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This was my first trip to "the bush" in my seven years in Alaska. I flew to the small Inupiaq eskimo village of Selawik, where I met some extremely friendly, knowledgable locals who took me 130 miles upriver by boat to the USWFS camp.

It was really interesting to see the mixture of ancient and modern lifestyles so far off the grid, in an environment that presents many of challenges besides distance, such as permafrost. The roads in the town are all boardwalks, and nobody drives highway vehicles, just ATVs. Nothing seems to get thrown away when it's so expensive to get new things shipped in--the place is full of old machines and other items to be used in industrious ways in the future.

On my way to a remote field camp on the Selawik River to help the USFWS deploy some video technology, I had a long layover in the arctic hub village of Kotzebue on the coast of the Chukchi Sea.

Whenever we remember not to miss the deadline, Lena and I put in for the "road lottery," a draw for permits to drive personal vehicles into Denali National Park for a day in mid-September. The rest of the year, it's only open to tour buses and other official vehicles. This was the second year we've drawn a permit.

As is customary, we took way too long to leave Fairbanks and were among the last people into the park on our designated day. We quickly set up a spacious dome tent at the Teklanika River Campground (a luxury after spending so much time in backpack tents this year), and drove into the depths of the park behind everyone else.



It was a cloudy, windy day, but the sun peeked out a few times to liven up the scenery--not that it really needed any livening. Denali National Park is always amazing, and it's great to be able to enjoy it from our own vehicle, at our own pace.

This was our best trip for bear viewing. I think we saw seven grizzlies in all, including one just before dusk that we spotted very close to the road eating berries. It got curious and ran up to the car (or "charged," as Lena says), then walked past and lumbered down the road behind us.




We were among the last cars out of the park, but we did better than last time. This time, at least, I didn't have to drive Polychrome Pass in the dark--a narrow stretch of the gravel road that winds sinuously across a thousand-foot-high cliff face with no guardrail. It is beautiful from a distance, but every time I'm there I feel nervous that I'm not wearing a parachute.