Exploring the
land less traveled and the bush way of life in the wilderness of
northern interior Alaska.
Alaska Dog
Mushing…
…and, Backpacking and Rafting Tours with
Alaska Best Wilderness
offers specialized guided small group expeditions by dogsled, and
backpacking trips in remote and virtually unknown mountain ranges north
of the Yukon River.
We are located year round in a small native Athabascan village
at
the confluence of the Tanana and Yukon rivers. We'd like to introduce
you to the enjoyment and excitement of mushing your own dog team, or
have you join us on our Alaska Backpacking and Rafting Tours as we
travel through this beautiful, wild country. We guide a limited number
of active and adventurous scheduled trips, but we'd be happy to help
you dream up your own custom trip in northern Alaska and guide and do
the logistics for you. We're especially geared to trips a week or
longer in length.
What Dog Mushing Is Like.
When I first took a ride on a dog sled 22 years ago, the thing
that
most impressed me was, “Wow! These dogs WANT to pull this sled.” When
the dogs are being hooked up to go, the dog yard erupts with barking,
all of them in essence going,
“Take
me! Take me!” The first surge of power as they leave the yard dispels
any lingering stereotypes of the need to crack the whip over their
heads.
Our sled dogs are descendants of Alaskan interior village
huskies
going back hundreds of years. In the past seventy years they have been
bred for racing speed and stamina. Between 40 and 55 pounds, slim,
light-boned, and friendly, they are incredible athletes, and far more
fit and durable than the surly, aggressive, heavy-boned sled dogs of
old.
Dogmushing is a lot like sailing. There’s the same sense of
controlled power that can be calm and mellow, or souped-up, wild, and
exciting, depending on the number of dogs in the team.
Best of all, this vehicle is intelligent and can drive itself
enough
to let you gaze at the scenery. No spluttering, noisy engine, just the
quiet creaking sound of the dog sled going through the snow– and the
sense of being part of something that is ALIVE.
(To read more stories such as this, check out our Tales From the Trail
section)
Walking Back in Time
The one thing Ruth and I knew when we set out walking by
ourselves
into the Tozi Mountains in May was the certainty we would be alone. In
this obscure part of Alaska, it would be an astonishing event to see
someone out in that country.
Without
the constant presence of people as a reference point, there was a sense
of timelessness about the trip. As we walked the high ridges and
mountains, the light brown of the tundra streaked at long intervals
with the bright melting snowdrifts of spring, we felt as if we were in
the late Pleistocene, following woven caribou trails and stopping at
the same lookout spots where ancestral hunters very likely scanned the
country for animals.
Descending after seven days into a valley, we came upon the
soft
upwelling of the green of spring over the bush, with the river blue and
sparkling.
After walking, rafting the swift river was a rush, sweeping
around bends and over rapids towards home.
One time several years before this I was canoeing down the
river
alone, gear and food forward, and a pack dog between my feet in the
stern. The dog slowly raised his head, sniffed, his nostrils moving
slightly, and then stared at the huge bulk of a grizzly bear asleep in
the warm sunshine at the tip of a willow island.
I put my hand quietly on the dog’s head, and we both froze as
we drifted by in one foot of water, about twenty feet from him.
I’m still grateful he kept sleeping. I think we let our breath
out about a mile later….
(To read more stories such as this, check out our Tales From the Trail
section)
