I Don’t Begin To Know Cold

Texas has been experiencing a serious cold snap for the last few days, resulting in below-freezing temperatures for the last few nights. I already know for a fact that those of you in Denver, Omaha, and Boston are laughing your butts off at how precious that sounds coming out of my mouth (or pen, as the case may be). This cold is especially bothersome because less than a week ago, we were having temperatures in the 70s and 80s (and those are in so-called freedom units for those of you in UKia, Yerp, and all points south of the equator). Consequently, I’ve been thinking about the cold more than usual this week. Combine that with my never-sated longing to travel, and I’ve found myself thinking about the journey that will likely be the last of my Great Project: Alaska.

I have always considered Alaska to be my triple black diamond (for non-skiers [and skiers as well], that’s a double black diamond with machine gun nests and concertina wire). The very concept of having to island-hop and cross vast amounts of wilderness has filled me with both awe and dread that I have not experienced thinking about anywhere else. On top of that, one of my best friends and his family spent years living out there in some tiny towns (Fairbanks, with 31,000 people—and far less in the ’70s and ’80s [this time, those are decades]—was the largest place they lived), so I’ve heard more than a few crazy stories from the Fairbanks/North Star Borough. Because of this, I had been assuming that I would probably be best served by hiring a pilot and a plane for a month and flying around the state, from borough seat to borough seat. I have no idea how much something like that would cost, but I’ve had a suitably astronomical figure in my head as a starting point. Except a few days ago, that illusion was shattered. I learned about the Alaska Marine Highway System, the ferry system that goes along the entire southern length of the state. It has stops in or near just over a dozen borough seats! Of course, it takes a long time (around a week from Ketchikan to Dutch Harbor), and the ferry going farthest west only runs once a month, but it’s a reasonable option that was never even considered before. I could even jump on the western terminus in Bellingham to start it all out if I wanted. And yesterday, I learned from my friend that there’s a train that runs from Anchorage to Fairbanks. That’s probably not a useful option for me (the station stops are too short to get my photography and finding done), but how cool would train-based caching be for a couple of days?

Speaking of photography, Alaska presents another complication that no other state has. The state has eighteen boroughs and one Unorganized Borough, a giant area where the state can’t provide services because it’s all so remote. Out there, the state basically says, “Pay your taxes, don’t murder anyone, and you can administer yourself.” The Unorganized Borough is also divided by the Census Bureau into twelve census areas, each of which qualifies as a county equivalent. So where, in that case, do I go to photograph the borough courthouses? I don’t, because they don’t exist to photograph. So I think it makes sense to go to the largest city in each census area and photograph its city hall instead. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that, so it fits in with precedent. That still means figuring out how to navigate the western coast and some weird interior stuff that I haven’t taken a deep dive into quite yet. For the interior, I will have to fly because roads beyond Fairbanks are a crapshoot at best. The Dalton Highway that goes from Fairbanks to the northern Alaska coast and Prudhoe Bay is literally where Ice Road Truckers takes place. That is a negative, Ghost Rider. But at least I won’t have to fly everywhere.

I guess my point here (and I do have one) is threefold: (1) I want to get back on the road. I’m thinking about places I’m not even going to for a few years yet, (2) it’s cold, and I’m tired of it, and (3) Quit laughing at me, Northerners!