Is the title of a great book by Nansen. I got the farthest north I've ever been while visiting Barrow. Biologist Craig George took me out on the sea ice at the spot of the red flag, to look for bowhead whales. We snowmachined here on the sea ice pasted offshore a few miles:

 

 

Still wintry as biologists Craig George (who I've wanted to meet for years), and Leslie Pierce (who was nice too), gave me a ride out from Barrow on a trail over the sea ice made by themselves and also used by whalers.

Craig called this "the perch." They built it at the ice edge to look for migrating bowhead whales cutting the corner around Point Barrow while moving from the Chukchi to Beaufort seas.

 

We searched for bowhead whales through the fog. Saw none, but did see a beluga and many cool birds, including an ivory gull. Like other gulls, but snow white.

 

Craig, a New York boy like me, is probably more a Barrow boy now, after having lived there about 30 years. He said the sea ice upon which he spends so much time might scratch his itch to see mountains. I was also amazed at the dark band of "water sky" in the background. I'd heard of it, but didn't know the reflection of open water on the sky was so dramatic. Lovely and oh-so-different than my home where forest fires were raging, just 1.5 hours to the south by jet.

 

My first ever siting of the Monarch of the North. Too cool. Craig was leading to "the Point," Point Barrow, where the villagers drag their whale bones, mostly to keep the bears out of town. 

 

Here's a look at the bone pile that attracted the bear. Just as I took this, Leslie said, "Look behind us!"

 

He didn't seem too concerned with us. I was pleased to meet him, because I may not get another chance. The White Bear Lives!

It's breakup in America's farthest north town. Still chilly enough for there to be plenty of snow, and sea ice is still cemented to shore more than one mile thick along the coast. This was my first trip to Barrow. I was surprised by the number of cabs, and the number of cab drivers from Thailand.

 

My friend Ben took a shot of this cabin, or one very much like it, not long ago.

 

When the whalers fly their flags, they have been successful in harvesting a bowhead. Villagers got 14 bowheads this spring.

 

Another flag flying from another skin boat. Whalers are on teams of about a dozen, usually family members. They even make team jackets and wear them around town. More than 4,000 people live in Barrow, so it's not a small village. It's the only place in America where the local NAPA store has in stock brass points used to penetrate whale blubber.

 

Looks like there's been an oil spill up north, too. Or maybe just a bit of gas, on a road north of Barrow.

Just flew from Barrow to Fairbanks on Alaska Airlines. A giant smoke plume was wafting up from around Hess Creek, just south of the Yukon. My GPS told me the location (don't tell the stewardess). Here's what it looked like flying through a mushroom cloud that reached 30,000 feet above the wildfire below:

Entering the plume, from the north

 

In the soup. People started to panic a bit when the lights went out.

 

After two minutes, out the other side. Don't know why the pilot didn't go around the smoke tower. Probably because he didn't need to. But don't try this in your Cessna 206. And, as of now, Fairbanks is relatively smoke free, Hope the wind doesn't blow from the north (nervous giggle).

Was the name of a fun band that played summer nights in Dawson City. Many moons have arced through the sky since those guys headlined at the Pit.

Am reminded of the band's name, which always cracked me up, as I prepare to head to the farthest north place I've ever been, Barrow, AK.

Just had the bizarre sensation of the sun drilling into a bald spot on top of my head while I was strapping skis to the top of my car. It's nearing uncomfortable warmth here in Fairbanks, pushing 80. Barrow, according to one of my bookmarked websites, is the coldest place in America, at 30. I just called north and a woman told me it was skiable, so I'll have to check a bag.

I'm headed up for some book research that will require me to get to Point Barrow, about 10 miles from town. I should be skating there about this time tomorrow. Will post a few images.

Feels a little nutty to be leaving this fine Interior Alaska weather, but won't it be nice to come home to this in a few days?

 

When covered with the last bit of rotting ice, the Copper River looks like the dying glacier it once was.