“If there’s true wildness left in the United States in my era, it’s here in the blank spaces of map in Alaska.” – Old Sean
All Alaskan
After a long rotation throughout the Lower-48, I’ve caught a flight heading up to Alaska.
I descended into a miasma of smoke and smog, falling from horizons of sharply clear mountains to low hazes shrouding my view. Below, the woods were composed of skinny trees spearing narrowly into the murk, too dense to see more than a dozen or so feet into the foliage. In moments of clarity provided by wind or extended drizzles, mountains always begin looming on horizons, great, bluish vigils.
Currently, summer fires are blazing across the countryside, an enormous, natural razing of the land. The flames are only beaten back when they begin to encroach on Alaska’s occasional patch of civilization.
Fair Winds Arrivals
I landed in Fairbanks, Alaska where I spent the month of July and the dwindling days of summer in 21 hours of daylight.
My friend, an exceedingly excellent, mildly grumpy and naturally hilarious individual named Mark, is stationed here. He granted me lodging, food and hours with his new puppy, Charlie. Charlie is a puppy who hasn’t quite learned what teeth can do to an arm, eye or hair. She’s also a puppy that’s quite unaware that thirty pounds is not acceptable for a canine scarf when I’m sitting on a sofa.
We’re getting there.
Anyway, Alaska is an impressive state, with the vast majority of it being true, nearly-undiluted wilderness. A mere three highways slice across the countryside and only the northern, pitch-cold limits of the Boreal Forest halt the ancient woodlands.
Bushwhacking and trailblazing without true forestry skills is a recipe for vanishing, lost eternally, into the woods. The pines here are abnormally skinny, shooting skyward in sharp points where few birds roost.
Wildlife is somewhat scarce, learned and weary of human presence. Squirrels curl into pinecones when sighted, birds abandon songs when footsteps fall heavy, and bears and moose are aggressive during cub and calf season. Only the state’s national birds, the hefty mosquitos, plaster to us.
I adored it. Well, the mosquitos I could have lived without, but there’s a toll in every part of the world.
Hiking Alaska
I feel sharper up here, more willing to delve out and wander. But Mark and I are careful and weary of the environment. Moose in particular are devastatingly aggressive when their calves are about and black bears are a close, but shy second.
We never go for hikes without Mark’s .45 and it’s slightly comical to watch us walk with our heads on the swivel, never stopping our carrying prattle lest we unwittingly surprise some bear around the corner.
Throughout the hike, we kept our eyes plastered on the trees and ground, peering around for claw marks or gouges in the earth. We actually saw a moose sow and her two calves loitering close to home at one point. Here, we stopped, unwisely pulling close for a few risky pictures. If we weren’t in a heavily fortified pickup truck with Mark’s foot gingerly resting on the acceleration, I never would have risked getting so close. Full-grown moose are like rhinos of the far north with enough protective instincts to be a certified paranoid. There’s nothing safe about them.
North Nest
Much of my downtime is spent with Mark, improving his home. The man is clearly infatuated with having his own place, and the house is quickly coming together despite Charlie’s best efforts while gnawing on table legs.
A huge TV screen takes up the fireplace wall and I get to be reminded every couple of days how uniquely terrible I am at multiplayer video games.
The rest of Mark’s time is spent showing me his expansive property.
There are wild raspberries in the brush surrounding his home that we nab and eat on occasion, and gravel roads and trails that require jogging (never walking), lest mosquitos leech us dry.
While here, I’ve found a temporary job working for a company that keeps firefighters in the field, supplying them with goods needed to stay upright while battering truly spectacular fires away from homes. The Air Force stationed out of Eilson Base sends their aircraft overhead in such regular intervals, I almost miss the shake of walls and shudders of grass blades.
On clear days, the sky splits into a disbelieving blue that 21 hours of sunlight cuts through daily. My windows are shrouded in a multitude of curtains and I usually rest with a blindfold over my eyes, happily snoring away on an exceptionally comfy air mattress.
Nearby Homeland
Right around the corner, Mark lives near North Pole, Alaska. It’s a predictably Christmas-themed little three-street-town with a giant Santa, reindeer, odd taste in décor and some fortunate fast food stops. But it’s nothing compared to further up the road toward Fairbanks.
Fairbanks itself is actually a unique little city.
Despite being labeled as the second largest population in Alaska, it’s not exactly a bustling metropolis. When we do go into town, I find a fairly good portion of it rather bland, preferring the outskirts or countryside.
That being said, Fairbanks does have some splendid gems. Keep in mind, this is Alaska, so everything takes a liberal bite out of my wallet despite my best efforts and Mark’s chivalrous financial buffering.
Jazz Bistro constantly has a jazzy background or live music. Their cheesecake alone is worth the trip.
The rest of the downtown area is a bit disappointing in my opinion, but there is a rather interesting Moose Antler Arch near the river and Golden Heart Plaza that stands amidst some dainty flowers.
Banks Alehouse is an absolutely splendid meal, with their shrimp po’boys and other foods. Their beer sampler is a nice touch and we drove away with obvious bulges protruding from our stomachs. Next, Brown Jug is a spirit store with some nifty finds. Mark and I are particularly fond of a beverage called Monkey’s Shoulder.
Further along the outskirts includes HooDoo Brewing Company, likely among the best beer in the state.
Further out is Georgeson Botanical Garden perched next to the local university which is lovingly maintained by a rather diligent following.
Also interesting is Creamer’s Field Migratory Waterfowl Park. This is a gem, with noisy birds stalking about and great little looping trails cutting through deadwoods and wild flowers. Most notably, the Alaskan Fireweed Flower is prevalent, acting as Alaska’s natural calendar. Starting from the bottom and working their way up, these flowers bloom over the course of summer. When the purple stalks are completely bloomed, winter is a mere finger-snap away.
Sadshooter
When not in town, Mark and I have other outdoor activities. There are dozens of open-air shooting ranges around the city, as Alaskans are very open and comfortable with firearms. Mark did his best giving me lessons with his .22 and .45.
I confess, firearms aren’t among my greatest talents, but it’s kind of silly to live in a country where guns are everywhere and not understand them. My aim with handguns is ridiculously shaky, though my stance is improving. Rifles are a bit easier of a shot. I received additional lessons with a stranger’s Glock and had Mark sign my target when we were finished.
And that’s about it. I have a day or two left to visit Denali National Park, but I’m on my way to China, where I’ll be working my way to Hohhot for a job. I’ll have a free day in Seattle and some Visa time revisiting people in Beijing. But until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written July 20th 2019
Read more about visiting Fairbanks and traveling the world by visiting the Leftfade Trails Destinations section.
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Ten years ago, I abandoned my military surplus store backpack for a Farpoint 40 Osprey Travel Pack. I’ve never replaced my bag since. The backpack has been with me around the world, through my departing Beijing and onwards through trips across Europe and South America. I have nothing but praise for Osprey Products.
