From snowdrifts to bar stools, Alaska’s warmth is hidden in its wildness.
Words & Images Roberto Serrini
From snowdrifts to bar stools, Alaska’s warmth is hidden in its wildness.
Words & Images Roberto Serrini
Tia pulls up with
on her lips as I slide into the frost bitten 4Runner. The tread crunches through snow like the road is made of potato chips as we make the short ride to downtown Anchorage. “I figure we’ll drop your stuff off at the inn, then maybe show you around downtown if you’re up for it?” I’ve somehow come to Alaska in the darkest, coldest part of January so I would say I’m up for just about anything at this point.
The Snob Hallow Inn is on the far side of town, rolling home distance from the 49th State brewery which I can see from my floor to ceiling windows. It’s a new establishment she’s excited to have me stay at with warm Scando-vibes and midwestern hospitality charms.
My host, a friendly, bubbly local, lets me know the fridge is downstairs and to help myself to anything I like, especially the bagels she bought (a nice touch being that I’m from New York). The water in the shower is boiling hot, the bed is like sleeping on gossamer fleece, and I can order a beer basically from shouting out the window. I’m very happy.
Any night at the 49th State Brewing will make you see lights, either in the sky or in your glass.
The cosy interior of 49th State Brewing.
I drop my bag so Tia and I can start bopping around town. First we stop into 49th since we have to cut through their parking lot anyway to get to the main strip. While we’re there the bartender named Stacey welcomes us in and asks what our names are.
I feel like I’ve met Stacey before because she gets me a bowl of house made warm beer cheese and a nitro pour before I even ask for it. As we leave she says, “See ya later Rob,” and for a minute I wonder if we’re sharing a room at the Inn. (Read: Anchorage is immediately familiar and lovely).
The infamous “DO NOT EAT” block of cheddar that everyone eats at F street station.
We stroll down 4th Avenue and Tia points out some historical facts, the first one being that there are not many historic facts about Anchorage. Wait, I found one – in 1964 Anchorage had a 9.2 magnitude earthquake that not only levelled the city, but made a section drop 14 feet, which is commemorated by “Earthquake park” where the clift still exists. The land below is frozen in a permanent wave where the earth liquified and is terrifying once you see it. Best part is they are due for another, and if that doesn’t warrant another drink I don’t know what does.
A pretty Alaskan landscape.
Fortunately, we found ourselves in front of F Street Station where a stiff drink would clear my mind. Walking in, the first thing anyone will notice is a cheese block the size of a college mini-fridge sitting on the bar with a prominent sign right above boldly proclaiming “FOR DISPLAY ONLY—DO NOT EAT”.
We sat down next to the monolith of mozz (stonehenge of stilton?) and I get a delicious Guinness in a mason jar with a shot of whiskey. As I throw the black gold down my gullet two locals come up, whack off a chunk of the prohibited cheese, and return to their seats. I shift my eyes to Tia as if I witnessed a crime.
“About a year ago the health inspector came in here and said they couldn’t have cheese just out on the bar,” Tia said not looking up from her IPA, “so they hung that sign up. Problem solved.” This, if anything, explains Alaska in one fell swoop.
We dine on fresh oysters, succulent halibut bites and chicken fried steaks as everyone in the bar shouts across each other over laughter and tears. It’s a riot and it’s only a Tuesday, or so I think. It’s been 10pm for three days it seems and I’ve only been here for the better part of an hour.
Oyster fans will not find any fresher or better then at F street station.
HIT PLAY. GO ON.
Just another pretty Alaskan landscape.
The next morning we roll out of town, heading north with views like we’re in a jet plane; mountains and vistas on every side. It would seem every highway in Alaska is a scenic highway. We end up outside Willow where Derek waits with his golden retriever in front of the log cabin he built by hand. This is Alaska Wild Guide HQ and we’re going to do a little snowmobiling through the backcountry.
It's time for a bit of snowmobiling.
We carve through powder trails around frozen lakes and alpine forests until we come over a ridge face to face with the biggest yurt I’ve ever seen. Packs of Alaskan huskies rush us and we are overtaken by kisses and wagging tails. “Don’t mind them,” as if we could, Rick the owner of Battle Dogs says, “they just live to please.”
Rick is an interesting guy. Quiet, reserved, calm, he lives out in the middle of nowhere with dozens of sled dogs. “I fell in love with the Iditarod Dog Sled Trail Race, so I moved out from Buffalo, New York, years ago. I never even thought of ever moving back.” Rick has 10 Iditarod races under his belt. To call him a pro is almost an insult, but while he knows everything about mushing, he didn’t realise where it would take him.
The good boys at Battle Dogs ready to take us through the beautiful Alaska backcountry.
This is what I suppose they call puppy love, which is on tap at Battle Dogs.
Some more dogs.
Battle Dogs is a non-profit that Rick runs that allows veterans to come, completely for free, and experience the beauty of Alaska first hand.
One of the most beautiful and gentle places to find yourself.
He’s been inviting vets to come stay with him for years, where special programs are available that include wildlife excursions, sledding, and therapy, all to help cope with crippling PTSD. “I really just came out here to mush dogs, I never thought it would lead to this.”
There is a quiet reflection in Rick that everyone in Alaska seems to have. It’s a place of immense beauty, but it definitely coaxes you to give back. Everyone is charitable in some way here, you almost have to be given the harshness of the environment, which in turn makes it one of the most beautiful and gentle places to find yourself.
Just look at that face.
Rick Casillo, 10 time Iditarod musher, with his amazing sled dogs.
HIT PLAY. GO ON.
Best part about Battle Dogs is Derek's tours help support their effort with half of their proceeds going to Rick’s foundation. He gets no government assistance, just private and personal funds keep it going, so it’s this type of tourism - with built in philanthropy - that I can very easily get behind.
Having experienced first hand the healing effects of puppy kisses and vaulting full speed through the tundra behind a pack of dogs, we now make our way to Talkeetna, a sleepy little town famous for their Fairview Inn, which is in turn famous for killing President Harding with a bad oyster #truestory #lookitup.
Nothing beats this view.
We saddle up to the bar and are amazed by the pro local talent on stage waxing poetic over a well tuned guitar, as we order a series of lunchbox shots which I’d never heard of before (but will now never forget). Before long, another friend, Dawn, comes through the door with a cheer and we become best buds fast. She is the owner of the Denali View Lodge Cabins we’re staying at, and a world-class lunchbox shot puller.
Time to get toasty at the Fairview Inn.
Denali Brewing Talkeetna mead flight.
Somehow it’s the morning, and I wake to an exceptional view of Denali, North Peak and Pioneer right from by bedroom window. Over hot, homemade biscuits and gravy we warm up the hot tub to soothe away the lunchbox fog and prepare for another fabulous day. Dawn passes her phone over that clearly shows a picture of me hanging from a disco ball behind last night’s bar. Glad the phone remembers what a fab time I had.
HIT PLAY. GO ON.
Wanna feel like a soaring Bald Eagle? Then hop in Rust's Flying Service plane and visit the backcountry with unobstructed views.
Alaska sure looks peaceful from up here.
On the way back we do a bit of flight seeing with Rust's Flightseeing tours. First in a single engine red rocket of a plane with Rust’s, that takes us deep up the canyon to the base of Denali. The clouds part and rays from the sun curtain the peak of the mountain. “You’re very lucky,” a crackly voice comes in through my headset, “only 30 percent of all visitors ever get to see Denali. He’s always hiding in the clouds.”
If you are lucky, and have no fear, you can land on one of the many glaciers surrounding Anchorage with Alpine Air heli tour.
We do a bit more on the other side of the range with Alpine Air Alaska but this time in a helicopter that resembles one of those plastic balls you get out of a machine for a quarter with a propeller on top. Our pilot expertly glides us up the 32 kilometre glacier valley to land right on the glacier edge. It’s bright blue ice resembles a freezer ice pack, as it breaks away into the smokey emerald green inlet. The views from the helicopter are otherworldly, as rivers of ice carve through alpine forest and black granite rock. It’s sublime.
Honestly, wow.
"Hey there, Denali"...
Another 'wow' moment.
HIT PLAY. GO ON.
We finish with Big Wave Dave up atop the summit at the Alyeska ski resort. Big Dave is known for his Fizz, a drink so magical you are only ever allowed two. Try as I must the secret of the Fizz is not given, and though I beg, I’m only allowed two of this delightful nectar. He does give me a sticker and inducts me into Fizz Nation as a card carrying member though.
Big Wave Dave.
If you want to know, the toughest part about being a journalist is knowing that there are places so perfect that if you told people about it, you might ruin them. It’s a double-edged sword. Alaska is different. It doesn’t need you, or me or anyone. Its beauty and what it has to offer is inextinguishable, and that’s because the people that make Alaska their home are not like other people.
Pretty enough to be a painting.
There is a familiarity here that usually only comes with years of knowing someone through difficult times. Here, that is all forgone, and anyone willing to let Alaska into their heart can have it. Alaska after all means “the great one” and if that isn’t saying everything, then I don’t know what is.
get in the know Lake Iliamna in Alaska has its very own mythical monster (move over Nessie). “Ilie” as the creature is known, is reported to have a shark-like body and a penchant for destroying fishing gear.
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