Wrights On A Mission

Divine Appointments on the Road to Seward

There was no more rain. No more howling wind shaking the tent through the night. At last, it looked like we were going to enjoy a peaceful, uninterrupted night’s sleep—or so I thought.

Sometime in the darkness, I heard Melvin unzip the tent as he headed for the restroom. A second later, the quiet night was shattered.

“Ouch!”

“What happened?” I asked, startled awake.

“I stepped on a tent peg!”

Sure enough, our handy-dandy first aid kit was making another appearance. This time it was Melvin’s heel that needed attention. The sharp tent stake had punctured his foot, and it looked painful enough that I wondered how he would even walk the next day. He simply nodded, took a couple of Tylenol, and climbed back into his sleeping bag. We eventually drifted back to sleep, reminded once again that even the smallest obstacles can appear when we least expect them.

Life often feels that way. Just when the storms seem to pass, another challenge quietly waits in the darkness. Yet God never leaves us to face them alone. “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee.” — Isaiah 41:10. How many times on this journey has the Lord proven those words true?

Because of our interrupted night, we slept until nearly 9:00 a.m. When I finally unzipped the tent, the morning took my breath away. The mountains surrounding us stood silently beneath a brilliant blue sky, looking less like reality and more like an artist’s masterpiece painted across the horizon. It reminded me of Psalm 19:1: “The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.” Everywhere we looked, creation proclaimed the greatness of its Creator.

Since we were leaving that morning, I wandered over to the campground store and picked up two hot coffees and two egg sandwiches. I figured one less set of dishes to wash was a blessing in itself. We sat together in the warm sunshine, sipping coffee and soaking in the beauty around us. Across the campground, our friends from the neighboring campsite waved goodbye as they pulled out, heading for Hope. It amazed me how quickly strangers become friends when you’re sharing the road together.

Just as we were getting ready to tear down camp, Jeff—the gentleman with the Land Cruiser whom we had met on the Homer boardwalk the day before—stopped by our campsite simply to wish us safe travels. It was another reminder that God often sends people across our path for just a moment, yet those moments leave lasting encouragement.

Soon we settled into the familiar rhythm of breaking camp. After thirty-seven days on the road, every movement had become almost second nature. One person rolling sleeping bags while the other packed cooking gear, loading the motorcycles piece by piece until everything found its place.

Before we finished, our new neighbors wandered over to introduce themselves. John and Joyce were pastors of Gateway Christian Fellowship in Palmer. What began as a simple conversation quickly turned into sweet fellowship between brothers and sisters in Christ. It seems that no matter where this road takes us, God continually surrounds us with fellow believers. The body of Christ truly stretches far beyond the walls of any one church. “So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another.” — Romans 12:5.

Finally loaded and ready, we pointed our motorcycles toward Seward around 11:00 a.m. It would only be a couple of hours today, but what a beautiful ride it would be.

The Sterling Highway was much quieter than it had been the previous day. Sunshine poured across the mountains as we wound our way through the Kenai Peninsula. We stopped briefly for a few last photographs before continuing through Soldotna and eventually pulling into Cooper Landing for gas and a quick lunch.

God wasn’t finished arranging divine appointments.

While fueling up, we met Jim White from Minnesota. He smiled when he saw our New York license plates.

“Wait one second,” he said as he hurried to his vehicle.

A moment later he returned holding a tiny figurine of Jesus.

“I want you to have this.”

Before I could even thank him, Melvin reached into one of our saddlebags and handed Jim one of our “What Would Jesus Ride?” cards.

Jim laughed.

“A BMW!” he said, pointing at Gracie with a grin. “I’ve got one just like it.”

Only God could orchestrate an exchange like that.

Not long afterward, we met a local Alaskan woman and her daughter in the parking lot. What began as casual conversation turned into nearly half an hour of talking about life in Alaska—its fishing culture, the people who come and go, and those who choose isolation because they love this rugged land. Their stories captivated us so much that we completely lost track of time. Encounters like these have become some of our favorite parts of this journey. Every conversation reminds us that every person has a story, and every story matters to God.

Back on the motorcycles, the temperature had climbed to nearly 70 degrees. After so many chilly rides, the warm air felt wonderful. Highway 9 hugged the eastern side of the Kenai Peninsula, where towering mountains rose dramatically beside the roadway instead of across the bay like those in Homer. Massive snow-covered peaks stood watch overhead while brilliant turquoise rivers twisted through the valleys below, weaving alongside the highway. Riding through those sweeping curves felt almost like floating through one of God’s living paintings.

“The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof.” — Psalm 24:1.

By around 2:00 p.m., we rolled into the Seward KOA. It appeared to be a newer campground with gravel roads, gravel campsites, and raised tent platforms covered in indoor-outdoor carpet.

Then came the chorus.

Dogs.

Not one or two—but dozens.

The property next door was home to a dog boarding kennel and sled dog operation. The dogs barked and howled continuously, especially during feeding time. I finally asked the lady at the front desk if they ever quieted down.

“They usually settle after they’re fed,” she assured me with a smile.

We certainly hoped so.

After setting up camp, we rode into Seward to explore the town and pick up bagels and cream cheese. Before we left Homer that morning, John and Joyce had generously given us some smoked salmon, and we already knew exactly what dinner would be.

While exploring town, Melvin spotted a gravel road disappearing along Resurrection Bay.

That was all the invitation he needed.

The road carried us to Lowell Point, ending near Miller’s Landing campground and restaurant. Resurrection Bay stretched before us, sparkling beneath the afternoon sun, while the quaint harbor town bustled with tourists, fishing boats, and colorful storefronts. It had the unmistakable charm of an old Alaskan fishing village.

On the way back, we made one more stop at Exit Glacier.

Standing before the glacier was humbling. National Park Service signs showed just how enormous it had been 23,000 years ago when ice completely filled the valley where we now stood. Though the glacier has receded dramatically, it still spoke volumes about the power and majesty of God’s creation. It was another reminder that while landscapes change, the Creator never does. “Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.” — Hebrews 13:8.

Back at camp, I toasted our bagels over the fire, warmed the smoked salmon, and together we enjoyed smoked salmon, cream cheese, and toasted bagels. For dessert, we finished the chocolate chip cookies our sweet neighbors, Susan and Mike, had given us before we left Homer.

As we sat around the fire reflecting on the day, I couldn’t help but think about how incredibly faithful God has been throughout this journey. Time after time, complete strangers have become blessings—offering meals, places to stay, financial gifts, prayers, encouragement, and friendship. None of it has been by chance.

“And my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:19.

After dinner, Melvin investigated the strange clinking sound I had been hearing on my motorcycle. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious. A loose chain guard was vibrating against the bike. After tightening a few bolts, the noise disappeared completely. Once again, God had spared us from what could have been a much bigger problem.

As Melvin finished working on Gracie, a couple walking by stopped to see if everything was okay. Their names were Cecil and Alisha from North Carolina. They had been traveling around Alaska since May and were loving every minute of it.

Before long, our conversation turned—as it so often does—to the beauty surrounding us and the God who created it all. We shared Psalm 19 and talked about how Alaska isn’t the only place that reveals God’s glory. Every mountain, every ocean, every forest, every sunrise across this world points back to the Creator.

Alisha smiled and said, “Exactly! It’s not just Alaska. All of God’s creation is amazing.”

Amen.

As the evening grew cooler and our campfire slowly faded into glowing embers, we cleaned up and climbed into the tent. I finished writing today’s blog and uploaded video footage while listening to the quiet sounds of the campground settling in for the night.

Thirty-seven days into this adventure, one truth continues to become clearer with every mile: this journey has never really been about motorcycles or destinations. It has been about watching God faithfully guide our every step, introducing us to His people, revealing His glory through His creation, and reminding us that wherever He leads, His presence goes before us.

Tomorrow we will spend the day exploring Seward. We have no idea what lies ahead, but we know the One who does.

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way.” — Psalm 37:23.