Alaska: Trip Planning Details

Those of you who have been reading this blog for some time know by now that when I take a photo trip it’s usually a carefully researched solo endeavor.  There were some significant divergences from the norm as part of the Alaska experience and I thought it would be worthwhile for me to provide some background on the subject.

I’ve always wanted to photograph in Alaska and, unlike just about everyone I know who has traveled there, my primary interest wasn’t cruising the Inner Passage.  While that has always sounded, at some level, like a good trip, my goal has been to visit the interior of Alaska, beginning–but by no means ending–with Denali National Park.  So that was the focus.

Boreal Forest Trail Black & White, Creamer’s Field Migratory Wildlife Refuge, Fairbanks Northstar Borough, Alaska

Before I go any further, I was contacted some months ago by the folks at Mighty Goods–a website dedicated to independent reviews of bags–luggage, backpacks, gear bags, etc.  I, along with 15 other outdoor photographers, was asked to summarize my experiences traveling with my gear.  Since I’m discussing a photo trip–which makes all of the issues involving transporting necessary equipment and apparel by plane and then carrying gear in the field in extremely remote locales relevant–the topic is timely.  Along with the experiences of others, this makes for an interesting article, and I encourage you to check it out.

A Change of Pace

First of all, this wasn’t a solo trip.  While I’ve photographed with others before, it’s a clear exception to the rule.  For instance, I was on my own for the entirety of all three photo trips I took last year:  Florida, California and Colorado.  On this trip to Alaska–during which I was on the ground for 12 days–I was with others for the duration.  It’s the first time I’ve been with others for anywhere near this amount of time.

Last Light, Denali National Park, Alaska

My photographic companions in Alaska were Ellen Kinsel and Debbie Hicks.  I first met Ellen on a photo tour during my first trip to the Canadian Rockies in 2014.  We hit it off and discovered that, in addition to photography, we had a number of things in common (e.g. we’re both graduates of the University of Michigan, we’re both baseball fans, etc.).  When I decided to return to the Canadian Rockies in the fall of 2015, I wanted to hike the Larch Valley Trail in Banff National Park.  By decree of Parks Canada, autumn Larch Valley Trail hikes require parties of at least four people (due to bear activity in the area), so Ellen–who lives in southeast British Columbia–volunteered to join and, in an effort to help us reach our goal of at least four, invited a friend along.  That was Debbie.  We ended up photographing together for the first four days that I was in the Canadian Rockies in September of 2015.

Foggy Wetland, George Parks Highway, Denali Borough, Alaska

That experience had been a good one.  One of the reasons I usually don’t photograph with others, particularly when on an extended, dedicated photo trip, is that very few people like to photograph at a pace commensurate with mine.  As a refresher, I tend to use every available minute of daylight (and then some, on occasion).  I don’t ordinarily eat normal meals on these trips and, in any event, I schedule sustenance around photography, not the other way around.  I also do a lot of hiking when on site.  And when I reach a shooting destination that intrigues me, I tend to work slowly–often very slowly.  This combination of things doesn’t suit most other people, and understandably so, and, thus I tend to travel and photograph solo.  The tour that included Ellen and myself as participants had mimicked my modus operandi pretty closely and the fact that Ellen had appeared to thrive on it made me think that we’d be compatible in the field.  Given that she knew how I work and still invited Debbie along in 2015 implied–or, at least, I inferred–that there would be few problems during our time together.  This, in fact, proved to be the case.  Both Ellen and Debbie appeared just as dedicated to the same set of priorities I had during our few days together in the Canadian Rockies in 2015.

So, when Ellen contacted me in the late winter of 2016-2017 to ask if I would be interested in joining her and Debbie on a trip to Alaska in 2018, I wasn’t worried about photographic compatibility.  There were some other concerns, but that wasn’t one of them.  And, in fact, our time in Alaska would prove that the lack of concern on this front was entirely justified.

Fish Creek Black & White, Denali Highway, Denali Borough, Alaska

Aurora Fuhgetaboutitis, a.k.a. The Northern Frights

The initial contact about an Alaska trip centered around an aurora borealis itinerary.  Yes, you read that correctly.  There are aurora-based photo tours in Alaska and that was the original notion behind the trip.  The peak time for aurora viewing in Alaska is during a period from roughly mid-February until early April.  And the most popular location for such tours is north of Fairbanks, in the midst of the Brooks Mountain Range.  The timing is a function of two key factors relevant to aurora viewing:  a period of strong solar activity (late winter/early spring in the Northern Hemisphere) and a time of the year when the skies are typically clear.

Sounds great, right?  There’s only one problem:  cold weather.  Bone-chilling cold weather, in fact.  When we were first considering whether to do this, I was sent a sample itinerary with some suggestions about what to expect.  It included a suggestion to plan for temperatures that could reach -30 F.  It probably wouldn’t get that cold, I was told.  But it might.  And -20 F was to be expected.  Remember, photographing the aurora means being out at night; you can’t see the Northern Lights if it’s not dark.  And clear.  And what happens on clear winter nights?  The mercury drops.  We’re talking about a location north of the Arctic Circle, mind you.

Dusk, George Parks Highway, Denali Borough, Alaska

I gave this some serious consideration.  Was I really prepared to be out in that kind of cold, night after night?  (Have I mentioned that I don’t like cold weather?  I mean, I’ve put up with it all my life, but I definitely don’t like it.)  I’ve never been out in -30 F weather; and I’ve never willingly been out in weather anywhere near that cold.  And never for hours at a time, regardless of will.  Would my equipment even function in that kind of weather?  What’s more, did I really want to go to the considerable trouble and expense of going to Alaska at that time of year?  It was a good time to be up there for aurora viewing, but it wasn’t a particularly good time, I felt, to be up there for much of anything else I’d want to photograph.

Fall Color, Yukon River Crossing, Dalton Highway, Alaska

In light of all of this, I suggested that perhaps we should consider a different itinerary (and an entirely different time of year).  Ellen jumped on this and suggested that perhaps we should think about going up during fall in central/northern Alaska–basically, the end of August or beginning of September.  That sounded much more appealing to me.  It would mean much less favorable opportunities for seeing the Northern Lights–which would be unfortunate–but every other aspect of this alternative would be better.  We’d be able to access Denali National Park and the Denali Highway, for instance–both of which are closed during winter.  And the Brooks Range would be more accessible too.  We’d–hopefully–get to see the tundra in all of its autumn glory.  And we wouldn’t be freezing our behinds off.

This turned out to be a pretty easy sell and, before long, we were in agreement that we’d shoot for the Alaskan Fall of 2018–roughly a year-and-a-half away.

Forest Floor Intimate, Ermine Hill Trail, Denali State Park, Alaska

Stepping Back from Planning

We more or less settled on a late summer (i.e. late August/early September) 2018 time frame for the trip in the spring of 2017.   It was during a time when I was wrapping up post-processing work on my Florida images and getting ready for a two-week trip to California in May.  And then I had a long-scheduled trip to Colorado for which I needed to wrap up scheduling and planning.  In the meantime, we decided that some kind of an itinerary for the Alaska trip was a necessity.  Despite the fact that it was so far in the future, we needed to make some commitments to ensure availability in certain instances.  I didn’t have the time necessary to give this the attention I would have liked, so I pretty much punted responsibility to Ellen, who is one of this planet’s great planners.

Ellen kept me very much in the loop and I did weigh in, but she did virtually–if not literally–all of the research.  The results were impeccable.  I wouldn’t willingly turn these responsibilities over to just anyone, but I never regretted, for a minute, letting Ellen make the call as I knew she’d give every subject more than its due diligence.

Conifers and Reflections, Horseshoe Lake, Denali National Park, Alaska

Debbie had her own set of time limitations and essentially let Ellen–with some input from me–make all of the decisions.  This became kind of a running joke during the trip.  “Where are we going?” Debbie asked, on more than one occasion when we were already on site.  “Alaska,” I dead-panned.  As Ellen tells the story, she’d (Ellen) send me an e-mail with a series of trip topics and options that she was working on and she and I would have these lengthy exchanges discussing, weighing and prioritizing possibilities.  Debbie’s response–on those occasions when there was a response at all:  “Whatever.”  In fairness, after turning the decision making over, Debbie never–not once–complained about anything on the itinerary.  She’d ask where we were going on a given day, we’d tell her…then we’d tell her again, after she asked a second time (there were all these distractions, you see) and that’s what we’d do.  No complaints, no problems.

Dietrich River, Dalton Highway, Alaska

The Elephant in the Room

I’ll deal with this head on.  So, I’m sure at least some of you are thinking, what’s with an adult male traveling for the better part of two weeks with two women?  Two women he’s not related to in any way, I might add.  This may be “unusual,” but there’s really nothing to it.  I mean that both literally and figuratively.  We’re simply three people with a common interest and a platonic compatibility both in and out of the field.  It really is that simple.  And since, justifiably, none of our spouses are concerned about this (yes, we’re all married and I–at 17 years of marriage and counting–have been married for the shortest length of time of the three of us), I guess no one else should be either.

(R to L) Debbie, Ellen and I take in the majesty of The Mountain, Denali National Park, Alaska

Synopsis

So, that’s the logistical background to this trip, from its origins to its denouement.  Next time I’ll touch on an always popular (heh) topic:  the reminders I got on this trip of the importance of tripods to landscape photography.  I apologize in advance for my didacticism.

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