Winter Travel in Fairbanks, Alaska

Ice, Ice Baby

A muffled “crunch” sounds under the car’s wheels as we careen to the shoulder of the Alaska Highway into the snow. Having missed the turnoff for a dog mushing outing, we’re now making a U-turn and going back. Or, at least that’s the plan. It’s barely noon on a warm day for Fairbanks, where the average temperature in winter is -12 degrees but it’s nowhere near that. We’ve arrived at the end of February and the snow (from earlier in the season) is melting by day then freezing and icing up at night. With temperatures fluctuating from the thirties to single digits after midnight, we were warned ahead about the tricky driving conditions. Now we’re getting the full picture. Way before departing I got the sense that Alaskans have a symbiotic relationship with snow and understand every nuance of it.

Backing up to a steep incline to make the turn, the car starts sliding down the hill. Our driver Terry doesn’t seem too concerned but as he shifts frantically from drive to low gear, it’s clear after sliding more than 30 feet that we’re in trouble. Butting a snow bank on the ridge, we risk dropping over the side if the car continues to skate on the solid sheet of ice. Perplexed, Terry jumps out of the car and tries to figure out what to do. Out of nowhere like an angel of mercy, a big 4 wheel drive pick-up catches us struggling on the slick, icy road and shoots over to the shoulder. Calling out, “Do you need some help?” not a second is lost before we all yell in enthusiastic unison, “Yes”, and he’s got the tow chain out. I quickly ascertain that we’ve just had a lesson in Alaskan survival code which seems to run throughout the 49th state. Here, people watch out for each other, especially in winter. Lesson learned.

Weather Permitting

So went the kick-off of a 3-night search for the Northern Lights after a couple of let-downs on previous trips. Clearly, we hadn’t learned the pre-requisites: very cold temperatures, clear skies and a willingness to stay up late; actually, very late. As far as “Lady Aurora” goes, “sleep is for the weak” as she typically doesn’t make an appearance before 1 am. The skies were clear and the temperatures at night were forecasted to drop below 10 degrees so our hopes were high. Concurrently, we planned to check-out the annual Ice Art Championships over the next week and have a peek at the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. And, oh yeah, we were going to walk with some reindeer in the boreal forest which sounded like fun.

After buckling into our sled at Just Short of Magic Dog Sled Tours we were ready to set out with our guide Eleanor into the snowy woods. She started gabbing about the Iditarod, the long-distance dog mushing race starting next weekend in Anchorage. We were headed down there afterward so we were all ears. She added that since there was no snow there they’d be trucking it down from Fairbanks. Imagine that, Global Warming had reached Alaska!

Our sled tour took us over a big chunk of Fairbanks’ outer reaches behind an energetic team of Alaskan Huskies; I’d forgotten how much fun the mushing experience is, especially as Alaska’s incredible scenery could be admired with little effort since the musher was doing all the work. Afterwards we got back in the car and drove an hour north to Chena Hot Springs to begin our Northern Lights search. Chena is a fully loaded resort out in the wilderness with a geo-thermal pool whose healing waters are legendary. It’s a must for anyone visiting the Fairbanks area; the awesome natural springs are smack in the middle of the extensive grounds. But the feather in Chena’s cap is the long list of winter themed activities, from snowmobiling to the Aurora Ice Museum and they have a specially designed vehicle called a snow coach that clings to the earth as it climbs to the summit of a nearby mountain. Their nightly Northern Lights viewing in winter is a top draw and we had signed-up, of course.

Aurora Borealis Nights

Climbing into the 90 degree water after a day and a half of travel was practically like an out of body experience and everyone soaking around me looked to be feeling no pain. Some of us would meet up again later on the summit climb but for now we were strangers. This would soon change as the common bond of everyone visiting Alaska is to share your experiences and learn from the residents by looking out for each other. And it gets pretty cold after dark so the survival code and the camaraderie are pretty much a given no matter what. Well after midnight, having jumped out of that dark mountain climber, we sit patiently in a giant yurt hoping for a sky soon to be filled with green lights. The temperature had plummeted and stamina and patience are needed to stay awake and warm. After 2 hours we finally get a glimpse. A ribbon of green blankets the sky about 1 am forcing me to stay awake. Though the visions are subtle they keep up for about a half-hour then disappear. It’s just enough to whet our appetite for more. At 2 am we descend charged to continue our quest.

The next night takes us even further north along the Dalton Highway, popularized on the History Channel’s reality show, Ice Road Truckers, among other things a road that travails the Arctic Circle and parallels the Trans Alaska Pipeline. It’s a lonely drive with nary a car in sight and dark as pitch but sitting comfy in a big 12 passenger van we’re clueless to what we’re getting into. We pull over to check out the pipeline, an eerie sight in the dead of night above the snow. I confess I knew nothing about the pipeline phenomenon which has a back story to rival a Shakespearean plot.

It’s close to midnight and we pull up to Arctic Circle Trading Post, a lonely cabin in the woods, and apparently well positioned for sightings. After being chilled to the bone the previous night I’d wised-up and brought a small flask to numb myself to the cold. We wait, then suddenly a busload of Chinese people nearly knock down the door. We’re suddenly smack in the middle of quite the multi-cultural experience. After about 1 am they get stir crazy and suddenly everyone is up and outside. Something seems to be happening! The sky has erupted with little green swirls that are dissolving every 15 seconds. It’s a little tease but all the same everyone gets very excited. The show continues for about 45 minutes and around 2 am it peaks. We’re treated to a little revue of sorts, an encore of the previous night. We climb aboard the bus weary, frigid and craving sleep and don’t get back to our hotel until 4:30 am.

Men on a Mission

Our last day in Fairbanks has us wondering what the last night will deliver. All the conditions had been met but we’d only been treated to a little taste of Aurora. The day was sunny and even warmer and as we circled the Ice Art Competition you could see the melting drops pouring off the intricate sculptures. I wondered if they would last through the annual week-long event which is quite a spectacle. We spoke to some of the artists, one or more with chain saw in hand, and got a new appreciation for a medium that’s going strong for 26 years. I couldn’t believe that a whopping 70 teams from all over the world were competing. This is an art that attracts the truly alternative types and as we marveled at the expertise and ingenuity I couldn’t help but feel almost insignificant in front of those massive sculptures. Some of the displays really challenged the imagination and to think that a single block of ice could become what we saw in front of our eyes was unbelievable.

But these are the special moments of spending wintertime in Alaska. Practically everything is a one of a kind experience. We hustled back to our hotel for a rest before our date with everyone’s favorite folkloric animal and a long night of Aurora viewing.

Running with Reindeer is an experiential romp that puts you on the same wavelength as Alaskans. Here you find yourself tromping through the snow with host Jane and her extended brood of reindeers. You wonder how this could ever be imagined as a tour for visitors and how Jane does it. She leads a small 15-ish group around the woods behind her home accompanied by 6-8 caribou who get pretty frisky frolicking with you. These are big beasts and when they start flexing their muscles look out! It will absolutely be your Doctor Doolittle moment, trust me.

Night descends, time is running out and we hope for tonight’s finale to deliver. We’d come to Alaska to see the Northern Lights and the Aurora Borealis Lodge, 20 miles north of Fairbanks in the Cleary Summit area, promises to deliver. The place is decidedly more posh than the previous 2 nights’ locales with La-z-Boy recliners, mood lighting and comfy furniture for snoozing while you wait. The cabin boasts a giant deck overlooking a valley with unobstructed aerial views from anywhere you stand. Big viewing windows front the deck from inside for the weaklings unable to stand the cold and teas and instant soups are on hand for the hungry.

It is significantly colder on this clear, cloudless night, perhaps around 5 degrees. Around 1 am we start to notice activity. There’s a little wave of excitement that rushes over the assembled parties when Aurora starts to do her dance and bit by bit she seems to be coaxed from her dressing room to do her big number. It’s so cold that we last about 10 minutes outside then have to thaw out inside. By 2 am she’s in full swing with big formations moving and changing shape every few minutes. The colors are bright green with corners melding into the next formation. We’re both surprised and elated at the show that continues for at least another 30 minutes and scramble to take pictures of all of it. The crowd is suddenly re-energized but we’re worn out and after another half-hour of waiting we’re ready to throw in the towel. It’s 2:30 am and we’ve given our glorious gal enough face time. It’s time to go home and get ready for a dog race. I’m sure we’ll be back again!