A real trip to an imaginary circle

North of Fairbanks, Alaska, the Dalton Highway stre4tches upwards to Prudhoe Bay, the beginning of the Alyeska, otherwise known as the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. We wouldn't get that far, but we planned to get a little north of the Arctic Circle, the imaginary line that separates the polar zone from the rest of the world.

The Dalton Highway - Alaska State Highway #11 - is largely unpaved. It's occasionally rocky, occasionally muddy, and occasionally actually paved or in the process of being paved. At one section, the by-now-familiar pilot car took us through one lane traffic. To reduce dust for the workers, a tanker sprays water on the road at various intervals. While not slippery, it does produce a fine mud mist, especially if you allow yourself to get a little too close to the vehicle in front of you, some of which were large oil tankers on their way to the Arctic. By the time we emerged onto "solid" road, my beautiful burgundy car was two-toned, with the bottom half a lovely mottled tan.

But before we knew it, we were at the Yukon River Bridge. We'd had fun following the Pipeline, as it sometimes got extremely close to the roadway and then disappear into the spruce trees. On hills, we could see the brown-gray road and the silver pipe ahead. In some spots, the pipeline went underground, under the road, and even under rivers. At the Yukon, it joined our bridge and stretched over the mighty river. At the other side, a Visitor Center welcomed us, for which we had to drive under the pipeline!

A few miles further took us to the strange land of Finger Mountain. Large piles of volcanic granite made formations - one like a 40-foot high pointer finger beckoning "come here" to those who drive up themountainside. Few trees grew on the tundra that surrounded the mountain. Small shrubs and blueberry bushes decorated the ground, some of them turning yellow and red in the sub-arctic autumn that was fast approaching. The story goes that the Fireweed plant keeps blooming to the top as the season progresses. When the tip-top blooms, winter is just around the corner. Many of the roadside plants were flowerless and it's "only" August.

And finally we reached the Arctic Circle. No, there's no line on the road at latitude 66 degrees, 33 minutes. But there is large plaque that proclaims we made it - a probable once in a lifetime crossing (well, 3 times actually, as we had to go back a few miles for our sleeping arrangements...and we had to come back this way!) It was kind of cool (literally and figuratively). We had set a goal and achieved it. No flat tires, no broken windows (yes, OK, a few scratches under that muddy exterior). But we'd reached it - "top of the world, Ma!" Now onto Coldfoot and Wiseman, the two towns above the circle that would provide us food and shelter for the next two days.