First Half the trip to Deadhorse

Yes, I know these are out of order, and will be for a while 'til I get caught up! We did too much and saw too much to keep it all straight! Anyway......

The night before arriving in Deadhorse/Purdhoe Bay was spent in Wiseman, half way between Fairbanks and Deadhorse. It was only about 250 miles from Fairbanks, but took us about 8 hours to drive it. Thank goodness we’d been told the road was terrible, so decided to break up the trip into two days, finishing up the other 250 miles to Deadhorse the next day. Actually, the road wasn’t as bad as we expected. We left the Montana in Fairbanks, as we’d been told the Dalton Highway was all dirt, ridden with huge pot holes, very narrow with either no or very narrow shoulders, and to expect heavy on-coming traffic of large trucks hauling supplies to and from the oil wells in Purdue Bay at Deadhorse. In actuality, there were the pot holes the size of an old Dodge to dodge and freeze heaves, where the road rises and drops abruptly due to the freeze and thaw of the dirt below, which gave us the feeling we were riding on a roller coaster, and on more than one occasion made me want to heave. In some spots the road was a straight stretch ahead of us for as far as we could see, then other times it wound around beautiful mountains and tundra covered with red, yellow, brown, and green foliage and trees. We stopped at one spot to observe in the distance a large rock, named “Finger Rock,” shaped like a finger and pointing directly to Fairbanks. Apparently, for years it’s been a guide for bush pilots making their way to Fairbanks. Paralleling the only road north was the Trans Alaska Pipeline System. It was so interesting keeping an eye on it, as it wound itself around us, sometimes disappearing underground, just to pop up on the other side of the road, then disappear into a mountain and reappear in a series of zig-zags. The 48-inches in diameter metal pipe extends for 800 miles in all, 420 miles elevated above ground and 380 miles buried in bedrock. It was easy, yet fascinating, to realize there were 2.1 million barrels of oil flowing though the pipeline every day. On the way, we also passed several pump stations, some powered by natural gas, and others use liquid fuel. What amazed us most was the close proximity of the pipeline to the road, with no visible means of security. It seems it would be very easy for a terrorist to blow it up.

We also stopped at a large sign designating the Arctic Circle. Didn’t see the line in the sand, but took our pictures to prove we’d been there. Then, some smart alec from a tour bus informed us that the Arctic Circle really isn’t there, as it moves all the time. Now, what was his purpose in telling us that? Sometimes, we should just be left alone to our imagination and naivety.

When we saw the sign for a town coming up, Sheilagh and I realized it was time for a coffee and gift shop break, so had Ian stop at the one building in Camp Yukon. Inside the square shaped, flat roofed, very plain building was a 4-table restaurant of sorts, one room with t-shirts, sweatshirts and base ball caps, restrooms, and the “motel.” The motel consisted of one long hallway with rooms on either side of it, the first two being the public restrooms. Sheilagh and I had to check it out and laughed to see the stalls several inches up from the floor, just like in a train of years gone by. Took pictures of each other stepping up into the stalls.

When we finally saw the sign for Wiseman, 3 miles to the left, we were more than ready to see what these Arctic Getaway Cabins were all about. I made the reservations months ago. My choices consisted of this or the motel in Coldfoot, so in order not to get bored, we have reservations in Coldfoot on the way back down. Coldfoot is 9 miles south of Wiseman. We didn’t know what to expect as we traveled down the dirt road, with the Koyukuk River flowing beside us. We passed a homestead of questionable status, so got a little concerned. Finally, the road opened to several cabins, a row of sled dogs tethered to their doghouses, a tent (which Sheilagh and I checked out later, to find nothing in it but a chair), a green house which was packed full of plants which we did not recognize and wondered if legally questionable plants were being grown there, a rack for drying animal hides, and a couple hides hung over a swing set. They had long black shiny fur attached, but Sheilagh and I didn’t recognize what kind of animal used to wear it. It’s not too often we see animals without their innards. It kind of made us wonder what kind of meat would be fried up for our breakfast, too!


We found an older log home which proved to be the owner’s house, as well as where breakfast is served - the owners had left a note tacked to the door telling us to make ourselves at home in the Kuyukuk Cabin, and they’d be back in a little while. When we found our cabin, we were so pleased! It was the stereotypical Alaskan log cabin with a flower box under one window, a wooden bench on the rugged deck. Inside the front door we found two twin beds covered with blankets on which were weaved the words, “Welcome to the Wilderness.” A black pot-bellied, wood burning stove sat in the middle of the room, and just beyond the beds was a good sized pine table with built-in benches, and a small kitchen on the other side of that. It was so exciting! Up the winding log stairs we found two small bedrooms, each with a double bed covered with warm comforters. Each bedroom had a small alcove with a window, covered with heavy fabric curtains to keep out the midnight sun. Our cabin for the night was so cozy, all it needed was 10 feet of snow outside to make it “real” Alaska. Ian eventually noticed and later discussed with Bernie, husband of Uta, the German owners and long-time Alaskan residents from Germany, the fact that they live completely “off the grid.” Their electricity is supplied by solar panels and a generator. Propane heats the water which is pumped from their own well, and oil is used for heating. They just recently got phone service in the area, although it’s a shared line, or a party line, as we had when we were small kids. They get mail delivery once a week, or they can go to the post office in Coldfoot three times a week when it is open. (Sheilagh and I later went to the post office, to find a sign on the door demanding all guns and knives be left outside. I guess TSA found its way even to the wilds of Alaska!)

Naturally, we had no TV in the our little cabin in the woods, so after a dinner of sandwiches, fruit and potato chips, we dug out the Mexican Train dominoes game, wine for the ladies, Port for Mike, and beer for Ian. We had a great time, making up “house” rules, arguing over correct or incorrect rules, and keeping score to ensure Sheilagh won by a huge margin. The guys thought they won, and they certainly may have legally, but who said it all has to be legal in a game between friends??

Sheilagh and I took a walk along the river, examining the many rocks of its bed. Some were quite sparkly, and we wondered why. Some had beautiful layers of various colors, some were pure white or black. In no time we both had our hands full of rocks to keep, but by the time we got back to the cabin, they had been hygraded to just a couple for my collection. After all, there were more important souvenirs for Sheilagh to take back to Scotland than rocks!

We eventually went to our beds and had a surprisingly good night’s sleep. The cabin must have been well insulated, as none of us thought it was too chilly the next morning, ‘til we went outside. But, we quickly forgot the cold air when Uta fixed a wonderful pancake & eggs breakfast for us (no beaver or wolf meat), as well as for the group of Chinese tourists making their way back down from Prudhoe Bay. They had had a good trip, but didn’t get to get in the Arctic for the same reason we didn’t. They must have had Grant for their tour guide. We spoke with the Chinese group translator, then with Uta and Bernie about how they ended up in Alaska, in the wilds. Bernie, as a teen, exchanged summers with his dad’s friend’s son here in Alaska, then eventually made his way here to stay. Uta came along later, and now they have two children whom they home-school.


Fueled with lots of hot coffee and contented, full stomachs, we loaded up the truck with our snacks for the road and suitcases, said our good-byes to Uta and Bernie, took one last look around our cute little Kuyukuk cabin, and hit the road once again. We were on our last leg to the Arctic Ocean.