Arctic Circle

An Unknown Alaska

~ adriennecohen221 ~ Leave a comment

The 20th annual conference of the North American Travel Journalists Association, held in Fairbanks, Alaska, in May 2023, ended on a high note, indeed. It represented the culmination of a 16-day journey that included travel by air, cruise ship, bus, and train. The route took me from my home in Arkansas to Vancouver, British Columbia, then north along the inland passage to Alaska’s port cities, and on to Anchorage, Denali National Park and inland Alaska.

At the conclusion of the conference, I was off on another type of adventure — a grueling ride along the Dalton Highway, a mostly unpaved roadway that loosely follows the route of the Trans-Alaska pipeline from just north of Fairbanks to Deadhorse, Alaska, on the Arctic Ocean. It is barren, uninhabited land.

Our guide and driver told us that in the 1980s, a group of homesteaders had formed a small community in an “off-the-grid” location along the route. Today, even they have moved on, with only a handful of buildings as testimony to their former lifestyle. We stopped at what was once the general store in the area, now owned and maintained by the tour company as a convenience stop for participants on the Highway excursions. The site’s several buildings stand empty and unused, but there are clean, well-maintained outhouses, complete with lighting and framed art on the walls. It was not only a welcome rest stop, but the site offered numerous photo ops as well!

Leaving Fairbanks, we traveled along the Stease Highway, then joined the Elliott Highway (roadways in Alaska have names rather than numbers) until we reached the Dalton Highway, made famous by the television show, “Ice Road Truckers,” for the long-haul drivers who bring food and supplies to oil field workers and support crews along Prudhoe Bay.

There is a welcome sign where the Dalton Highway begins. At a stop there to take photos, we met a couple of motorcyclists traveling north from California to Deadhorse!

The Dalton Highway stretches 414 miles north from Livengood, a former gold mining town approximately 80 miles north of Fairbanks to Deadhorse, Alaska., at the Arctic Ocean. Originally known as the North Slope Haul Road, it was begun in 1974 and completed in just five months to facilitate pipeline installation. The pipeline itself stretches approximately 800 miles from Prudhoe Bay to its terminus at the ice-free port of Valdez in Prince William Sound. Still a marvel of engineering, the Trans-Alaska pipeline was operational in just 20 months, and began pumping oil in 1977.

The highest mountain in this northern region is just over 3,200 feet (in contrast to Denali’s height of more than 20,000 feet only a few hours to the southwest). The high point on the Dalton Highway is 2,200 feet, but much of this land is above the tree line, and it appears stark, nude, and forbidding in its solitude.

Hilltop Gas Station, 15 miles outside of Fairbanks, is the northernmost source of fuel until drivers reach Coldfoot, on the Yukon River, or the northern terminus of Deadhorse. The power line also ends not too far north of Fairbanks. In a very real sense, this is “the end of civilization.” Pedro Dome, situated northeast of Fairbanks, provides the only Doppler weather radar tracking for the entire state. If it goes down, weather forecasts for Alaska are only guesses.

Our second stop was at Yukon River Camp, where pipeline workers, roadway maintenance crews, and truckers gather. It serves as rest stop, information and communications center, local store, no-frills eatery and is a welcome sight for the few tourists along the lonely road. There is a small village of support personnel, with overnight accommodations available.

Visitors can check the weather, make phone calls, grab a hot cup of coffee, even purchase sweatshirts, postcards, and souvenir magnets. It was here that we once again met the cyclists and wished them well on their continued journey north.

Cities in this northern inland portion of the state are non-existent; even primitive settlements are few and far between. Water, power and fuel do not exist, and travel is treacherous.

Although our excursion traversed not quite half the length of the Dalton highway, we traveled far enough north to literally leave civilization behind. It was a unique experience.

Later, our group stepped across the latitude line (66 degrees, 33 minutes) that marks the Arctic Circle, and we celebrated with “Alaska mud cake” and whipped topping at a picnic table in the forest — under the watchful eyes of curious squirrels and hopeful “thieving birds” perched just above us in the trees. It was there that we picked up a handful of southbound travelers, adventurous souls who had previously ventured further north and would be returning with us to Fairbanks.

On our return south, we stopped again at the Yukon River Camp. But now the kitchen was closed, and the staff had gone to bed. We brought our own sandwiches or microwavable dinners. Water and hot coffee were available to us, but there was little else other than tables, chairs and clean rest rooms. The camaraderie made up for the late-night lack of service.

My colleagues and I — participants in this unique post conference Dalton Highway press trip — discovered the uninhabited, “ungoverned wilderness” of far north inland Alaska. I was overwhelmed by the isolation, and enthralled by the beauty of the land. Only a limited number of participants were chosen for this unique tour offered by the Northern Alaska Tour Company. Another somewhat less-strenuous option offered to Alaska tourists provides an alternative overnight stay near Coldfoot, Alaska, in the Brooks Range, a bumpy hour or so north of the Arctic Circle. On that excursion, travelers can opt to take a morning hike along the Yukon River, followed by a bush-plane flight back to Fairbanks. Fellow journalists who took part in that trip reported that the return flight was spectacular, not to mention a few hours of welcome sleep in a rustic cabin with a comfortable bed!

We traveled through the northern boreal forest that spans the globe from Alaska to Scandinavia. Russia and Asia boast greater biodiversity and life forms; in Alaska, there are only four species of trees that grow in the permafrost: white and black spruce, aspen, and birch trees. Because we were there in spring, we witnessed the aspen and spruce leafing out, even though snow remained on the ground in some areas. We were told that a few weeks earlier, the land was fully blanketed with deep snow. But spring comes quickly to this part of Alaska.

For my part, though, I was grateful for the opportunity to learn from our knowledgeable guide about the history of the Trans-Alaska pipeline and its current upkeep and operation. I was impressed by the ongoing maintenance work along the mostly unpaved roadway, even though construction delays late at night were a bit unnerving! I felt a slight sense of fear, tempered by awe, each time a swirling cloud of dust signaled the approach of a speeding 18-wheeler.

Those long-haul drivers are experienced, professional and, usually, extremely courteous. But it is obvious they operate on an unforgiving timetable, and they simply “keep on trucking.”

I was duly impressed by the sight of the 45-year-old, mostly-elevated oil pipeline as it snakes across the land. For more information about the construction and continuing operation of this engineering marvel, visit TAPS Construction -Alyeska Pipeline.

We stopped for a short time at an outcropping of granite tors, huge natural outgrowths that stand like sentinels on the barren land. Much further to the south, there is a 15-mile trail and public campground at another tors site, maintained and administered by the Alaska Division of Parks and Outdoor Recreation.

This trip is by no means an excursion for the faint of heart. But neither was it, as a participant on a tour prior to mine proclaimed, “the worst day of my life.” It was long, yes; cold, drizzly, uncomfortable, and tiring. We returned to our Fairbanks hotel at about 3 a.m. for a few hours of sleep before flying out that afternoon to the Lower 48. Would I do it again? No, but I’m certainly happy to have had the full experience.

It was a ride I will not soon forget! And the changing hues of blues, pinks, and striated yellow and orange that filled the night sky in those late night and early morning hours will forever color my memories of far north Alaska, a land full of wonders and surprises.

The certificate I was presented proclaims that I crossed the Arctic Circle and “survived an adventurous journey through the Alaska wildnerness.” That says it all!

71 10 21– and other points on the globe

~ adriennecohen221 ~ 1 Comment

Magnetic North, the point on the globe where all other locations lie to the south, is commonly known as the North Pole. But it’s moving, sometimes pretty rapidly, according to scientists.

Despite romantic notions to the contrary, the North Pole is not a physical point on the planet, but it’s also not a figment of the imagination.

It’s not where Santa Claus hangs out. It’s not a very hospitable place. And, no, I have not been there. In fact, I haven’t been even close. But, last summer I crossed into the Arctic Circle as a passenger aboard a lavish modern cruise ship, Princess Cruise lines Island Princess. It was a unique adventure, and the trip is spectacular. My husband and I were there during “polar day,” which lasts from about the time of the Spring Equinox in late March through late September. During those days the sun never completely falls beneath the horizon and one can read at midnight with no need for a lamp.

At 66 (plus a little bit) degrees north latitude, the Arctic Circle forms a ring around what is known as the Earth’s North Pole. The certificates we received to commemorate the crossing, signed by Ship’s Captain Paul Slight, attest that on “Friday, June 17, 2022 at 12:12 am,” we crossed that fabled line. In our minds, we had become Arctic explorers.

We traveled further north. Nordkapp lies at Latitude 71°10′21″ N, a high plateau on a spit of land that rises almost 400 feet above the swirling Arctic Ocean below. It is cold, windy and forbidding on the best of days. In the winter, the road to Nordkapp is often impassable, and not even reindeer remain on the surrounding fields.

The nearest town is approximately 22 kilometers distant. Oslo, Norway’s capital, lies about 2000 kilometers to the south, and the North Pole is about the same distance further north. At the easternmost end of the virtually uninhabited land, there is a 121.6-mile land border with Russia, established by treaty in 1826. But few travelers cross at the single border station, and the boundary between the two countries continues through the Barents Sea and the Arctic Ocean. As the furthest north point of land in continental Europe, Nordkapp attracts visitors who harbor the same dreams that have lured explorers to points unknown over the centuries. Their stories are captivating.

Early visitors had to arrive by boat on the sea below. They scaled steep, rocky cliffs to reach the point above. There was no visitor center then, and the path back down the cliff had to be even more difficult than the climb up.

Today, the draw of this stunning promontory is so powerful that tourist buses sometimes follow snowplows to bring visitors to the point. Our trip in June, however, entailed a pleasant drive along modern roadways, punctuated by native Sami settlements and the sight of reindeer grazing on the barren windswept land. They and their Sami masters invariably return to the mainland in the fall, prior to “polar night,” when the sun does not rise above the horizon for a period of months. We also visited a northern fishing village, which must feel terribly isolated during the winter.

Another northern port, sadly, was canceled. We had been scheduled to call at Svalbard, the island that houses the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, an underground facility that stores millions of crop seeds from throughout the globe, protecting them against disasters of all kinds, including global warming. We had anticipated visiting Longyearbyen, the largest settlement with a population exceeding 1,000 in the Arctic region, but the visit was canceled at the 11th hour.

Our trip through the coastal fjords was spectacular, relaxing and enlightening. We are grateful to have had the opportunity to visit a far-away landscape that is awesomely beautiful, to drink in the natural beauty of the far North, and to meet the people who inhabit this extraordinary landscape. Those who live here are accustomed to strangers, but no one remains a stranger for long!

Now, another adventure awaits . . .

In January 2023, my husband and I — barring unforeseen circumstances — will experience another polar day. We will reach approximately 65 degrees south of the Equator and cruise among the ice shelves and along the shoreline of this unique continent. Our 16-day itinerary with the Sapphire Princess promises to be a unique adventure. We are not likely, given the size of our ship and current regulations, to cross Latitude 66°33′49.3″ which is the official Antarctic Circle. Only smaller expedition ships and scientific teams routinely venture further into this ice-covered environment.

We are scheduled to fly into Santiago, Chile, and embark from the port of Valparaiso for a journey that will take us to the southern reaches of Patagonia, and to Ushuaia, “the southernmost outpost in the world” at the tip of Argentina. We expect to sail in Beagle channel, as did Charles Darwin, and round Cape Horn just as previous generations of seafarers did on their voyages to the new world. Then, we look forward to spending four full days cruising the waters of the Antarctic Peninsula, leaving Ushuaia at the southern tip of Argentina and traversing Drake Passage, hopefully without incident, and with minimal turbulence from notoriously rough waters where the currents of three oceans collide. It’s a voyage I have long envisioned!

Just days ago, however, on December 2, 2022, I learned of the rogue wave that struck the Viking Polaris in nearby waters, resulting in the death of a passenger, injuries to four others, and damage to a well-equipped modern cruise ship. I realized once again that we humans have little control over the forces of nature, much as we would like to be the “powers that be.”

Does it concern me? Not enough to change our existing plans, but I cannot claim it didn’t give me pause. This trip to the bottom of the world, just as our trip to the Arctic Circle, will be during a polar day (or summer season) due to the inclination of the earth in relation to the sun. When my husband and I travel in late January to the southern reaches of the globe, will it be calmer in those waters? I do not know.

There are no permanent settlements in Antarctica, and the various research stations are located further south than our journey will take us. We will not set foot on Antarctica, the seventh of earth’s continents, but to gaze out at the barren expanses of snow-covered terrain and cruise past glistening icebergs, larger even than the ones we encountered in Alaska, will be enough. I, for one, am enthralled by the thought of being (relatively) close to another of earth’s legendary places — the South Pole. Like the North Pole, it is not a fixed point — it, too, shifts, even though there is a land mass below. If we are fortunate enough to spy seabirds, seals, penguins, albatross, and other wildlife in their natural habitat, we will count it as a bonus.

And, if our travel through Drake Passage is a calm one, I am certain we will be forever grateful. This trip to the “bottom of the world” is not only the culmination of a long-held dream, it also seems a fitting “second act” to last summer’s Arctic adventure.