It's nearly 9pm and I'm having dinner on the deck of the cafe across the highway from my home for the next 2 nights, the Denali Mountain Morning Hostel. The people in the hostel are very nice but I'm feeling a bit wistful. So I've had excellent turkey pot pie and asked the waitress to make me an affogato. The cafe's music is excellent classic rock, Motown and folk, and I'm lost in memories bitter and sweet of road trips when I was a different woman. A double rig just made an emergency stop about an hour ago, horns blasting and smoke pouring from the trailer as he slammed on the brakes from 65mph and burned up the rubber on his tires. He's OK. No sirens. All just part of rough and tumble Alaska near Denali on this exquisite midsummer evening.
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