Potholes, Bears, and Mud… oh my.

I had been hoping the drive up the Dalton would be similar to the drive into Denali Park… lined with wildlife.  I have driven into Denali a handful of times and each time I have seen bears, moose and caribou.  Along with a handful of other wildlife.  However, after driving to my first camp at Fort Hamlin Hills Creek (the oddest name for a creek on the road) I had seen nothing on the side of the road but a very chatty flagger who talked my ear off while we waited for the pilot car.

Still, as I headed to the Brook’s range in the morning I was sure the wildlife would appear.  It did not.  What did appear were potholes.  Potholes that covered the road from side to side.  Potholes that looked as though they were bottomless.  Potholes that looked like they had fish swimming in them.  Potholes with tides.  If there were creatures lurking on the side of the road, it’s a good chance I missed them, because if I looked up from the road for even a split second I was in danger of hitting an axle snapping hole in the road.  Oddly enough, on the rare and bizarre patch and seemingly random patches of road that were paved I actually drove slow in the hopes that I might actually be able to see wildlife.  I saw nothing.

I stopped in Coldfoot for a cup of strong coffee and a few gallons of gas at $7.49 a gallon and reminisced about my years in Yup’ik Eskimo villages near the Kuskokwim River where gas prices were routinely above seven dollars a gallon.  Out of Coldfoot the pavement ran for a wonderful twelve or fifteen miles north of Wiseman.  When it gave way to the dirt road again, only remains dirt for a few miles before it turned to rutted mud nearly six to eight inches deep.  I wished I had stopped long enough to throw the truck into four wheel drive.  As it was I spun and slid all the way up the hill.  I did not make the same mistake going home.

There are rarely moose north of the Brooks Range and I saw none.  Unfortunately, I saw none of the nearly four hundred thousand strong Arctic caribou herd either.  However, on the way home, a few miles south of the Arctic Circle I did finally see a mammal larger than a squirrel: A grizzly bear.  She was far enough away that I had to use my phone connected to a spotting scope.  I’d like to say seeing her romping among the old blueberries and spruce was enough, but at $7.49 per gallon I think I’m a still a bit in the hole.