Arctic Travel - California to Arctic and Back in Winter

I spend most of the year in Kodiak; personally met the pilot that he used for all of his "outings". He was an idiot. Bear encounter count for me this year was 4; all of them within 50 feet. They're huge fuckers.

 

Ding doesn't know; those weren't bears.

 

Maybe they were "the other" bears.

 

great pictures, keep them coming.

 

Following...

 

You don't need one to survive in most places, but they are equally useful here in Canada as anywhere else. A damn shame our overseers don't trust us to do more than pay taxes and be quiet little sheeple though.

 

Forgive me... it appears I missed it somewhere in the thread... what's the final destination?

Keep the pics coming!!

 

Some updates:
Between Fort Nelson and Whitehorse, YT














Best Chicken ever @ Bee Jay's (only one open during winter between Fort Nelson to Whitehorse)




how can you miss this?

 

It's 9:30 AM Yukon time!




Last stop before entering USA. I did not realize how expensive it was...$109.xx total(CAN $). I ran on fumes there(I decided to hold off on using my 20 gallon reserve for some reason...).

 

great pics OP, I look forward to more updates!

 

Damn. Sub'd

 

Same place, early fall

 

OP,
I have a poem for you....I believe it fits the climate...

The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

 

Cool (cold?) pictures. Safe traveling.

 

I f you run through Fairbanks and like beer, stop at Hoodoo brewery, great beer.

keep the pictures coming!

 

Nice pics, OP. The bison were nice to see.

They make me miss the Yukon, where I lived as a little boy. I came face to face with my first bear when I lived on the army base outside of Whitehorse. Pissed my pants and my feet never touched the ground for over a mile and a half all the way home to under my mommy's apron. I sometimes still see that massive head staring at me from about 30' away when I lay back in bed, and shudder.

You have a safe trip, and keep the pics coming!

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Side note: Never heard of Treadwell until now. I listened to the last audio clip on youtube. What an idiot. Even I knew better when I was 10. I met a comparable tard that was developing a bear proof suit back in the mid 90's. He was on a cross country fundraiser and had been featured on W5. He was having pictures taken of himself in his suit at the lookout overlooking the north shore of Lake Nipissing outside of North Bay, ON. His suit consisted of various pieces of hockey equipment and padding sewn together in a nylon body suit, and ski boots. No shit! His helmet was a new style Eaton goalie mask, much like those the goalies wear today. He asked me what I thought of his suit, with particular attention to the new addition... his $500 helmet. I told him he was fucking nuts and with one swat a grizzly would detach said helmet from shoulders with head inside. He asked if I wished to donate. I told him to get in his car and go back east where he would be safe from the bears, and himself.

 

Glorious! So much win.

 

Thanks, Ding.

Not you, but the article is flawed in describing that the grizzly suit was made of metal, and not actually out of goalie, baseball, and various other sports equipment. I saw it myself.

 

That guy made a bunch of different versions culminating in the metal suit

There was a documentary made about him