North Fork offers self-isolation wisdom
At the risk of this column reading like a journal entry or to even appear that I know what I’m talking about, here it goes. These past few weeks I’ve been reading through the archives of the North Fork re-imagining the abrupt but welcomed interruption of the winter norm of peaceful, snowy solitude, by competitive dogsled racing teams hurling over the Whitefish Divide, skidding to a finish line of cinnamon swirls seeping out of the Merc and a radiant Northern Lights Saloon sure to have the fire stoked, hot food, warm bartenders and jolly bystanders welcoming the teams in from the blizzard and wild moose that linger out beyond and behind...
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