit Alaska but was disappointed that rain had greeted her instead of sunshine.

I smiled and said, “Friday is supposed to be beautiful.”

She laughed.

“I’m flying home Friday.”

“Well,” I replied, “at least you’ll have a gorgeous flight out.”

We all laughed together.

Sometimes joy comes in conversations that last only a few minutes.

Meanwhile, back at camp, Melvin had been busy building a beautiful campfire despite the steady mist. He had also met our neighboring campers and shared one of our “What Would Jesus Ride?” tracts with them. They were fascinated by our journey and couldn’t wait to meet me when I returned.

As we talked around the fire, they shared the heartbreaking story of losing their son several years earlier. In return, Melvin shared about the loss of our daughter Jessica. There were tears, understanding, compassion, and hope. Their fishing trip had been canceled because of the weather, but perhaps God had another appointment planned all along.

We were reminded again that God often uses our deepest pain to comfort someone else’s wounded heart. As 2 Corinthians 1:4 says, “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

Before turning in for the evening, we picked up a couple of drinks and a bag of popcorn from the camp store. Sitting beneath the canopy of our tent, protected from the mist, we watched the campfire flicker against the gray Alaskan evening. There was no rushing. No agenda. Just the quiet crackle of the fire, warm popcorn, and grateful hearts.

The forecast promised another day of rain and strong winds tomorrow. We weren’t sure what the day would hold, but we’ve learned something over these thousands of miles: God’s plans are always better than ours.

So we’ll trust Him once again.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” — Proverbs 3:5-6

Sometimes the most beautiful views come after an unexpected fall.

Sometimes the greatest blessings arrive in the middle of the rain.

And sometimes God uses an ordinary day to remind us that every mile is held securely in His hands.