This image was taken by Sharon Leighow in her travels through Alaska. Can you tell us where you will find this view? Tell us on our Facebook page, Facebook.com/AlaskaMagazine
"This is crazy," murmurs Perry Mollan, lead guide of Katmai Wilderness Lodge. Here we are in Kukak Bay, about as wild as Alaska gets, and we're witnessing a scene straight out of Disney: a 400-pound brown bear and a red fox hanging around with each other. In all his years, Perry's never seen anything like it; Alaska photographer Carl Johnson and I are just as flummoxed.
On the cusp of the 20th century, some 100,000 prospectors flooded into the Yukon to strike it rich. There was gold up in the hills and people's eyes glittered with thoughts of prosperous lives. A few thousand did find gold. Most didn't. Some died trying to find it. Some lived and headed back south, empty-handed. Some stayed, made themselves a home and acquired land. On one such property, a decade or so later—1916 to be precise—someone planted a peony root.
If you fly three hours west out of Anchorage on a Sunday afternoon, along the spine of the Aleutian Islands that separate the Gulf of Alaska from the Bering Sea, and you land in Adak, you'll walk off the plane into an otherworldly place, stunning in its natural beauty, rare for its isolation from technology, rich in military history. You'll also be there just in time for donuts.
Famed mountaineer Bradford Washburn and his team leaned against the body of Bob Reeve's bush plane, pushing the old Fairchild around so it would face the abrupt drop-off of a cliff. When Wash- burn looked into the cockpit, he saw no sign of emotion on the face of pilot Bob Reeve—even though Reeve was about to taxi his plane right off the cliff.