The first time I visited Alaska I was 14 months old. My parents had taken me above the Arctic Circle and I was accompanying them on one of their couples vacations.
While walking down the Dalton Highway while my parents changed a flat tire, a passing trucker referred to me as “bear meat.”
I’ve craved that barely remembered sense of danger ever since, it seems, as Alaska has called me ever since. I heard the call of the wild before I started kindergarten.
I returned to Alaska for the second time a few years ago, for a fishing retreat on remote Prince of Wales Island along the Inside Passage.
Whales splashed in the slate-gray waters on those misty pre-dawn mornings. The calling time for our fishing boats was 4am, which was ungodly, but had its rewards. The surroundings were lush: emerald islands of ancient palm trees, waterfalls cascading from the cliffs of distant mountains, and a landscape covered in endless forests, dense and impenetrable when viewed from our seaplane.
But as glorious as that adventure was (the Midnight Sun is as otherworldly as the name suggests), I’ve always wanted to experience Alaska in the depths of winter, in the very heart of darkness of the Last Frontier.
As a travel writer, I have made a career of seeking out the most remote and inaccessible parts of the world, searching, endlessly, for a glimpse of the sublime.
Now, of course, it is not necessary to travel through the tangled undergrowth of the Amazon rainforest to gain a sense of perspective or feeling of your own mortality and earthly insignificance. Although I have, of course.
But when it comes to finding the truly wild, what’s further, or harder, than heading to Alaska in a sunless January?
Anyone can visit Alaska in the summer, but true adventurers know to visit Alaska in the winter. And forget about the Inside Passage or the Southeast Alaska Panhandle. The landscape, while beautiful, is not that different from that of British Columbia, both visually and geographically.
No, this time he would return to the interior of Alaska, to the northern highways he had once traveled as a child. I’ve been longing for the sterility of The Last Frontier.
All of this is to say that when I finally found myself last winter embarking on a 10-day trip through Anchorage and up to Fairbanks, I truly felt like I had finally arrived, or returned to where I started.
One of my best friends, and former roommate, felt a similar, inexplicable pull toward Alaska in its colder months: drawn by the promise of snowy fields, burly sleds, the silence of dusk, and, if you’re lucky, the Northern Lights.
Although I had embarked on the trip with extremely high expectations, I wasn’t quite sure what exactly I was looking for.
It wasn’t until I was packing my bags to leave and return home to the confines of my Manhattan apartment (positively claustrophobic after spending days in the immense enormity of the Alaskan wilderness) that I realized this trip had no meaning. It was just a wish list. trip, but several bucket list trips all in one.
Not just the journey of a lifetime, but of several. And even if you’ve never felt that particular call of the wild, I assure you there’s something about this Alaskan adventure that will appeal to every wandering, inquisitive soul. Read on for the ultimate guide to winter in the Last Frontier.
I began my trip in Anchorage, just in time for the opening ceremonies of the Iditarod, also known as “The Last Great Race.”
Mushing has long been a part of Alaska’s heritage, and the purpose of the Iditarod is to maintain this cultural heritage and honor the sacred bond between dog and human as they travel the approximately 1,000 miles through the wilderness.
If going to the Iditarod isn’t already on your bucket list, I recommend adding the event as soon as possible. The whole feeling in the city that day was that of a street party, a celebration on snowy sidewalks.
This party atmosphere was made even more surreal by the absolutely spectacular mountain setting and the seeming unlikelihood of Anchorage.
Perhaps for Alaska Natives, seeing a few skyscrapers rising against a backdrop of steep, snow-capped peaks is nothing out of the ordinary.
Believe me, for everyone else, it’s a sight to behold. I felt like I had stumbled upon the Lost City of Atlantis, but instead of being underwater, I was witnessing civilization persist in a completely foreign and inhospitable land.
Just beyond the center, wild nature takes over once again. Driving to the airport, we passed propeller planes and seaplanes nestled in the snow. Alaska is home to more pilots per capita than any other state in the US. After all, most of the state’s terrain is not accessible by road. Or, as I soon learned, by chairlift.
Before leaving Anchorage, we made sure to visit the ConocoPhillips Gallery, which houses one of the most extensive collections of Alaska Native art in the world. And, of course, we feasted on delicious king crab, a constant throughout the 50th state. From there, we headed deeper into nature.
My second destination was to drive to the Matt-Su Valley, 23,000 square miles of pure Alaskan wilderness.
It was here that I crossed another monumental goal off my travel list: helicopter skiing in Alaska.
On cloudy days, we biked across snowy fields and explored the intricate interiors of diamond-like ice caves. With each passing day, I feared and anticipated the moment when conditions would improve and I would have to ski the towering peaks. It was something I had always wanted to do and I was both excited and afraid.
“What surfing is to Hawaii, Alaska is to skiing,” said Crown Mountain guide Danny Caruso. “And Chugach is the best place to ski in all of Alaska.”
Reader, I survived. The skiing was surprisingly less difficult than cat-skiing in Canada, where I found the Powder Highway’s namesake powder simply too strenuous to enjoy.
The expert experience of our guides was endlessly comforting and I loved the mini breaks between each tour when we boarded the helicopter again for our next destination.
I spent the entire time looking out the window, amazed by the immensity of the landscape below. Which is appropriate, because soon enough I would be marveling at the views above.
All Auroras (Northern)
We flew from Anchorage to Fairbanks and spent a day exploring this artistically and culturally rich city before heading further north to Borealis Basecamp, North America’s only glass igloo hotel.
This unique luxury hotel had long been on my bucket list and was recognized as one of the best places in the world to see the Northern Lights.
But honestly, I was skeptical. I spent years traveling through the Arctic in search of the Northern Lights (Finland, Iceland, Sweden, Canada), all in vain.
But there was more to do at base camp than wait for night to come, so I wasn’t too worried. Aside from a stellar culinary program, there’s no shortage of activities: reindeer rides, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, and more.
And yet, it was on that first night of my stay, staring through the glass ceiling at the darkness of the black sky from the comfort of my bed, that those transcendent dancing green lights began to illuminate the sky.
There are various explanations and meanings that people have attributed to the Northern Lights over the years, but my personal favorite is that they are the spirits of your ancestors coming to visit. I don’t remember ever feeling so small, or so overwhelmed and overwhelmed by the magnificence of this planet and life itself.
If I sound a little melodramatic, I assure you that you would feel the same too. That’s why I’m posting this story now, so you too can plan your next winter adventure in Alaska. And you should book that trip now, as Borealis Basecamp books up almost a season in advance. It’s never too early in the season to heed nature’s call. The last frontier awaits you.
HELP SUPPORT OUR WORK:
You obviously care about local news and value good journalism. As a community publication run by a local, independent nonprofit, the New Jersey Local Media Corporation, we feel the same way. CNJLM supports strong local journalism and engaged communities, but this work is not free. With a small donation, you can support this newspaper and our parent nonprofit organization. Thank you for reading and for helping ensure the future of quality local journalism.
CLICK HERE TO DONATE AND SUPPORT LOCAL JOURNALISM
Keynote USA
For the Latest Local News, Follow Keynote USA Local on Twitter.