Alaska 2021

So that leaves me with the Brooks Range, since 1978 part of the Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve. I wanted to walk again from the native American village of Anaktuvuk Pass across to Wiseman and Coldfoot near what is now the Dalton Highway. These days, this is nothing new, lots of backpackers walk through the Brooks Range every year; there are even organized 50-day hiking tours by c

I arrived Fairbanks, AK from Seattle, WA late 24 Aug and transferred to Wright Air Service at the other side of Fairbanks International. Wright services the villages in the interior of Alaska such as Hughes, Galena, Bettles and Coldfoot as well as those further north including Arctic Village, Barrow, Kaktovik  and then Anaktuvuk Pass where I was going.   

The weather was pretty bad that morning and a bunch of hunters, all decked out in their finest camouflage outfits, going to Coldfoot were disappointed that their flight was cancelled. Mine to the northern Brooks Range however took off, although visibility was pretty poor, this is the Tanana River shortly after take-off from the Fairbanks airstrip. 

On approach to Anaktuvuk Pass (AKP) we dropped out of the clouds in time to get a good look at the village. The stream in front is Contact Creek which runs south into John River and eventually into the Pacific. The lake at the top right corner is Eleanor Lake which feeds north into the Arctic Ocean. So AKP is right smack on the Continental Divide!  

The 1,500 m long runway appears to be sloping steeply south, but the locals claim it is level (?). Notice the pilot's visual GPS screen which enables him to fly thru the clouds and still 'see' the ground below, quite clever, right? In the old days the bush-planes couldn't operate in such bad weather. 

With me on the Cessna Caravan were three other hikers, plus a lot of airfreight for the village. AKP is inside the Gateway to the Arctic National Park and off limits to trophy hunters, only the Nunamuit inland eskimo natives are allowed to hunt for their own subsistence. I spoke briefly to the other back-packers, they were heading north into the tundra. They had GPS gadgets and smartphones and stu

But I didn't. It was just me and my backpack and nothing else. I headed north-east out of the village without speaking to anyone else, just walking across the terrain. 

On Day 5 I walked till the end of the valley I was in, following the stream downhill. I took a picture of the view when I got to the bottom. Somewhat to my surprise, the river I met (visible in the middle of the frame ...) flowed left, vaguely towards the west. This didn't look right, so this spot couldn't be anywhere near where I started or near Ernie's Pass. 

I explored the new east-to-west river for a few miles out but it didn't seem to lead back towards anything I could find on my maps. So I returned back to the valley I came out of. 

At the end of Day 5 I set up camp at the bottom of that valley where I came out. I had not given up hope, at that point I thought I could still find my way out by tracing my steps back to where I came from. The weather was pretty bad with drizzling rain all day; I tried to buid a fire to heat some soup but the scrawny little willow twigs I could find were all too soaking wet and I couldn't get the

On Day 6 I spent a grueling day hiking all the way up into the valley that I had now started to call 'Mystery Valley' in my mind. I couldn't find a way out, the valley seemed blocked in all directions, even though it made no sense. At the end of another wet day a nice rainbow appeared as I was pitching my tent. There were fresh bear tracks and dung along the stream, but I couldn't be bothered; at 

I was now walking blindly around the mountains searching for a way back. I knew I probably had to abandon my hike to Wiseman now; I had spent too much time and energy already to complete the trek. The days were getting shorter quickly, the next snowfall could be the permanent one. A nice bull Caribou on Day 7 cheered me up. It was the only large mammal I saw in the mountains. 

On Day 7 I walked up into a valley I found just east of Mystery Valley, searching for a link west back to Ernie's Pass. It wasn't there, after another grueling hike upstream I hit this high section and a wall of ice at the bottom; in this area Brooks Range has numerous permanent little glaciers that you cannot cross.   

Had I completed my ill-fated hike, this is where I would have come out into rural civilization: The track from Nolan Creek mining camp where it meets the Koyukuk Middlefork River valley, the swamps in front are called Beaver Pond, although the beavers have been trapped out long ago. Instead I had to suffer the humiliation of coming in by air, landing in Coldfoot down below some 25 km to the south.

The day after I arrived in Coldfoot I contacted Jay, a Facebook friend of mine who lives in Wiseman. There is WiFi in the area now, courtesy of a new Elon Musk satellite I was told, so the locals can call around and arrange things like that. 10 Sep Jay took me on a tour of the area and also took this photo of me with the scenic Beaver Pond as a backdrop.  

Notice the appropriate Koyukuk Mining District hat I am wearing: I traded this one with Bill back in the day. In exchange for this one, I gave Bill my hat with the Singapore Botanic Gardens logo on it, so that he could look real green for his meeting with the Environmental Protection Agency and such. Bill thought that was quite funny. 

In turn I took this photo of Jay, one of the tough, independent people who are attracted to live in this beautiful part of the world. We couldn't go any further west on the Nolan track, a landslide had closed it off to ordinary vehicles; no one works out there at the moment anyway. This particular period, August to September 2021, had been one of the wettest in memory. Just my luck, right!? Jay is

Since the pioneer gold miners first ventured up into the Brooks Range in the early 1900s (a spill-over from the Klondike gold rush further east a few years prior), Wiseman has been inhabited, and currently some 20 people call the village home, a funny community of naturalists, retirees and miners, with a few yoga-practising hippies thrown into the mix. 

There is even a little log cabin museum in the village, and there Jay and I met Jack. Jack conducts tours for tourists who fly or bus up from Fairbanks for the day. I suggested to him that he should feed the large mammals to attract eco-tourists (they do that in Finland), but this isn't allowed in Alaska by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Anyway, the big game has crashed in numbers recently, a

18 September, Chrissy drops me off at Janet and Terry's beautiful log mansion north of Fairbanks just off Goldstream Road. The neighboring houses are set deep into the woods and looking north there is nothing but trees as far as the eye can see. Yet, the house has all the modern amenities you would expect and is decorated like something out of Better Homes and Gardens, Alaska Edition. 

Janet is Bill's stepdaughter, hospitality runs in the family and I stayed with her and Terry until I managed to get back to Singapore. Here we are having a bonfire in the back garden, notice the scaffolding behind, Alaska living requires constant maintenance work to property, equipment and land. Like most Alaskans, Terry has all these repair and construction skills built into his DNA it seems. 

Here Janet returns the photo favour and takes a picture of me and Terry together. She and Terry used to live for years in a log cabin on Bill's place up in the Koyukuk region. Now Janet takes care of her mother, Claudene, Bill's widow, who is getting on in years. In the evening, the four of us would sit and watch home videos from the old days living in the Koyukuk; Janet had great footage of Bill 

In Alaska you are always close to nature. Some residents use it and make a living from it, others just study and enjoy it, but nature and the outdoors is always there. Janet and her family had become birders and knew all the species they encountered; this is a Hairy Woodpecker at the bird feeder just outside the living room windows, a male.  

Like in most woodpeckers, only the male Hairy Woodpecker has a red (or yellow) cap, so this is the female. The smaller Downy Woodpecker came to the feeder as well, occasionally the rarer Three-toed also.   

At another feeder near the kitchen window, the Black-capped Chickadee came in every day to help itself. The Boreal Chickadee also occasionally I was told, but this one is more common further north such as in the Brooks Range foothills. The Brits call this group of birds 'tits', but please don't use that term when you are in America!