Fairbanks February

February 6-16th, 2026

Background

Kevin and Riley are our best friends from college, who we had many foundational adventures with but who had to immediately move away post-graduation for Kevin's job in the Army. For nearly 7 years we've managed to stay in touch and have seen each other occasionally, but until now we had failed to visit them in their previous homes of Seoul, South Korea and Enterprise, Alabama, blaming limited budgets and conflicting priorities. They are fabulous people - energetic and creative, thoughtful and hilarious, who made the best of each of these locations. But when their home became Alaska a year ago, we knew we had to stop saying we would visit them "someday".

We bought tickets to spend 10 days of June there, which would've likely been a Brooks Range packraft trip. But due to Joelle's injury we had to cancel. Eager to not delay any further than necessary, we began thinking of a winter trip. I had never previously thought I would visit Alaska in proper winter, but hearing them rave about their experience last year compelled us to try it, and compelled Daniel even more. We decided on a February trip for a combination of daylight, snow conditions, and weather - the latter of which were obviously unknown, but hopeful. 

Joelle and I drove to 75 degree Phoenix and flew together late into a Thursday night, Daniel took a different flight but met us there. At this point, it had been 23 months since a storm had given Flagstaff more than a couple of inches of snow. This was turning out to be the warmest winter I could remember, not just in Arizona, but across the entire western US. Snow felt like a distant memory. The timing of our trip felt supreme - we needed a winter vacation! 

Day 1

Kevin and Riley picked up the three of us at the airport after midnight, and despite the stoke of our friend reunion, we all managed to fall asleep for six more hours. We casually repacked for our first activity - two nights at the Lower Angel Creek Cabin in the upper Chena river.

My new toy - or rather, obsession - for this trip was a real camera. The Lumix GH5 arrived alongside my 14-140mm lens the day before we left Flagstaff. I intended to use it primarily for video, but on this trip decided to commit to photos to learn the basics of manual controls. I quickly became fascinated with capturing every little moment in a way that feels more interesting than a smartphone and was never bored again.

As a result, my photo quality throughout this seems to vary wildly, and I like to think they get better towards the end. I learned a lot about exposure and focus, often at the cost of capturing a moment with any hint of beauty. After hours of trying to find a software for my aged computer, I gave up on trying to color-edit the RAWs for this trip. Maybe next time.

We drove an hour on the snow-packed, frost-heaved Chena River Road. After a pleasant drive, within five minutes of the trailhead the Accord began blowing left and right. Trees swayed in heavy wind. Gearing up in the open parking lot, the -10 temps no longer felt so nice; I was worried. Luckily, the Angel Creek snowmachine trail entered the trees promptly, and we never again felt wind on the entire trip.

We skied the flat 4 miles to the cabin at a very casual pace, moving just the right amount stay comfortable in the cold. Our skis and poles squeaked along the frigid hardpack, a constant source of noise with a larger impact than I expected. Frequent breaks helped us enjoy the quiet. 

The Chena mountains were covered mostly with sparse, small spruce and birch forest - as seemed to be ubiquitous in the Interior. In the flat light of our day, the scenery felt appropriately subarctic. Not too showy, not too flashy. Pretty, but simple.

We arrived at the cabin to find less firewood than we expected. Kevin said that they've never had a shortage of wood because snowmachine groups tend to generously leave more. But perhaps because this cabin was close to the road - or more likely because it is the largest public use cabin in the Borough, with two rooms and a giant stove (with only a small cooking flat on top) - there was no wood. Luckily Kevin always brings an emergency bundle in his sled, but all this is to say our next activity was wood collection.

Our only option was to find a nearby standing dead tree, which wasn't a problem. The problem arose as we approached it. Daniel, walking in front, asked Kevin "So all this is ice underneath, right?"

"Yep"

"So if you can't see it, how do you know it's strong enough?"

"Oh it's solid. At this point in the season you know, it's been so cold for so long. It's just beaver ponds, it froze thick before the snow even arrived."

"But maybe don't walk so fast, you can always slow down and lis..."

It wasn't a full immersion, luckily. He was out of the water before he realized he fell in, stemming between the ice edges and climbed out. Being that we had a warm room 100 yards away we all laughed uncontrollably at the situation.

Compared to seemingly all of my outdoor pals, I'm not as enamored with the idea of backcountry huts and cabins. Being self-sufficient and outside for all hours of the day are things I love most about my usual trips. Even in this dark and frozen landscape, I was already feeling a call to move through it with a super lofty sleeping bag. Getting wood is a lot of work.

But damn, when it's  -15 and dark at six, it sure is nice to sit around a table and spend a few more hours not just awake, but laughing.

Day 2

Gradually and quietly we wake up, the stove cold but everyone toasty warm in 20 degree sleeping bags.

So that we could get out of town promptly, Kevin and Riley had done an amazing job of preparing food for our weekend. In some ways the cold makes this easy. Our curry the night before was cooked in a pot, placed outside to freeze, then packed in their hauling sled, then put directly on top of the stove. Same with their veggie sausage gravy, which was delicious.

After lunch we went for a ski further up the valley. This was fun, but Joelle was still in a lot of pain - this being her ankle's first time doing the kick-and-glide since her injury. We went back after a couple miles and got to work processing some wood.

The rest of the group soon came back and we stocked the cabin well with trees we had harvested and hauled back, which was now a total of five. The wood-gathering was going so well that I began to think "man, living in a dry cabin in the Alaska is pretty easy!". But then dinnertime came, and I was reminded all of our food came from the grocery store. Not sure how to do without that...

The sky cleared as it darkened, and the temperature plummeted. Dessert for both nights was apple pie with vanilla ice cream, an addition that would melt on most trips but which tonight had to be warmed up.

Seeing and photographing the aurora was an obvious goal this trip and, unsure how many opportunities I would get, I happily set my alarm for 1am. We decided that if I felt they were worth seeing I'd wake the others.

At this point, I had yet to even figure out which direction to turn the focus ring on my lens. Luckily I figured it out pretty quickly. Admittedly, no color was visible to the naked eye, only faint gray shapes. That was my criteria to decide to let everyone sleep. The thermometer next to me read negative 30. But I was psyched - I stayed out there in my light down clothing for an hour. 

I got to learn firsthand how quickly the aurora moves, and that 60-second exposures blurred the stars. As the sky got less interesting, my pictures got sharper. I had a great time, just doing what I could with my limited gear and knowledge.

Day 3

We woke up, ate, and packed lazily to ski out. The sun, which had risen an hour ago, shone directly on the porch. Blue sky. 35 below.

I had so far been impressed with the comfort of the negative-teens, and would stay that way. But the 30s felt different. For our purposes, it seemed these were the temperatures where exposed skin was sort of painful, and eyelids froze shut briefly with each blink (fortunately not painful). Goggles would help for sure, but throughout this entire trip I remained confused about how one is supposed to wear glasses and a face mask at the same time. Fog would freeze on my lenses instantly.

After a half-mile I realized I'd forgotten my thermometers and skied back, moving quickly to catch up with Joelle. I got a little too warm, but it was okay. I think that going from hard, sweaty effort to full rest would bring hypothermia, but I was able to dry out easily without getting too cold when my pace moderated again. It was a beautiful day, and we plodded along without much talking besides the occasional "are you still okay?"

In cold weather, I often feel comfortable except for a single digit at a time. "My left big toe is really cold, ", I reply, "Otherwise good."

15 minutes later - "Yep, just can't feel my right middle finger, but I'm sure it'll warm up soon". It does.

And when all 20 were good - "Why are my thighs the coldest part of me? That doesn't make sense!". But it kind of did. They're big muscles, but that was the thinnest/tightest part of my entire outfit.

Joelle's chronically terrible circulation was a worry going into this trip. But she was generally operating at a higher heart rate, and as a result never said she felt too cold.

Back at the parking lot, we were relieved when both the Accord and Tacoma started. We had intentionally brought both of them because of the forecast, and Kevin had a Mr. Buddy heater we could use to heat the bathroom and engine bays, a plan to flag down passing cars on the well-traveled road, then a friend on standby to text for help if all else failed. At -20F battery power becomes a concern, and at -40F oil pans begin to freeze. More developed parking lots have electrical plug-ins to prevent these issues, but fortunately we had no trouble. 

Our next stop was Chena Hot Springs resort. Kevin didn't think I would want to go because it's a tourist mecca and costs money, but our friend Keegan had said he helped design and build their geothermal greenhouse. Regardless, a hot spring sounded amazing, and when I found out our trailhead was just 10 minutes away I knew we had to make time for it!

My expectations for the hot spring were way off. I thought the water would keep the surrounding air warm, but nope! Our wet hair would freeze solid in minutes. I also thought their would be views. Nope! Very foggy. The pool was huge and we soaked for over an hour - it was amazing. Unfortunately we missed the greenhouse because it was by tour only, sorry Keegan!

Back home at a very reasonable hour, we were treated to yet another amazing meal of pitas with homemade falafel!

Day 4

Everyone but Daniel and I had to work for three days, so we had some free time with undefined plans. Luckily, late winter around Fairbanks itself has a plethora of options for activity. In fact, I was becoming convinced it may be the best time of year here. It lacked the mud and sketchy ice of spring, mosquitoes of summer, rain of fall, and deep cold darkness of winter. This January had seen the coldest continuous period since 1979 - 29 days straight that stayed below negative 15F, the final week of which remained below negative 31F.

Of course, it was cold again today, but we were happy to experience some cold. With the 600ft Birch Hill just 4 minutes aways, Kevin said he skins laps "every day before work". It's always hard to tell exactly how much hyperbole he's using, but it sure keeps life exciting! Daniel and I woke up with him and to hit the slopes in the dark.

It was 20 below, and although our effort pushed me to the brink of sweating, all my fingers stayed bad cold. "Ball your hands", Kevin recommended. Nearing the top of the hill, I made fists inside my gloves. It totally worked! They instantly felt revived, hot and ready for the transition.

After breakfast, Kevin hooked us up with cheap fat bike rentals from the Army rec center, which nobody uses on weekdays. He recommended we check out a10 mile loop in the Rosie Creek area, an awesome complex of snowmachine-packed trails.

Kevin and Riley had both described this loop as "SUPER pretty". I didn't disagree in the slightest, but I did have to recalibrate my expectations again. We were in tree tunnels the whole time, there were no long views.

But it was another gorgeous bluebird day, with beams of the low-angle sun shining through the white trees. Still cold - we had to ask for pogies and they were an extra $5. I can't imagine who would want to go without!

At the end we had to ride across a beaver pond which had a bunch of open water nearby. Very confidence inspiring.

On our way home we stopped to bike some more miles on the massive Tanana, heading for the Chena confluence to catch a view south. It was covered in trails of all kinds, many of which went right past or over old cracks in the ice. There were pressure ridges, blocky piles, and small cliffs. At least I hoped they were old! We were both feeling pretty spooked about traveling on ice, so we kept moving and I didn't take any pictures.

We got lucky with our timing and saw the peaks of the Alaska range towering above a layer of cloud. I couldn't photograph the scale, but in person it was palpable, even from 88 miles away. They looked even steeper than I had expected, and were 13,000ft above us.

As we loaded bikes onto the car, we heard a loud haunting sound echo across the river from the direction we had come. It reminded me of an elk bugle, but deeper. "Moose?", Daniel suggested. The sound generously repeated itself a few times. I hypothesized it was ice shifting.

Meanwhile, Kevin came home from work and took Joelle to see the neighboorhood moose:

Soon we headed out again for an hour on the lit trails at the top of Birch Hill. Ever since I heard about lit nordic ski trails I've thought it sounded dreamy, and it was! This was by far our fastest-paced ski - it felt like going for a run, but way more exciting!

Then it was time for another exquisite dinner of kimchi fried rice, and to see some cold air tricks. It was only 20 below, but that was cold enough for boiling water to instantly sublimate and for bubbles to sit frozen on the deck until morning.

Day 5

I'd had a busy week with little sleep prior to our late-night flight, and following that with nonstop activity and social time had me pretty tired. We took a slow morning to catch up on life and support Joelle, who had to start work at 6am each day.

Daniel and I were about to leave at noon when Kevin came home for lunch and entertained us for an hour. Then we drove 30 minutes to Ski Land, the furthest north chairlift in America.

Like Birch, Ski Land is only open on weekends and otherwise allows human-powered travel. This works out well for Kevin and Riley, who take advantage of the clearcut slopes to launch paragliders year round. Untreed hills are uncommon in the Interior.

While Ski Land is a bit further away then Birch, it's much better. The runs are 1000ft and properly steep. We had enough fun to ski three laps on the chalky slopes. The trees still held old untouched powder from weeks ago, but it was getting rotten.

For the entirety of our 3-hour visit, it was sunset. We took long breaks at the top to gaze north at the White Mountains, which being a bit higher and closer to the arctic circle, matched their name.

As a rare upside-down ski area, the small parking lot is at the top of the lift, so we ended our session with a climb.

To me the most interesting facts on the 800-mile pipeline were the rates of development. Oil was discovered on the north slope of Alaska in 1968. Construction didn't begin until 1975, but oil was flowing just two years later in 1977. 

Less than 9 years total. I'm used to projects of this scale moving slowly, but was reminded that's only because we make them move slowly. When big money is allowed to have its way, things can happen fast. This makes me very worried for the fate of recently approved projects like the nearby Ambler Road. A road can be built much faster than a pipeline if it is allowed to be.

Back at home, we finally contributed something by making enchiladas for dinner, for which Riley had already planned and bought the ingredients. While they baked, it was back to Birch Hill for some sled laps. Their manicured sled runs are made for their inflatable tubes, but with hard sleds we were able to go much faster. I was pretty timid, as usual, and only got to 27mph but I know Kevin and Daniel went faster.

Day 6

This was our biggest rest day of the trip - we had another slow morning and our only activity was dogsledding in the afternoon. This potentially once-in-a-lifetime experience came highly recommended from Kevin and Riley, who had been multiple times with Kaycee, the badass owner of GOAT Project. 

We drove 30 minutes northwest of town to her home on a quiet road. A home, which, in other circumstances would itself be called quiet. But the 27 resident Huskies prevent that description.

As we walked in a few dogs came charging towards us, barking loudly, looking scary. But Huskies are friendly dogs, and they were instantly leaning on our legs, happily accepting affection. 

They calmed down as we got ready in the warming hut, but when it was time to hook up the sled they lost their minds:

To say the dogs love to run is an understatement. Their bodies and minds are honed to pull sleds up to 30 miles a day. They run around the yard all day, but they don't want to miss their last chance to join a real mission. Not that ours was very "real" - it was a little over three miles.

The dogs that are chosen cry out in excitement, the dogs that aren't cry out in yearning. But we only needed 12.  Once we start moving, they go quiet and are completely focused. Joelle sat comfortable in front of Kaycee who mushed our sled, I rode along behind, standing and taking photos. Eight dogs pulled us easily, Daniel followed mushing his own team of four.

With the temperature a lovely +18F, Daniel's breath no longer froze his beard, which was good because he was smiling constantly. I had a fun ride too, as we bounced along at 6-12mph I frantically shot over 400 photos - a few of which were pretty good!

We stopped in an open area by the railroad for a while and Kaycee answered many of our burning questions. I found out that for Daniel, this may not end up being a once in a lifetime experience - he had read an entire book about dogsledding in preparation for the trip and was pretty obsessed with it! Could this be his entire life in five years? Maybe 40?

The ride was short, but we felt lucky that Kaycee was in no hurry to get rid of us. We lingered for an hour asking questions about dogs, dogsledding, and her life. I did the math and realized the cash we paid her would only buy 3 days of dog food. We also learned their paws have excellent bloodflow and can stay warm in the coldest weather, so they only wear boots when it's too warm to prevent snow sticking. Their optimal operating weather is below zero, on our ride they were eating snow on the go to cool down.

Kaycee knew all of the dogs names well, which was impressive but made sense when she compared herself to a school teacher. Cooler was that she knew each of their distinct voices, and I was amazed that when they bickered she would instantly know whose fault it was and who to yell at.

We learned that the lone small white dog was the grandma of the pack - she was the oldest but still totally capable. Most of the dogs have her genetics, but none are small and white.

She told us that in the summer she runs a fishing boat in Bristol Bay, and she supplements her winter tour income (and dog entertainment) by managing a trap line on the south slope of the Brooks Range.

One final fun fact about Kaycee and the dogs is that they just finished a month of filming for an upcoming show that if I remember correctly is called "Wild Women of Alaska".

Ice Sculptures

We were sad that the first day of Fairbanks' famous ice sculpture festival was the day after we flew home. Fortunately, we had 30 minutes to spare on our way to pick up Riley from work, and Joelle spotted a the fairground as we drove by!

Day 7

It was now time to drive to a completely different region of Alaska for our second cabin trip. Byers Lake is a very desirable destination off the Parks Highway, and we were able to get a reservation three months in advance by choosing Thursday and Friday nights. 

We drove south for hours towards Cantwell, crossing over the Tanana and following the Nenana towards Broad Pass.

The mountains began to take us in gradually and we stopped often to get real views. All five of us were packed into the Accord and it was hard to see much on the go.

As we began descending the south side of the range Kevin, while driving, called out "Are those 'bous over there???" It took me a moment to realize 'bou was his own abbreviation of Caribou, and it took me until the car stopped to see them. Kevin and Daniel both have better-than-perfect vision, Joelle and I do not. The 'bous looked like little dots to my eyes.

I'm not caribou expert, but my understanding is the caribou here are part of a smaller subarctic herd that migrates to the south side of the Alaska Range in winter to enjoy the warmer temperatures. On our drive today the rainshadow of the Alaska Range could not have been more clear. It was positive 22F now and starting to snow, but the north slopes near Healy had been -10F and nearly snow-free, a frigid desert in comparison.

Not much later we arrived at the empty Byers Lake parking lot and geared up. All of the snow around Fairbanks was soft, but rotten. Kevin said it was over two months old. Here, the trail was buried in six inches of fresh from the night before. The difference was amazing.

Again we had beautiful soft light through the trees. The snow felt euphoric. I was very excited to be here.

After following the well marked ski trail for a mile, as directed, we realized we were supposed to turn and go down a road towards the lake. I might've realized earlier if I wasn't so mesmerized by... everything.

We all unloaded the sled at the picturesue cabin #3 and everyone got very busy settling in. But with 20 degree air, I was unable to figure out what I needed to do besides sit on the porch. It was dark inside and light outside.

Once again there was minimal wood and no axe. Kevin, Riley, and Daniel skied back to the car to get theirs and a few other forgotten items of great importance. I hardly even wanted a fire, I was content to sit outside with Joelle until dark.

Day 8

Our first task was cutting down a tree near the cabin for firewood. This place felt much more like a State Park, so I was not actually sure if we were allowed to, but assumed in Alaska there aren't many rules. Regardless, Kevin had finished felling it before anyone else even got our boots on.

We gained appreciation for how nice the axe, bow saw, and sawhorses were at the previous cabin when we realized how bad Kevin's were. Processing the tree was rather terrible. When we more or less gave up halfway through, we ate a quick lunch and it was time for the more important task of the day: a longer ski to the south.

With how much pain Joelle had been in on days 2, 3, and 4 I was unsure if she would even make it back up the hill near the cabin today. She had another surgery at the beginning of this year, so we weren't totally sure how her ankle would perform during this trip. But perhaps due the the snow quality, or to the painkiller she took, but more optimistically because her ankle was getting better ar skiing - she was fine for the whole outing.

It was totally cloudy, but that opened up opportunity to focus on some microviews.

And listen to a flock of birds:

The snow was so nice that not even nordic nerds were scared of a few death-defying descents!

We skied 10k, and every minute was a good time.

Back to the cabin, we got the fire going but it soon seemed the sky was clearing. We needed to ski across the lake. Right now.

The sun shone on a few peaks and clouds floated past others. It was our best window of the day!

It was nice out so we looked at the map for a while. After determining that all the mountains we could see were only 4500ft, the clouds parted just enough that one of them, glowing in the sun, looked to have a very defined edge. By the time we all agreed it was definitely the summit of Denali, it was too late and I missed the shot. It still felt magical, impossibly high. I look forward to seeing it again.

Eventually it was time to head back. For everyone except me. I waited for them to get all the way across the lake as I watched the clouds flow over the peaks, mesmerized. And warm. But eventually I got bored and went home, too.

With a low around 20F, I decided to sleep outside on the deck. 

Day 9

The snow didn't wake me up, but after I went inside at 7:30 it got pretty heavy. Everyone else slept until 9:30 so Kevin and I sat silently at the table. I entertained myself just fine by pointing the camera at things I could see.

Then, after breakfast, packing, and taking our best group photos it was time to leave!

The exit was uneventful except for some gorgeous snowflakes in Joelle's hair!

Back at the parking lot we saw a couple with snowmachines heading in to replace us at the cabin, and they had some cute doodles:

Kevin drove us the long way back to Fairbanks through the blizzard conditions. The highway was remarkably bad for a while, then suddenly got better although we didn't see our first plow for a long time.

We picked up Thai food on our way home and had plenty of time to unpack, a pretty chill night for a trip ending on Saturday.

Day 10

High on our list for today was to skin laps at Birch in the daylight, to catch views of the Alaska Range. But it hadn't stopped snowing so we skied pow instead.

The snow was divine, about 6 inches, but the pitch of Birch Hill is only 10 degrees so we almost had to straightline.

After lunch we went back to the top of Birch for some nordic freshies. Joelle had to pass when we went on Monday because she was in too much pain, but this was her fourth day in a row and she did great! We even hit "roller coaster"!

Our last activity in Alaska! For Joelle and I, anyway. Daniel would have a 14 hour layover tomorrow in Anchorage, which was enough time to go out and about with friends who live there. This was a great way to end the trip!

We went back to the house and basically sat on the couch for five hours before heading to the airport at 11:30pm. Joelle and I arrived back in Phoenix at 11:30am, so we had the whole afternoon to drive home to Flag and unpack. I was exhausted so it was nice that it was pretty chill.

February in Alaska was awesome! Not sure what else to say because I probably already said it! 

Gear notes

I'm not going to go too deep because I'm not very experienced in this climate, but I have a couple highlights and lowlights. In general, it was very easy to stay warm, dry, and comfortable with fairly standard clothing. That being said, we were almost never inactive outside for more than a few minutes, or if it was around +20F.  If I was going to do a backcountry trip in this environment with more static time, I would want a thick down puffy large enough to layer over my active layers (mine is nice but 3-season). Better down pants (mine are from Amazon) would be nice if doing a lot of standing around, but they are hard don and doff so I might just try not to do that. And, of course, if camping I'd need a -40 sleeping bag (mine is nice but a +20).

Voile Objective BC Skis

I used these skis for the entire trip. I knew their versatility was cool, but the degree to which they performed in all situations blew me away. I did swap for Daniel's nordic setup on the exit from Byer's Lake, which didn't feel wildly faster or anything. I could almost always keep up with everyone on XC terrain, yet my scales gripped the best on the climbs. I could put skins on to climb the resort and lock my heels to shred. I have them mounted with ATK Trofeo bindings on threaded inserts, so they can be removed for travel (or really to fit in a packraft!). I used my Scarpa F1 Lt boots, and I was a bit worried that the lack of flexing in my foot would be a problem in the cold due to reduced bloodflow. But they were totally fine! Skiing classic nordic style with AT boots and bindings is a little different, but it still totally works. If anything, the more rigid boot helps control the skis. I never felt like I was close to falling over, but everyone else fell multiple times! Nordic boots obviously feel very light and flexible which is nice, but my AT boots are pretty damn light for what they are and have become very comfortable for me as well.

Arc'teryx Proton Lt Jacket

Or really, any active insulation jacket (Patagonie Nano-Air series also). I just happen to like this one because it's a good fit, weight, and I got it for half off in summer of 2020. This is my everyday jacket at home in the winter because it's so comfortable and provides a little bit of everything. I struggle to wear it during true (zone 2) cardio above +20F,  but use it often for light activity (zone 1) around freezing. In other words, it's Arizona role is either casually or for extreme weather. So it was a dream in Alaska because I could actually wear it all the time. The jacket alone was never too hot, but I usually wore it with my 120wt Alpha fleece underneath for super cold or lighter activity. 

The concept of these jackets is high-loft synthetic insulation sandwiched between two shells, but instead of windproof shells (like down jackets or the Atom), they are highly breathable. It's still much more water and wind-resistant than any fleece, but also excellent for staying dry. After so much use the fabric of mine is finally starting to lose it's strength, and 8 of my 10 patches are from this winter, many from tree contact. It's had a good run and when needed I'll certainly replace it with something similar, maybe two of different weights.

Softshell Pants

For five years my only ski pants have been some Mountain Equipment softshells and it's been excellent. They have side vents to skin that I don't use too often because they are breathable enough. I am positive that I would feel sweaty much more often if I wore waterproof pants, and I never get wet from snow, even on storm days. In Alaska I wore old Smartwool bottoms underneath everyday and that was good - on the -35F cabin exit I was very surprised that the coldest part of me was often my hips and thighs - same on parts of the fatbike ride. So maybe more insulation could've helped, and a looser fit, butin general I was happy. I didn't even bring anything waterproof to Alaska because there was no water, and I was happy with that decision, although Daniel's would've disagreed at Angel Creek.

Eyewear/mask

My biggest complaint: I was completely unable to figure out how people wear both in these temperatures. I even resorted to Googling it which was, of course, worthless. I felt lucky that the sun and wind were so gentle, because I could usually go without eyewear. I tried both Spy Waypoint goggles and my Julbo Camino sunglasses. I tried warming them up before putting them on, cooling them down before putting them on, didn't matter. If my nose and mouth were covered, breath would instantly freeze to my lenses. I felt like we were damn lucky that it was never bright or windy, but it would've been really nice to be able to wear these.

Now, I didn't always have my nose and mouth covered, but sometimes it felt essential. I tried both a full-on balaclava (Serius) with the nostrils open and holes over the mouth, and also a buff. It didn't seem to make a difference. Both kept my nose warm and my inhaled air warm/moisturized, which was really nice. Neither kept my ears warm well at all but I have hoods for that. And both, unfailingly, caused my eyewear to ice up instantly.