Explore Amazing Alaska

SPENDING TEN WINTER DAYS IN ALASKA – One fifth the size of the entire rest of the continental USA and larger than all but 18 of the world’s countries – was like sampling just the first course of a sumptuous banquet … and one more often indulged in during the summer months.

And yet, in those ten days I was able to visit the 49th state’s two largest cities, view a spectacular display of Northern Lights – and North America’s highest mountain – tour a variety of Alaskan Native dwellings, travel by train through one of the state’s most-spectacular National Parks, drop by the quirky small town that inspired a popular US TV sitcom, and witness the launch and finish of two of America’s most-unusual sporting events. And that’s not to forget the memorable people I met along the way.

Although neither Anchorage, Alaska’s largest city with nearly 299,000 residents, nor Fairbanks, 360 miles to its north, benefit from outstanding architecture – Anchorage, incorporated in 1915, was largely rebuilt in the 1970s after being flattened in 1964 by the world’s second-most-powerful earthquake – there’s compensation in their stunning surroundings … range upon range of awe-inspiring, snow-capped mountains.

Embraced by the two arms of the glittering Cook Inlet – named after Britain’s Captain James Cook, who explored the area in the 1700s – Anchorage on a clear day even affords views of stunning 20,310ft Denali (previously known as Mount McKinley), North America’s tallest mountain, and of the still-active volcanoes on the northernmost of the distant Aleutian Islands.

On my late-February/early-March visit, Lake Hood, the world’s busiest port for seaplanes, was buzzy with ski planes taking off on the ice for places all around the 570,374sq-mile state, even as the restaurants, bars and shops in Anchorage’s low-rise downtown were alive with customers. But then, my visit was well-timed to coincide with the annual Fur Rendezvous festival as well as the launch of the famous Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, which pits 86 teams against each other in a 1,149-mile dash across the state’s frozen terrain.

A DOG-SLED RACE AND A REINDEER CHASE

As the yapping dog teams strained at their leashes at the event’s ceremonial launch – the actual race started the next day outside the small town of Willow to the north – their mushers, who seemed to have a similar status as UK football stars, were introduced over loudspeakers. Among them were Scott Janssen, Anchorage’s ‘Mushing Mortician’, the glamorous, blonde Berington twins from Wasilla, several Scandinavians, and Kim Franklin, a property landlord and malamute breeder from Hertfordshire. Alas, temperatures were higher than expected, so snow had been brought in from Fairbanks by overnight train, and the main square’s ice sculptures were melting.

Many of the large, bearded men lining the streets were swathed in such massive fur coats and hats that they could have stepped off the film set of The Revenant. The festive ambience was later enhanced by the Reindeer Run, in which a small herd of reindeer was chased down a main street by rowdy men and women dressed as reindeer, rabbits, bumble bees and brides – one, disguised as a beer bottle was pursued by another disguised as a bottle opener. Meanwhile, a woman in 19th-century attire held up a sign announcing ‘There’s No Place Like Nome’, the northernmost point in the Iditarod race.

To find out how the Alaskan Natives lived – and, in some cases, still do – I visited the fascinating Alaska Native Heritage Center, where a large pond is surrounded by examples of their various styles of homes. A native narrator from the Aleutian Islands explained that their traditional homes are partly subterranean to protect the inhabitants from the harsh climate and wild animal access. Entrance is gained by a steep interior ladder attached to an opening in the roof; pregnant women and the elderly are lowered down by basket.

Later, at a local native crafts fair, I met a former resident of St Lawrence Island, only 39 miles off the coast of Siberia, which, she said, islanders regularly visit as they speak the same language as their relatives there. A large percentage of the islanders, as well as other Alaskan Natives, are members of the Russian Orthodox church, a reminder that the 57-year-old state was Russian territory from the 1700s until it was sold to America in 1867.

Unlike other parts of the USA, the nearly 15 per cent of residents who are Alaskan Natives don’t live in reservations but in cities and towns and on their own lands, run as 12 regional business corporations, with residents receiving dividends if the corporations are profitable from, say, oil revenues or fishing rights. In fact, the vast majority of Alaska is taken up by their 44 million acres of land, the 54 million acres that are part of the National Parks System and other land set aside as conservation, wilderness and wildlife areas. Wrangell-St Elias National Park alone (the largest in America) encompasses 13.2 million acres!

An intriguing insight into Alaska’s native heritage is provided by the displays and films in the outstanding Anchorage Museum’s Smithsonian Arctic Study Center. And, with its focus on Alaskan animals, the Anchorage Zoo is also worth a visit. We watched both polar bears and brown bears playfully sparring; a big-horned Dall Sheep posing theatrically on a cliff top; huge, dog-like wolves patrolling their territory; and were stared down by a line-up of rare and belligerent-looking musk oxen. Later, we visited a downtown shop that sells hats, headbands and tunics woven from the animals’ under hair, known as qiviut – it’s softer than cashmere, warmer than wool and very expensive.

FAIRBANKS – THE GATEWAY TO THE ARCTIC NORTH

Although much smaller than Anchorage, with 32,116 residents, Fairbanks is older, dating back to 1901 after a steamboat ran aground, forcing an entrepreneurial passenger to set up a trading post on the site rather than at his originally-planned destination. Fortunately, his timing was impeccable – gold was discovered nearby the following year.

The area’s heritage comes alive in the exhibits and films of the Morris Thompson Cultural and Visitors Center, in the 44-acre Pioneer Park and, in the summer, on the narrated stern-wheeler cruises down the Chena and Tanana rivers. Other local attractions include a museum of ice sculptures and one dedicated to antique automobiles and – on the day I visited – the arrival in the parkland surrounding the Visitors Center of the finalists of the Iron Dog competition, which promotes itself as ‘the world’s longest, toughest snowmobile race’. As I enjoyed moose stew and fry bread purchased from a native cook, I was urged to visit her nearby community of North Pole, where I could stock up on Christmas presents at the year-round Santa Claus House Gift Shop. Each year, she said, the local high school and junior high school students raise money for charity as ‘elves’, responding to letters sent by children to Santa Claus, North Pole, Alaska.

Alas, there also was no time to visit the University of Alaska’s Museum of the North, located in a stunning modern building sited on a ridge outside town, but we did have an intriguing wayside stop beside the Trans- Alaska Pipeline, which runs 800 miles from the northernmost oil fields to the southern port of Valdez. Built largely on pilings above ground and over rivers, streams and mountains, it has proven to be a boon to the caribou, we are told, as they like the warmth and shelter it provides.

In the evenings, a group of us set off in search of the alluring but illusive Northern Lights, in Alaska known as ‘The Aurora’, which, during certain times of year, colour-wash the skies with shades of yellow, green, lavender and, sometimes, red. A spectacular display was finally spotted as we headed back to our hotel after a fruitless evening of Aurora-spotting from the back patio of the Chatanika Lodge north of Fairbanks. But in any case, the visit to the lively, pub-like lodge had provided its own colour – we swapped stories with the locals over Alaskan draft beer and admired the eclectic décor featuring everything from Harley- Davidson bikes to walls and ceiling encrusted with American dollar bills. If there had been time to continue up the road, we could have soaked in the hot tubs of the Chena Hot Springs Resort or even over-nighted in its year-round Ice Hotel.

Fairbanks is also the northernmost point in the Alaska Railroad, which terminates 487 miles to the south at the Gulf of Alaska port of Seward. Boarding it in the small community of Healy, I travelled along the edge of the Denali National Park, with its spectacular view of towering Denali and its surrounding snow-capped mountains, a deep river gorge and, here and there, a browsing moose. Along the way, the train was flagged down twice by outback residents, one a couple with three dogs and an array of huge boxes. This rail system, we were told, is the only one in America still offering a flag-stop system on the more-remote parts of its route.

A TOWN WHERE THE MAYOR IS A CAT AND A SKI RESORT

Disembarking at the quaint, small town of Talkeetna – inspiration for the popular 1990s TV sitcom Northern Exposure (actually filmed in Washington State) – we strolled its unpaved main street to discover if it lived up to its quirky reputation. And, indeed, a visit to the curiosity-adorned Nagley’s General Store revealed that the town’s elected mayor was still an elderly tabby cat; his predecessor, a dog named Sparky, was run over by a fuel truck. Alas, the local festival featuring moose droppings being hurled at various targets had at least temporarily been cancelled.

Later, we drove down the Kenai Peninsula on the Seward Highway, considered one of the most scenic in America. On one side was the waterway known as the Turnagin Arm, where beluga whales can sometimes be spotted; on the other side, forests and cliffs harboured Dall sheep and other wildlife. Along the way, we stopped at the interesting Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center, which specialises in rare, orphaned and injured native animals, and at the Girdwood ski area, where we over-nighted in the elegant Alyeska Resort. The highlight of the stay was the seven-minute ski lift ride up to Mount Alyeska’s 2,300ft summit, with its spectacular views of the nearby lakes, glaciers and mountains. Apparently, the resort is even more popular in the summer when cruise ship passengers use it as a base for hiking, biking and glacier excursions.

Many of these cruise passengers come in through our final stop, Seward, which is transformed in the summer from the sleepy town of 3,000 residents to a lively tourist area of shops, restaurants and small-boat marinas. Of particular note is its Alaska Sea Life Center, where we found groups of school children fascinated by the frisky sea mammals in its salt water tanks and its narrated talks that cover everything from the bizarre reproductive habits of sea urchins to the alarming defence tactics of sea slugs.

The town is set beside beautiful Resurrection Bay – today, so tranquil but, during the 1964 earthquake, the source of a 30-40ft tsunami in which waves reaching 30 feet or more pounded the city, killing 12 residents and destroying most of its homes and businesses. A film seasonally available for view at the quite-interesting Seward Community Library and Museum is full of eye-witness accounts.

Would I return to Alaska? You bet! But the next time it would be to some of my previously-unvisited areas. To Homer, with its fishermen, artists and bohemians; Kodiak Island to view the salmon-fishing bears; and, particularly – probably on a cruise up from Seattle – to visit the south-eastern ‘panhandle’ fringing Canada’s Yukon and British Columbia. For there are found Juneau, the only US state capital inaccessible by road; the Gold Rush town of Skagway, Ketchikan, rich in Alaskan Native lore, including the world’s largest collection of totem poles; and colourful Sitka, once the capital of Russian America. It reminds me that when Abraham Lincoln’s Secretary of State William H Seward purchased Alaska for $7.2 million, or around two cents an acre, the acquisition was dismissed by the sceptics as ‘Seward’s Folly’. How short-sighted they were!