Found in every ocean but the arctic, the Frigate Bird has one of the largest zones of habitation in the world. You can find them almost anywhere there is salt water. They have the largest wing-to-weight ratio of all feathered beings-- they're virtually able to flap their wings once every few dozen miles and they spend the majority of their life coasting on wind gusts across the globe. They travel vast distances and cover more territory than most living things. 

While they spend their time combing the shores of the world's oceans they rarely meet in large groups. There is one place they all end up meeting to mate and rally, however. Off of the west coast of Ecuador, in the Galapagos islands in the middle of the Pacific, they descend down onto North Seymour Island to meet. They don't even land to socialize. They feel more at home just floating above the island among their fellow frigate birds.

Like the frigate bird on that lonely rock in the Galapagos, here in the arctic, I find myself in my own meeting place among my peers: adventure riders.

Up here in the northern reaches of Canada's territories? This is where the Adventure Motorcycles roam.

In contrast to where I've lived and travelled, you find all kinds of motorcycles on the road. Smaller-size bikes stick to your cities, dirt bikes roam the public lands, cruisers traverse the 2-laned highways, and thrill-seeking crotch rockets cruise the beltways around metro areas. Every once and a while you'll find an adventure motorcycle in the mix-- and it could be any of these places.

You'll know them when you see them. Their riders are typically geared up with heavy padding. Those big ol' boxes on the sides? Panniers? They sacrifice form for function. They look clunky, but the adventure rider is living out of them.

Up here, I find myself 'flying with my fellow frigate birds.' Every motorcycle I see is just like mine. The small bikes are long gone. You won't hear the 'braaap' of a crotch rocket around here for hundreds of miles. You MAY come across a cruiser. All that's left are the adventure motorcycles.

They come from places unknown, covered in mud, dirt, and dust of distant lands. The riders themselves? Many of them have never made it up here before. It's like the Muslim Hajj to Mecca- a pilgrimage that many will only take once in their lifetime. Many have planned this northbound trek for years to do this, much like myself. We're in our element, but the environment is still foreign. 

So many motorcycles are faster and look sexier, but none can travel as far as ours on one tank. We're built for the distance and to bring the obscure closer. The essence of adventure itself is leaving the familiar behind for the unknown.

Up here in the arctic, like the globetrotting frigatebird, we're all roaming but here we feel at home.

JT - 7/26/2022