Arctic Circling

Because 1 degree is not cold enough, today is crossing into the Arctic Circle day. Arctic Air is located in a small brown tin pole barn. I am scheduled to check in at 9am and arrive on time. As I swing the door open I am run over by a young women in her twenties with Ugg furry boots, tucked in Burberry plaid Capri pants, a black pea coat (fur trimmed of course) and a purple Bloomingdales knit hat. She walked through me while talking on her iPhone. This isn't Copenhagen at the Lufthansa terminal. You are in the frontier, the end of the world, they trap your fur not far away. Arctic Air Kathy is going through a pre-flight checklist. I get into the room and it is packed. It's about a 20 foot by 15 foot room with bad armless office chairs on the perimeter. Three thirty-something girls, 6 people of Asian descent that spanned a few generations, another couple who had a child at USC (Her maroon "Mom" sweatshirt said so), one older guy Henry and myself.

I realize that there is more than one outgoing trip. This is like the TV show Wings only smaller. Once the longer trips get there briefing, a twentyish Sarah, pony-tailed blond in a maroon warm-up jacket begins to tell us where & what my Arctic Circle adventure entails. We are going to Coldfoot and we will pass through the Arctic Circle on the way and shit. Burberry girl walks in with her entourage, a grandfatherly sort with a Canon point and shoot and a tall 60ish guy unshaven for a few days with stringy long black, Two Canon professional grade DSLRs plus a high end Lowepro camera bag. Great, lets stop the world and restart just for you. If you wouldn't have been prattling on your iPhone 5 (cute burberry case) we would be on time. Sarah finishes and tall guy regales anyone within earshot of the trips he's taken dogsledding. Arrgghhh - I think he invented dogs if I listen long enough.

It's time to get on our plane, a white twin engine Cessna with a thick ocean blue racing stripe down the sides. A total of 8 seats 4 to a side. Todd our pilot is a solid 5'8", 195, 45 year old blond, blue-eyed pilot originally from Minnesota, with a black Arctic Air golf hat on. He helps us onto the plane and assigns the seating. Burberry girl gets the copilot seat because she is the smallest. If you are looking for a comparison she weighs about the same as my thigh. The rest of her entourage request the back of the plane. However Tall Guy, who invented dogs, asks Todd to "...clean the windows on the outside." I laugh openly, at some point you're overtaken by stupidness and your body just reacts. Plus this was covered in the pre-flight briefing that you missed because you were outside watching Burberry girl on the iPhone. Next time please just wear a punch me sign. Todd handled it well and stuffed them in. I had the middle with open seats to my right and behind me a 300 degree view.

We take off and level at 4,500 ft. Finally I'm at peace. We are essentially cutting through passes along the foothills to the Brooks Mountain Range. First the White Mountains to the east, suddenly down below it's the Yukon River drawing a wide, twisting white stripe through the ground below. There is nothing to see but total unadulterated wilderness for miles. Todd narrates about a town or camp occasionally but the biggest population is like 57. Those aren't town...they are long gatherings. Also, the Dalton Highway below is also totally white, and the safest ground route. Then you look up and mountains from Kanuti National park to my left and now to my right is Arctic Circle National Park.That's when it hits me that these peaks that flank our Cessna are at roughly 7,000 feet and we climbed to 5,500 feet. Again this is where the breath of God breathed through and carved out the crevasses that we get to fly through. I'm on a small plane and suddenly feel somewhat smaller, and not in a bad way. We are leaving the "Tropics" and crossing into the "Arctic Circle". I look below to see if there is a big red dotted line like there is on the globe, but no, I take Tod's word for it.

We are coming to the end of Coldfoot flight and there are three ways to get to the runway. Which is cool if you can actually see a runway. All I see is an indentation in the snow and the Dalton Highway. Todd changes his approach and we are on our way in. I love flying and we swoop in like a bird delicately landing on the snow packed runway. We are herded from the plane into a large passenger van to tour Coldfoot. It's not much. We got to see the Alaskan Pipeline and the size of it is amazing. Here we are in the middle of nowhere and this pipe feeds the lower 48 fuel. The pipe itself is 4 feet in diameter and goes on for as long as the eye can see.

Coldfoot is essentially a truck stop for Ice Road Truckers (yes same as the reality show). The stop is a series of modular trailers. The diner is on the right and has a specific trucker table that says "Truckers only". You have to pass it on the way to the bathroom. Across the way is a larger modular set up that is the Silver Cafe Inn. It has 50 rooms and a kennel for dogs for sledding. The dogs each have a plywood home with there names like Tatonka, Butkis, Bauser and my pal Winnie on them. The dogs are incredibly playful. I was petting Winnie, a black Alaskan Huskie with white front feet when her brother Winfred - who looked the same sans one important item, jumped up on my back and wanted to wrestle too. That's when I realized that the dogs just want to have fun. With the exception of Tatonka, all the dogs communicated and had fun. They were great. Then it was time to come home.

The take off was breathtaking. Steep bank turns at low altitude. I was 10 again. Darting through the air on an ascent into the mountains with a breathtaking view was great. In 55 minutes it was over. We landed at East Ramp Airport & Sarah took me to the car rental place. I need more ground adventure but the trips was a blast, even with Tall Guy & his grandfatherly buddy.