Why this trip happened

I have always been fascinated by long distance motorcycle travel. Going as far as possible, getting that feeling of being well beyond familiar places, being blown away by natural beauty of places and amazed by interacting with new people. The only way I can experience the feeling of being really a part of the world I am traveling through, for me is  doing it on a motorcycle. Many years ago, the first motorcycle I owned was a 50 CC two stroke which would have had a hard time today being classified as anything else other than a kid’s bike. But it was a proper motorcycle, with four gears and same amount of horsepower, brakes, a light that pulsated and raised or dimmed intensity with engine RPM, and even a horn. It’s name was Mobra. I had miraculously been able to buy it from a co worker who had slowly become much more preoccupied with drinking parties than riding it. So, after declaring my interest in two wheel motorized vehicles, many hours of discussions and sales pitches being administered to me every day at the work place by friends and acquaintances of this friend, not having any motorcycling experience I decided one evening after work to pass by his house and have him demonstrate the machine’s perfect running condition and extraordinary performance. Since I didn't know how to ride, after a few laps in the dark  around the large apartment buildings complex – me being first time on a motorcycle as well as a passenger – my dorky colleague friend managed to thoroughly impress me avoiding the huge steel trash cans by mere inches while we gloriously navigated the maze of junk in a cloud of two stroke smoke offering all building inhabitants the delightful chainsaw like high pitched engine noise at the late evening hour. I was sold and brought it home shortly thereafter, and after many trial and error learning exercises in an adjacent park I finally managed to stay upright, shift, accelerate, brake and steer it enough to survive. It did break down a lot which I discovered as soon as I received my driving license and attempted to cover any distance outside my neighborhood’s nearest streets. I had to take it apart almost weekly and figure out how to get it running again, but that only created the bond between us making me more confident to push the envelope further. After a year I was taking trips of approximately 100 miles from my place to the mountains or even to the Black Sea. Many hours were spent doing roadside maintenance and frequently needed repairs, they gave me the fondest of memories of places and people I met in those occasions and the taste for adventure and new roads exploration. Fast forward today, many years motorcycles and life events later, I now own a 2007 BMW R1200GS. I have taken many motorcycle journeys in US, Canada, Mexico and Europe, but never one of almost 12,000 miles alone and with just a month of free time. Travelling to Alaska on my own motorcycle has always intrigued me and the more I thought about it, the more I needed to do it. After a lot of reading of other's stories and viewing pictures of their trip, finally I had decided to make it all happen.The map below  was drawn using  the GPS tracks recorded, it is the route I followed in this trip.