After ten agonising days in Fairbanks we were finally handed the keys to Tramp and with almost childhood zeal we climbed onboard and hit the road again.  Tramp’s extensive surgery to his rear end was more painful for us than for him but the Chevy dealer did the right thing and covered all our costs during Tramp’s convalescence.  The whole experience taught us how totally reliant we were on our vehicle and that we needed to make some major changes before driving off this continent.  But for now we were heading north again to parts unknown!

Julie and I have been half joking when we’ve said we want to drive on every road in Alaska before we leave ‘the last frontier’.  One road we missed last month was a 160 mile cul de sac heading northeast from Fairbanks to the historic town of Circle.  Circle is significant to us because it sits on the Yukon River and is the sister town to Eagle, the small community on the Yukon we visited on our second day in Alaska.  Hopeful prospectors in the 1890’s would float from Eagle down to Circle to get supplies or to head towards Fairbanks.  We missed it last time due to engine problems but were determined to catch it this time.

It is now early September and the autumn colours amongst the birch, aspen and cottonwood trees feature an array of bright yellows with hints of orange and red.  They blanket the mountainsides, intermingled with the green spruce trees, and even when we rose above the tree line the low growing alpine tundra showed us dazzling new colours.  We loved this northerly drive and camped on the banks of a little babbling brook with splendid technicolour views and named it Birthday Creek to mark my special day.

There’s one big northern attraction for visitors to Alaska that we hadn’t ticked off – the Aurora Borealis, otherwise known as the northern lights.  Most of our time in Alaska has been in summer and it never gets dark enough to see this famous light show.  But now it is September, it is getting dark around 10.30 and on this clear night we hoped we might get a glimpse of this strange phenomenon.

We threw more wood on the fire and were admiring the big dipper and other stars as the temperature dropped to -2C (28F).  At first we thought we saw a pale green light in the sky, like a stationary search light.  Then another, then some more.  And suddenly we were spectators to an extraordinary show, greenish lights constantly moving across the sky, sometimes in long straight parallel lines, other times in swirling circles, then again in wavy designs across the sky.  They would constantly change, fade and reappear as something else, coming and going, sometimes almost fluorescent in the sky, just spectacular.  And the strangest thing of all, a full moon was rising on the opposite horizon, partly blotting out some of the colour and brightness.  I couldn’t photograph any of it but we just lapped it up, a real treat.

The next morning we woke to -4C (26F), thick frost everywhere, a clear blue sky and rising sun to help thaw us out.  We drove north along the dirt road, past all the camping hunters who were preparing their muddy ATV’s and favourite rifles for another big day of moose hunting. The stunning scenery was all we needed as we rose above the tree line, crossed the colourful alpine tundra and passed over Eagle Summit at 3,680 feet (about 1,200 metres).  From there we descended back down into the boreal forests with all their changing colours, crossed many mountain streams and eventually came to the end of the road in downtown Circle on the banks of the Yukon River.

Today the little town of Circle, misnamed by people who thought it was on the Arctic Circle (it is 50 miles south), is a shadow of its former self.  In 1898 it had 1,200 people, dance halls, saloons, hotels and all the infrastructure needed to support the rabid gold rush of the day.  Today there are barely 100 people there, almost all of them native Alaskans, there is only one small shop in town and no other businesses.  The new government-built school sports 20 students from K-12.  Meanwhile the muddy waters of the lazy Yukon River continue to slowly flow by, oblivious to all these changes, just doing its thing.

We retraced our steps the full distance back to Fairbanks and headed south, camping on the banks of Scout Lake near the huge Eielson Air Force Base.  A moose came down to drink at the water’s edge across the lake and the reflections off the lake were sublime.  Unfortunately the clouds came in too early and blocked out any viewing of the northern lights.

Our mission was to reposition ourselves in southern Alaska before we broke down on the road to McCarthy and we spent a whole day retracing the steps of our two tows over two weeks ago.  It was a glorious day of driving, the colours, the snow-capped mountains, braided rivers and distant glaciers, occasional glimpses of the pipeline, everything you want out of a day in Alaska.

Hunting is an integral part of life in Alaska.  Regardless of your views on guns and killing wild animals you have to appreciate how this vital this activity is to Alaskans and how it blurs the line between sport and one of life’s essential tasks.

We have spoken to a lot of hunters and to even more people about hunting, and the overwhelming impression is that hunting bear, moose, caribou and sheep is tightly controlled by the government and principally benefits those who are looking to fill their freezer with meat for the long cold winter.  Yes, some may see it first as a sport – almost an Alaskan right – but rules are followed, meat is cherished and the outfitter stores do a roaring trade in selling camouflage clothes, rifles, ammunition and camping gear.

We did this drive on a Saturday in the middle of moose and caribou season and every self-respecting Alaskan had his flatbed trailer hooked up to his pick-up and was hauling his ATV to the next hunting spot or was already parked on every inch of spare space along the road and was off hunting.  We saw a few moose being carried home in the back of trucks and a number of skinned animals along the side of the road.  We even saw – twice, in fact – small herds of caribous cross the road in front of us, presumably running hard to stay out of reach from hungry hunters.  It was great entertainment.

The day ended on the banks of the beautiful Copper River with its wide flat river bed braided with endless streams weaving their way down to Wrangell St. Elias National Park.  We were in new territory now, happy to be exploring new places, living the dream.