Riding the Alaska Rail Road’s Denali Star train from Fairbanks to Talkeetna was even better than I expected that it would be. What a civilized way to travel: complete relaxation and the ability to write, stretch one’s legs, etc. I didn’t even have to remove my shoes or be herded through any security stations by self-important people with bad hair. The seating was fantastic, with lots of leg room and the ability to recline to near flat. Furthermore, the view is better than from the highway. The staff wore smart-looking uniforms and conducted themselves professionally. Unlike most airlines, they narrate as the train passes significant landmarks.
Initially, the landscape consisted of large rolling hills colored with the dark and light green of alternating Sitka spruce, birch, and Aspen stands. We passed a freight train carrying oil, lumber, and steel, then learned that an oil refinery near North Pole, AK (not the real North Pole) is the RR’s biggest customer. Next was a town called Happy that didn’t look happy at all. Not far from Fairbanks, we made our way past Ester, whose population during the gold rush was 15,000. Now it is home for around 1,600 people due primarily to its great micro climate that moderates the temperature at least 20 degrees compared to its ugly neighbor Fairbanks.
There were still snow pockets on the ground in low-lying places and thousands of small lakes ponds dotting the landscape along this route due to perma-frost. The soil remains frozen, so the water can’t be absorbed into the ground. We saw some moose here in the marshes as the train moved slowly along. Between RR cars, you can stick your head out into the cool spring morning air or take pictures unobstructed by window glass. One can walk the entire train, with the exception of the baggage cars, to the front near the engine and the Holland-America Cruise Lines cars in the back. The package tour/cruise set up is very expensive, formal, and regimented (read set meal and report times). These operators take great pains to ensure that their customers remain completely isolated from the land and people that they think they are experiencing.
I made my way to the snack bar and had a $2 cup of Folders coffee. The windows here stretch from ceiling to floor, offering an even better view than in the dome cars. Don’t pay extra for a dome-car seat. They are nice, but, honestly, there really is nothing to see looking straight up. I lingered here, chatting with some of the crew, and enjoyed the expanded view as we passed by Nenana, home of the annual spring ice break up gambling event, and Clear Air Force Station, which was one of the original ballistic missile defense radar sites circa 1950s.
Ferry, the next town we passed, is divided by the Nena River. When this RR bridge was built, the residents started driving their cars across. The RR tried to stop them by installing spikes. In turn, the residents put boards on top of these and continued with their commute. Animosity still exists, and the good residents of Ferry manifest their frustration every July 4th by mooning the train in mass.
Now, in my window, the peaks of the Alaska Range loom ever larger, shrouded in clouds. We pass Healy, which has the highest per capita income in the US, averaging $60k per year. They either work at the coal mine, Denali National Park, or the large power plant that’s also here to burn the coal. The river canyon, through which we pass here, is beautiful. Looking down, we see rafters, kayakers, and Dall sheep posed stoically on the hill side. Regretfully, we only had a brief stop at Denali National Park. Leaving DNP, we passed through a beautiful area called Carlo, then through Broad Pass. At elevation of 2,300 feet, this is the lowest pass through the Rockies anywhere, but was blanketed in deep snow with frozen lakes and barren of trees.
The train switched crews with its northerly headed counterpart near Honolulu Creek—named by a miner dreaming of a warmer place. From there on, I had the train car to myself. A fellow strolled by and said I was just like Elvis with my own car. We were on a high RR bridge now. Below was Hurricane Gulch, aptly named for the 90mph winds that whistle through the 296-foot canyon underneath. Thirty minutes out from Talkeetna, we saw a mass of beaver damns and lodges. No beavers, but, at long last, we reach Talkeetna. This was my first leg of travel on the RR, and, come to find out, the least scenic of the three. No one could have convinced me of that at the time.