Into Alaska’s Brooks Range

Film made by Morgan Shields — checkout his work here

I am headed north of the Arctic Circle to live in a remote log cabin for the summer.

Back in 2018, I’d fallen into communication with a quirky, old-timer named Steve. In the 1980s, Steve left his job as a teacher in the Lower 48 and drove up to Alaska with his family to pursue a dream. Over the next 10 years, Steve and his wife Kathy lived on the land. They built cabins with their backs, raised and homeschooled a daughter, received mail via bush plane, and depended on working dogs to maintain miles of traplines.

Steve nowadays resides on a quiet farm in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Overloaded with questions about his 10 years living in the bush, I set out for his property to meet him. When I pulled into his gravel driveway eight hours later, he was stooped over the garden, planting tomatoes, and a dozen chickens were on the loose. He was in his seventies, wore suspenders. I knew in that moment, for some odd reason, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. There are times in life when you reach a junction and you must choose a fork in the river without knowing what’s beyond the bend. While on Steve’s small farm I could feel those swirls of current working around me. I cannot explain it. It just felt right.

My plan is to spend three months in the bush at Steve’s cabin he built in the 1980s. Three months without any other people is a big chunk of time. I’ve decided to bring sled dogs for company to help swallow the isolation.

“People these days cannot comprehend what it means to be alone,” chuckled Steve, who has watched seasons unfold on the land by himself.

Personally, I am captivated by “deep wilderness”. The Brooks Range is an intact, healthy, and robust ecosystem missing the stereotypical scars of the Anthropocene. It stands alone in the United States, serving as an image of before. Two elders of the US environmental movement, Mardy and Olaus Murie, wrote about its ecological significance in “Two in the Far North,” published in 1962.

“Wilderness itself is the basiS of all our civilization. I wonder if we have enough reverence for life to concede to wilderness the right to live on?” - Mardy Murie

Wilderness, however, is a troubled word. White people (myself included) have historically failed to acknowledge the deep impacts of colonization, land grabbing and treaty breaking tactics, systemic policies of oppression by the US government and genocide of indigenous people across the North American landscape.

The Brooks Range is home to the resilient Athapaskan, Iñupiat, and the Nunamiut people. Communities like Anaktuvuk Pass, Allakaket, and Kotzebue surround the mountains, dot the coast, and sit along the rivers.

For some context, the Brooks Range is home to one of the most remote sections of wild country in North America. Gates of the Arctic National Park and the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge sit within the Brooks Range while the Dalton Highway cuts through the middle. In 2017, I spent the summer guiding four teenagers on a 50 day backpacking trip through the spine of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

This was the farthest I’d ever been from civilization and I loved the independence, self-reliance, and hardiness of living close to the land. When the trip came to an end, the overwhelming feeling of awe never left me—the Arctic had gotten underneath my skin. I also picked up unique skillsets: food planning, off-trail navigation, backcountry medicine, living in grizzly country and risk management. However, over the course of a decade of leading wilderness trips all across North America’s wildest places, I slowly came to realize “deep wilderness” is disappearing. Additionally, few people understand deep wilderness because there’s so little left of it.

Returning to the Brooks Range to live in the bush is the fulfillment of a dream. My plan is to fly in mid-June and depart in September. For roughly three months, I will mostly be alone. My dad is coming to visit in July and three of my buddies will fly into Anaktuvuk Pass—the center of the Brooks Range—and packraft down the John River. It’s pretty humbling to have people willing to come visit in such a faraway and challenging place. 

Getting to the cabin 

The cabin is a couple hundred miles north of Fairbanks. Bush planes are the only way to access the remote communities in this part of Alaska. There are no roads, trails, electricity, or neighbors. Grizzly and black bears, wolves, moose, caribou, dall sheep, wolverine, and a particularly friendly porcupine live in the area. I will take three flights to reach the cabin in total: the first from Oregon to Alaska, then Fairbanks to Bettles, and finally from Bettles to a small lake near the cabin.

What will I do by myself while at the cabin? I will garden, fish, hunt, do yard work, pick and process berries, explore the miles and miles of surrounding wilderness, and attempt to capture bits and pieces of my everyday life through photography and writing. I am planning on heading out in the fall before freeze up if I can stick around that long. (spoiler: I only lasted about half of the time I intended to stay).

Finances

A lot of people wonder: how does this work financially? This summer my goal was to stay under $3,000.

Total: $2696 / 90 days = $29.95 per day

• Amazon Food: $458

• Walmart Food: $140

• Packing boxes $15

• Fishing and hunting licenses: $205

• Dog Food: $120 - 200?

• Bear spray: $38

• Sawyer squeeze: $40

• Garmin battery/solar charger: $250

• Carhartt pants: $40

• InReach: $200 + $25 + ($35x3) = $350

• Total: $1656

Feeding myself

What will I do for food? I first must say thanks to Jackie Hennessy. Without her help I would not have discovered the Amazon Prime loophole: free shipping anywhere within two days.

In the summer, Bettles is only reachable by bush plane. The cost of importing food into the town of 15 people is extremely expensive. Amazon Prime allows me to dodge that import cost.

There is a portion of dry food, staples and spices already at the cabin. I have purchased a non-resident annual fishing and small game license. I have no intention of illegally taking large game—the meat will spoil in warm temperatures and the prices for non-resident tags are expensive.

Summer food total: $625

• 20 lb bag of potatoes

• 30 onions

• Small bag of carrots

• 2 lbs of dried peppers

• 6 lbs of butter

• 1 x sharp cheddar cheese block

• 36 Hershey bars

• Teriyaki sauce

• 1 liter of soy sauce

• 4 lbs banana chips

• 2 lbs dried apples

• 25 lb rolled oats

• 36 Clif bars

• 9 lb summer sausage

• 8 lb peanut butter

• 1 liter of vinegar

• 120 eggs

• 2 x fudge brownies boxes

• 4 x gravy packets

Gardening

My experience in a garden is sadly limited. I did find a great article on Alaska Interior planting (https://www.uaf.edu/files/ces/publications-db/catalog/anr/HGA-00030.pdf) through friend Mark Hennessy. I’ve decided to try and grow Red Russian Kale, Evergreen Bunching Onion, Genovese Basil, and Salad Bowl Lettuce. It will be my job to get seeds into the ground as soon as possible. 

Sled dogs

Another hero throughout this journey has been my kind friend Sven Haltmann. He’s an Iditarod musher and tour operator. Checkout Sven’s Hostel in Fairbanks or Arctic Winter Adventures if you’re up North.

Anyways, I called Sven up a few months ago to see if he could loan me a few dogs for the summer. My main incentive was to avoid loneliness. “One, two, three, four, hell take five!” Sven said.

Shortly after, I met two of his dogs, Diez and Silva. Diez was responsive and relaxed. I liked him. His brother Silva was rowdy, curious, and independent. To avoid an injured, lost or dead dog, I opted to bring only Diez.

Gear list

The amount of gear below and the costs associated with these products is expensive. Over five years, I've bought bits and pieces for guiding wilderness trips. Almost everything I've bought has been through pro deals, consignment stores, discounts or REI garage sales. 

• Osprey 75 L backpack

• Osprey 40 L ultralight pack

• Goal Zero Yeti 150 battery

• Goal Zero Nomad 20 solar panel

• Delorme InReach Explorer

• Outdoor Research Bivy

• Sierra Designs Zissou 15º sleeping bag

• Sea to summit liner

• Thermarest foam pad

• Black Diamond carbon cork trekking poles

• Ultimate bug shirt X2

• Bug headnet

• Lowa hiking boots

• Red Wing boots

• Crocs

• Outdoor Research gaitors

• Bear spray w/ holster

• Sawyer squeeze

• Petzl stove

• Outdoor Research fleece gloves

• Dry bag

• Petzl headlamp

Personal Med Kit

Ibuprofen, acetaminophen, triple antibiotic ointment, Benadryl, Imodium, cough drops, tiger balm, hand sanitizer, bandaids, gloves, tweezers, gauze, tape, scissors, Aquatabs, Metronidazole, pain meds, probiotics, two additional med kits at cabin, Wilderness First Responder certification, Dog meds: Cephalexin, Rimadyl, Gauze, Vet tape, treats, and supplement with own medical supplies

Electronics

Canon 6D Mark II, Canon 16-35 f/2.8, Canon 24-70 f/2.8, Canon 70-200 f/2.8, Goal Zero Yeti 150 battery, Nomad 20 solar pannel, 2 x LC-E6 batteries, 2 x chargers, 64 gb SD card, 3 x 32 gb SD card, Hard drive, Iphone, USB cord, UE Boom bluetooth speaker, Sirui carbon fiber tripod,

RISK & CONSEQUENCE

My perspective of risk comes from guiding wilderness trips for about a decade. I am most concerned with low-risk, high-consequence activities this summer. These are everyday activities like cutting a finger or spraining an ankle, that can become life threatening in such a remote situation.

In the decade that Steve and his family lived at the cabin they never had any major evacuation or medical incident. They did witness fatal accidents however in the wider bush community. There were no safety nets back then.

Levels of risk:

• High-risk, high-consequence activities (e.g. summiting a mountain solo in the middle of winter, provoking a mother grizzly bear with a cub)

• High-risk, low-consequence activities (e.g. getting attacked by mosquitoes, tripping on a walk)

• Low-risk, high-consequence activities (e.g. getting giardia, cutting your finger, chopping wood, breaking a limb, etc.)

• Low-risk, low-consequence activities (e.g. developing a cold, burning a hand)

Emergency Protocol

Nowadays we have satellite communication devices like SAT phones, SPOTs, and personal locator beacons. These devices are important tools to be used wisely, but they can also create a false sense of security.

This summer I will have a Delorme InReach Explorer two-way messenger device. I have set up a weekly check-in system, established emergency contacts and created protocol in the case I need help.

Method of communication

The Delorme InReach explorer two-way satellite device enables me to send text-based messages via the Iridium satellite network. Bad weather, cloud cover, whether the device is turned on or off,  all can impact my ability to receive and send messages. I will not have my InReach on all day due to battery drain, but I have established a weekly check-in system with my emergency contacts. This will act as a safety net. If I miss a check-in, my emergency contacts will know something’s wrong and potentially initiate a rescue.

Why go live in a really remote cabin? 

In a world that seems increasingly confused, addicted to technology and on the wrong track, I savor using my body and staying low to the ground. I find physical and spiritual meaning in my connection to the land and feel the undeniable pleasure in simple tasks like cutting wood and reading a book. There is also a feeling of accomplishment that comes at the end of the day I have not found elsewhere. I have found great sturdiness in this land-centered perspective. My sincerest gratitude goes out to Steve, Ellen, my parents, Sven Haltman, and the Hennessys for support.