North! To Alaska
Cold harsh beauty plunging into the ocean.
Alaska is everything you would expect it to be and then some. I have been to many places all across the country, and no state is more stereotypical day to day than Alaska.
You know the documentaries you see on TV, with monstrous grizzly bears plucking salmon from a waterfall at the base of an enormous (unnamed) mountain, eagles soaring above, float planes meandering past, a pod of humpback whales flashing their tails and bubble feeding in the harbor, massive glaciers thousands of years old booming as they disintegrate into the ocean below, dozens of seals hanging out on icebergs, and the whole thing framed by a rainbow.
Those documentaries are an accurate example of what you can easily witness within the same day in Alaska, hell maybe even within the same hour. Many other places I’ve been to, you come with expectations based on entertainment, only to be let down.
But Alaska is the opposite.
What you see on TV, does not compare to what you experience in the flesh. And the craziest part is, I only lived in Southeast Alaska, and witnessed what that region had to offer. From what I gathered from my Alaskan friends, each region of Alaska might as well be it’s own country. One Alaskan I had met worked at the fish and game department. Before working there he had a job traveling to remote regions of Alaska doing studies on game, and assisting small communities. He said he had seen more of Alaska than the vast majority of residents, and had still only seen roughly 20% of the state. Alaska is 2.5 times the size of Texas, and when compared to the lower 48 states, covers two/thirds of the land mass. Making the state the largest state by landmass, while still having by far the longest coastline of any state.
I lived in Juneau Alaska, the state’s capital, for the summer of 2024. My Fiancé and I, travelled to Juneau to be Canoe And Glacier guides on Mendenhall Lake, April of 2024.
The journey up was quite the endeavor, as any person who has driven to Alaska will tell you. 70+ hours of driving in some of the most remote regions of North America, typically in dense Grizzly habitat. The way up we drove the Cassiar Highway, which cuts straight up through British Columbia. It was a beautiful and daunting drive. We started our journey in New Mexico, cut into California, and then straight up the coast to Washington, and onward to the Cassiar. The drive in the lower 48 seemed to melt by, we would usually pass into at least one new state every day. Once we got on the Cassiar though, progress slowed. Not for lack of an efficient highway, or high speed. Simply because of how far we had to go. We were in British Columbia for almost an entire week.
The days of convenience stores and options for gas stations were behind us. Once in BC, when we saw gas, we got it. When we left town, we left with full gas cans, food, and water. Because each town had easily 4 to 8 hours of driving separating each other. Once we left town and were on the road, we were in the wilderness. Only the occasional adventurer or industrial truck to pass by every couple of hours. To put it simply, it was remote.
I think there is something to be said about being really remote. I’ve experienced what I would call “semi-remote” before in the lower 48, thinking it was remote. And you get a similar feeling, but it does not compare to true remoteness. An absolute lack of human presence. Stopping to view a mountain on the journey, knowing if you really wanted you could park in the road and picnic on the pavement without being bothered by anyone. Cutting the engine off and hearing nothing but wind cutting through dense forest, wildlife, and bubbling streams. The weight carried by that unadulterated view and atmosphere is immense. It settles on you as you breath the pristine air, and feels almost intoxicating. The feeling it leaves has an intimidating tinge to it, knowing you’re in a land devoid of safety nets.
After what felt like forever, traveling through British Columbia, came the final day of driving. We had entered the Yukon Territory, and all we had left, was to cross over the coastal mountain range and drop down into Skagway, the first Alaskan town we would experience. From there we would catch a ferry down to Juneau.
We started that day in Marsh Lake, YT. It was a beautiful day, cold, but clear. everywhere we had travelled through so far on the trip only had small bits of snow left. Maybe above the tree line or deep in a hollow, but very small amounts even then. Once we entered the Yukon, everywhere was snow covered. And not small amounts, but feet of it everywhere.
Despite the snowpack, as I said that day was beautiful. With nothing in the forecast to indicate anything different to come.
I was driving when we got caught in the blizzard. On a mountain road known as the “White Pass”. It is also known as “Dead Horse Pass” due to the large amounts of mules and horse that have been lost there. And by “lost”, what I mean is, froze to death or tumbled thousands of feet off of a cliff.
The blizzard was a freak weather phenomena that was not forecasted and very much took me by surprise. I continued to drive through the snow, seeing nothing but endless white and the occasional yellow “AVALANCHE DANGER” sign barely poking out of the feet of snow on the shoulders of the road.
White-knuckling the steering wheel, losing traction and trying my damnedest to steer with no visibility, I would say to my fiancé Bella, “It’s alright, we don’t have much farther to go, it will be alright.” I claimed I was saying this to calm her nerves, knowing truthfully, I was talking to myself.
From time to time you could see a full sign, with a message urging you to not stop in that area, because of the possibility of being buried under an avalanche. The snow pack on the shoulders of the road was at least 5 feet high. The snow was piling onto the road which was already covered in ice, I was praying for the little bit of traction the patches of ice offered. The visibility due to the intense storm was something like 6 feet in front of the car. It was the most stressful driving experience I have ever had.
That morning we had been talking about how tired we were of being in Canada, and I suppose Canada didn’t like that, and gave us a warm goodbye in the form of a blizzard. As soon as we crossed the border into the US, the storm completely petered out. Good riddance Canada. The border patrol agent was very friendly and could tell we were a bit frazzled from that drive. He said, “You guys barely made it! We’re closing the road in thirty minutes.” on one hand, it was nice to hear, because it meant that if we were to get stuck, someone sweeping the road before closing it would have found us and saved us. On the other hand it was a bit scary to think that we escaped Canada that narrowly.
(For friends and family, worried after reading about the blizzard, rest easy. I found out later that they do sweep the roads in any event of blizzard or when they close the pass unexpectedly. If we had gotten stuck, we would’ve been found.)
From there it was smooth sailing down the mountains and into Skagway, finally in Alaska! We wondered around the ghost town that is Skagway in April, and then boarded our ferry.
Something notable about Alaska is that the vast majority of people there is some kind of character. I felt like I was on the boat of adventurers on our way to the island of misfits while riding the ferry. Alaska has always and still does, attract an eclectic and unique group of people. The folk festival was happening in Juneau that weekend so our ferry was full of folk musicians, jamming out in the open for all to hear. Random seasonal workers with all they own strapped to their backs slept on the floor. Alaskan workers returning from some sojourn into the wilderness sit in their stoic manners. Everyone there looked like they had plenty of stories to tell.
Sitting there that day looking out at the scenery of the islands and fjords, majestic mountains and waterfalls, listening to an Alaskan rendition of foggy mountain breakdown, I was very excited to start my Alaskan adventure. Honestly speaking, a little intimidated as well. It was a big undertaking, and a lifelong dream coming true.
When first setting out to write about this past summer, I was going to write the whole thing in one post. But I quickly realized it would be way too lengthy for anyone to read in one go, so I’ve decided to chop it up some. More tales to come.
if only we would have stayed at that one crazy conspiracy theorist guy’s lodge. excited to read more of our Alaska stories from your pov