June 27, 2001  -  The Edge of the World  - 
Kongakut River, Arctic National Wildlife Refuge

We've rafted as far as we can go on the Kongakut. From Caribou Pass, the river fans out into shallow braids before emptying into the Arctic Ocean. If we want to see the coast, we'll have to hoof it to the top of the pass. As we prepare to leave camp, we catch sight of a wolverine loping down a gravel bar just across the water from our tent. Many wildlife biologists go entire careers and never see this elusive animal, so I watch until he's beyond the scope of my binoculars.

Seeing the wolverine gave us a good dose of adrenalin -- perfect for starting our hike. Up we go over the last bit of the Brooks Mountains. We parallel a group of bull caribou also heading up the valley to the coast. After almost three hours of steady hiking on tundra carpeted with wildflowers, we reach the edge of the world. The mountains come to an abrupt halt. I feel as if I'm standing on the frame of a surreal Salvador Dali painting. Below me, steel-gray rivers slice through muted green foothils and empty into the flat almond-colored coastal plain. Beyond the land is the pale blue Arctic Ocean stretching as far as I can see. Worn trails from thousands of hooves over thousands of years zig zag the tundra. Like tiny tan dots, caribou are sprinkled throughout this overpowering scene. They have completed their journey and so have I.


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