2 AM and the sky in Fairbanks is a soupy dusk. We’re driving through rolling land of stunted-looking spruce and aspen as far as the eye can see, the boreal forest, which Carrot is describing as “sometimes shitty looking but magical.” At least I think that’s what she called it. I’m exhausted and confused with the time difference and I’ve just slept for most of the plane ride here from Seattle. Apart from use for firewood and other traditional activities, this mystical forest is rather untouched because it’s not “good enough” for lumber. You can see it as you fly into Fairbanks: water, smooth boreal forest, rolling hills extending beyond sight. 

I meet Carrot and Gahl, one of the other members of this Brooks Range hike group, at the baggage claim in the Fairbanks airport. It is the weirdest and coolest feeling to be there with the two of them, after having met and talked with Gahl only on Zoom and WhatsApp and having read Carrot’s work for years. “Hi!” and hugs and grabbing my bag and heading off into the perma-twilight night. It looks just as magical as it feels, a surreal world to finally be here. 

Gahl and I chat on the drive. She’s a writer as well, but her specialty is fiction. She’s in the process of moving to the Bay Area because she has received the Wallace Stegner Writing Fellowship at Stanford. She’s got two kids, one nine and one six.

I feel immediately comfortable with these new people here in the not-quite-darkness.

Carrot drives us to her friend Allison’s house where we’re spending the night. They explain that a lot of houses in Fairbanks are dry, meaning that they have no running water or indoor plumbing. This is because Fairbanks experiences the most extreme temperatures of anywhere in the US. In the summer it’s often in the 90s, and in the winter it is well below freezing. Not having indoor plumbing saves you the headache of frozen pipes. “My friend’s house is a regular-ass house, though,” she says as we pull into the driveway. 

Carrot gives us a tour of the house, then we settle in for the night. Gahl and I are sharing a room and a bed. “Well, nice to meet you!” she says, and we laugh as we crawl under the covers and cover our eyes, because the light coming through the windows is like that of 6 AM at home and there would be no sleep otherwise. 

I still don’t really sleep that well. The bed is comfortable, and the temperature is comfortable, and my Melly over my eyes blocks out the light, but I always sleep weirdly the first night in a new place. Plus my body has no idea what time it is or what it’s supposed to be doing right now. I put on my Braiding Sweetgrass audiobook and listen to snippets, not quite awake but not quite asleep either. 

No matter. When the day actually turns to proper day I accept my fate, too excited to try to sleep any more. 

The morning is mostly chill talking at the kitchen table. I acquire coffee. I sit down. “Can I make you toad in the hole?” Carrot asks eagerly with a big grin. I accept. It’s delicious. Carrot Quinn making me breakfast. Alright! 

“What do you call it?” she asks me as I dig in. 

“Eggs in a nest.”

“An ex of mine used to call it ‘Dead Baby in a Shallow Grave.’ She was vegan.”

It’s tasty, whatever one calls it. Meanwhile Allison’s adorable dog Fern is wagging around the kitchen excitedly saying hello to everyone. I’m very okay with everything happening right now. 

Gahl, Carrot, and I—and Allison until she has to go to work—sit around the kitchen table talking for the longest time. I’m rereading One Hundred Years of Solitude because it’s what I assigned for summer reading for my AP Lit students this year. When I mention this there is an enthusiastic response. “That’s such a good book,” says Gahl. “I feel like that book informed so much of my life,” says Carrot. This launches us into a long and pleasant book ramble. We decide reading Márquez is like a dream. 

We sort out our food bags and packing strategies after that. Gahl is concerned that she has too much until she sees the enormous quantify of food that Carrot is bringing. Huge bags of chips, granola, nuts. My resupply this time round is not super inspired. Resupply is always my least favorite part of backpacking. I just have some sad couscous and ramen with a couple days of stuffing. But it’ll do. I can’t wait to get a few days in and have my supply finally start to go down. My pack is so unbelievably heavy but at least for now everything fits in my ursack.

Carrot goes to get the third and final member of our group, Chelsea, from the airport while Gahl reads and I take a nap. (There were two more, Rebecca and Toby, but unfortunately both of them are not feeling well and aren’t able to join.) I wake up suddenly when I hear them return and realize I’ve been on another planet for a short time. Chelsea is bubbly, grinning ear to ear, looking so happy to be here. We hug and start talking. She’s from Wisconsin, and she’s a photographer. She hiked the PCT in 2021 and is thrilled to experience Alaska. 

We go out for errands after that, first to REI and then to the grocery store to pick up some last supplies. On the way back Chelsea and I play Uno and then all of us play Green Glass Door. That doesn’t take long, but Carrot introduces a similar game called Umbrella Land. Gahl gets the rule immediately but Chelsea and I struggle for hours—until she eventually figures it out. 

Dinner is pan-grilled sockeye salmon that Carrot caught during their test fishing job for the Fish and Wildlife service, along with green beans, smashed potatoes, and salad with lettuce from Allison’s garden. It’s all so fresh and delicious. Fern makes rounds to each of us and eats the salmon skin from our plates appreciatively. 

After dinner we crowd around the TV in the guest room to watch Race to Survive: Alaska, one of those wilderness survival shows. It’s kind of entertaining that we’re watching this right before heading out into the Alaskan interior. It’s a way different landscape and there are tons of trees on the show and none in the Brooks Range, but still. Are we going to turn into these people way out there? Stay tuned. 

I sleep through most of the second episode we watch. It’s 10pm by the time we all decide to go to bed but still so light out. It’ll be even lighter up in the Brooks. Wild. Just wild. I’m so happy to be here.