The next time I visit Alaska, I might have to take a thesaurus. I’m normally not at a loss for words, but on a five-day, mid-March familiarization trip sponsored by Visit Anchorage, I found myself using the same word over and over: exhilarating.
The word isn’t wrong, given that our group of tour operators and companions enjoyed a collection of activities—and a nonstop viewfest—that left us all a bit slack-jawed. It’s just that even the perfect word can lose its effectiveness when it’s repeated too often, so I’ll vary my laudatory language.
We started in Anchorage on a sunny morning, with most of the 26 participants having flown in the day or night before. We used two vehicles during the first days of the tour; while we could share an evening meal together, many of the activities were better suited for groups of 12 to 15, so we split up and switched off.
My group’s first adventure was one heckuva tone-setter: a trip to a glacier via helicopter! We prepped for the trip at the Knik River Lodge, where the staff briefed us on safety and weighed us (privately) to achieve the best balance in each bird provided by Alaska Helicopter Tours.
Our pilot, Steven, swept us over the frigid Knik River toward the enormous glacial formations that feed it, and the glacier we buzzed over was nothing like the chunk of ice I imagined it would be. I was struck by the color—shades of blue mingled with white and accented with strips of black silt. Equally remarkable were the crevasses and formations, which reminded me of southern Utah’s canyons and hoodoos.
Steven gave us a theme park thrill ride, especially with one particular left-right-left swoop over and around a deep crevasse. It was flat-out exhil— … breathtaking. And Blake, the guide who met us on a rock outcrop in the middle of the Knik Glacier, was remarkably knowledgeable; a single question would lead to an avalanche of detail and insight. As we stood in chilly wind atop the rocky island, the conversation turned toward life in Alaska. Blake, a transplant from Tennessee, discussed the past winter and the lengthening of the days as temperatures warmed.
“Definitely got spring fever,” he said. “I can already taste the salmon.”
After lunch at the lodge, we were joined by a local outfitter who provided sets of snowshoes and some fat tire bikes so we could try our hand at maneuvering across snowy ground. After a challenging climb up a steep hill, I got the hang of snowshoeing, and if we ever start getting consistently deep snows in my old Kentucky home, I might purchase a pair.
On our next stop, Alaskan life slowed down a bit. The aptly named Musk Ox Farm, surrounded by the majestic Chugach and Talkeetna mountains, is home to dozens of lumbering beasts that date back to the time of wooly mammoths and saber-tooth tigers. While not the most animated of creatures, the musk ox is a marvel to behold, and they produce oh-so soft hair (qiviut) that’s combed out and made into yarn and garments, available in the gift shop.
The farm is a nonprofit facility with a staff whose care and concern for the oxen make the tour enlightening and endearing. Our guide, Dani, used “we” to stand sometimes for the staff and sometimes for the herd they tend. I’m fairly sure she was referring to the oxen when she discussed gestation period: “We’re pregnant for eight months,” she said.
After a group dinner in Palmer, we bused to Talkeetna and bedded down for the night, but not before several of us ventured into town to conduct historical research. We visited the Fairview Inn, where President Warren G. Harding dined during a 1923 visit to celebrate the newly completed Alaska Railroad. President Harding was likely not entertained by live music at the bar as we were. Also, we didn’t die in the days following our visit, as the late great president did.
Planes, trains, and automobiles … plus
Let’s call the next day John Candy Day, with a twist: We explored Alaska via planes, trains, and automobiles—plus one more unusual mode of transportation.
Planes were up first. We gathered at K2 Aviation’s new welcome center and boarded a 10-passenger plane that, like yesterday’s helicopter, was equipped with personal headsets so we could hear the pilot’s commentary. And Chad had a lot to talk about.
The flight is eye- and ear-popping rapture.
On a crystal clear day, we flew over glaciers and valleys and soared above snow and granite on our way toward Denali. During our one-hour flight, we saw sights a million years in the making. We ventured over Root Canal, a glacier lined with jagged rock peaks given dental names: Moose’s Tooth, Wisdom Tooth, Eye Tooth, and Broken Tooth. Chad described ice fields and ice falls. The snow was so deep and white; in some places it looked like thick, rich satin.
Our closest approach to Denali was eight miles away, and our top altitude was 9,000 feet—still some 11,000 feet lower than the peak. Yet Denali loomed huge outside our individual windows. This journey is humbling, and being so close to those enormous mountains made me feel small. For that one hour, I was overwhelmed by the grandeur and grace of the mountains. It was absolutely exhil— … inspirational.
Story continues after photo gallery
