Planetary Post: Neighboring seasons on the haul road

Autumn is undoubtedly upon us in the sub-Arctic. The gold has crept in from the north and enveloped Fairbanks in a bright contrast of yellows, reds, and the struggling remaining greens. Temperatures are still above freezing, but there is a cold wind from the northeast. The yellows turning to browns, the transition is almost complete.

This summer I ended up taking two trips up the Dalton Highway (aka “haul road”). It is 496 miles from Fairbanks to Deadhorse (Prudhoe Bay). Prudhoe Bay is where most of the drilling takes place, and Deadhorse is kind a support town. It has the airport, general store, and a few motels (for $200/night). You can’t actually drive to Prudhoe Bay, the oil companies keep the roads private. You can take a tour, though, so I was able to dip my feet in the Arctic Ocean. (My leg is healed up well, but I still had an open wound then, so I didn’t get to do a full dip.)

The haul road is not for the faint of heart. It is one of the last great road trips. It is 416 miles of dirt, gravel, or pot-holed asphalt. It is the trucker’s road - not ours. Big rigs hauling pipes, heavy equipment, and portable living spaces to Deadhorse dominate the traffic. There are only 2 stops along the way with gas, Yukon Crossing and Coldfoot, so it is wise to bring gas cans. Yukon Crossing is just that, where the road crosses the mighty Yukon River. Coldfoot is an old gold miner’s camp that has become a trucker’s favorite stop. The truckers even have their own table reserved for them with coffee always fresh. You can get gas in Deadhorse, but they don't even display the price on the pump! I can only imagine.

The Dalton winds north out of Central Alaska, a region that looks much like Fairbanks. Some high Arctic tundra pops in every so often, until it reaches the Brooks Range. The Brooks Range is the northernmost range in Alaska, and shields the Fairbanks region from much of the Arctic winds. It is a place of vast wilderness, awe inspiring beauty, and extreme seasonal variability. The mosquitos were so thick in the summer I had to simply accept the fact I was going to eat some. By the time I was done with a meal, I had pushed 10 to the side of my plate. In the winter, however, it is home to the coldest registered temperature in the US: -80F, Prospect Creek, 1971. Come August, it is already autumn. Green hills rich with life turn hues of orange.

Naturally, after two trips up the haul road, I have plenty of pretty pictures. But rather than post a bunch of "calendar" shots, I’d like to present it a bit differently. There were many similarities and differences between my summer and autumn trips, and they were apparent in the photos. Unfortunately, I didn’t think of this earlier, so I couldn’t take “identical” photos for seasonal/trip comparison, but I think it worked out pretty well. Trip 1 (first) was early July, Trip 2 (second) was early September.

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Neighboring seasons on the haul road