Physical State of Matt #26: ALASKA

It feels weird to call Alaska a state. It is simultaneously distinctly American and something else entirely. It feels removed from the concerns and drama of the main 48. It’s larger than most countries and almost entirely wild. It has the lowest population density of any state by far. 

photo credit: Bell's Travel Guides

Alaskans are a self-selecting group - it’s a hard place to live. The people who live there have a humble ruggedness, a quiet competence that you won’t find often in most US cities. You get the sense that life up there is governed more by the laws of nature than the laws of man. 

THE DRIVE - DAY 11

I packed up pierogi and said goodbye to Canada. The mountains around Beaver Creek glowed with the beginnings of sunrise.

Twenty miles later, I was at the US border. Even though it was -5 out, I stopped to take a picture with the state sign. At the customs checkpoint I sat in my car and waited for 5 minutes because no one was manning the booth (and I didn't want to honk), but once they saw me I was through easily enough. 

Thirty miles into Alaska, the roads cleared up. I must have finally passed through the area of marshy land that causes all the frost heaves. The spectacular landscape continued, although the mountains were further away than they had been in the Yukon. 

I was texting with Ben, Carolyn’s colleague and my resource for all things Alaskan, and he told me to stop for breakfast at Fast Eddy’s in Tok. As I was sitting down, he sent me this zinger of a story:

And I thought I was reckless…

After breakfast, I continued the drive to Delta Junction. This was the official end of the ALCAN, although for all practical purposes it continues another 100 miles to Fairbanks. 

Ben had connected me with his family there. His mother Dawn, his stepfather Don, and his grandmother Nana hosted me for a couple of hours in their home. They fed me bison sausage and home smoked salmon. 

Dawn and Don told me stories about their high school romance growing up in Massachusetts. Years later, after their first marriages, they rekindled their relationship and Don moved to Alaska to be with Dawn.

It was the most incredible welcome to the state.

Their hospitality was second to none, which was a recurring theme for my entire time in Alaska. Near the end of the visit, Carolyn and Ben FaceTimed Dawn and we all said hello. I was pleased to finally meet Ben “face to face”. 

At Dawn & Don’s recommendation, I stopped a short way up the highway from Delta Junction to see the pipeline where it crossed a river. Looming above the bridge was a sheer rock face upon which Ben’s brother Eli had spray painted his name as a teenager. It was still there. 

I followed another of their recommendations and stopped at North Pole, a small city just before Fairbanks. In the 1940’s, when the Dahl & Gaskie Development Company bought the land, they named the town North Pole, hoping to attract a toy manufacturer to the area. They figured a company could say their toys were made at the North Pole as a marketing gimmick. No toy company ever came, but the community embraced the name and ran with it. 

The street lights in downtown North Pole have candy cane stripes and the Christmas decorations stay up year-round. At North Pole Plaza, next to the Visitor’s Center, is the Santa Claus House, a massive store for all things Christmas. There is also a forty foot tall statue of Santa that is frankly rather terrifying. 

In 1951, two physical “North Poles” were manufactured. One was dropped from a DC-4 at the earth’s geographic North Pole. The other went on a tour of America to promote this stunt, then disappeared. In 1976, the touring pole was rediscovered in a junkyard and has been on display in North Pole, Alaska ever since.

It’s a short drive from North Pole to Fairbanks. From the car I saw two puffs of cloud that were catching the sun just right, creating two little individual rainbows in the sky. What a perfect, cheerful sight to see as I arrived at my destination after 4,200 miles of driving. I later learned that these whimsical little clouds are known as parhelia, or sun dogs.

Ben’s sister Annie had generously offered to let me stay in her basement apartment that she usually rents out on Airbnb. It was surreal to have finally arrived. I accessed the parking spot from an icy alley behind the house.

After sitting for a moment in the car and gathering my wits, I got out and collapsed in the snow, throwing little handfuls of it in the air, which sprinkled down on my face. I had actually made it!

That evening, after decompressing, I got takeout from the Thai House Restaurant. I wouldn’t have expected it, but Fairbanks has an amazing selection of really good Thai restaurants. 

The skies were clear that night, the first time that had happened since I left New York. I watched the My Aurora app, hoping that the Northern Lights would be out. I was exhausted, but the whole reason why I had made this trek in March was to see the lights. 

Peak aurora season is September through March when the nights are long and dark. February and March are the clearest months, and therefore the best time of year to see the lights. I had been telling myself that for this northern adventure, the journey was the destination. If I didn’t get to see the lights, I wouldn’t let that spoil my time. Sure, I’d be disappointed, but I hadn't set my heart on it. 

The conditions looked like they would be good later, so at midnight I hopped back in the car and drove 45 minutes outside of the city to Cleary Summit, a favorite spot for aurora viewing. Atop a large hill was a parking lot with about 30 cars in it and a large open area looking out over the valley below. 

The aurora borealis was in full effect. Swirls and wispy strands of light stretched across the entire sky, subtly moving in a way that made them seem like they were sparkling. The movement of the lights was so slight it was hard to see while staring at them. However, when I looked away for thirty seconds and turned back, their configuration had totally changed.

It’s difficult to describe the sensation of watching the lights - it’s surreal. You’re looking at something that all of your life experience tells you shouldn’t be there. I found my brain trying to tell me that those lights must just be an effect of light pollution from a city somewhere just over the hill. But there was no city, and there was no hill. 

I am often asked if the lights look like the pictures in person, and they don’t, not really. They are completely visible to the naked eye, but the colors are not nearly as vivid as when they are captured by a camera. I caught hints of green in the swirling glow, but nothing like the bright green and touches of purple that showed up in my pictures. Still, it was hands down one of the coolest experiences of this entire trip, and one I am grateful to have had. 

I stayed up there for as long as I could, but the temperature was -3 and the wind was whipping up on the summit. After taking my mittens off several times to take pictures my hands were numb.

I drove back, tired of being in the car and ready for bed, but energized from the experience. I had seen the lights on my first night, so I could just relax and enjoy the rest of my time in Alaska without the pressure of trying to catch them. 

FAIRBANKS

The following day I did next to nothing. I vegged, recovered, and started my puzzle. My body and mind were completely wrung out from the drive. That night I walked to Lat 65 Brewing Company for a beer and Brewsters for dinner. I think it’s fair to say that Fairbanks is not a walking city. The buildings are low and the city is spread out. For a huge portion of the year only the crazies go out for walks. Guilty as charged. 

I made my way to the restaurant through the neighborhood. In one yard I saw Halloween decorations, out of place in the March snow and ice. I guess if you put decorations out in October that get frozen in place, you may as well leave them until they thaw.

On the way back, the sidewalks on the main streets were beyond treacherous. The snow and ice had melted and refrozen several times, leaving sheer ice an inch thick that covered every inch of the sidewalks. I made my way back slowly, shuffling my feet along six inches at a time. 

Ben’s brother Eli had offered to take me ice fishing, but he was busy with work. Instead, he connected me with Max, his old army buddy. Max drives concrete trucks in the summer and leads fishing and hunting trips in the offseason. He graciously agreed to take me out. 

I met him in the morning at Chena Lake with coffee. He had already set up the tent and was busy drilling holes in the ice for us. He set me up with an ice fishing rod, which was a stubby little thing that looked like a child's toy. But it makes sense, a long rod in a tent would be a nightmare. Max set up a small space heater inside, and over the few hours we spent there it got really toasty. 

One of the coolest things about ice fishing that I wasn’t expecting was the ethereal glow from the ice. I would have expected the hole to disappear into inky blackness, but a trick of the light coming through the ice over the rest of the lake made the holes vibrant with a ghostly glow.

The water was so clear I could see many feet down. The lake was so well stocked, the best method for fishing was to lean over the hole and watch to see when a fish was taking interest in the lure. There were some good sized fish down there, but also tons of little ones who kept snaking the salmon roe we put on the lures. 

I am not a good fisherman. Over the course of a few hours I caught several fish, but not a single one of any respectable size. When I sent my friend Brad this picture he responded “is that the bait?” After I left, it occurred to me that I'd missed my opportunity to roll across a frozen lake.

Max is an avid outdoorsman and taking me to this lake to catch rinky-dink fish was probably dull as hell for him, but he was a tremendous host. I took him out for a beer at the North Pole Ale House afterwards to thank him. If anyone is thinking about booking a hunting or fishing trip to Alaska, let me know and I will connect you with him. 

That evening I went to Ice Alaska, a multi-week festival in Fairbanks. There was an area with games made of ice - corn hole, ping ping, and mini golf. There was also a large slide attendees could go down in rented toboggans. 

The World Ice Art Championship is held there. I had unfortunately missed it, but they had all the entries displayed along a long winding path through the trees. There are several competition categories in the championship - first timers, kids, single block, double block, multi-block, and the artistry and complexity got more insane the larger the sculptures got. Teams from all over the world had competed. 

The first place winner in the multi-block competition was “Summon to the Queen” by a team from the Philippines. It featured a ten foot tall multi-headed hydra doing battle with a winged demon. The intricacy, action, and delicacy of the sculpture was jaw-dropping. I couldn't comprehend how people could make such a thing - let alone get that good at ice carving in the tropical climate of the Philippines. 

Second place was the whimsical “Rocket Ride”. The sculpture depicted a young child whose playful imagination had materialized into a rocket ship he was about to ride - with his puppy - into outer space. 

Third place was “Welcome to the Jungle”. It was a stage featuring the band Guns n’ Roses performing to a life-size leopard. 

The entire display was mind-blowing, inspiring, and uniquely Alaska. 

The next day I visited the Morris Thompson Cultural and Visitors Center. Its namesake was a successful civic leader who represented the interests of Alaska native peoples in local and national government.

When President Nixon appointed Alaska Governor Walter Hickel the Secretary of the Interior, Hickel brought Thompson to Washington as the Special Assistant of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Thompson became Commissioner of the organization at the age of 34. 

The center was an amazing place with educational exhibits on the history of Alaska’s native and early settlement communities as well as its natural landscape and wildlife.

I watched an educational film on the Northern Lights - how they are formed and their significance to cultures throughout history.

That afternoon I met up with Eli to shoot guns at a local outdoor range. Eli has been in the Army in Alaska for while, and now works for them in an HR role.

Rather than bringing new targets, we reused various objects from the range that had already been shot once or twice. I shot a .22 revolver, a 9mm pistol, an AR-15, and an AK-47. Using the AK-47’s scope I punched a couple of nice sized holes through an old Alaska license plate at the far end of the range. 

That night it was clear and it looked like the aurora borealis would be visible again. People had almost universally recommended visiting the Chena Hotsprings Resort an hour and a half outside of Fairbanks. I made a last minute decision to go that night.

I arrived to find the Northern Lights at full intensity. The Aurora Ice Museum was unfortunately closed by the time I got there, but the structure was still a marvel to behold from the outside. It was constructed from 1,000 tons of ice and snow with walls so thick that it's able to stay open year-round. Inside is an ice bar where they serve cocktails in ice glasses. 

I got a day pass for the springs which were only open for another hour, got changed, and sank into the steaming water. The springs were crowded and the aurora was obscured somewhat by the steam, but still visible.

What an incredible experience. I couldn’t have even imagined before the trip that conditions would conspire to make this possible. 

My last full day in Fairbanks I checked another item off the fucket list by taking a short dog sled ride at Paws for Adventure.

The sun was out and the weather was up into the 20s. I was paired with Josh, a musher who was training for the Iditarod. He bundled me up under thick blankets in a small sled drawn by 8 energetic huskies. Josh told me all of their names as he drove around a track through the woods.

These were Alaskan Huskies he told me - working dogs, not the blue-eyed “Hollywood Huskies” we usually think of. The ride was fun and fast, if a little bumpy. As we slid around the track, a powerful dog smell wafted back from the team pulling the sled.

At one point, we passed by another sled going the other direction and our dog team ripped a nonscheduled left to go after it. Josh finally got them under control and back on track. He explained that some of the dogs on the other team were in heat and, despite being well trained, they were all dogs after all.

Back at basecamp they had dog houses for the dozens of dogs they kept, each with their names on them. I was allowed to walk around and say hi to anyone I wanted. 

That night, I took Ben's sister Annie and her husband Josh out to dinner to thank them for letting me use the apartment. We went to a restaurant called Turtle Club for a robust prime rib dinner. Annie and Josh met working in the government - her at the Department of Transportation, and him with the State Troopers.

Annie’s side hustle is running a coffee cart in a retired ambulance called The Crash Cart - Alaska’s Rapid Response Mobile Caffeine Unit. 

photo credit: The Crash Cart

Josh is in charge of a large area of land for the troopers, and often has to respond to situations in remote communities by flying a small plane there. It can sometimes take days before it's safe for him to go. He offered me a ride in the plane if I ever get back there. That's almost reason enough for me to return.

I also learned that the state troopers have a lottery list for roadkill. Whenever a moose is hit and killed on the road, they call the next person up on the list and that person has 24 hours to pick up the dead moose. It’s a win-win. The troopers get the carcass cleared, and a local person (and all their friends) get months worth of free meat in the freezer. 

ANCHORAGE

The next morning, on my way out of town, I stopped at the University of Alaska Fairbanks' Alaska Range Overlook to catch a view of Denali far in the distance. 

The drive to Anchorage was a modest 360 miles, and took me past Denali National Park & Preserve. Denali is the highest mountain peak in North America, clocking in at 20,310 feet above sea level. It is the third highest in the world after Mount Everest and Aconcagua. Denali however is the tallest mountain in the world from base to peak at 18,000 feet. 

The Koyukon Athabaskan people have called the mountain Denali for centuries. It is derived from the word “deenaalee”, meaning “the high one” or “the great one”. In 1897, a gold prospector named it Mount McKinley after presidential candidate and future president, William McKinley. Mount McKinley became the federally recognized name in 1917.

photo credit: The Guardian

In 1975, the Alaskan government changed the name of the mountain back to Denali, but the name wasn’t recognized by the federal government until 2015. In January this year, shortly after his inauguration, Trump signed Executive Order 14172, which changed the name back to Mount McKinley and renamed the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America. The Alaskan government still recognizes it as Denali. 

photo credit: afar.com

I would have liked to stop and explore the national park, but I hadn’t built it into my schedule, so I had to satisfy myself with picturesque turn-offs. Oh well, I'll add it to the growing list of places I’d like to return to. 

I stopped at a gas station to fill up and find a Klondike bar for a gag in one of the videos I was making for the drive through CANADA. Just inside the door was a table with three precocious little girls selling girl scout cookies (thankfully supervised by their mothers). I bought a bunch of cookies from them and discussed my trip, then gave them stickers. It made everyone's day including my own. 

Continuing down the highway, I saw my second moose of the trip. She exploded from a stand of trees, running full speed at the highway. Thankfully she realized her mistake and turned away at the last minute. I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't.

Later I drove past a frozen lake that had people snowmobiling on it. I pulled into the parking area and finally scratched the silly itch I’d had since beginning my drive through Canada. I rolled on a frozen lake - yay!

I stopped for a few minutes in Wasilla, about an hour before Anchorage. Eli had connected me with another military buddy of his, Brandon. Brandon and his wife Rachel, who was 7 months pregnant with their first child, had a home in a new housing development in Wasilla. 

I was flying from Anchorage directly back to Costa Rica for over a month and Brandon had generously offered to let me store my car at his place. I met them, dropped off the spare key, and coordinated the details. Brandon assured me that it would be easiest if I left the car at the airport and he would pick it up since they went down there so regularly. 

I tell you, the hospitality and generosity of Alaskans is unparalleled. 

I checked into the Aviator Hotel in Anchorage, which had promised a room with a “harbor view”. I guess they were telling the truth - technically. The hotel was being remodeled and is now called the Wildbirch Hotel. All in all, the room was nice and the price was right, so I didn’t mind. 

my "harbor view"

That night I had a wonderful dinner at Ginger and stopped in at the Avenue Bar for a nightcap. The staff was super friendly and gave me loads of recommendations for places to visit. They loved the idea of the trip and saw it was my birthday the following day, so they gave me a free sweatshirt. 

photo credit: The Vendry

For my birthday I ran around town and treated myself - coffee from Bikini Babes AK, a diner breakfast at Sami's City Diner, and pie from A Pie Stop (so insanely good). I then spent hours at Bosco’s game and comic shop, and topped the day off with a world-class dinner at Orso. It was a great birthday.

The following day I took a long walk at Earthquake Park, a 134 acre park that commemorates The Great Alaska Earthquake of 1964. This earthquake measured 9.2 on the Richter Scale and lasted for 4 minutes. It’s the largest earthquake in US history. 

photo credit: Smithsonian Magazine

An entire neighborhood slid into the water and the quake triggered a tsunami that reached Cape Horn at the far side of South America. An estimated 131 people died from the quake - 15 as a result of the quake itself, and the rest from the impact of the tsunami in Alaska, Oregon, and California. 

photo credit: BCcampus

Earthquake Park offered picturesque views of Anchorage across Cook Inlet. In the other direction several mountain ranges stretched into the distance - the Chugach Mountains, the Kenai Mountains, the Aleutian Range, and the Alaska Range. 

Speaking of natural disasters, Mount Spurr, 78 miles west of Anchorage, had been showing signs of a large eruption for weeks. I tracked its activity daily and thankfully it didn't happen while I was there.

photo credit: NBC News

All in all, Anchorage was a mixed bag. It reminded of one of my favorite French sayings: Belle de loin, mais loin d'être belle. It means “beautiful from afar, but far from beautiful”.

Views of Anchorage from a distance that include the majestic mountains behind its skyline or the crystalline Cook Harbor make it look idyllic.

However, I found the city itself dingy and unremarkable. To be fair though, It was early spring, so everything was still coated with a grimy film of road salt from the winter's melting snow and ice. 

The city is in decline and suffering from a “de-population bomb”. The working-age population shrank by 17,000 - or 8.5% - from 2013 to 2023.

graphic credit: Alaska Watchman

The primary causes are an aging population, high cost of living, and harsh conditions. Help Wanted signs were all over, as were signs indicating that businesses had closed due to the labor shortage. 

photo credit: Anchorage Daily News

Although there are plenty of people for the high paying oil & gas or harbor jobs, food service, retail, and other sectors can’t pay enough to entice workers to a city whose average low temperature is below freezing for 7 months out of the year, and the average high never reaches 70 in any month. Due to the cost of getting goods to its remote location, Anchorage has the 20th highest cost of living among US cities. 

My last day in Alaska I went to 49th State Brewing for a moose burger and drove to the airport. I texted Brandon pictures of pierogi's location in the garage, still staggered by his generosity in picking the car up for me - a guy he’d only met for five minutes.

Although I was certainly excited to return to Costa Rica, I was sad to leave Alaska, and felt like I had barely scratched the surface.

Alaska is a state unlike any other. It’s heaven for nature lovers, hunting & fishing enthusiasts, and those who want to live apart from the insane hustle & bustle of the contiguous USA. It’s a challenging place to live however, and if you’re not hardy you shouldn't even consider it.

Alaskans are the most generous and hospitable people I have met anywhere. The harsh conditions force everyone to come together into tightly knit communities that help each other out.

Everyone I met was so excited that I’d made the effort to visit and were eager to make recommendations to show off their home state. Politics didn’t come up at all - they are Alaskans first, Americans second. 

I would recommend visiting Alaska to almost anyone. It’s a trek to get there, but you owe it to yourself to do it sometime. Alaska is definitely in the running for my favorite state so far. Ben and his extended family and their friends made this leg of the journey beyond special, and I will be forever grateful. Thank you to the whole extended clan from the bottom of my heart.

My three weeks getting to and exploring Alaska were an adventure of Odyssian proportions. I saw the most staggeringly beautiful nature, had countless rare experiences, and met some of the best people of this entire trip.

For me personally, it was the perfect way to kick off the second half of the journey. It rescued me from my malaise and gave me a renewed enthusiasm that I hope will carry me through the remaining 24 states.

After thawing out in Costa Rica, I would be back on the road on my way to Montana. 

Yes, and…

Matt