No other region in North America possesses the mythical
aura of ALASKA ; even the name - a derivation
of Alayeska , an Athabascan word meaning "great
land of the west" - fires the imagination. Few who see this
land of gargantuan ice fields, sweeping tundra, glacially excavated
valleys, lush rainforests, deep fjords and occasionally smoking
volcanoes leave unimpressed. Wildlife may be
under threat elsewhere, but here it is abundant, with Kodiak bears
standing twelve feet tall, moose stopping traffic in downtown
Anchorage, wolves prowling through national parks, bald eagles
circling over the trees, and rivers solid with fifty-plus-pound
salmon.
Alaska's sheer size is hard to comprehend: more
than twice the size of Texas, it contains America's northernmost,
westernmost and, because the Aleutian Islands stretch
across the 180th meridian, its easternmost point.
If superimposed onto the Lower 48 (the rest of the continental
United States) it would stretch from the Atlantic to the Pacific,
and its coastline is longer than the rest of the US combined.
All but three of the nation's twenty highest peaks are found within
its boundaries and one glacier alone is twice the size of Wales.
A mere 600,000 people live in this huge state -
over forty percent of them in Anchorage - of
whom only one-fifth were born here: as a rule of thumb, the more
winters you have endured, the more Alaskan you are. Often referred
to as the " Last Frontier ," Alaska
in many ways mirrors the American West of the nineteenth century:
an endless, undeveloped space in which to stake one's claim and
set up a life without interference. Or at least that's how Alaskans
would like it to be. Throughout this century tens of thousands
have been lured by the promise of wealth, first by gold and then
by fishing, logging and, most recently, oil. However, Alaska's
86,000 Native peoples , who don't have the option
of returning to the Lower 48 if things don't work out, have been
greatly marginalized, though Native corporations set up as a result
of pre-oil boom land deals have increasing economic clout.
Traveling around Alaska still demands a spirit of
adventure, and to make the most of the state you need to have
an enthusiasm for striking out on your own and roughing it a bit.
Binoculars are an absolute must, as is bug spray; the mosquito
is referred to as the "Alaska state bird" and it takes
industrial-strength repellent to keep it away. On top of that
there's the climate , though Alaska is far from
the popular misconception of being one big icebox. While winter
temperatures of -40°F are commonplace in Fairbanks, the most
touristed areas - the southeast and the Kenai Peninsula - enjoy
a maritime climate (45-65°F in summer) similar to that of
the Pacific Northwest, meaning much more rain (in some towns 180-plus
inches per year) than snow. Remarkably, the summer temperature
in the Interior often reaches 80?F.
Alaska is far more expensive than most other states:
apart from two dozen hostels there's little budget accommodation,
and eating and drinking will
set you back at least twenty percent more than in the Lower 48
(perhaps fifty percent in more remote regions). Still, experiencing
Alaska on a low budget is possible, though it
requires planning and off-peak travel. From June to August room
prices are crazy; May and September, when tariffs are relaxed
and the weather only slightly chillier, are just as good times
to go, and in April or October you'll have the place to yourself,
albeit with a smaller range of places to stay and eat. Ground
transportation , despite the long distances,
is reasonable, with backpacker shuttles ferrying budget travelers
between major centers. Winter , when hotels drop
their prices by as much as half, is becoming an increasingly popular
time to visit, particularly for the dazzling aurora borealis
.
