The first hours on Alaskan soil. Straight from the airport onto the Seward Highway along Turnagain Arm. Rain, heavy clouds over the Chugach Mountains — and wild nature right at the roadside.
A herd of caribou grazes on the Chugach Range slopes, high above the road, indifferent to the rain and tourists below. Their antlers still in velvet — midsummer.
The small town of Seward sits at the foot of the mountains on the edge of Resurrection Bay. From here, boats set out into Kenai Fjords — through misty waters between sheer cliffs draped in spruce. Salmon charge the rapids; gulls drift over the sea.
Matanuska Glacier is one of the few you can walk right up to. It has been sliding down from the Chugach Mountains for 300,000 years, and time seems to have stopped here. Blue meltwater carves channels through the ice canyons; icebergs drift in the proglacial lake. Camp stands right at the glacier's tongue.
At Hatcher Pass stands the abandoned Independence Mine gold complex. In the 1930s–40s, gold was extracted here under the harshest conditions. Now the wooden structures slowly decay under the snow — a monument to the Gold Rush.
The highway stretches north into the boreal forest, toward a horizon of snow-capped peaks. Every bend opens a new view. Gray jays watch from the branches; a young eagle tries on its adult stare; a loon glides across a mirror-still lake.
A red ski-plane lands directly on the snow of Ruth Glacier at the base of Denali. At 5,500–6,500 feet, absolute silence reigns. White wilderness and peaks vanishing upward through the clouds.
The floatplane touches down on the water at Katmai — this is a different Alaska. Dozens of floatplanes line the shore like buses in a lot. They are the only way in or out. And brown bears — big ones — stroll right between the planes, completely unfazed.
The return journey — above the clouds. Beneath the wing, mountain ranges stretch out with white volcanic cones piercing through. The plane cruises at 8,200 feet above an Alaska now hidden from view. Only snow and sky.