ALASKA AT LAST
We had finally made it to Anchor Point, Alaska. Fat raindrops hammered on the roof of our rented SUV, the mist clouded our view of the volcanic peaks opposite and the faded sign read, “North America’s Most Westerly Highway Point.” Our well-thumbed copy of The Milepost—an extensive guide to each of Alaska’s main highways—indicated that we were 14 miles away from the end of the road: Homer. Arriving here would mean that we had finally completed our road trip from Coronado Island, in San Diego, all the way up the west coast of North America.
Our journey had been a combination of various trips over the last decade, in cars ranging from a convertible Mustang to an impractical minibus—an unwanted upgrade
