The Alaska Railroad slices up the middle of the state like a bolt of blue-and-yellow lightning, into the belly of a place that is camera-ready and bountiful beyond belief.
The rail line begins in the little seaport of Seward, chug-a-lugs up to Anchorage, past Denali National Park and Preserve and finally to Fairbanks, an almost 500-mile jaunt of day trips throughout Alaska’s short, short summer.
Why the train? Because, unless you’re a moose or have moose tendencies, parts of the 49th state are accessible only by rail.
Why the train? Well, does your rental car come with a bartender? Or a fresh-faced young tour guide? The train is also an affordable throwback — comfy, almost clubby, with way more wiggle room than a 737 and none of the flight crew psychosis.
Why the train? Because your dog sled is in the shop. Honestly, quit asking so many questions and climb aboard.
SCENIC SEWARD
This wet and snowy town was Russian soil until U.S. Secretary of State William H. Seward stole Alaska for a song in 1867. (Can you imagine the course of world events had he not?)
Today, Seward is a major cruise hub and the southernmost point of the state-owned rail line.
Tourists from the cruise ships hop aboard here, as do day-trippers down from Anchorage. About 6 p.m., I do, too, as the eight-car train pulls away from the little depot and curls its way north.
Right out of the chute, this is just the sort of dramatic scenery I’d always envisioned. I loved Alaska before I set foot here in June. I fell for its pictures, as if it were some sort of mail-order bride.
Never been? Imagine the state film director Peter Jackson would create had he a blank check: glaciers, waterfalls, gushing gorges and wildlife just everywhere.
“Black bear off to the right,” one of the train guides says.
Seats are assigned, but you’re free to roam the train to find a better spot or scout a better vantage point: window, dome car, the open vestibules between trains. Half a million passengers use the Alaska Railroad each year, but there is no crush for space on this trip. Even in coach, the cars are roomy and bright, with an elegant retro feel.
The railroad is known for its easy pace, stopping for animal sightings or glacier views. Mileposts mark the way and maps delivered by the teenage guides make it easy to plot your progress.
ANCHORAGE STOP
Just to be clear, the Alaska Railroad does not overnight anywhere. It makes a series of day trips. So I hop off at Anchorage to spend a day or two knocking about this town of 300,000 fleece-lined souls.
Anchorage, with about half the state’s population, is certainly its most urban city, but the downtown is steps away from salmon fishing and a sensational nature trail that wraps along the Cook Inlet.
I spend a morning in the modest downtown, checking out the gift shops and restaurants along Fourth Avenue. The free wooden trolleys stick to local businesses in town; the red trolleys, $15 for an hourlong tour, give you a wider view of the city.
Half an hour south of town is another only-in-Alaska venue. At a sensational turnout called Bird Point, you’ll find rare bore tides, a breaking wave that rushes up an inlet in places with extreme tidal changes. There are only 60 places in the world with bore tides and only a few that are as dramatic as this — on an arm of the Cook Inlet, surrounded by mountains. Whales sometimes follow the tide and seals frolic in the waves.
ON TO DENALI
North we go, like a lovesick salmon.
This next run, Anchorage to Denali National Park, is strikingly different from the Seward leg — flatter, with thick forests of birch and spruce. The state’s quirky history is laid out before you here, and it’s easy to get a sense of how settlers spread north in search of gold, solitude, coal and adventure.
Across an arm of the Cook Inlet, you’ll spot Mount Susitna, the “Sleeping Lady.” The inlet itself is hemmed with mud flats — glacial silt. Think of this as wet concrete. Stay off the flats, the locals say. If you get stuck there, you’ll drown in the raging tides.
After an eight-hour trip, we’re nearing Denali, nesting spot of Mount McKinley.
Every time I enter one of America’s popular parks, I am reminded that we are primarily a nation of weenies, except for you and me, and I’m not so sure about you sometimes. Our suitcases are on wheels and so are we. Most of us would rather ride a bus into a national park than walk its incredible trails.
But I’m not one to criticize. The result of all our sedentary tendencies is a series of modestly confusing tour-bus choices for Denali: reservations 800-622-7275, www.reservedenali.com.
The ultimate tour of the park — besides on foot — is to climb aboard one of the planes or small helicopters. A company called Era runs helicopter tours of the park from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.: www.flightseeingtours.com, 800-843-1947. The trips start at more than $300 — more than you paid to ride coach on the entire Seward-to-Fairbanks rail route ($224).
ON TO FAIRBANKS
Just after 4 p.m., the engineer thumbs the horn, pushes a lever and the 4,300-horsepower locomotive eases out of the station, pointed toward the Arctic Circle.
The scenery is lush. Mountains give way to meadows and thick rolling forest. Off to the right is the Nenana River, dashing alongside the train for the first hour or two out of Denali. About 300 yards away, a large moose plows through a lake.
The train snakes its way out of Denali past the little coal mining town of Healy. This stretch of track calls for low speeds and caution.
For this final part of our journey, I have booked the GoldStar Service, the railroad’s first-class section. It turns out to be mostly unnecessary because coach travel is almost as big and grand.
The big draw for GoldStar: Passengers are seated in the upper-level dome car, and the dining car and bars are closer. For my money, book in coach and devote the $200 savings to a copter ride or a rafting trip in Denali.
END OF THE LINE
Fairbanks is the first disappointment of the trip. I find little to do, and a significant part of the population appears to be descendants of Santa Claus, with billowy white beards worn as neckwear.
So, knowing what I know now, here’s how I’d schedule my Alaska Railroad adventure:
Fly into Fairbanks and catch the first train south.
Stop for two days in Denali.
Reboard for Anchorage and stop there for a day or two.
Finish up with the wondrous Anchorage-to-Seward run, saving the best scenery for last.
A ticket on the Alaska Railroad is a ticket into Alaska. You can’t really miss, no matter what the itinerary.
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