My family were Pioneers. Not the Gold Rush pioneers, but my dad was still considered a “sourdough” to the locals. He moved to Alaska in 1949, when the Alcan Highway was barely more than a dirt track, and everyone hunted, fished, gardened and berry picked to “put up” enough food for the families for the winter.
The best part of every trip back to Alaska is spending a long weekend in the woods…but we’re more civilized now than when I was growing up and sleeping in tents.
The cabin was built by my brother and his wife on some property owned by her family up the Goodpasture River about 100 miles south of Fairbanks. Only way to reach the cabin is about a 45 minute boat ride from a landing on the Tanana River near Delta Junction. Theirs is the new cabin. I’m sorry to say I didn’t take any pictures of the “old” cabin, built in the early 70’s by my sister-in-law’s grandfather.
So, instead of tents, we spend our nights in cabins heated by fireplaces, but the days are spent outdoors fishing for grayling, chopping wood, having meals cooked over the campfire. The most relaxing weekend of our too-long summer vacation. I don’t think I could ever get tired of being there, and I can’t say how much it means that my lovely sister-in-law and her family shares this beautiful place with the rest of us.