Day 3
COLDFOOT, Alaska – Most of our group wandering into the lodge in search of breakfast appear shellshocked. Although several of us had set our alarms at intervals in hopes of seeing the fabled "Aurora Borealis", even those who hadn't didn't get much sleep. Picture several double-wides joined together at a central hub, and you might have an idea of our accommodations. Those who roomed close to the furnace spent the night comfortably – the rest of us shivered in a fetal position in our long underwear, toques and snowpants.
But I'd finally managed to draw a triumphant line through one of the top items on my personal bucket list, standing dumbfounded under the dancing Northern Lights.
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| Photo: Lesley Wimbush |
We'd spent an interesting evening with the resident dog-sledder, who introduced us to his husky-malamute pack. For a dog-lover, it was the most wonderful reception imaginable with thirty hysterically joyful dogs leaping at the end of their leads, planting their forepaws on our shoulders and covering us with wet sloppy kisses.
Not wanted to risk a cold-start in this frigid climate, we'd decided to leave the Sprinters running all night, and as a result, Norge was warm and toasty when we climbed aboard. For such a workmanlike box, our Sprinter is quite accommodating with storage cubbies everywhere. I'm particularly impressed with all the available dash and console storage, with room for all our radios, cell phones, cameras and life-sustaining snacks. Above the sun visors are more storage spaces - clever.
It's dark when we pull out of Coldfoot – the full moon hanging just over the mountains looks surreal in the crystal clear air.
We stop at the Arctic Circle for some photographs and for those intrepid souls needing a "bio break". Those who chose not to flounder waist-deep in search of a tree could opt to use the rest room – a grim affair with plenty of frozen evidence of past misuse.
My eyelashes are soon coated with frost, and I laugh at my companions who are sporting frosty white beards and moustaches.