This kid, Bob, lived with his parents who owned the lodge we came across, like an oasis in the middle of the night, somewhere in the middle of the Denali highway. I kind of felt bad for Bob as the closest neighbor was 20 miles away so he had really no one to play with. When i asked his mother where she went to do grocery shopping she said it was a 5-6 hour drive ONE WAY, to a warehouse in either Anchorage or Fairbanks. Hard for me to fathom growing up in Long Island. The first thing i thought of when we were flying over NYC on our flight back home was what Bob would think of all this, seeing the density of people and cement. The exact opposite of what he's known all his 7 years. He was a nice little boy though.