Alaska-Yukon Expedition: See Andrew Skurka's Story in National Geogarphic Magazine

Photograph by Michael Christopher Brown. See the story, photos, and map in the March issue of National Geographic Magazine.

About a year ago, Andrew Skurka embarked on the hardest expedition of his life—4,679 miles of skiing, hiking, and packrafting in wildest Alaska and the Yukon. You probably recall his thoughtful blog dispatches on this website. Though the 29 year old had logged some 25,000 miles on foot since 2002, this expedition challenged Skurka like nothing before it. We're pleased to announce that you can read about his experience in "Circling Alaska in 176 Days," by Dan Koeppel, in the March edition of National Geographic Magazine, on newsstands now. Here Skurka reflects on Alaska, on understanding the wilderness, and why even elite adventurers watch The Bachelor.

You have said this expedition was your hardest ever, by far. How do you feel about Alaska and the Yukon now?
Andrew Skurka: This trip put me on edge, from start to finish. There were very few times when I was not out of my comfort zone—the conditions were usually tough, there was always uncertainty about what was ahead, and the consequences of making a mistake could easily have been catastrophic. My earlier trips, I realize now, were always in a very controlled environment; this one was not. I’m strongly risk adverse, and I have wondered whether a thrill-seeker would have handled the stress and uncertainty better than I did. I think this may be true, but I also think that my cautiousness explains why I came out alive, and successful.

Do you think the difficulty of this expedition has changed or matured your connection to the outdoors?
AS: I certainly have a much better understanding of true wilderness, due in large part to the final third of the trip across Yukon’s Arctic and Alaska’s Brooks Range. This included the 657-mile, 24-day stretch without crossing a road or seeing another human. I was so unnerved by the first two-week stretch, between Dawson and Fort McPherson, that I called Roman Dial for assurance. “Roman, I’ve never felt so exposed or vulnerable before. I might even say that I was scared.” His response was perfect: “True wilderness is not a place where you will ever be comfortable. Just look at the animals that live out there—they are constantly looking over the shoulders, always on edge, just trying to make it to tomorrow. We’re no different than them.”

What's your normal, non-expedition life like? We know you are a huge fan of The Bachelor.
AS: I’m almost ashamed to admit that I’ve become a The Bachelor junkie—it’s my guilty pleasure on Monday nights, too entertaining to miss. Overall, I think my “civilian” life is pretty average. I spend most of my day working at my computer. In the afternoon I try to get out for a run. On the weekends I usually go skiing. After my trip was over I was intentionally unproductive through the New Year, so that I could recover and reenergize again. I preoccupied myself with training for a 50-mile ultra-marathon in California’s Marin Headlands in December. My finishing time of 8 hours 8 minutes was respectable in light of the course’s 22,000 feet of vertical gain and loss, but I definitely don’t have the speed that I used to.

What's next?
AS: I’m excited about this year. Over the last seven weeks I have been writing a book on backpacking gear and technique; it should be available in May or June. I’ll start a book about the Alaska-Yukon Expedition soon thereafter. Next week is the first of about 35 presentations and clinics I have scheduled through October. And this summer I’ll be guiding a few trips in the High Sierra and Alaska. I’d like to get out on a short personal trip too but I may have to wait until 2012. I may have a dream job, but I have economic realities like everybody else.

Best American Adventures: Raft the Ocoee

 

We've just updated our popular America's Best Adventures feature with 50 new trips, bringing our grand total to 100 iconic escapes (see the map, state-by-state list, and photo gallery, too). So no matter what your pleasure—hiking, heli-skiing, surfing, climbing, biking, or paddling—we've got the perfect adventure for you. Check in each day for a new, out-the-backdoor adventure highlighted here on our blog.

By Kate Siber; Photograph by Scott Thompson

There are few places in the country where average Joes and Janes can play Olympian for a day, but Tennessee’s Ocoee River is one of them. This waterway hosted the whitewater events for the 1996 Olympic Games, and now, all summer long, raft companies guide aquaphiles on both the Middle and Upper sections of the river. The Olympic course itself, a quarter-mile-long (0.4-kilometer-long) section, was designed by engineers for maximum whitewater fun. And with consistent flows thanks to regular dam releases, the river virtually guarantees a good time, making it one of the Southeast’s premier whitewater runs.

Within driving distance of several big cities, the Ocoee is certainly no secret, however, and some 300,000 people ride its wave trains every year. Picture a riotous, dripping-wet, nonstop party on an all-natural theme park ride. Still, flanked by lush forested hills, sheer cliffs, and blooming azaleas, mountain laurel, and rhododendron, the Ocoee is a large step up from Six Flags. Connect the Upper and Middle Ocoee runs into one 10-mile (16-kilometer) day with more than 30 named Class II-IV rapids. Barreling through tumblers and hearing the roar of cheers from fellow rafters, it’s not too hard to conjure the thrill of an Olympic ride.

Need to Know: Contact Wildwater Rafting (www.wildwaterrafting.com) for the release schedule. Ocoee combo trips on the Upper and Middle are $99 to $104.

Best American Adventures: Raft the Owyhee River

 

We've just updated our popular America's Best Adventures feature with 50 new trips, bringing our grand total to 100 iconic escapes (see the map, state-by-state list, and photo gallery, too). So no matter what your pleasure—hiking, heli-skiing, surfing, climbing, biking, or paddling—we've got the perfect adventure for you. Check in each day for a new, out-the-backdoor adventure highlighted here on our blog.

By Doug Schnitzspahn; Photograph by Brandon Sawaya, Aurora Open

The last great underappreciated epic river in the Lower 48, the Owyhee weaves through Idaho’s southwestern sage steppes, cutting deep canyons into cliffs of volcanic rhyolite. Surrounded by an ocean of three million acres (1.2 million hectares) of sagebrush desert, the Owyhee, as locals call the whole region, is rich with songbirds and sage grouse leks, ancient archaeological sites, and ruined homesteads. The river itself flows over 200 miles (322 kilometers) from the Duck Valley Indian Reservation in Nevada up through the lonesome wilds of southwest Idaho until it dumps into the Snake River in Oregon.

The area was protected in 2009 by the Omnibus Public Lands Management Act, which set aside 517,000 acres (209,000 hectares) of the Owyhee as wilderness and designated 316 miles (509 miles) of the river and its tributaries as Wild and Scenic Rivers. The bill was a joint effort, a compromise between conservationists, cattlemen, and Republican Senator Mike Crapo, who all thought the place deserved be protected—not a common occurrence in Idaho.

If you want to explore the canyons of the Owyhee, you can take your pick of trips, ranging from a one-day float down the popular stretch in Oregon to a weeklong expedition that starts in Nevada and navigates up to Class V whitewater. One of the best options is to start on the South Fork of the Owyhee, a Class III tributary that exemplifies the river’s high walls and winsome character. Make sure to take the time to scramble up and out of the canyon for a view of the meandering river and the huge, wide open sage steppes, which are a similar ecosystem to those in Mongolia.

Need to Know: A five-day trip with Wilderness River Outfitters (www.wildernessriver.com) costs $1,340.

Alaska-Yukon Expedition: Packrafting 101

Follow adventurer Andrew Skurka as he skis, hikes, and rafts 4,720 miles through eight national parks, two major mountain ranges, and some of North America's wildest rivers in Alaska and the Yukon from March to October. Read his blog updates here.

Posted from Cordova, Alaska

Two weeks ago I shipped my skis home and picked up my packraft, which I will carry until the very end of this expedition in October. Most people have never heard of packraft, which Wikipedia defines as "small, portable inflatable boat designed for use in all bodies of water, including technical whitewater and ocean bays and fjords." Here I'll take a few minutes to introduce readers to this critical piece of gear.

There are several major benefits for me in carrying a packraft. First, I can safely cross big rivers (e.g. the Susitna), glacier-carved fjords (like those in Glacier Bay National Park), and saltwater bays (e.g. Icy and Yakutat Bays). Second, I can utilize gravity to quickly and efficiently travel through wilderness, as opposed to hiking those same stretches—the packraft is easier on the feet, requires fewer calories, and is faster than bushwhacking along the river banks. And, third, the packraft opens up new route opportunities, because without a raft I'm very limited in how far and where I can go—I'd be boxed in by uncrossable bodies of water.

Alaska-Yukon Expedition: Humbled by the Alaskan Spring

Follow adventurer Andrew Skurka as he skis, hikes, and rafts 4,720 miles through eight national parks, two major mountain ranges, and some of North America's wildest rivers in Alaska and the Yukon from March to October. Read his blog updates here.

The Alaskan wilderness has brought me to tears twice on this trip, both times while talking on the phone with my mother from a "safe" location where being emotional has no serious consequences.

My first tears were shed in Unalakleet, Mi 281, after enduring continuously for two weeks the brutal combination of coastal wind and Arctic cold, and the associated stress of always being just one mistake away from death. I was recently brought to tears again, on the porch of a Glenn Highway convenience store, Mi 1402, my emotions rubbed raw and thin after skiing 600 miles across the Alaska Range in the peak of variable springtime conditions.

Alaska-Yukon Expedition: It's On, Mother Nature. Bring It.

Posted from Delta Junction, Alaska

In an earlier post, "Becoming a Lean, Mean Adventuring Machine," I identified a "go big or go home" moment as part of the hardening process. I finally had that moment, a few weeks ago in the western Alaska Range (as predicted), and I'll share it now.

The western Alaska Range between Roan Roadhouse and Cantwell was my first significant off-trail portion and my first long stretch without town stops. It's rugged country even by Alaskan standards. It features big mountains, big glaciers, serious weather, and no local help if something goes wrong. Look at a map—there's NOTHING between Nikolai and the seasonal Wonder Lake Campground. "Just go downhill" is not sage bailout advice. My planned route was 280 roadless miles, which I made logistically possible by having two caches brought in beforehand (one by plane, another by dog team). The terrain included enormous braided river bars (which in early April are still covered with ice), tundra-covered 4,000-foot benches just to the north of Mount McKinley, textbook Interior taiga forests and tussocks, and the debris-covered terminal moraines of Straightaway, Foraker, and Peters glaciers.

Alaska-Yukon Expedition: The Modernization of Life in Rural Alaska - Is it Sustainable?

Follow adventurer Andrew Skurka as he skis, hikes, and rafts 4,720 miles through eight national parks, two major mountain ranges, and some of North America's wildest rivers in Alaska and the Yukon from March to October. Read his blog updates here.

April 1, Day 19, Mile 500.8
Posted from Ruby, Alaska

To travel between Kotzebue and the Alaska Range, I'm using snowmachine trails, which are hands-down the most practical way to get around terrain that is either swampy and buggy or covered in snow and ice. The snowmachine trails "connect the dots" of bush villages in rural Alaska. These villages are not connected to a road system and have populations of 100 to 1,000 (mostly of indigenous origin). Basic services include a school, health clinic, post office, small store, and airstrip. While the passing through villages such as Buckland, Kaltag, and Ruby a few times a week has hindered the "wilderness" aspect of this trip so far, it's provided a different kind of redeeming experience and learning.

These villages are in a period of tremendous transition. The eldest of elders grew up very differently than today's village youth. They used dog teams instead of snowmachines, poled up the Yukon instead of using motorized boats, rotated among seasonal camps—each optimized for the hunting and gathering of the particular season—instead of residing year-round in one place. They heated their homes with wood instead of oil and hauled their water from the local river instead of having a village-wide water/sewer system. Village life today may be simple, but it's shockingly modern. Homes have flat-screen TVs and X-Boxs. Cheerios and Fruit Loops can be found at the village store ($7 a box) and powerful snowmachines and 4-wheelers are parked at every house (fueled by $5 a gallon gas). Teenagers wear Under Armour clothing. Children get picked up at state-of-the-art schools by parents on snowmachines. (I guess that even Alaska has seen the disappearance of schools that are ten snow-covered miles away, uphill, both ways.)

Alaska-Yukon Expedition: Just 4,600 Miles to Go? How to Stay Motivated

Follow adventurer Andrew Skurka as he skis, hikes, and rafts 4,720 miles through eight national parks, two major mountain ranges, and some of North America's wildest rivers in Alaska and the Yukon from March to October. Read his blog updates here.

The Enormity of the Task - Posted From Koyuk, Alaska, on Saturday, March 20

A few hours out of Buckland things felt like they were really coming together. It was calm, sunny, and in the high-10's—ideal Nordic skiing temps. My kick-and-glide rhythm felt expert-like compared to when I skied out of Kotzebue 100 miles earlier. For the first time on this trip, my mind began to drift, namely to all the challenges ahead: skiing through the Alaska Range in a few weeks, pushing through the Wrangell's early-season, doing successive 300-mile stretches between resupplies in northern Yukon and the Brooks Range. And more.

The enormity of the task at hand quickly became overwhelming, pretty much impossible. What ever made me think this trip was feasible?

Because, when reduced to its smallest increment—a kick and glide, a footstep, a paddle stroke—this trip is feasible. The math works out. If I do about 25 miles a day for 6.5 months, I cover about 4,700 miles, including some rest days in there. If I focus on the short-term challenges—the next hill, the next overflow-covered creek crossing, the nose-numbing crosswind—and keep on plugging away at this trip in those small increments, eventually I will make it. And finally then I can stop and appreciate the true enormity of this experience.

Alaska-Yukon Expedition: What's in My Pack? A Guide to Ultralight Backpacking

Today adventurer Andrew Skurka begins an ambitious, seven-month expedition that will take him 4,720 miles across Alaska and the Yukon by skis, foot, and raft. Follow his blog dispatches here and his tweets via twitter.com/andrewskurka.

The contents of my pack are almost entirely need based. During this trip, my legitimate needs will include staying hydrated and nourished, keeping my body temperature regulated, and traveling efficiently and safely over the land–snow-covered tundra, glacier-fed rivers, and dense alder forests. I can think of only one item, my camera, which can be classified as a “want.” This Spartan approach to packing is easily explained: carrying more stuff means more work, and work, well, it’s generally not very fun.

The weight of an item is a major consideration in whether it makes the final cut, for there is an indisputable correlation between pack weight and the quality of one’s experience. But it’s not the only factor I consider–particularly on a trip like this, which will be hard on gear and has relatively few opportunities to replace things. Durability and versatility are also of great value. My RidgeRest Deluxe Solar sleeping pad is a case in point. It’s warmer for its weight than any inflatable pad, it won’t puncture, and, come springtime, I can cut it in half to make a suitable three-season pad.

Best New Trips in the World: Biking, Kayaking and Rafting in the Bitterroot Mountains of Idaho and Montana

For our annual Adventure Travel issue, we scoured the globe to find the 25 Best New Trips in the World for 2010, complete with a Best Trips photo gallery. Today, we present Idaho and Montana. The world's far corners are now well within reach.

IDAHO + MONTANA: Bitterroot Bonanza

As the co-owner of ROW Adventures, Peter Grubb has spent the better part of the past three decades scouting trips around the world. But until recently, he had all but ignored his own backyard, the Bitterroot Mountains straddling the Montana-Idaho border. He wasn’t the only one—very few outfitters lead trips here. And yet, the 10,000-foot peaks’ boulder fields and U-shaped valleys are loaded with lakes, hot springs, wildlife (lynx, bald eagles, wolves), and a rich history (Native Americans, fur traders, and Lewis and Clark all came through here). On ROW’s new Bitterroots Multisport trip, you’ll cycle the 50-mile Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes along the old Milwaukee Railroad line, kayak an alpine lake, raft the Clark Fork River’s Class III rapids, and bike over train trestles spanning deep canyons on the Hiawatha Trail.

Click here to continue reading "Best New Trips in the World: Idaho + Montana"