Six hundred miles from tomorrow
We arrive in Fairbanks, and soon modify our mode of transportation from our Silver Submarine to railroad tracks and Iditarod dog training sleds. We’re near the apex of our journey north, having taken a route circumscribing an area resembling a small drunken triangle in the bottom portion of a vast surrounding wilderness. As the raven flies, Fairbanks lies a tad over 600 miles from the…
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