I wake-up thinking of my Dad. It would have been his 93rd birthday.
On reaching the Dalton Highway I am both euphoric and nostalgic. Last year I walked the entire 411 miles of the Dalton. Now to embed this great, though grimy, dirt and gravel road forever in my memory I growl and holler my way to the top of the first major climb. I am in my element. I push on two more hilly miles. The sun is hot. It is difficult, yet I am inspired by the thought that after the long drive back to Fairbanks my walking journey will now head southeast toward Canada.