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The award for the Bargain of the Millennium must surely go posthumously to American Secretary of State, William H. Seward, who in 1867 negotiated the purchase of Alaska from Russia for the astonishing price of $7.2 million: less than 2 cents per acre.

Alaska, “The Great Land”: at over 590,000 square kilometres the largest state in the USA, with three massive mountain ranges containing 17 of North America’s 20 highest mountains; 3 million lakes and fjords which provide the nesting ground for over 200 million birds; 34,000 miles of shore-line; 5,000 glaciers, one of which is larger than Switzerland. In the lush forested south-east, rainfall reaches 300 inches per annum. In the Interior, temperatures swing from a sizzling 90 degrees Fahrenheit to a bone-chilling minus 60; whilst on the Arctic tundra, an arid treeless plain, there is perpetual sunshine in summer but the sun doesn’t rise above the horizon for over 3 months in winter. The statistics roll on, in an endless overwhelming tide, but perhaps the most exciting of all is a human population of only 550,000 of whom over half live in Anchorage. Alaska is a limitless wilderness boasting 104 million acres of protected parks, reserves and forests. The State more than pays its way through income derived from oil, commercial fishing, tourism, mining and logging.

My first encounter with Alaska was a 2,000 mile expedition in winter to Cape Prince of Wales and Point Barrow, its westernmost and northernmost reaches. Travelling by dog-team, the frozen surface of the Tanana and Yukon Rivers were our icy highways through the trackless interior. There are few more rewarding experiences than driving a team of huskies through this vast land of mountains, spruce forests and endless silence. The rattle of the sled runners on the ice and the occasional shout of “gee” or “haw” to direct your lead dog, are the only intrusion as you glide across the snowbound terrain at the huskies’ relentless lope. Mushing presents the perfect image of man and dog in harmony, traversing this boundless and often hostile landscape.

From the remote outpost of Nome, a boom town established at the turn of the century when gold was discovered washing up on the beaches of the Bering Sea Coast, we continued by snowmobile northwards into the arctic. Storms raged for days on end, confining us to the safety of Inuit villages as the wind-chill plummeted to an intimidating minus 85F. We battled our way gradually northwards up the Chukchi Sea Coast and across the iron hard tundra of the barren North Slope to our final goal, Point Barrow on the edge of the Arctic Ocean.

Despite its hardships, that journey unveiled a land of unimaginable beauty and variety, with endless space that engendered a feeling of freedom I have not experienced elsewhere. Alaska showed itself to be wild, rugged, unforgiving - yet at the same time alluring and welcoming. I enjoyed the warmth of the hospitality in isolated Athabaskan Indian and Inuit communities.

That spring, I went with another group to climb Mt. McKinley, at 20,320 feet North America’s highest mountain. We flew deep into the Alaska Range, soaring over high passes before dropping down to land at 7,300 feet on the Kahiltna Glacier. Kahiltna Basecamp is surrounded by a sea of peaks with McKinley rising head and shoulders above all its neighbours. For the next two weeks we established a series of camps along the glacier and up the side of the mountain, moving on skis, roped together in twos and threes to protect ourselves from falling into hidden crevasses. Above 12,000 feet we transferred to crampons as we made our way up the West Buttress. Prone to sudden vicious weather and arctic conditions, Mt. McKinley is a serious mountaineering undertaking even on its easier routes. We experienced our share of adventures and dramas before putting three members of the team on the summit.

You do not need to be a mountaineer to enjoy Mt.McKinley. On a clear day it is plainly visible from the dining rooms of Anchorage’s five star restaurants, 200 miles to the south, where you can sit drinking in the views of the mountain rising above the Cook Inlet as you tuck into a gargantuan meal of king crab or salmon bake. For a closer view, there are guided tours into Denali National Park, a 6 million acre wildlife preserve over which McKinley towers supreme. From the roadside vantage points we had stunning views of McKinley’s commanding summit bathed in alpenglow and reflected in Wonder Lake. Bull moose weighed down by their huge racks browsed amongst belts of willow and spruce; a brown bear and her cubs ambled across the open taiga; we scrambled up a hillside to get photographs of Dall sheep with their majestic curled horns and watched as a lone wolf stalked a small herd of caribou. It is a naturalists paradise.

I had returned with my wife, eager to see Alaska’s more benign summer face. We began by renting a waterside cabin on a quiet beach a little way from Juneau in Southeast Alaska. From this tranquil base we explored Juneau and its environs. Scene of Alaska’s first major gold rush, the State capital retains much of the character of its colourful past, with wooden boardwalks, lively saloons and a busy harbour which plays host to Alaska’s many visiting cruise ships as well as local ship and float-plane traffic. We followed wooded trails through fields ablaze with wild flowers to climb up beside the Mendenhall glacier, and flew by float-plane to Admiralty Island to watch families of grizzly bears playing in the surf and fishing for salmon. The Alaska Marine Highway, the inexpensive State ferry system, spirited us up the Lynn Canal to Skagway a recreated gold-rush town at the foot of the Chilkoot Trail, and to Homer, where the Southeast Alaska Fair offered blue-grass bands, gold panning and axe throwing competitions.

Longing to get out into the wilds, we headed to Glacier Bay where we rented a sea kayak. Glacier Bay rates alongside Denali as one of Alaska’s prime National Parks. Sixteen tide-water glaciers carve into the sixty mile long bay. With tent, sleeping bags, stove and a week’s supplies crammed into the kayak’s watertight chambers we paddled into the wilderness. Every day provided fresh delights: bears foraging along the shore; moose watching us from the wood-line; puffins and murrelets looking down from their nests on the cliffs of many of the small islands; comical sea-lions clustering around our canoe; humpback whales cruising up and down, turning over in the water with a flick of their great forked tails. At the head of the West Arm, the Grand Pacific Glacier has a frontage over a mile wide, dwarfing even the massive cruise ships which venture up to marvel at nature in the raw. Icebergs split off from the towering ice-cliffs with deafening roars. At night we camped on secluded beaches beside beds of wild strawberries, and watched as the sun dropped behind the jagged fringe of snowbound peaks.

Exhilarated by this adventure, and eager for more, we flew to Bettles, a tiny village of 40 people deep in the Interior. Here we rented an inflatable canoe and chartered a Twin Otter to fly us into the Gates of the Arctic National Park. After a spectacular flight up into the Brooks Range, our pilot set us down on a shingle beach beside the North Fork of the Koyukuk River at the foot of Mts. Boreal and Frigid Crags, the so-called Gates of the Arctic. For a week we drifted leisurely downstream. It was August and the mountain sides were resplendent in Fall colours. One evening as we were washing in the river a splash made us look up. The tousled head of a grizzly bear peered back at us, as surprised to see us as we were to see him. Next day we climbed up one of the low lying hills to get a better perspective of the surrounding country. We came upon the shaggy primeval form of a musk-ox grazing in splendid isolation.

To many, Alaska conjures up images of an inhospitable hell, a land bound in ice for long dark winters and plagued by mosquitoes the size of small helicopters in summer. Undoubtedly it can be both of these, but for those who yearn to escape to true wilderness it has unlimited opportunities. Whether you want to travel in comfort or get closer to nature, trek to glaciers, canoe undisturbed waters, fish for the salmon that choke the rivers each summer, watch whales, walrus or bears or simply rent a backwoods cabin and try the frontier life, Alaska has it all. Not a bad buy for 2 cents an acre.

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