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Reaching the Arctic Circle

The Arctic Circle is an imaginary boundary line that marks the area where the sun never sinks below the horizon on the summer solstice (June 21), and never rises above the horizon on the winter solstice (December 22). In between those two days, there is a gradual transition; however, summer nights are still mostly bright, and winter days mostly dark.

For those who think visually (like me), here is a diagram that shows the tilt of the earth toward the sun in the summer, and away from the sun in the winter:

(The photo was from one of the informational signs at the Arctic Circle.)

Even with the scientific explanation, the Arctic Circle still held some mystique for me. When I plotted our route through Alaska, I knew that I wanted to reach the edge of the land where night and day are often blurred or stretched to their limits.

To reach the Arctic Circle, we drove north from Fairbanks on the infamous Dalton Highway. The term “highway” is used loosely here, as the road is mostly gravel, pretty narrow, and doesn’t have a double-line down the middle. One of our two guide books called it “an extreme road trip”, and the other said the road was “one of Alaska’s most remote, dangerous and challenging roads.”

Ben was not keen to make the drive. Even though we would only be covering the first 115 miles, all of the warnings had raised red flags in his mind. He was concerned about our safety, as well as whether our RV would make it there and back in one piece. However, he also knew that reaching the Arctic Circle was important to me. In the loving spirit of compromise, he put on a semi-genuine smile and humored my wishes.

The pavement ended shortly after the entrance to Dalton Highway:

The road ahead:

For the first ten miles, our RV was rattled and shaken so severely by the washboard ripples and potholes that I almost—and the key word is “almost”—said, “Okay, honey, we don’t have to continue if you want to turn around now.” But thank goodness the words didn’t fall out. A few miles later, the road smoothed considerably, and we even encountered a few long paved sections where we could gather our wits and breathe a little easier.

Ahead, the pavement ended and the dirt began again:

This road is frequented by big trucks, hauling loads to and from the Prudhoe Bay oil fields far north, near the Arctic Ocean.

The truck drivers that we encountered all seemed like safe drivers, but their rigs kicked up a lot of dust that made visibility difficult at times.

The need for care was reaffirmed by roadside crosses that bore the names of unfortunate loved ones:

Many parts of the road paralleled the route of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline:

In fact, the Dalton Highway was originally built as a supply road to support the construction of the pipeline in the 1970’s.

Portions of the pipeline were built in a zig-zag pattern so that the pipe would have room to flex and stay intact as it expanded and contracted due to the extreme temperature fluctuations between winter and summer.

The first part of the road wound through forested hills:

About half way to the Arctic Circle, the road dropped down to the Yukon River, which flows to the Bering Sea:

(This was the same river we had seen earlier in Whitehorse.)

The bridge had a wooden surface and seemed in good shape, although it was narrowed down to one lane:

The Yukon River:

There were no towns along the way, but an isolated “mom and pop” type of business appeared occasionally, such as the Hot Spot Café where we stopped for some ice cream:

The Hot Spot also had a small motel:

The road at this point consisted of fairly smooth dirt, and we were sailing along beautifully. However, we soon discovered that the smoothness was created by huge water trucks that slowly dumped enough water to create a bed of slick mud that dried evenly. We had to be carefully not to go slipping off the edge:

Some parts of the road had well-known names, such as “the Rollercoaster”, a steep drop down a long hill with an immediate uphill at the bottom. Getting ready to drop (hands in the air!):

Photos never quite capture the severe angles or length, but here we are descending the first hill:

All around were fields of fireweed, with their bright purple flowers:

Both sides of the road were lined with light green, as if Mother Nature had planted a border:

The landscape around us gradually changed from forest to open areas of tundra:

The pipeline was often visible beside us:

Our eyes naturally focused on anything that rose from the vast stretches of low grass. Here is a well-known landmark called “the Finger”:

Almost there!

Sebastian and Genevieve celebrated our arrival:

Near the Arctic Circle welcome sign was a free campground where we stayed the night. The area was spacious, with trees that appeared to be newly planted.

Genevieve and Sebastian set to work almost immediately, building a “fort” out of the picnic table:

We didn’t stay outdoors long, however, as the mosquitoes were particularly large and persistent, despite our layers of repellant.

The kids went to bed at 10:30 p.m., while the sun was shining brightly outside:

Around midnight, the sun was still above the horizon, casting shadows on the ground.

We had already experienced many incredible moments during our journey north, but here, on the edge of the Arctic Circle, I felt that I had finally arrived at the “Land of the Midnight Sun.”

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