We made it up to the arctic circle yesterday at about 4:30 PM. We took our pictures, battled the mosquitoes, and hopped back into the car to continue north. We were set out to camp in the arctic, not just visit for a few minutes. We continued driving up the famed Dalton Highway, the dirt and gravel road that was for many years after its construction simply called the “Haul Road.”

Built for the sole purpose of transporting people and materials to the far northern reaches of Alaska for the construction of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, the road is not much more than a good dirt road. It has great spots where the gravel base is as hard as asphalt, and others where the potholes are so bad that you can’t drive over 20mph.

We made it to just south of Coldfoot, AK on top of a mountain called Gobbler’s Knob, where we set up camp for the night. We hiked up to the ridgeline and set up camp in the open and in the breeze, with hopes of thwarting the mosquitoes. We only slightly succeeded. We picked wild blueberries (which literally covered the ground in spots) and watched the sunset at about 10:45pm, then turned in. Stephanie and Rob, the college students that we had met in Fairbanks (actually we met Stephanie on the road outside Denali National Park while we were waiting in construction traffic), hadn’t brought a tent, and went for sleeping bags on the Tundra. The top layer of the tundra is so dense with vegetation that it makes kind of a matress in intslf. If you can just find a flat spot, there is plenty of cushion. However, it turned out that lack of padding wasn’t the problem with them sleeping under the stars, as they lost the battle with the mosquitoes and opted to crash in Reinier’s two man tent with us.

At 3:45am, just before sunrise, it started to rain. It didn’t stop for 6 hours, and even then only to a heavy drizzle. We opted to break camp and make for the car at about 9:30, and Reinier and I found out that you can take down his whole tent while staying fairly dry under the rain-fly, leaving only it and the poles for last.

The rest of the day in short is that we ate breakfast in Coldfoot, a town of maybe 3, at the northernmost truck stop in North America. We continued north to Antigun pass, only 180 miles from the arctic ocean. The road was getting bad and we were getting short on time, so we headed back south. It rained all the way, making the dirt road all the more fun. The rain stopped at about mile 56, near the Yukon River bridge (the only bridge across a river the size of the Mississippi).

We made it back to Fairbanks and Stephanie was most gracious to allow us to crash at her parents house. We are taking the chance to dry out the tent and the packs (along with just about everything else that was in the car) and get some good rest before heading south to Denali tomorrow.

to be continued…