due north alaska

dropped off in the Pacific

Our kayaks finally touched the waters of the Pacific Ocean.

This remote, and otherwise arbitrary point. marked the very southernmost point of mainland Alaska.

Suddenly, the prospect of travelling the full length of the largest state in the USA - over 2,000 miles to its northernmost point by human power - became very real.

After months of preparation, logistical arrangements and physical training we were now in Alaska’s Inside Passage.

kayaking past whales and through a rainforest

Over the next two and a half months we kayaked through stunning remote temperate rainforest surrounded by spruce-packed mountainous landscapes.

Then, in the high Arctic, we journeyed through the contrast of the flat and tree-less expanse of the North Arctic coast.

Sandwiched in between these aquatic adventures, we explored Alaska’s interior, cycling past enormous glaciers, through the towering Brooks mountain range and onto the sprawling tundra ahead.

Covering over 1,300 miles, we climbed over 40,000 ft, peddling the full 415 miles of the infamous dirt track of the Dalton Highway.

All throughout, the kindness and warm-heartedness of the Alaskan people helped us on our way.

the ocean lapping at our tent

We encountered curious and confident sea lions, and held our breath as majestic humpback whales breached intimidatingly close to our little kayak.

We met grizzly and black bears trawling the beaches - and the roadside - for any form of sustenance at low-tide and low-traffic times.

We listened to the call of bald eagles soaring through thermals as we setup camp on beaches, islands, forest, tundra overlooking glaciers and lay-bys; making our best judgement as to both the safest and comfiest spot to spend the night.

Eight metre tide swings in South Alaska meant when camped on small islands, we often awoke to the Pacific Ocean lapping at the side of our tent. We trusted our high-tide calculations implicitly, but occasionally still double-checked, just in case…

and onto the north…

However, it was in the far north, where we came across the biggest surprise of all.

After paddling carefully through sea ice at the start of our Arctic Ocean paddle, we headed inland, to pursue an ancient Inupiat trading route and to avoid any further pack ice.

But here, instead of passable lakes we found dry and grassy filled lake beds. And instead of paddling through narrow connecting streams we trudged through mud. the the expedition soon became a kayak hauling challenge not a paddling expedition.

These were changes to the landscape didn’t appear on recent satellite imagery and weren’t on paper topographic maps. They were changes that stopped us dead in our path.

sharing stories and lessons

So, when we reached what would be the final lake of our expedition at 5am, after 30 hours of hauling and portaging 200kg of gear over tundra and dry lake beds - only to find its water level as low as the rest and with similarly dangerous waist-deep sludge, we knew we could not continue.

We set up camp up in silence. In the knowledge this would be the end of this expedition.

But not the end of the story we wanted to tell.

In northern Alaska, thawing permafrost is draining tundra lakes. The lakes we wanted to paddle through.

Rising, warmer sea levels are eating away at the coastline and diminishing sea ice encourages storm surges that further erode the coastline - in some places by over 100 metres each year.

It is forcing whole villages along the coast to relocate.

Through Due North Alaska, we wanted to see for ourselves and record evidence of a changing Arctic.

Well, we saw it and struggled through it. It is engrained in our dry suits, our boots and our memories. 

And through sharing this journey with as many as possible, all of the human-powered miles will be a success. E

Even if we didn’t reach our final coordinates.

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