At the base of Hatcher’s Pass, just at the bend in the road that takes you up, up, up the winding trail to the top of the pass, is a trail head to a valley known as Gold Mint Trail. Despite having spent numerous days exploring Hatcher’s Pass, this trail has eluded me up until now – on a perfect bluebird day.
While the tiny town of Whittier, Alaska is only 60ish miles from downtown Anchorage, it requires a paid pass through the longest highway tunnel in North America. The 2.5 mile tunnel is a one way tunnel and shares its time with the Alaska Railroad, meaning traffic only flows one way at a time and is occasionally paused for the train to use the space as well.
I’ve not spent much time in this town, only having really explored it once a few years ago, Brian & I set out with Kratos to complete a short hike through Portage Pass that we’d been hearing so much about.
After having trekked (and down and up and down again) this short trail, I can’t believe we haven’t spent more time on it’s dirt pathway to heaven. Hopefully we can make a trip up here again after the snow has fallen for another unique view, although I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the lake completely freezes over and we can walk straight up to Portage Glacier before we depart Alaska.
According to my calculations I’ve been a transient in Alaska for exactly 3 years and 25 days. It’s always been a known fact that my time here was (most likely) going to be cut off at some point or another, so I’ve tried my best to experience Alaska to the best of my ability. Despite all my adventures here it was this weekend that I firmly believe I became a tried and true Alaskan after dip netting the Copper River. (Don’t worry Montana, you’ll always have this girls heart) To fish this river one usually employs a boat to avoid having to navigate the steep cliffs and raging current, but wanting a true Alaskan experience, we chose a different route.
Brian’s Army buddy Scott flew in to town to visit his brother who was stationed at JBER just two days before. Brian is not known to be the most outright adventurous person, there is one person – other than myself – who can talk him into crazy adventures, it’s Scott. So when I learned that Scott was coming into town I knew to expect an adventure and got excited for his arrival.
The four of us took off for the little town of Chitina (pronounced Chit·na by Alaskans) where we parked our vehicles, loaded up our gear onto our backs and took off down an old mining trail for our destination. About 5 rough and tumble miles down river Scott took us down an even gnarlier path through the tree to the cliffs directly above the river. Here we set up shop for the night and got to fishing.
The boys made quick work of it and by morning we were already packing up and heading back down the trail; except this time we have about 70 lbs of fresh salmon fillets to add to the weight on our backs.
We had strategically taken two vehicles so that the boys could return to Anchorage and I could set out to explore one of the few unexplored (to me) , drive-able sections of Alaska. I made a quick trek into Wrangell – St. Elias National Park as well as explored the town of Valdez. 
One year after death
I assumed I knew pain. That I had experienced heartache before, but I was wrong. As I held Bosco, the truest friend I had ever known, in my arms as he died, my soul bled in a way I had never come close to experiencing before.
I won’t go into a long story about his life here. Many of his accomplishments and adventures are chronicled alreaady in these pages. Although many of them are not. Some of them are mine to keep. Some of them are only worthy of telling around a crackling campfire, or three shots of whiskey deep.
I’ll try and keep this short and let my photos do the talking for me…
My dreams of Iditarod officially became reality when I stepped off the chartered Ravn Air plane onto the snow covered tarmac in Galena, Alaska. The air was brisk, but nothing extreme by Alaska standards. After a short layover I found myself boarding a small three-seater plane bound for the village of Huslia. As soon as my feet hit the ground I was whisked away by one of the locals on the back of a snow machine. Having never had a chance to get my face mask out of my bag I zipped my jacked up as far over my face as I could and ducked behind my driver for the trip in to town. I was dropped off at what I came to know as the Ball Field – a large open area in the middle of town that would soon become the our dog yard and main hub of outdoor activity. Thankfully I was working with many seasoned veterans who promptly went to work coordinating with the proper local channels to gain access to the appropriate buildings and find out where all of our gear that had previously been sent up was stored. We set to work setting up what we could right away before finally retreating to a family style dinner in the warmth of the Elders Center. Here I was officially introduced to those whom I would be intimately working with throughout the duration of my time in Huslia. While we were all there to work various jobs our reasons for being there were similar.
The next day began a whirlwind adventure that included earning my keep in various forms, meeting many new faces, trying new foods (including beaver tail, moose tongue, and bear claws), and learning lots of new skills on the fly, but lacked any substantial amounts of sleep. After the first musher arrive my usual sleep cycle lasted about 4 hours and until my last day there, I was able to successfully thrive off so few hours of sleep thanks in part to the adrenaline of the adventure at hand. I hope you enjoy the photos. Some of them are captioned, some of them are not, and many of them were never captured to begin with.
Follow this link to read an article written up by an Iditarod Insider about Huslia. Make sure to play the video at the bottom too for an aerial shot!
It was nearly ten years ago that a (now ex-)boyfriend copied down the number of an employer seeking help from the job board in the University Center. He was photography student looking for his next project and knew I was new to Missoula and in search of work to help cover the newly acquired exorbitant costs of out of state tuition. I had lost nearly all my scholarships when I transferred to the University of Montana from Delaware Valley College (now Delaware Valley University). Soon I was the one calling up the number and setting up a time to interview with a mushing kennel on the outskirts of Seeley Lake, MT.
It was at Barnum Kennels that a spark for all things mushing began. I spent the next several years working next to Kirk and his team of dogs – Alaskan huskies with a desire to mush as strong as they were. It was there that I stepped onto the back of a dogsled for the first time in my life – a subzero temperature night in the middle of the Sawtooth Range that I will never forget. When Kirk picked up his kennel and moved to Idaho, the embers of the mushing world that were implanted deep in my soul were left to smolder for a while.
Lucky for me, it wasn’t long before Twila Baker, owner of Quinault Kennels, and her stunning team of Alaskan Malamutes stumbled into my life at a near perfect moment. It was on the back of a sled being pulled by what is possibly the most photogenic dog sled team that ever existed that I knew the Iditarod was within my reach. I didn’t know how, or when, but some day the Last Great Race would be a reality for me.
Now, if you think my idea of this dream was to run in the race as a musher, you’re gravely mistaken. The idea of standing on the back of a sled for days on end with little sleep and in potentially negative sixty-something degree temps, well you don’t know me. I don’t sit still for long periods of time unless I’m road tripping, I happen to LOVE sleep (my bed and I really have a good thing going), AND if you think I’d ever consider winter camping you had better think again. I am one of those people who is constantly cold. Don’t believe me? Just ask my husband about our nightly ritual in bed where I put my frigid feet on his back to warm them up. No, the cold and I are anything but friendly.
However, when my husband’s job took us to live in Anchorage, Alaska there was no time like the present to get out on the Iditarod trail. For my birthday our first year up here I treated myself to an Iditarod Trail Committee (ITC) membership. As soon as registration was open my name was in their records to be a volunteer and in 2015 I volunteered in multiple positions. In 2016, my background working with mushers and my willingness to operate in multiple positions for the ITC allowed me to be selected to go out on the trail. Unfortunately, this was right when Brian was returning from a 9 month deployment and we had long before planned a trip outside of Alaska for his welcome home. I had to turn down something I had dreamed of for so long.
Two-ish weeks before the 45th Iditarod was scheduled to start my email pinged to alert me I had a new message. It was from one of the volunteers in head of the communications department asking if I wanted to head out on the trail. Unable to keep my excitement in I immediately leapt up from my desk and barged into my boss’ office to declare I’d be some time off in the near future. Now I sit in a small airplane hanger in Galena, Alaska – propped up against a backpack that is filled to it’s limit – waiting to board an even smaller plan to my checkpoint. I can’t help but think about the mixture of thrill and fear I once felt stepping onto the back of that dog sled. It’s easy to remember that feeling as it’s the exact mixture of emotions buzzing inside me right now.
After the loss of the Packers and my beloved Steelers two weeks before *my* dreams of another Super Bowl ring were dashed and I no longer cared about the outcome of the Super Bowl. When the local meteorologists began promising bluebird days for that weekend it became clear to me that a drive north was a better option than staying in to watch a football game I had nothing vested in. So when the rest of the country was settling down in front of the tv with a cold beer and a plate of hot wings I was standing on a cliff and heating up a JetBoil full of Ivar’s clam chowder, staring across a frozen river to see the alpenglow of sunset to hit North America’s tallest mountain just right.
Movements below would periodically caught my eye. A lone wolf crossing the frozen river took his time a he meandered across. Some time later a solitary moose appeared out of the brush. He seemed to check out the area then disappeared back the way he came. Hours later two bull moose appeared from the same brush, but these two slowly made their way across the same way the wolf had earlier.
I kept warm and passed the hours by breaking trail in the thigh deep snow in the nearby woods and throwing snow for Kratos to attack mid air. The hours ticked by with few visitors other than my occasional furry friends crossing the frozen river below.
Finally the golden hour arrived and although it was not the alpenglow I had planned and hoped for, I would never complain about watching the sun set over Denali in all her glory.
I have been jonesing to get to the Byron Glacier ice caves at the bottom of the glacier since I learned of their existence. However, a massive boulder field stands between the end of the definitive trail and the caves themselves, which makes for very slow progress during the thawed months. I’ve set out twice for the caves in warmer weather but was turned around each time by inclement weather / lack of preparedness for such conditions. Each time I was traveling solo and after some situational awareness retreated for my vehicle.
Winter conditions create a vastly different playing field. Avalanches in the valley smooth out the boulder field and create the ability to walk on top of and over much of the difficulties presented at other points of the year. This does however present its own set of unique problems like deep pitfalls, slick conditions, and the danger of avalanches themselves crashing down on you from above with no real place to escape to. But what’s the fun in adventures if not for a little bit of a risk factor? Especially when the reward is so great…
Perhaps I’m one of the lucky ones, but I absolutely adore my in-laws. I haven’t met a single person in Brian’s family – immediate or extended – that I haven’t liked. In fact, I rather enjoy their company and wish we all lived closer. When Brian’s parents called to say that they’d be coming to Alaska for Christmas I was ecstatic. Then we found out his younger brother Jesse would be joining them and it meant the whole Bennett family would be together under a single roof for the holidays for the first time in years. The pressure was on to create a perfect meld of Groff / Bennett holiday traditions, but I couldn’t see a better group to test them out on.
At exactly noon on Friday Brian & I pulled up to the curb at Ted Stevens International Airport with Kratos in tow. It was a short wait for baggage claim to deliver their checked bags and we were on our way home. Brian’s mom had visited our cozy little two bedroom home right before Brian’s deployment to Korea but we hadn’t seen his dad or brother since moving to Alaska back in 2014. We dropped off everyone’s suitcases, gave a quick tour of our home and headed back out the door so everyone could finish up a few last minute Christmas errands.
We spent a better part of Christmas eve at the house watching football and catching up. Other than my daily outing with Kratos and a trip to the store to find the last minute request for eggnog that took me 4 stores and 2-ish hours to find, I didn’t stray far from the comforts of my couch and visiting family. As evening approached I buzzed about the kitchen preparing a traditional seafood smorgasbord. Parmesan crusted halibut, BBQ shrimp with a light lemon aioli, and king crab with a garlic lemon butter dipping sauce topped off the menu. Several friends and neighbors joined in on the feast and the full house transported me back to the Christmas eve’s of my childhood where dozens of friends and family would filter through our door for my parent’s annual seafood bonanza. The hour was late when our last guest strolled out the door. Soon after everyone was in their beds snoring. I snuck out of my room to retrieve on last hidden gift from it’s hiding spot and added it to the stacks of gifts that had accumulated under the tree during the month of December.
I was the last to rise on Christmas morning. The house was dark and chilly per usual in December and I had no desire to leave the warmth of my down comforter just yet. I was finally coaxed out of my warm cocoon with a mug of hot tea and the promise of gifts. Not long after there was a flurry of boxes and wrapping paper only Bucket could truly appreciate. One large neatly wrapped package remained near the tree at the end of all the calamity. It was an electric ice auger that I’d somehow managed to pull off as a surprise gift for Brian. I’m really proud of myself for that one because surprising my husband is no easy task. Before long he and his dad had donned a few more layers and were out the door for a day of fishing. I pushed back plans for dinner so the boys could utilize as much usable daylight as possible but headed for the kitchen to get all my prep work done anyways. That night, once again accompanied by friends, we feasted on pot roast, mashed potatoes, corn, {Aunt Joy’s special] rolls, and my paternal grandmother’s recipe of Yorkshire pudding – another family tradition of mine.
On Monday we finally made it out on the ice as a family. Since our ice hut is only made to fit two comfortably we rotated between holes we drilled at various spots in the ice of Matanuska Lake. Fishing was so-so but we managed to spend most of the day out on the ice anyways. We headed back to Anchorage for a hot meal out on the town and then home for some quality family time. I headed back to work on Tuesday morning, which left Brian playing tour guide by himself for a few hours before sending everyone back to the airport. Until next time family! Hopefully it’s during warmer weather next time we meet! xoxo.
I had the pleasure of photographing one of my favorite Alaskan families for their annual Christmas card today. While I want them to have the pleasure of sharing their photos themselves, I thought I’d share a little sneak peak into their session today. It should be noted that I am no professional photographer and simply do this for the fun of hanging out with my friends and gaining a little more experience behind the lens. Either way, I appreciate them for trusting me with their photos!
