SIMILAR PATHS

ARE TRIP: It’s So Awesome

Born to Hike, Forced to Work

Tales of an Arctic Journey as experienced by Root & Reed

D A Y W O N

Beginning the day at nine, Root & Reed had no idea what was about to unfold given that they had previously been co-workers, not friends… they’ve since learned that they are eerily alike.

Even though the ipod sat between us on the truck’s end-to-end bench-seat, never once could the distraction of Amy Winehouse pull us from our non-stop conversation. Of what we discussed neither of us remember (or we’ll never tell). Somehow we arrived at our destination 100 miles north of Coldfoot, AK but we weren’t there --- according to the GPS. Oh yes, we both saw one another but somehow, we still weren’t there. How mysterious? Perhaps the GPS knew something we didn’t. We decided the GPS must be right (and useless) so it was left behind on the bench seat of our temporary companion, an over-used Dalton Highway truck.

We were immediately awestruck by two realities:

1. unimaginable weather; clear, piercing blue skies

2. flowers; abundant and varied, at the peak of their short summer bloom in Alaska’s Arctic

Our trek up the Molar began with determination, a determination that fizzled quickly when met with a pact we take with us wherever we go: make the most of every hill climb and never, ever be in a hurry. Excellent conversation ensued and our friendship blossomed like the flowers across the tundra…

Suddenly we saw what Whitney thought was a massive caribou atop the ridge. Upon closer investigation it was a large male Dall sheep accompanied by several others across the steep yet grassy hillside. As we pressed on, they seemed hardly bothered by our existence, only occasionally looking in our direction as we plodded on.

What happens next may surprise some of you…

So give us a break. We’re really white, and we never expected to encounter anyone; although we did just five minutes after the pants returned to their proper location.

Heading back down, we leaped upon a gently rolling, flower-filled meadow. What better place for a picture of said leaping?

The glorious day was quickly punctuated by the horror of the tundra: mosquitoes. The strangest thing, a sharp dividing line, like the gateway to hell, we walked directly into what both of us consider the worst mosquitoes we’ve ever encountered. One second, no mosquitoes in sight; the next second, swarmed (and swarmed is a vast understatement; however no words can describe the horror).

We made our way back toward the road where the truck awaited. As we approached the truck Steffanie was certain she saw a bear, but it was pretty darn black so Whitney offered a suggestion, no, no, she said, it’s a musk ox.

Why yes, the color surely indicates musk ox, we nod in agreement. A scurry to the truck, out down the road southbound (opposite our soon-to-be camp) only to be met with a frenzied laughter and crushing embarrassment.

But the Musk Box may have been a good thing because as we looked for a turn around, we came upon a fox nearly motionless in the shade of a guardrail in the middle of the Dalton Highway. Minutes passed without movement. We pulled ahead, turned around and still the fox remained, content to swipe the occasional mosquito from its nose and laze away the day on that dirt & arctic road.

Figuring our day couldn’t get much better with wildlife sightings, we headed north to camp, mindlessly enjoying the blue, arctic blue against green, tundra green. When Steffanie spotted a caribou. What? A caribou? Yes, a caribou… under the pipeline… in the shade the line creates. In this treeless terrain, the shade of a 48-inch diameter pipe can be a welcome treat to a caribou. Whitney, incredulous says, I’ve got to see this and turns around. Mmmm, crushing embarrassment.

Unsure where we should camp Steffanie suggests we stand outside for a minute to see how bad the bugs might be. “hmmm, not so bad.” For the first two minutes. Both of us have always wanted to be discovered… not this way. Neither of us have ever been so popular in our lives.

H U N G E R

The tundra two-step is no easy feat. After a full day of sun and walk we needed nutrients --- bad.

Day won’s menu:

Macaroni & cheese, one entire box

Turkey hot dogs, five total, chopped delicately and mixed with love

Preparation time: 12 minutes

Consumption time: 5 minutes (possibly less!)

Dessert: milk chocolate covered blueberries… consumption time and amount undetermined

To finish the day, we retired to our cozy Kelty.

In this video Whitney says it all when speaking of the mosquito horror!

D A Y T O O

Whitney woke startled to the sound of a bear grunting. As Steffanie caught a few more moments of beauty sleep, Whitney quickly unzipped the Kelty to assess the situation, immediately realizing the bear was no more than a man with severe sleep apnea. Another false alarm to add to our growing tally of wildlife sightings.

After breakfast, we decided to hike toward Gates of the Arctic Preserve in the Northeastern-most corner of the park. In order to begin the tundra hike we undertook a treacherous and frightening river crossing of Galbraith Creek. Surviving rivers in Alaska’s Arctic is half the battle. This battle proved far less than half.

Yet another day filled with perfect weather for hiking. Flowers speckled the tundra in pink, yellow, blue, and white. Arctic sun glinted off the distant glaciers exaggerating the immensity of the mountains surrounding us.

Another perfect day to enjoy the full effect of Arctic summer's 24-hour daylight.

After a few hours of hill climbing, we decided to stop for a few pictures. The sun at our backs taunted our imaginations, begging us to capture a few gorgeous silhouettes. Better not to ask questions; just enjoy.

Leaping and a little more hill climbing... the day is nearly over before it has begun.

Stopping for a snack, I decided to look at the map... while tugging on my bugnet and slowly eating a Mojo bar I'm sure I must be thinking nothing more than misery, beautiful Arctic misery. We wouldn't change this misery for the world.

Not quite defined as a caribou sighting, Steffanie found a complete set of small caribou antlers, the perfect shape and size for...

what else?

but a photo shoot!

After a second day of Arctic hill climbs across uneven tundra, we wobbled back to camp, tripping over even the smallest of tussock. We were in need of some serious nourishment.

Upon arriving back to camp, the mosquitoes hadn’t given up the fight for our blood yet so we decided to add another plan of attack --- smoke from a fire. Whitney set to work collecting logs and building a campfire, while Steffanie began preparing the evening’s meal.