My teen-age sons and I worked one summer near the Arctic Circle. When the fuel pump died on a borrowed Suburban, I hitchhiked.
Friends committed to driving me to Haines for college meetings canceled. With no public transportation available, I hitchhiked to Fairbanks on a semi.
Greyhound only traveled to Tok Junction, then Haines the next day. Maybe I’d sleep in a church?
An unlooked-for acquaintance 1700 from home boarded my bus. “Accompany me to Whitehorse,” she insisted.
That meant backtracking, but she pulled rank.
The next morning, unexpected friends driving to Haines appeared. I travelled comfortably and on time.