The next morning, Day Five, I wake up and, like every morning, wonder what the weather is outside. I open the blackout shade and, oh, no! It's socked in big-time! This isn't the way I wanted to start this Arctic Circle assault. When I get on the bike wearing all my gear, electric vest plugged in, I'll have to admit that I was a little nervous with apprehension. It's not too often in my life I get butterflies about riding a motorcycle anymore, but I know that feeling makes you really know you're alive. It's going to take a full tank of gas and a rented gallon can filled to the brim to make it. An elderly German couple are interested in my route, so I explain what I'm going to do. He tells me, "Slow down for zee curves!" And I say, "I'll take that advice." That's when the wife says I must be an experienced motorcyclist. I just winked and said, "Yep." We all wave goodbye, and after I take a picture of the sign going in I say a prayer and take off up the trail, trying just to see through my wet, foggy visor. A half-hour later, the sun is peeking through and I'm heading into an area that is so beautiful it's hard to properly describe.