When people daydream at their workplace and fantasize about a winter vacation, they seldom think of frigid Fairbanks, Alaska. But there are winter sights and adventures ? starting in the ?Golden Heart City? and ending hundreds of miles south ? that could be life-defining.
I booked my late-February adventure dreaming of the northern lights, ice sculptures, the pipeline, and a ride on the real ?Polar Express? ? the Alaska Railroad?s Aurora Winter Train to Anchorage. And, as strange as it may seem, I wanted to experience the legendary cold.
I got my first dose of ?the weather? while landing sideways at Fairbanks International in a stiff wind and climbing off the jet in near-whiteout conditions. I wondered whether Sergeant Preston of the Yukon was still around in case a rescue was in order. But as my companions and I let out a few nervous laughs, the wind died down, never to reappear.
This city of 32,000 people was founded as a trading post in 1901. It boomed shortly thereafter as gold was discovered, grew in the 1940s with the Alcan Highway construction, and then boomed again in the 1970s as a hub for the construction of the Trans Alaska oil pipeline.
Fairbanks is quite spread out, but it retains its ?frontier outpost? feel in portions of the downtown area and its rustic outskirts. After checking in at our Springhill Suites room and ordering a northern lights wakeup call with the desk, we settled in for dinner at the historic Chena Pump House restaurant ? and kept scanning the northern skies in hopes of spotting the aurora borealis.
The next morning, we unplugged the engine heater on our rental car and headed out exploring. The first stop was 10 miles north of town at the pipeline viewing area. The welded steel tube ? 800 miles long and 4 feet in diameter ? comes out of the ground here on its route from Prudhoe Bay to the port of Valdez. It?s insulated to keep the hot oil (111 degrees) from melting the permafrost soil.
We took in the University of Alaska?s Museum of the North in the afternoon and were treated to fine cultural exhibits on Alaskan and native peoples, artwork, history, wildlife and geography, and a special sound-and-light room that changes with environmental conditions.
Late afternoon included a visit to the World Ice Art Championships, where artisans using mostly hand tools turn 4-ton blocks of crystal-clear pond ice into sculptures of unbelievable wonder. We saw two basketball players fighting for the ball under a beautifully carved hoop and net, polar bears and mermaids. There also were ice slides and a carved-from-ice playground for kids.
This year the competition at George Homer Ice Park starts Tuesday and continues for a month, attracting teams from around the world (including Florida!). As the sun was setting, we rushed down to the frozen Chena River to catch a glimpse of the finish line of the Iron Dog snow machine race, a 2,000-mile trek from Nome to Fairbanks, where a certain former Alaska governor?s husband took second prize.
After wolfing down some of Big Daddy?s smoked barbecue (necessary protein), we went in search of the fabled northern lights. Driving out of town to escape the city glare, we had the stellar conditions of clear skies and no moon in the prime viewing months of February to March.
Fairbanks sits smack in the Auroral Oval, one of the best regions of the world to see the aurora borealis. Our Gore-Tex clothes crinkled in the minus 25-degree cold, which had us wishing we were watching for the lights from the comfort of the nice pools at nearby Chena Hot Springs. Several disappointing hours passed before we gave up.
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All aboard for the Alaska Railroad!
We left Fairbanks, Milepost 470.3, on a crisp minus 30-degree early morning, headed full throttle for the boundless wilderness ? and abruptly stalled a few minutes out of town. After a minor delay during which we exhausted our worse-case-scenario fantasies, we lurched forward and were on our way, through seemingly endless Taiga forests of low-lying spruce and hardwoods.
The construction of this 470-mile railroad was started in 1904, as a private venture to access the vast mineral and coal deposits in the interior and to transport the materials to the ice-free port of Seward, far to the south. The private concerns went belly-up, but in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson brought in the federal government and, with the help of equipment shipped in from the newly completed Panama Canal, the rail line was finished by 1923.
A few hours into the trip, we crossed the Mears Memorial Bridge, where President Warren G. Harding performed one of the more admirable tasks of his presidency: driving the golden spike that completed the railroad. He died two weeks later on his return to the lower 48.
Before completion of the bridge, track was laid on the frozen river in the winter for the trains to ride on. We saw our first two moose a few minutes later, both of them spooked by the ?iron horse? and stumbling for cover. Our conductor, 44-year Alaska rail veteran Harry Ross, reminded us to let him know the next time we saw wildlife, and he would stop the train for a closer look.
Whaaat? But that?s what they did indeed, on numerous occasions. The rails pass through the town of Nenana, where in 1985 Alaska purchased the railroad from the U.S. Government. Following the Nenana River, we skirted the waterway?s gorge into magnificent Denali National Park. The centerpiece of the 6-million-acre park is the massive 20,320-foot Denali peak, known outside Alaska as Mount McKinley. The use of the latter name is a sore subject to the natives. Glacier-adorned Denali, ?The High One? in the native Athabaskan, is the highest mountain in North America and one of the world?s great peaks. It can be seen from many spots along the train route, but it can be elusive for weeks, as the mountain creates its own weather, cloaking the summit from view.
It was time to open the train?s vestibule window for some photos. ? Hello! The blast of wind-driven cold air was shocking. But the view of mountains, valleys and skies was tremendous. The train chugged into Denali Park Station, where tourists in droves exit in summer for lodging and recreation. Thirty-five miles out of the station, we encountered an abundance of wildlife, slowing to watch a moose sauntering down the tracks and then stopping for an extended photo shoot with a herd of caribou. During the interlude, conductor Harry regaled us with his early days tale of talking down a drunken passenger who was randomly firing his gun out the train window at passing scenery. The ?Last Frontier? indeed.
On we went, passing the Continental Divide, climbing the wistfully named Honolulu Pass and then stopping dead in the middle of the Hurricane Gulch trestle. This stop, surely causing some of the passenger hearts to flutter, also afforded a great photo opportunity while perched some 300 feet above the gorge. Down the line, snowmobilers carved tracks through a broad valley as the train heeded a waving flag and stopped to pick up a passenger. The train, which is the only link to civilization along this route south of Hurricane, provides this necessary service to travelers.
Next stop is the town of Talkeetna, the site of the annual Moose Dropping Festival, which also serves as a base station for trips and flights to the mountain. A few miles out of town, we finally saw majestic Denali and its grand companions of the Alaska Range.
The sun dropped below the horizon an hour later as Alaska?s urban centers came into view. The bedroom community of Wasilla (no, she wasn?t home), the agricultural Matanuska Valley and Whitney, home of Elmendorf Air Base, whizzed by the rail coach windows as dusk settled in. The lights of Anchorage, our destination, loomed into view soon after.
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Anchorage, Alaska?s largest city, originated as the main staging area for the railroad?s construction in 1914, and boomed following the discovery of oil at Prudhoe Bay in the far north. Situated on the Knik and Turnagain Arms of the Cook Inlet, the city is situated amid a gathering of gorgeous mountain ranges and is surrounded by water, which tends to moderate its winter climate.
We rose early to witness the ceremonial start of the famous Iditarod sled dog race, which commemorates the 1925 relay by dog teams to deliver diphtheria serum to the epidemic-stricken city of Nome. Mushers and their very excited dogs get to strut for fans on a snowy stretch of downtown before starting the real race in Willow on the 1,050-mile hazardous journey to Nome.
The lead-in to the ?Last Great Race? is the 10-day Fur Rendezvous Festival, ?Rondy? for short. The celebration started in the early 1930s when miners and trappers came to town with their winter ?take,? and Alaskans in general gathered together for some mid-winter camaraderie. It has since evolved into an eclectic collection of events, some sedate and others downright wacky.
On the ?loony scale,? nothing beats the Running of the Reindeer, during which hordes of ?wild animals? (who resemble people) are released on snowy Fourth Street to run among perplexed reindeer, who are themselves running to get away as fast as their hoofed legs allow. A close second in wackiness might be the Outhouse Races, in which contestants drag porta-potties on skis down a course and into immortality. People-watching qualifies as a spectator sport and Rondy event. Walking down Anchorage?s main drag, you begin to appreciate the variety of folks who call Alaska home, among them backwoodsmen, trappers, hermits, old sourdoughs and the requisite urban kids with Raiders hoodies and pants sagging down to there.
Sporting events are front and center in town. Take in the World Championship Sled Dog Races on the streets of downtown and see what true canine athletes are all about.
If you?re into the social scene, the Miners and Trappers Ball is for you. Grow some facial hair in time for the Ball?s Beard and Moustache competition. There are lots of other things to do at the Rondy: Peruse the exhibits and shops for Native American arts and crafts, check out the snow sculpture competition, strap into the carnival rides, visit the Anchorage Museum for special exhibitions, get flung in the air at the festival blanket toss and bite into a reindeer hot dog from a street-side cart. Stay at or visit the Captain Cook or Hilton Hotel towers for great views of the region, nearby mountain ranges and even distant Denali.
Want to satisfy your ski or snowboard craving? Forty miles south of Anchorage in the town of Girdwood is the Alyeska Resort and ski area. From the luxury hotel, take the aerial tramway up 2,000 feet to the heart of a mountain that boasts of frequent and sometimes legendary powder dumps. Ride Chair 6 up to 2,750 feet, the top of lift service, for stunning views of the Kenai Mountains and Peninsula, and the Chugach Range, bisected by the sublime Turnagain Arm of the Cook Inlet ? named for the legendary English explorer Capt. James Cook. From there, you can take intermediate runs down or opt for the double-black diamond challenges of the North Face.
For apr?s-ski and dining, try the Seven Glaciers Restaurant at the top of the tram for gourmet Alaskan cuisine, or the Double Musky Inn down in Girdwood town for Cajun-Creole fare.
The highlight of our Alyeska stay was a fleeting but awe-inspiring look at the northern lights, momentarily intense but fading quickly as we ran to find a viewing spot free from the resort?s illumination.
There?s so much more winter and spring wonder to see in the vicinity if you have some time. Grab a rental car and explore the Kenai Peninsula. Take in the historic port of Seward and go for a glacier boat cruise on adjoining Resurrection Bay. You might see orcas, sea lions, porpoises, bald eagles, sheep and lots of other fauna, along with some requisite jaw-dropping mountain, sea and glacier sights. Go fishing on the Kenai River. Take a four-hour jaunt to Homer on beautiful Kachemak Bay, taking in the quaint Russian and Native fishing village of Ninilchik and the magnificent mountains and volcanoes of the Cook Inlet along the way.
Homer, at road?s end, is an artist colony and fishing center, whimsically referred to as ?a quaint drinking village with a fishing problem? by the locals. Halibut and salmon sport fishing is king here, on a tract of low-lying land called the Homer Spit. Head into the Salty Dawg Saloon for a cold one and feast your eyes on the most dollar bills you?ve ever seen stuck to a ceiling. Relax waterside in a small inn and see bald eagles soaring around you. The winter climate is moderated by the water, and it was a fine place to conclude our ?North to Alaska? adventure.
Article source: http://www2.tbo.com/news/travel/2012/feb/26/north-to-alaska-on-the-real-polar-express-ar-362777/
Source: http://great-vacations.net/2012/02/26/north-to-alaska-on-the-real-polar-express/
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