I returned a couple hours later for dinner. The Latitude offers a nice restaurant and bar. An antique ice box from the old Fort Bragg Officer’s Club was well stocked with beer, and an ornately carved mahogany bar the owner acquired in Bavaria, Germany, accentuated the otherwise rustic decor. I had the prime rib special with a side of king crab legs—around $21, minus my beer tab. It was a nice thick cut, juicy and delicious. After devouring it in short order, the chef (or owner or bar manager; I couldn’t determine which) said, "Well, you obviously liked it, huh?" "I sure did" I replied. "You a climber," she said . . .

I really enjoyed talking to the locals here. Aside from the chef, one of the first people I met here was the contractor that builds most of the houses. "Talkeetna’s secret is getting out," he said. "All kinds of people are moving here. Three this summer." Others at the bar included a Scottish couple. The man was smoking a pipe. I could only barely understand his English. Everyone had to keep asking him to repeat himself, though I got the sense that he was a regular. A four-man French climbing party checked into the hotel while I was at the bar. Apparently this excited the local women because I caught them smiling at each other and semi-subtly checking each other out when they thought no one was looking.

Shortly, I departed back downtown for the nightlife there. The staff worked with me for a late check-out the next day. Coincidentally, the room was $62 per night. The Latitude 62 worked out better for me than the Roadhouse after all.