Ryouga in Alaska
~Big Bore~

      Overall, it had been a good day for Big Bore and the Wanderer. They had left Fairbanks early that morning to start their annual Denali Highway trip. Though it was several hours driving time from Fairbanks to the Denali Highway Junction at Cantwell, the two were in good spirits. For once everything had worked out okay. Both had plenty of paid vacation time coming, the fish in the streams on the Denali were rumored to be striking any fly you carried to toss their way, and for once on one of their trips, it was sunny with more good weather in the forecast. Bearing in mind all of their previous trips, this should have struck the them as foreboding.
      The two were riding in Big Bore's truck, a monstrosity his wife refused to drive on size basis alone. It had come out of the Ford factory in mid-1997 as a emerald green F-350 Diesel Pickup. A four-wheel drive with four doors and a shortbed it was already pretty big. Big Bore had thrown away the stock tires and installed a set of 36" tall Super Swampers, making necessary suspension changes along the way. In addition, though the 7.3 liter Powerstroke Diesel was the most powerful engine Ford had ever installed in a one-ton truck, it had been tweaked and tourqed until it no longer matched exact factory specs. In fact, it wouldn't have been street legal in more than a few states. Up front was an extra-heavy duty bumper with a winch for any unforeseen circumstances. For the trip, Big Bore had bought a canopy to throw on the back to keep the gear dry.
      By itself the truck was eye-catching, but that wasn't all Big Bore and the Wanderer had along. Strapped to the top of the canopy was a 16' long nylon tube resting alongside a 17' canoe. Behind the truck on a special trailer was a odd looking collection of aluminum tubes on wheels that mounted an engine and propeller. When properly assembled the tube and aluminum tubes made up an ultralight aircraft called a 'trike'. With all this gear along, Big Bore and the Wanderer felt they were ready for anything sea, land or air.
      As is fate's way, whenever things seem to be going along in a predictable fashion, she throws a curveball. Though getting on towards evening, the August sun was still high in the Alaskan sky. As was their want the Big Bore and the Wanderer were discussing Life, The Universe and Everything.
      "You know, BB, maybe if you didn't tie your own flies you'd catch more fish." Said the Wanderer with a precisely measured amount of humor in his voice.
      "You only caught one more fish than I did in that last stream," retorted Big Bore. "Besides were doing catch and release, so there is no proof that you caught more fish!"
      "Why do you think I dragged along my Pentax? I have photographic proof of my catch. You only had me take a single picture of your fish."
      "True, but that one fish was bigger than all your little fish combined. Besides everybody knows you have a kick-butt computer system where you work. I can just claim you doctored the pictures!"
      At that the Wanderer actually flinched. "Ouch! Make one picture look like Wiley Coyote is flying my Antares trike and I never live it down."
      Big Bore laughed at that. "It wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't submitted that picture to the Milepost, or if they hadn't printed it in the Fairbanks section without looking it over closer first! Then you got that call from Warner Bro-" Big Bore cut off his good natured ribbing when saw a figure loom ahead of the truck in the road. "Oh, Shit!"
      Grabbing the brakes on the truck hard, Big Bore brought the big truck to a stop in a distance even a Corvette would have been proud of. As the truck lurched to a stop in a cloud of dust, the last thing Big Bore saw was the startled face of boy wearing a yellow bandana disappear beneath the line of the hood. "Dear God, I hope I didn't kill him!" Both occupants of the truck unsnapped their seatbelts and jumped out fearing the worst. The Wanderer had a first-aid kit in his hand that he had grabbed from under the seat. Both he and Big Bore rounded opposite corners of the hood at the same moment. What they saw caused both of their jaws to drop and for them to stop and stare open-mouthed.
      The young man was standing stock still staring straight at the blue Ford emblem in the grill of the truck. His black hair was held back by a yellow bandana and he wore a dusty yellow shirt and black pants. He carried a pack on his back with a strange umbrella strapped to the top. Most striking of all was the fact that the bumper had stopped an inch from his chest. For a few moments the young man stared at the truck and Big Bore and the Wanderer stared at him. Perhaps being less shocked than the other two, the Wanderer found his voice first.
      "Ah, are you, um alright?" The Wanderer was worried he had gone into shock and had begun to calculate how long it would take to get him back to someplace with a decent hospital. The boy seemed to shake himself, then turned to face the Wanderer.
      "Pardon me, but do you know the way to the Tendo Dojo?" He asked in slightly Japanese accented English.
      "WHAT!!!!!" Roared the Big Bore. He had jumped out of the truck assuming he had killed an innocent pedastrian (albeight one who didn't have enough sense to walk on the side of the road instead of the middle), and here the 'victim' was calmly asking for directions. This did not sit well with Big Bore's sense of rightness in the world.
      "I'm looking for the Tendo Dojo. It has to be around here somewhere!" The boy's voice took on a slighlty exasperated air.
      The Wanderer was having a less difficult time than his companion switching mental gears. Heck, if this guy wanted to ignore the fact that he had almost been killed, then why worry about it? "Well, were kinda out in the boonies here. No permanent buildings for quite a ways in any direction. What town is the Tendo Dojo in?"
      "Tokyo, of course!" The boy seemed quite annoyed at what he obviously considered a silly question. He took a close look at the mountains before continuing. "Say, this isn't Hokkido is it?"
      "No, this is the interior of Alaska," replied the Wanderer. He was regaining his good humor and beginning to become amused by this strange young man. The Big Bore was still trying to regain his heart rate.
      "Alaska? You mean that really far north state in America? With the polar bears and igloos and stuff?" The young man seemed quite incredulous. "I've stumbled into some weird places before, but never Alaska! At least, not that I remember."
      Big Bore had finally regained his mental balance and gave conversation another try. "Hmm, well, there are a few weirder places than Alaska, but I've never been to them." The boy turned to look at the new speaker. "I'm Big Bore, and that over there is the Wanderer." The boy turned again to look at the Wanderer, who nodded. He turned back as Big Bore continued to speak. "It seems like you are a ways from home. We can't give you directions to the 'Tendo Dojo', but you're welcome to ride along with us for a while. The truck's plenty big for another passenger."
      The boy seemed to think it over for a minute. "I don't know, I don't want to be any trouble."
      "No trouble at all. The least we can do," Big Bore said as he lead the way to the truck door. He opened the back door on the driver's side and motioned the young boy to throw his pack in. "By the way, what's your name, kid?"
      "Huh? Oh! Sorry, I'm Ryoga, Ryoga Hibiki."
      A couple hours later and a few miles down the road, the trio of Big Bore, Wanderer and Ryoga finished setting up camp. Unusually, they were in a campground. In fact it was the only true campground on the entire Denali Highway. Of course the Denali "Highway" was a two lane dirt road stretching between two more travelled Alaskan Highways, so a single 'real' campground wasn't out of place. The Wanderer looked on in amused exasperation as Big Bore pounded in the last tent stake.
      "A 15' by 20' wall tent? Don't you think that is a bit much?" The Wanderer asked.
      "It's like I told you the first time we made this trip. If I'm packing it in a truck instead of on my back, there is no reason not to be comfortable. What do you think Ryoga?" Asked Big Bore trying to draw their new traveling companion into the conversation.
      "Well, it is certainly nicer than what I'm used to," Ryoga laughed in a self-depreciating way. "I usually just sleep outside under the stars, or in my poncho under the umbrella if it's raining." As he said this he reached a hand behind his head and scratched in what was obviously a nervous manner.
      "Now that's what I call roughin' it!" Laughed Big Bore. "Not that the Wanderer and I haven't done a bit of that too. Anyhoo, it's time for tonights toughest decision."
      "What's that?" asked Ryoga a bit nervously.
      "To figure out who gets to cook dinner tonight. Since it's your first night with us, you're exempted Ryoga. Okay, Wanderer, call it in the air." With that Big Bore pulled a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it into the air.
      "Heads!" Called the Wanderer just before Big Bore caught the coin. "Just in case you really have a two-headed coin like in your stories. Big Bore took a look at the coin before answering.
      "Darn, it's heads. Hey, that coin in the story didn't belong to me, it belonged to my imaginary sidekick."
      "Nonetheless, I figured I'd be on the safe side. Be all that as it may, you get to cook."
      "No biggee. Hey, Ryoga, is there anything you can't eat I should know about?" Big Bore questioned the young man.
      "Not really, except I don't eat pork."
      "Religous or are you allergic to it?"
      "Uh, it's kinda personal," he answered sheepishly.
      "Nooo problem, I don't think we packed any pork except for some bacon. I'll throw on some Teriyaki Moose steaks and whip up some fried 'taters on the side." Big Bore fixed an eye on the Wanderer. "But cookin' is thirsty work, so how 'bout snaggin' us a couple of beers there Wanderer?"
      The Wanderer walked over to the cooler and pulled out a few bottles, tossing one to Big Bore he looked over at Ryoga. "Want a beer Ryoga?"
      "Uh, no thanks, right now I need to find a men's room."
      "Oh, sure, the outhouse is that little building on the other side of the campground." The Wanderer pointed at a brown hut about 100 yards away.
      "Thanks, I'll be right back."
      "Where is he Wanderer?" Asked Big Bore for the third time. "It's been over an hour since he went to find the bathroom, and dinner is ready."
      "I didn't hear a scream, so a bear didn't get him. Maybe he went for a walk down by the creek." A very loud feminine scream from three camps down broke the evening silence (well, there was the buzzing of mosquitoes, but that is Alaskan Silence).
      Both the Wanderer and Big Bore looked toward the commotion to see Ryoga stagger out of the camp with various camping implements bouncing off of his head. The Wanderer whistled and Ryoga looked up in his direction. With obvious relief on his face he turned to the campers behind him to try apologizing one last time and took a metal skillet square on the forehead. With a comical pause he peeled the skillet off of his face (his skin seeming to stick to it and stretch momentarily) and looked wildly around. The Wanderer whistled again and waved his arms.
      "Umm, what were you doing in that other camp Ryouga?" Asked Big Bore as Ryouga trotted into camp.
      Ryouga laughed a funny little laugh and put his hand behind his back in his self-concious gesture. "Um, well, I kinda had a little trouble finding my way back to the camp....."
      "How could you have trouble finding camp?" Big Bore persisted. "The outhouse is only a hundred yards away and in sight of us!"
      "Take it easy Big Bore," laughed Wanderer. "I seem to remember someone gettin north and south mixed up on a compass last year while moose hunting!"
      "Hey, that's differen't!" replied Big Bore in a mock hurt souding voice. "It was brushy, cloudy and getting late! Besides, we made it back to the truck before it got TOO dark!"
      "Yeah, well a few minutes more and I would have been looking to nail one of those grouse we kept jumping for dinner!" The two Alaskans shared a good snicker as they reminisced. Ryouga watched a little in awe, wondering what it would be like to be close friends with someone like these two seemed to be. The Wanderer interuppted his mental track by handing him a plate with a big steak and some fried potatoes on it. "Here you go Ryouga."
      "Since you're from Japan, I went ahead and cooked the moose steaks I was marinating in Teriaki sauce. It's one of my favorite camp meals," Big Bore informed Ryouga. "It goes down better with some beer though, sure you don't want some?"
      Ryouga thought it over for a minute. He didn't like to drink because it made him depressed, well, more depressed than usual. However he had heard that Americans drank pretty mild beer and he didn't want to offend such generous hosts. "Sure, I guess I'll have one."
      Big Bore uncapped a Miller Genuine Draft and handed it to the young martial artist. Taking a tiny sip, Ryouga found it cold and refreshing. Slowly he began to eat, taking large sips of the beer to help wash down the surprisingly good steak.
      A couple hours and several beers each later, the trio sat underneath the awning on the big tent. The campfire had died to embers and what passed for an Alaskan Summer night had closed in on them, but none of them looked eager to jump up out of their chairs. They had spent a pleasant time talking of their various adventures. The Alaskan's were quite surprised at how well traveled Ryouga was. About then, Big Bore pulled out a bottle of Brandy.

      End...for now