Fairbanks, Dalton Highway, Dease Lake, Laird Hot Springs, Jasper, and Banff.

Leaving Denali I headed north to the city of Fairbanks. An eclectic town that feels young thanks to the proximity of the University of Alaska. I hung out here for a few days preparing for my trek up north. I went to a great folk music festival that went all day at a local park and featured many talented local musicians. Best of all, dogs were welcome and Coho made lots of doggie friends. It was a nice high for him, contrasted with the low of being neutered two days later. He came through it fine, and doesn’t seem to have any adverse effects.

From Fairbanks I journeyed up the Dalton Highway. Known simply as the ‘haul road’, it’s a winding strip of dirt and rock that leads 400 miles into the northern oblivion. It parallels the Alaskan Pipeline that runs south from the northern oil fields on the Arctic Ocean and the town of Deadhorse. One of the most beautiful stretches of roadway I have ever traveled. Massive granite mountains squat on the northern tundra, trees quickly give way to shrubs, and then the shrubs to moss and lichen. I hit the arctic circle and kept going, relentlessly rolling northward through towns with names like Wiseman and Coldfoot, lonely outposts carved out of the arctic landscape. I made it to Galbraith Lake, about 130 miles from Deadhorse. At this northern latitude on the eve of the summer solstice, the sun never sets. It was a profoundly beautiful spot, peaceful and serene; it was in this isolated location that I found the end of my book. Conventional wisdom says that after having traveled well over 5,000 miles from California that I would have pushed the final few to Deadhorse, but keeping true to my character, I bucked the typical and turned south instead making it back to Fairbanks with only one flat tire. (more…)