Sitting in an Alaskan Yukon Trails van speeding down the parks highway on my way to a tiny trailer alongside a gravel runway seems as good a time as any to begin. The rivers have broken up a month early and one wildfire rages on near Healy. I wish I could get rid of this pesky cough.I listen in to the conversation of a cute french girl and her stinky boyfriend behind me. A distant view of Denali mountain lingers in the forefront, dwarfing human's creations. "Ze american way of life," I catch the frenchman saying, I think in a confusedly positive fashion.
What I think is a quebe sits to my right tired and disgruntled, two asian girls and an indian girl sit huddled together in front of me, head to shoulder, head to shoulder, head to shoulder . . . .a quick stop, road contsruction, reserve battery power . . . .hello i-pod, goodbye text edit. Almost there.
A lift from the old man, two airplanes, a cab, a hostel, a van, 500 bucks and 39 hours later and I'm home again, where the sun goes in circles around your head, human predators are prevalent, and 40 degrees is a warm summer day.
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