The dream of going to Alaska is almost instinctual, a kind of migration that is reborn within each new generation.

My folks made the drive without a cell phone. Using public pay phones they checked in once a week from Out There.

Now, with the Canadian border reopened after a two-year closure, we expect to share the Alcan Highway with a record-breaking number of senior retirees, their RV's packed tight with puffy coats, woolen underwear and touques, whatever it takes to meet the Alaska of their imaginations.

We're in the Alaska state of mind, on our way to a land that humans will never tame to submission, one that tests the resilience of man and beast.

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