On August 9th (Monday), we were disappointed to find that once again, low clouds covered the area. This meant that everyone’s early morning flights were not to be. Nonetheless, as has been the case during our recent trip to Bettles and Kobuk Valley National Park, we packed our gear just in case an unanticipated weather window opened.
Making the most of our delay, I went outside to explore. I delighted in seeing the early-morning dew on the vegetation near the airstrip and a herd of caribou on the low mountains behind the camp. Back at the bunkhouse, I joined other members of our group for another soak in the bathhouse.
By early afternoon, the clouds were still too low for any flights. Some of our group opted to rest and relax in the bunkhouse. Becky, Ollie, and I joined Matt for a hike to the top of the low mountains behind the camp. This hike afforded us different views of the surrounding landscape and the opportunity to walk among more tors and find more beauty in the tundra.
As the day wore on, the cloud cover rose a bit. Matt stayed in touch by radio with our pilot. However, due to weather and other commitments, coming to pick us up was not an option. The same was true for the planes coming to retrieve the Culture Camp participants. At one point, however, they carried their gear to the airstrip in anticipation of one of their flights, only to move it back to the bunkhouse when the plane failed to arrive.
Around 5:00 p.m., we were surprised to hear the sound of a plane. Folks from the Culture Camp ran to the airstrip to check it out; I followed as well. Soon, a small plane appeared on the horizon, came closer, and landed. After taxiing to the side of the airstrip, the pilot jumped out and said, much to the disappointment of our friends, “I am not your plane.” Instead, we learned he was a retired Swiss Airlines pilot, who was traveling around the Arctic via a Cessna 180. He had been to Serpentine Hot Springs on a previous trip and had returned to spend more time. That was an unexpected surprise!
After dinner, we continued our waiting game. However, we had little hope we would be the first Alaska Alpine Adventures group to make it to Cape Krusenstern National Monument. Nonetheless, we all agreed that if we were going to be stranded, Serpentine Hot Springs was a good place to be!
Then, at 9:00 p.m., Matt entered the bunkhouse to announce that our Golden Eagle Outfitters pilot was going to try to pick us up. That was the second surprise of the day. We couldn’t quite believe we were (potentially) flying to Cape Krusenstern after all. Our pilot was starting to become a bit of a legend. If he succeeded, this would be the second time he was beating the weather odds to pick us up after we had assumed we would be spending another night, first in Kobuk Valley National Park and now in Bering Land Bridge National Preserve.
After putting on jackets and hats on to ward off the cool evening air, it was now our turn to carry gear to the edge of the airstrip in preparation for the plane’s arrival. This time, unlike at Kobuk Valley National Park, we did not have a steep sand dune to climb. Our Culture Camp friends joined us as well. While they were disappointed to be spending another night at camp; with us leaving, at least they could spread out in both sides of the bunkhouse.
At 9:30 p.m., our plane landed and then taxied to a stop. Loading began immediately; there was no time to waste. We were now familiar with the routine, which included admonishing each other as we hoisted ourselves up into the plane, “Don’t touch the windows!” As soon as we were buckled in and had our headsets adjusted, the pilot taxied down the gravel airstrip while we waved goodbye to our friends. We were then were off and into the air. While it was 9:48 p.m., since we were only 30 miles south of the Arctic Circle, there was still plenty of light left in the day.
Shortly after takeoff, the pilot banked to the left for a view of a grizzly running across the tundra below. Then, as we headed north and gained elevation, we passed first through, and then over, a blanket of clouds. Much to our delight and good fortune, before leaving Bering Land Bridge National Preserve, the clouds cleared. As a result, we were treated to views of several lakes, which are part of unusual geologic features called “maars,” which we never knew existed before reading about them in a National Park Service (NPS) brochure at the bunkhouse the day before.
As explained by NPS: “Maars are shallow craters formed by phrea-to-magmatic explosions: interactions between magma and groundwater (in our case permafrost). As magma comes into close proximity with permafrost it creates steam, thus, increasing its volume and building pressure until it is released through a violent explosion. This eruption ejects rock, magma, and ash and creates a ring around the crater made of rock fragments and sediment ejected from the earth. Over time, maar craters often fill in with water and become lakes. The four Espenberg Maars…located near the northern boundary of Bering Land Bridge National Preserve and are unique for their location and size. Not only are they the largest maar lakes in the world, but they are also the most northerly located volcanic features in North America created during the Ice Age.” [https://www.nps.gov/articles/bizarre-maars.htm] The straight sides, which were several hundred feet tall, were obvious even from our altitude. It was like nothing we have ever seen before. That was very cool!
Leaving the maar lakes behind, our flight path took us across approximately 50 miles of the Chukchi Sea just west of the entrance to Kotzebue Sound. Unsure of what to expect for the last part of our trip, we were surprised to find our pilot circling a narrow strip of land between the Chukchi Sea and a large brackish lagoon. As we came in for a landing, strong winds, which were blowing the tops of the ocean waves off to our left, also buffeted our plane.
Immediately after touching down into tall beach grass (rather than on an actual airstrip), we were concerned when we saw logs and other large pieces of weathered driftwood pass by the windows as we bumped along. It was a relief when at 10:30 p.m., the plane came to a halt without incident. Bending over as we walked down the short aisle of the plane, we eagerly climbed to the ground and then scrambled to help unload our gear so our pilot could fly back to Kotzebue yet that night.
Now, around forty miles north of the Arctic Circle, there was still light to spare. In contrast to Serpentine Hot Springs, here the sky was mostly blue. The air was chilly, but our hearts were warm. Once our plane departed, we reveled in the fact that we were alone in the wilderness in a totally new and different landscape. Even though it was late, we were still eager to explore our new surroundings. However, the first order of business, was taking a photo to commemorate the fact that we were, after all, the first Alaska Alpine Adventures group to step foot on Cape Krusenstern.
Established as a national monument under the Antiquities Act by President Jimmy Carter in 1978, Cape Krusenstern became a unit of the National Park Service in 1980 under the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act. As summarized by Wikipedia: “Cape Krusenstern is primarily a coastal plain, containing large lagoons and rolling hills of limestone. The bluffs record thousands of years of change in the shorelines of the Chukchi Sea, as well as evidence of some 9,000 years of human habitation. The park’s central features, 114 beach ridges…alternate between sandy and gravelly ridges and narrow ponds. Located [along 70 miles of the Chukchi Sea coast] and entirely above the Arctic Circle in a region of permafrost, the monument’s lands include typical thermokarst features… characterized by very irregular surfaces of marshy hollows and small hummocks formed as ice-rich permafrost thaws.”
While Matt and Melissa scouted a place for our camp, we soaked in the ambience of our new location. We had not imagined we would be staying so close to the ocean. The crashing waves reminded me of the north shore of Oahu, Hawaii. Sliding down from the grassy terrace to the beach, I was immediately greeted by the tracks of a grizzly, who had likely been patrolling the area looking for any food washed ashore. In addition to the sounds of the ocean, I was also serenaded by the cries of gulls and terns flying overhead.
Once it was determined that we would camp next to the lagoon, we busied ourselves setting up our tents and moving our gear inside. Around 11:15 p.m., the sun sank into a bank of clouds just above the surface of the ocean. The sun’s red glow along with parts of the surrounding clouds were strikingly beautiful. The clouds almost looked like the rings of Saturn, while the red color reminded me of the planet Mars. I took comfort in part of the old adage that said, “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight…”.
