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Arctic Alaska

A remote, wild, and beautiful place at the top of the world.

By Tom Dorsz

October 2^nd, 2025

Day 1

The “Golden Heart of Alaska.”

After landing at Fairbanks International Airport, I grabbed my luggage and picked up my rental SUV. The moment I stepped outside — bam! — the cold hit me like a wall. Instant wake-up call! It took a few minutes for the car to warm up (and for my face to stop stinging), but soon I was on my way to Pike’s Landing Lodge, my home base for a couple of nights before heading deeper into the Arctic.

Let me just say — the lodge was fantastic. The staff was friendly, the atmosphere was cozy, and the whole place felt warm and inviting after being out in the freezing air. And the breakfast buffet? Easily one of the best I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like a hot, hearty breakfast to chase away the cold and get you ready for an Alaskan adventure.

One super helpful bonus? The hotel offered engine block heater plug-ins in the parking lot. If you’ve never driven in sub-zero temps, this is a lifesaver — it helps keep your engine from freezing overnight. It definitely gave me peace of mind (and probably made the rental company happy too!).

Day 2

🐾 Racing on the Frozen River

After a hearty breakfast at the hotel, I stopped by the front desk to ask about local events. The clerk didn’t hesitate. “You’re a photographer? You’ll definitely want to check out the Tanana River Challenge today.” He was right — it was one of the most fascinating local events I’ve stumbled upon.

The Tanana River Challenge is a true test of winter endurance — a multi-sport race featuring runners, skiers, fat-tire cyclists, and skijorers (more on that in a second). Participants can choose either 25- or 45-mile routes that loop across the wide, frozen Tanana River and through the stunning Rosie Creek Forest. The landscape alone was worth the trip — snow-covered trees, vast white frozen river.

One of the most unique events was the canine skijoring portion of the race. If you’ve never seen skijoring before, imagine this: athletes wearing cross-country skis are harnessed to a dog (or sometimes two), and they race across the snow together. The skier uses poles to keep up while the dog helps pull them forward. It’s fast, graceful, and a beautiful display of teamwork. Skijoring actually originated in Norway as a form of winter travel.

This is a self-supported race, meaning athletes must carry their gear and be prepared for anything. And with temps hovering around -9°F in the morning and rising to a "balmy" 10°F by afternoon, this race is no joke. For perspective, the average ice thickness on the Tanana River this time of year is around 41 inches — enough to support people, bikes, sleds, and even snowmobiles.

While photographing the action, I chatted with another photographer who tipped me off to another event that day: the Open North American Championship dog race. My curiosity was officially piqued, so I packed up and headed there next.

A pair of Aluskies is getting ready for a race. — A pair of Aluskies watches dogs and people getting ready for the race. Aluskies are a mix between Siberian Huskies and Alaskan Malamutes. Although they are not purebreds, they are strong and built for running.

Adventurers take off along the frozen Tenana River.

Snowbulance and snow mobiles are on site to provide rescue support if needed.

Determined endurance racers launch into the the Tanana River Challenge course, cutting through the ice and snow.

🧊 Culture and Cold: A Glimpse Into Alaska’s Trapping Tradition

After an early morning photographing the Tanana River Challenge, I made my way to the other side of Fairbanks to catch the Open North American Championship sled dog races — a major event in the world of mushing. But before the races began, something unexpected caught my eye in the parking lot: a crowd gathered around a rack of furs and pelts.

Turns out, the Alaska Trappers Association was hosting a fur auction, right there on site. It was a gathering of trappers and buyers from across the state, with furs from all over Alaska — fox, lynx, beaver, marten, and more. Buyers inspected the goods carefully, placing bids with the goal of turning them into warm, practical gear like coats, gloves, and hats — either for personal use or resale.

It was a powerful reminder that fur trapping remains deeply woven into Alaska’s culture and economy. For centuries, it shaped settlement patterns and trade, especially in rural and Indigenous communities. And while modern challenges like fluctuating fur prices, climate shifts, and animal rights activism have influenced the industry, many Alaskans still rely on trapping — not just as a livelihood, but as a connection to generations past.

Winter tourism in Alaska is rare — and that’s a shame, because it’s in these colder months that you start to really understand how life here works. In some remote communities, the nearest grocery store might be an eight-hour drive away. Others have no road access at all. For many rural residents, especially those off the road system, subsistence and traditional practices like trapping aren’t optional — they’re essential for survival.

Watching the auction unfold against the backdrop of racing sled dogs and frost-covered trees felt like a window into a version of Alaska that most travelers never see — resilient, self-sufficient, and deeply rooted in the land.

Members of the Trappers Association provided security and parking for the races.

A child dressed in a traditional native coat pulls a sled that carries wrapped fur. Sleds like this play an important role in Alaska, as they are used to transport essential items such as food, furs, game, water, etc.

Alaska Trappers Association Auction in Fairbanks.

🐕‍🦺 Sprint Racing

After taking in the morning’s fur auction, I made my way to the main event — the Open North American Championships, a three-day sled dog sprint race that’s been a beloved Fairbanks tradition since 1946. Held every March at the Jeff Studdert Racegrounds, this event is more than just a race — it’s a showcase of history, culture, and the incredible bond between mushers and their dogs.

Recognized as the oldest continuously run sled dog race in the world, the ONAC (as it’s often called) brings together elite sprint mushers from all over Alaska and beyond. Unlike the long-haul endurance races like the Iditarod, this one is all about speed and precision over shorter distances — think of it as the 100-meter dash of dog mushing.

The racegrounds themselves cover 45 acres and include a community hall, well-maintained trails, and staging areas. They’re named in honor of Jeff Studdert, a key figure in Alaska’s mushing history and a tireless advocate for the sport.

🛷 Sled Dogs, Ganglines & Grit

Here’s how it works: Dogs are harnessed in pairs on either side of a central gangline, which connects to the sled. According to race rules, a musher can start the race with up to 14 dogs on the truck, but only 10 dogs on the line. Dogs may drop out along the way due to fatigue or injury, but they can’t be replaced mid-race, making strategy and dog care absolutely crucial.

If you’re new to sled dog racing, here are a few key terms that help make sense of the setup:

Gangline: The main line that connects the sled to the team of dogs.
Tug Line: Connects each dog’s harness to the gangline; includes some stretch to absorb shock.
Neckline: Attaches a dog’s collar to the gangline, keeping the team aligned and organized. Some mushers remove these while running for added freedom of movement.

The team is typically arranged in pairs:

Lead Dogs – The brains of the operation, they set the pace and respond to commands.
Swing Dogs – Just behind the leaders, they help guide the team through turns.
Team Dogs – These are the powerhouses that provide most of the pull.

Watching these athletes — both canine and human — fly across the snow in coordinated motion is nothing short of thrilling.

Staff discuss race security and logistics for the 2024 Open North American Championship.

Aurelie Delattre walks her dogs before the race. She is Rémy Coste's wife, his racing partner, and the team veterinarian for their sled dogs. They race together under the name Team Coste Racedogs.

Racing sleds are typically lightweight and designed for speed, featuring various models for sprint, mid-distance, and long-distance races. This sled is designed for sprinting and maximizing speed.

The ganglines are stretched, and the dogs are securely attached.

Rémy Coste and his dogs take off from the starting line of the 2024 Open North American Championships race in Fairbanks, Alaska.

Andria "Riley" Bond and her dogs from Salcha, Alaska, navigate a snowbank.

❄️ Types of Dog Races

While the Open North American Championships focuses on sprint racing, dog mushing includes a variety of race formats:

Sprint Races – Short, fast races like ONAC, typically run in multiple heats over a few days.
Mid-Distance Races – Multi-day races over moderate distances (often 100–300 miles).
Long-Distance Races – Epic, thousand-mile journeys like the Iditarod or Yukon Quest, where survival skills are just as important as speed.
Stage Races – Think of these as the Tour de France for sled dogs: different race “stages” each day, with cumulative times determining the winner.
Haul Races – More about strength than speed, simulating freight hauling from Alaska’s trapline and mining days.

🐾 Meet Jake

One musher who caught my attention during the race was Jake Robinson, a skilled competitor from Bemidji, Minnesota. He's sponsored by the Tanana Chiefs Conference — a powerful force for good in Alaska’s Interior. This nonprofit tribal consortium represents over 10,000 Alaska Natives, spanning 42 member tribes, 39 villages, and 37 federally recognized tribes across a region that covers 235,000 square miles — that’s about 37% of the entire state, and nearly the size of Texas.

He communicates with his dogs using a whistle. It’s a finely tuned system of commands. By changing the volume, speed, and pattern of the whistle, he can tell the team to speed up, slow down, turn left, or turn right. It’s a fascinating technique that takes time, patience, and a deep bond with the dogs to master. Watching it in action is like witnessing a secret language between musher and team — no words needed, just trust and tone.

Day 3

🚐 Heading North: The Arctic Adventure Begins

My Arctic journey officially kicked off with a 9:00 AM check-in at the Northern Alaska Tour Company (NATC) office. After breakfast, I drove to Fairbanks Airport, returned my rental car, and was conveniently picked up by NATC — their office is right on the airport grounds, which made the transition smooth and easy.

NATC handled everything: transport north by van, return flight, and all the logistics in between. Our group had 20 travelers, and because we’d be flying back on a small propeller plane, we were asked to keep our luggage to 15–20 pounds max. At the office, we had to weigh our bags before heading out — a moment of truth for any over-packer!

I traveled light: just my camera backpack, a few toiletries, a change of underclothes, and an extra pair of socks. I wore my long johns, flannels, a sweatshirt, scarf, and gloves to save space and weight. I figured I could always wash essentials in the sink if needed — and as a backup, there was a washer and dryer at the inn in Coldfoot. To lighten the load even further, I carried my camera lenses in the pockets of my ice fishing parka and around my neck.

At 9:45 AM, we rolled out of the NATC office and hit the Dalton Highway, the only road connecting Interior Alaska to the Arctic Ocean. This is one of the most remote and rugged roads in North America, stretching 414 miles from Livengood (just north of Fairbanks) all the way to Deadhorse, near Prudhoe Bay. Originally built in 1974 to support the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, it’s still commonly known as the "Haul Road" — a name that reflects its roots as a lifeline for supplies heading to the Arctic oil fields.

Our first stop was the Wildwood General Store, also known as the Arctic Circle Trading Post. Sadly, it closed permanently in 2023 after a fire, which was a real loss — this quirky spot was full of character and local history. Fortunately, a few port-a-potties remained on site — and they were much appreciated since our next rest stop was still an hour and a half away at the Yukon River Camp.

Map of the Dalton Highway. Gates of the Arctic National Park and Arctic National Wildlife Refuge run parallel to it.

This Dalton Highway Express bus will take us to the Arctic Circle pull-off, where we'll transfer to a smaller van to Coldfoot.

The old, closed trading post. The dual 50-gallon drum heaters in the foreground can put out some heat, making it bearable when temperatures drop below zero.

One of the old cabins at the now-closed trading post has snow drifts piled up to the roof, with hubcaps and stove pipes in the protected front. The snow fences come in handy!

❄️ Welcome to Coldfoot: Life on the Edge of the Arctic

After a long drive up the Dalton Highway, we arrived at Coldfoot, a tiny, remote settlement tucked into the Brooks Range, about 175 miles north of the Arctic Circle and 60 miles beyond the Yukon River. Once a rugged mining camp, Coldfoot has transformed into a vital stopover for truckers, travelers, and Arctic-bound adventurers like us.

It’s no exaggeration to say Coldfoot is a lifeline in the middle of nowhere. It's the only truck stop between Fairbanks and Deadhorse where you can fuel up, get minor repairs, grab a hot meal, and rest for the night. The nearest gas station or grocery store? About eight hours away. Let that sink in.

🥣 Fuel for the Body (and Stories)

The Coldfoot Café quickly became our go-to hangout — part restaurant, part gathering place. We’d come here to warm up, share a beer, and chat with fellow travelers. Some of the best moments were spent listening to truckers’ stories — tales of ice roads, wildlife encounters, and winters that make your eyelashes freeze. It felt like stepping into an episode of Ice Road Truckers, only way more real.

🛏️ Arctic Lodging: Rough Around the Edges

Accommodations in Coldfoot are as basic as it gets — but after a day on the road, they do the job. The lodging is made from old pipeline worker trailers, connected together and converted into motel-style rooms. Each unit has two single beds, a small bathroom, and a shower with just enough water pressure to feel human again.

When I got to my room, I quickly noticed that the bed was placed right under a poorly insulated window — and yes, the Arctic chill was definitely finding its way in. I grabbed a blanket from the closet, hung it up over the window, and stuffed it into the gaps to block the draft. That night, I bundled up in my long johns and socks and pulled the covers tight. Let’s just say, it wasn’t luxury — but it was all part of the adventure.

Coldfoot isn’t glamorous, but it’s unforgettable — a gritty, real slice of life in Alaska’s Far North. It’s a place where comfort is measured in hot meals, warm socks, and the shared camaraderie of people living on the edge of the world.

The entrance and communal area of Coldfoot Camp.

The rear of Coldfoot Inn shows the trailers and how they are connected. Two sets mirror each other with a hallway built in between. Ductwork was added and enclosed on top.

A trucker and his dog pay for his meal at the Coldfoot Cafe. Good boy!

🌌 Chasing the Aurora

If you’re dreaming of seeing the northern lights, there are few places on Earth more ideal than Wiseman, Alaska. Nestled in the Brooks Range and sitting directly beneath the auroral oval, Wiseman offers some of the best aurora viewing in the world, with visibility possible on up to 250 nights a year. Add in crystal-clear skies, almost zero light pollution, and a stunning mountain backdrop, and you’ve got a photographer’s dream.

Before our visit, we kept a close eye on an aurora tracking app, which monitors solar activity and predicts aurora strength in real time. On our night in Coldfoot, the forecast for Wiseman lit up—strong activity, clear skies, and high potential. We were ready to go!

❄️ Into the Arctic Night

Around 11 PM, bundled in layers and armed with cameras, we climbed into the van for the 30-minute drive north to Wiseman. When we arrived, the cold was sharp -20°F—but the excitement in the air kept us warm. Our group hiked a short way to an old hunting cabin, which would serve as our base for the night.

The cabin’s owner had already set up a double-barrel heater outside, creating a makeshift warming station where we could thaw our fingers, chat about camera settings, and prepare for the show. Inside, a warm cabin and steaming mugs of hot chocolate waited for anyone who needed a break from the cold.

🌠 The Lights Begin to Dance

And then—suddenly—it began.

A faint wisp appeared just above the mountains, like a soft brushstroke of light across the sky. Within minutes, it exploded into a full-blown celestial dance, swirling, spinning, and stretching from one horizon to the other. Brilliant green ribbons flowed overhead, occasionally accented by flashes of pink, purple, and deep red. It was one of the most awe-inspiring natural displays I’ve ever witnessed.

If you’ve never seen the aurora borealis in person, it’s hard to describe the feeling. The lights don’t just glow—they move. They pulse and ripple as if the sky itself is alive. It’s all thanks to charged particles from the sun colliding with Earth’s magnetic field—science that somehow feels like magic when you’re standing under it.

📷 A Night to Remember

I’m so grateful I had the chance to see and photograph this stunning phenomenon. Watching the northern lights in a place as remote and pristine as Wiseman wasn’t just a side trip—it was a highlight of the entire journey. Cold toes, camera batteries draining in the cold, frosty breath — totally worth it.

A poster for sale of the Northern Lights in Alaska. — Northern Lights Poster

Day 4

🚙 Driving the Dalton: From Coldfoot to Atigun Pass

Today was all about the drive — and in Alaska, that’s no small thing. We hit the road early, heading north on the Dalton Highway toward Atigun Pass, roughly 70 miles from Coldfoot. This stretch is known for its challenges: blowing snow, slick ice, and steady truck traffic hauling supplies to and from the Arctic. But with those challenges come some of the most rugged and remote beauty you’ll find anywhere.

As we climbed higher into the Brooks Range, I couldn’t help but be awed. This incredible mountain range stretches over 700 miles across northern Alaska, continuing into Canada’s Yukon Territory. It forms a natural boundary between Interior Alaska and the Arctic Coastal Plain, and it’s where the waters decide whether they’ll flow to the Arctic Ocean or the Bering Sea. It feels like driving through the spine of the continent.

🏔️ Mt. Sukakpak: A Marble Giant in the Arctic

About 25 miles north of Coldfoot, we reached one of the most striking sights on the Dalton: Mount Sukakpak. Rising dramatically from the tundra, this impressive peak has a fascinating origin story. It was once the floor of an ancient seabed — the limestone there was transformed into marble by immense heat and pressure, then thrust upward as the Brooks Range formed. What stands now is a massive marble mountain that feels both ancient and otherworldly.

At the base of the mountain, you can spot palsas — oval-shaped mounds created by ice forming beneath the soil. These are natural features common in Arctic and sub-Arctic landscapes, formed by repeated freezing and thawing that pushes the ground upward. You can actually see them in photos taken from the roadside — little humps dotting the foreground of this dramatic scene.

The name "Sukakpak" comes from the Inupiat language and translates to "marten deadfall" — a nod to traditional trap-setting techniques.

And just to add perspective: according to the sign here, it’s 289 miles to Fairbanks from this spot. In normal conditions, that’s about an 8-hour drive — all for a grocery run. It’s a small reminder of just how remote, rugged, and resilient life is up here.

Mt. Sukakpak is a massive mountain surrounded by the last vestiges of the boreal forest before it transitions to the Arctic tundra.

🏔️ Atigun Pass: Alaska’s Rugged Arctic Gateway

As we climbed higher into the Brooks Range, we reached one of the most dramatic and legendary stretches of the Dalton Highway: Atigun Pass. At 4,739 feet, it’s the highest maintained highway pass in Alaska, and it serves as a critical link between Interior Alaska and the vast, remote expanse of the North Slope.

❄️ Beauty and Danger in Equal Measure

Atigun Pass is everything you’d expect from an Arctic mountain crossing — and then some. It’s known for its steep grades, tight switchbacks, and sudden weather changes that can turn a clear day into a whiteout in minutes. Avalanches are a real and constant threat, especially in winter. Despite that, this pass stays open year-round thanks to the tireless work of maintenance crews who plow snow, apply grit, and even trigger controlled avalanches to prevent larger, dangerous slides.

This stretch of highway is a lifeline. It was originally built to support the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System, and today, it remains essential for the truckers and supply convoys heading to the oil fields of Prudhoe Bay. The road and pipeline run side by side, threading their way through the rugged mountains in a feat of engineering that’s hard to fully grasp — especially when you’re standing in subzero temps, surrounded by snow, ice, and silence.

📻 Off the Grid: Life on the Haul Road

There’s no cell service out here. Instead, truckers and drivers rely on CB radios to stay connected. They call out when they’re pulling over, warn others about road conditions, and share updates on hazards ahead. If you’ve ever watched Ice Road Truckers, you’ve seen this pass in action — and yes, it’s just as intense in real life.

🐾 On the Edge of the Wild

As if the scenery wasn’t enough, this part of the Dalton also borders the Gates of the Arctic National Park and the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge — two of the most remote and untouched wilderness areas in the U.S. There are no roads, no visitor centers, and no amenities in these parks — they’re only accessible by bush plane, and they remain wild in the truest sense.

The pass cuts through the migration paths of Dall sheep, caribou, and grizzly bears, making it a stunning, if rugged, destination for the few who venture this far north.

Driving through Atigun Pass felt like crossing into another world — one that’s harsh, breathtaking, and wildly alive. It’s a place where nature reigns, humans adapt, and the road itself tells a story of survival and grit.

The pipeline winds through the Brooks Range. This frigid landscape is vast and brilliantly white.

The van in front of us and us begin our climb up to Atigun Pass. The trucks in the distance show the size and and climb of the road here.

A sem-truck climbs up the Dalton Highway. Snow, ice, and a cloud of snow that the truck kicks behind it. — A truck climbs up the Atigun Pass, a slow, icy climb. Since there are no cell towers, communication is by CB. Truckers let others know about any dangers or problems along the way.

❄️ Wildlife Encounters

Traveling along the Dalton Highway in winter is more about observing than exploring on foot. With deep snow and wind-blown drifts covering the landscape, hiking trails were completely hidden, and venturing off-road wasn’t an option. Most of our stops were at designated pull-offs, giving us quick moments to soak in the views, snap a few photos, and keep an eye out for wildlife.

Fortunately, Alaska never disappoints.

🦌 A Surprise Caribou Sighting

While winding through the boreal forest, we were lucky to spot a small herd of caribou crossing the road. They had come up from the river and were moving steadily up a snow-covered slope toward the mountains. It was one of those quiet, unexpected moments that make you stop and just watch — no narration needed. Just the sound of their hooves in the snow and the hush of the wilderness around us.

🐦 Ptarmigans in the Tundra

Further north, as the forest thinned into tundra, we encountered a few willow ptarmigans nestled in low shrubs. As I stepped out to take a photo, a pair burst into flight, white wings flashing against the gray sky. It was a brief, beautiful moment — and I managed to catch it with my camera just in time.

Ptarmigans are fascinating birds. Part of the grouse family (Phasianidae), they’re perfectly adapted for life in cold, Arctic climates. They change the color of their feathers with the seasons — white in winter, mottled brown in summer — for near-perfect camouflage. Their scientific name, Lagopus, means “hare foot”, a nod to their feathered feet, which help them walk on snow like snowshoes.

In winter, dwarf willows are some of the only plants visible above the snowline. Ptarmigans use these hardy shrubs for shelter, camouflage, and food — feeding on buds, twigs, and catkins. The willows also provide just enough elevation to help them keep watch for predators in this wide, open landscape.

Day 5

✈️ Flying South Over the Tundra

After a relaxed morning and one last hot breakfast in Coldfoot, it was time to pack up and head out. We loaded our gear into the van and made the short drive to Coldfoot’s tiny airport — little more than a strip of runway surrounded by snow and wilderness.

Soon, we boarded a small propeller plane for our flight back to Fairbanks. As we lifted off, I watched the frozen Arctic tundra slip away beneath us. From the air, the landscape was breathtaking — a sweeping, icy desert stretching as far as the eye could see.

But this is no Sahara. Instead of heat and sand, this northern desert is defined by snow, wind-sculpted drifts, and temperatures that plunge far below zero. It’s stark, harsh, and incredibly beautiful.

Flying at low altitude gave us an unforgettable view: the rugged peaks of the Brooks Range, the winding ribbon of the Yukon River, and a patchwork of frozen ponds, wetlands, and boreal forest, all stitched together across a landscape shaped by permafrost. You really get a sense of how vast and untouched this part of the world is — a place where nature is still very much in charge.

Once we landed in Fairbanks, Northern Alaska Tour Company (NATC) dropped me off at the airport, where I picked up another rental car for the next leg of my adventure.

Day 6

Whenever I travel, I make it a point to stop by the local Elks Lodge. You’ll find one in nearly every city and small town across the U.S., and they’re always a welcoming place to meet locals, get the inside scoop on what’s happening nearby — and, of course, enjoy a nice cold beer.

During my visit to Fairbanks, I struck up a conversation with the bartender, who told me about something I’d never heard of before: the Nenana Ice Classic. And wow — what a fascinating slice of Alaskan life!

❄️ The Nenana Ice Classic: A Century-Old Alaskan Tradition

Every spring, the tiny town of Nenana hosts one of the most unique contests in America. The Nenana Ice Classic is a game of skill, luck, and long-standing tradition where participants guess the exact date and time (to the minute!) that the Tanana River ice will break.

This quirky event began in 1917, when a group of railroad engineers working on the Alaska Railroad started placing bets on when the river would thaw. More than a century later, it’s become a beloved Alaskan ritual, with a jackpot that can reach hundreds of thousands of dollars, depending on ticket sales.

How it Works:

A large wooden tripod is set up on the frozen river, connected by cable to a clock tower on shore. When the ice starts to shift in the spring melt and the tripod moves, the cable pulls — and the clock stops, marking the official moment of ice breakup.

In 2024, the ice officially broke on April 27 at 5:18 a.m. AKST.

🎟️ Did I Win?

Of course, I had to buy a few tickets and take a shot at predicting the exact moment. Sadly, I didn’t win this year — but hey, it was fun to be part of such a quirky, authentic piece of Alaskan culture.

If you're ever in Alaska during the late winter or early spring, keep an eye out for Ice Classic tickets — you might just get lucky and win big. Or at the very least, you’ll walk away with a great story to tell.

A replica of the Nenana Ice Classic tripod. This one sits off the road before entering Nenana.

♨️ Soaking in Subarctic Serenity: Chena Hot Springs

Just an hour’s drive from Fairbanks, Chena Hot Springs is the perfect escape on a cold Alaskan day. Tucked into the snowy hills of the Chena River State Recreation Area, this natural geothermal oasis is a favorite among locals and visitors alike — especially when the temperature dips well below freezing.

The main attraction? A steamy outdoor rock-lined hot spring, where the water stays a toasty 106°F to 109°F (41°C to 43°C) year-round. It’s pure bliss to sink into the warm mineral-rich water while surrounded by snow, steam, and silent spruce trees.

What Makes Chena Hot Springs So Special?

🌌 Aurora Viewing: Thanks to its location in the heart of the subarctic, Chena is a prime spot for catching the northern lights on clear winter nights. There’s something magical about soaking in the springs while green ribbons of aurora ripple overhead.
📸 Frozen Hair Photos: If it’s cold enough — usually below 0°F (-18°C) — you can join the fun tradition of snapping a selfie with your hair frozen into icicle sculptures. It’s a quirky, chilly, and totally Instagram-worthy moment.
🚗 Year-Round Access: Unlike many remote hot springs, Chena is accessible in every season, with a maintained road and full facilities including lodging, a restaurant, and even an ice museum.

“You know, once something freezes, it’s solid. That’s the key to the Arctic – they didn’t fear the cold, they made use of it.” — Wade Davis

My last full day in northern Alaska seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. It always amazes me how time speeds up at the end of a trip — like the days are in a hurry to return you to real life before you’re ready to go.

One thing that struck me, again and again, is how quickly civilization gives way to wilderness here. In less than an hour outside of Fairbanks, we were surrounded by a landscape so vast and untouched, it felt like another world.

During one of our bus rides along the Dalton Highway, I struck up a conversation with our driver. When I asked where she lived, she smiled and said, “In a cabin outside of town.” She hunts year-round and grows vegetables during the long summer days to supplement what groceries she can get. Originally from Minnesota, she came to Alaska to attend the University of Alaska Fairbanks — and never left.

She’s just one of many who have found joy in the challenge of living here. As the old saying goes, “Living is to find joy in the challenge,” and Alaska seems to embody that spirit more than almost anywhere else I’ve been.

A Land That Inspires

Most of Alaska remains a true wilderness — untouched, raw, and beautiful. Its vast, remote landscapes offer not just adventure, but something deeper: a rare chance to reconnect with nature on its own terms. There’s a quiet power in this place, and an honesty to the people who call it home.

With so few people spread across such a large land, Alaska invites you to slow down, listen, and reflect. It’s a place where solitude isn’t lonely — it’s peaceful.

I’ll always carry this experience with me. No matter how cold it gets, Alaska has a warmth all its own — in its people, its challenges, and its enduring, wild beauty.

🎨 Bring the Spirit of the Races Home — Watercolor Prints Now Available!

I'm thrilled to offer a brand-new series of watercolor prints inspired by the iconic sled dog races in Fairbanks, including a heartwarming favorite: “The Little Musher.”

Each piece is hand-painted from my own photos and experiences, capturing the energy, emotion, and magic of these incredible events. Whether you're a lover of winter sports, Alaskan culture, or simply unique, story-rich art — these prints make a beautiful addition to any space.

🖼️ Perfect for gifts, home decor, or adding a touch of adventure to your walls.

Footnotes

Hey there! Just a little note: all the photos and videos you see here are my own, unless I mention otherwise in the caption. I love sharing my travel stories, photographs, and tips with you. You’ll also find some of my watercolor art sprinkled in, and if you’re interested, there are links to purchase my prints, too. I hope you find some new places to explore!