|Such an innocent face. . .|
Anyway, we had a quiet camp beside the highway Friday night, and Kermit helped me finish a Sheep Creek Lodge burger – even better than I remember and the fries were hand cut fresh potatoes like they used to make at the Kenai Lake Lodge fifty years ago. I almost cried when I saw they were smoking brisket for their anniversary party tonight. We had to keep moving.
This morning after an early start, we stopped at scenic Byers Lake for a walk and breakfast. This is where it all fell apart and the adventure began. When I opened the door, Kermit left the truck like a pissed off teenager with car keys. For those of you who don't know, Kermit is a retired Iditarod athlete with several trips up the trail on his resume and still plenty of fuel in the tank. Luckily, I was driving in my soft comfortable house slippers instead of regular shoes. I say luckily because if I was in regular shoes I would have launched a pursuit on foot. a total waste of time, in my slippers there was no chance.
After five hours of searching and calling and waiting, I gave up and turned my wheels north. Maybe he'd turn up when I returned in two days.
In two hours, Travis had driven north to start his own search, and the some good Samaritans and State Park rangers hand wrangled up Kermit and gave me a call, having see my notes left on outhouses and visitor plaques at the state park. By then Travis, my hero, Beals was only a mile from the where the deserter was being held. So Kermit is back in the locker
room with his old team and I am safe in Fairbanks for the night.