The miles slip past, Iceworm Gulch, Glitter Gulch, and then the vastness of the terrain opens up at Broad Pass. On a clear day we can spy Denali among the Western snowy peaks of the Alaska Range.
"Do you want to stop for a picture?" inquires my husband.
"Not this time, let's keep rolling."
We continue the drive south in quiet contemplation. This land is steeped in history, not to be found among the pages of texts but in the layers of bones that go unseen below the tundra. Frozen in time.
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