Prius vs. Winter: Alaska Road Trip Challenge (Part 2) [S1-E5]

An Alaskan road trip in the winter. I bet this is not on your bucket list but it absolutely should be because the Alaskan winter holds gems that you will never experience in the summer months. We are on an 800 mile loop road tripping across the last frontier and we are taking you with us. Jump aboard and let us show you some of the truly captivating treasures to be found on a road trip through the Alaskan winter. This is Alaska's Richardson Highway. Spanning approximately 366 miles, the Richardson Highway connects Fairbanks to the city of Valdez on the coast of Prince William Sound. It slices like a ribbon through the towering Alaska Range, only one of three roads in Alaska that does so. This remote highway offers breathtaking views of snow-capped mountains, wild forests, and pristine wilderness. Today it is our muse. The Alaska Range in winter is truly breathtaking. Blankets of deep snow and ice on the mountains accentuate the rugged beauty of their form. The low angle winter sunlight casts dramatic shadows across the landscape. The power and majesty of nature is put on full display in this remote and unspoiled region of the world. We are going out to Kastner Glacier which has a super cool ice cave. We're getting ready to freeze our butts off, right guys? Here we go. Our destination today is only 1.2 miles from the road but it feels like we are on an expedition. The wind is fierce and biting cold, that kind of wind that stings your eyes, numbs your exposed skin, and goes straight to your bones. But the views, oh they'll make you forget anything. It is so cold out here but it's so beautiful it's worth it. It's worth it a million times over. We are braving this brutal cold because there is something at the end of this hike that is unlike anything we have experienced before. Following the frozen snow road. Kastner Glacier is just one of Alaska's approximately 100,000 glaciers but unlike many of its Alaskan brethren, at least the super accessible ones, it has a unique feature awaiting us at its end. An ice cave, large enough to explore, gapes like a mouth open wide leading straight into the glacier itself. This strikingly beautiful ice arch was once the mouth of that cave. Just last summer part of the cave collapsed leaving behind this arch. The mouth of the cave is now pushed back by hundreds of feet. Within the ice arch we see the amazing power of glaciers to transport rock and sediment. And we see it in ultra slow motion. Literally suspended in animation, we can see the flow and movement of this massive river of ice written within the patterns and swirls of sediments trapped within the ice. You might be curious how ice, which is solid, can flow like a river. Well, like most things in life, it's complicated. But it can be broken down into three main mechanisms. And that brings us to... Glaciers are essentially large masses of ice that deform and travel downslope due to their enormous weight and the force of gravity. Glaciers form when large amounts of snow accumulate and slowly compress into ice. This ice will flow downslope until reaching the glacier's end or terminus. And the three causes of that flow are internal deformation, basal sliding, and subglacial deformation. All fancy words, but this is what they mean. Ice may be solid, but under enough pressure and stress movement will occur within and between individual ice crystals, causing the ice to behave more like a plastic than a rigid solid. It will deform rather than simply crack. This is called creep. Ice will creep in response to stress, but if it cannot creep fast enough to cope with that stress, it will fracture, called faulting. We often see such brittle failure in the form of crevasses on the glacier's surface. Internal deformation is driven by creep and faulting, and it is the one common way all glaciers flow downslope. Some glaciers also flow via basal sliding, which is when glacial ice slides over the underlying bed, lubricated by melt water. Some glaciers also flow via subglacial deformation, which is when the underlying sediments themselves deform and flow, bringing the overlying glacier along with them. Again, all glaciers flow via internal deformation. Some may also flow via basal sliding or subglacial formation, and some may exhibit all three mechanisms, often resulting in fast ice flow. Now, you know us. We're not ones to be in a place like this and not do some exploring. We are now inside the Kastner Glacier. The whole inside of the tunnel is just crusted in ice crystals. It's just surreal and beautiful. Amazing. Right now we're inside a tunnel, an ice cave tunnel inside the glacier, and you can hear the water moving. So this is my dam. I'm going to get a soundscape recording this, and if we're lucky, there's going to be things that the microphone can hear that we can't even hear. This is my microphone, trusty Zoom H2n Handycam. So I'm setting up the microphone so that it's basically going to be picking up surround sound. Four channels getting all the way around the microphone. I'm going to set it down for probably 10 minutes, let it just capture it, and then later on get to hear everything that this is capturing. March 13, 2023, Kastner Glacier in Alaska, USA. The ice cave is actually a subglacial channel formed by glacial meltwater. The only thing keeping this channel from closing and succumbing to the weight of ice above is the friction of the water moving within the channel. That friction causes enough heat that the channel remains intact. And it doesn't always look like this. In the summer, this is a rushing river within the glacier. In the winter, the river freezes over, but not completely. We can hear rushing and gurgling away right below our feet. It is fascinating to experience this glacier from inside. From above, we can see the bigger picture. Kastner Glacier stretches about 13 miles long and a mile wide, fed by deep snowpack up in the Alaska Range. Kastner Glacier is a dendritic glacier, also called a trunk glacier, meaning it resembles the trunk of a tree, with numerous tributary glaciers flowing into it, themselves resembling the tree's branches. Winter is truly the time to see this incredible place. In the summer, there is no ice waterfall gracing the cave's entrance. There are no ice crystals and hoarfrost bedazzling every surface. And there is no thick cap of ice turning a rushing river into a walkable cave floor. All three of us come back for the microphone and then Jose Luis has a brilliant idea to shut off our flashlights and spend one minute in the pitch dark, surrounded by the sounds of living, moving ice. We now invite you to sit back, that mesmerizing soundscape, we brave the cold and commune with the glacier just a little bit longer. In a few short months, everything about this space will change. And next winter, it will not look exactly the same. And that is why it's very important to express that walking on the frozen surface of a subglacial channel is dangerous. And we actually don't recommend repeating what we did. Glaciers are dynamic, moving structures. Ice can fracture and channels can flood without warning. The ice in that channel will never be the same two winters in a row. We know it was extremely risky what we did. So if you choose to enter this or any glacial structure, know that you are doing so at your own risk. Before long, Mirna and I head back to the warm and cozy car. Jose Luis stays to capture more drone footage. I mean, this place is just so spectacular. It is worth the biting cold. But again, it is cold. And without warning, the drone's remote dies on Jose. Normally, this is no big deal. When this happens, the drone is programmed to fly straight up over to where it took off from and to land. But right now, it is underneath a glacial ice arch, which means... oh boy. The next day, we head south on the George Parks Highway without a drone. It turns out if you pitch a drone against a glacier, the glacier wins. This makes us so grateful that just the week before, we filmed the winter scenes of a music video that has been long in the works. This song speaks to the seasons. So we have been filming it in, well, the seasons. Spring and summer in Ontario, Canada. Autumn in Canada's Yukon Territory. And now, in the Alaskan winter. So it's back to the present. We are minus one drone and on our way to visit Denali National Park. But it is so overcast, we can't see anything, which is really disappointing. But every cloud has a silver lining. And in this case, on a whim, we decide to stop in the small town of Nenana. And it is here we discover the Nenana Ice Classic. Nenana, Alaska is a small town with a year-round population of 354 people. It is tucked right up against the confluence of two rivers right at the moment the Nenana joins and becomes part of the Tanana River. Every winter, the town of Nenana does the coolest thing. A tripod is mounted on the iced-over Tanana River with a sensitive timer attached. The timer is rigged so that the moment the ice breaks up in the spring, it will report the precise moment the breakup happens and the tripod falls into the river. The fun part is, everyone bets on exactly when that will happen. It's a gambling game with a winning pot of over $250,000. The person or group of people that gets it right gets to keep it all. It is called the Nenana Ice Classic and it is open to anyone in the world to play. So these three travelers, oh you bet we're gonna play. Team Nika just placed our bet and now we'll see if the tides of luck will bring us our pot of gold. In it goes. Yay! The next day, we continue our northern adventure off to visit a place we just cannot miss. No doubt you've heard of the North Pole, but kids, did you know the North Pole is actually in Alaska? We're actually not joking. North Pole, Alaska is a small town located 15 minutes from Fairbanks and it is festive. You can even see that even the light poles are candy canes. The North Pole is host to the Santa Claus House, a famous stop that is full of treasures outside and in. Inside, thousands of gifts and trinkets line the walls, a blend of Christmas-themed goodies and Alaska-themed goodies, and sometimes a bit of both. It is even host to Santa's Workshop where you can see all the planning and work that goes into getting all those gifts to the kids across the world on Christmas Eve. We vibe into Santa's Workshop. He seems like a pretty creative, put-together guy, and we notice that his workshop is just about the same size as our studio on wheels. Outside, Santa's house is pretty neat. This mural that graces its walls is actually made up of tiles, each one hand-painted and assembled in an amazing work of art. The world's tallest Santa looks out across the North Pole, Alaska. Just checking that list one more time. And where would Santa be without his reindeer? Just around the corner from Santa's house is the Antler Academy where a whole team of reindeer munch away, no doubt gathering their energy before a hectic trip around the world. Much too soon, our time with Myrna comes to a close. Now she's back to New York City. Thanks for coming. That's great. Well, have a great flight. Thank you. Give Jimmy a big hug. And now we take off to complete the rest of our Alaskan winter road trip. We are in Fairbanks, and we have a mind to make it to Seward about 500 miles away. Now, we could go back the way we came, but what fun would that be? So, we are going to drive through two of Alaska's most spectacular highways, one of which is one of Alaska's most remote. The Richardson Highway, as mentioned before, stretches 366 miles from Fairbanks to Valdez, and it is one of only three roads in Alaska that dare to traverse the towering Alaska Range. In the summertime, this stretch of highway is majestic. In the winter, it is even more so. There are almost no words to describe this place. Striking, stark, frigid, unforgiving, and intensely beautiful. The Richardson Highway was actually Alaska's first long-distance highway into the interior. In the late 1800s, this road was a mere trail coursing through the Alaskan wilderness. In 1902, a gold rush in Fairbanks led to an explosion of traffic on the trail. By 1910, the trail was improved enough to qualify as a wagon road, thanks to the oversight and direction of Major Wild P. Richardson. Alaskans, being the fearless people that they are, began braving that wagon road in automobiles just a few years later. Today, the highway is still an important artery in the state's economy. It is maintained year-round, which is no small feat. Sub-zero temperatures, high winds, and freezing temperatures make this unforgiving environment. Multiple avalanches strike the highway every year. The Richardson Highway continues all the way to Valdez, but we are going no further than the town of Glenallen. It is here that we bid farewell to the Richardson and continue south, now on the Glen Highway. The last time we were here on this road, the autumn leaves were about to fall, and the mountains were just dusted with a light kiss of snow. Now, it is an entirely different world. The Glen Highway shares historical ties with the Alaska Highway. World War II placed enormous pressure on the United States to establish military supply routes within and to its strategically important Alaska Territory. By 1945, the first iteration of the full Glen Highway was completed, a rough, unpaved road linked to the newly constructed Alaska Highway, also barely a trail cutting through the wild. The linking of these two new roads meant that for the first time in its history, Alaska was connected over land to the lower 48. Just as with the Richardson Highway, the Glen Highway is maintained year-round, even in the dark winter months. A deep cold blankets the land. The air is dry and still. I can't speak for Jose Luis, but on my part, this is the version of Alaska that I have fallen in love with. As if to prove a point, Alaska sends us to bed with one of the most spectacular sunsets we have ever seen together. We sleep the night along the highway, tucked away like a pair of cocoons in the back of our Prius. Overhead, the stars pierce and blaze a trail across the night sky. We are miles from any source of light pollution, and that cold, dry air leaves no barrier, no haze between us and the overwhelming expanse of the northern sky. Morning light comes slowly in wintertime Alaska, a low-angle light that creates stark shadows and a rich color palette. We slowly awake to light creeping over the Matanuska Glacier. We hit the road with a mission. Today, we will make it back home to Seward, driving the rest of the Glen Highway to Anchorage, and from there, making our way home via the Seward Highway. The stretch of Glen Highway from Matanuska Glacier to Anchorage is spectacular country any time of year. The Chugach Mountains rise to our left, and the Talkeetna Mountains tower to our right. We are actually following the old path of the Matanuska Glacier, which was the monumental force that carved out this path between these two mountain ranges. We are anxious to reach Anchorage, where new drone propellers await, because miraculously that was the only part of the drone damaged in its encounter with Kastner Glacier. And those propellers couldn't come a moment too soon, because we are about to witness something so unbelievable, we have to document it from the sky. If our Alaskan winter road trip had a theme, it would probably be ice. From the ice over Chulitna River, to the Aurora Ice Museum and martinis and ice glasses, to the World Ice Art Championships and the majesty of the Kastner Glacier, it is only fitting that our Alaskan winter road trip end with one of the most marvelous spectacles we have ever taken it. The ice tides of the Turn Again Arm. In episode one, we introduced you to the Turn Again Arm and its world-famous bore tide. You have seen the monumental difference between high and low tide, and you have seen how the high tide literally forms a wave as it rushes into the arm. But even that spectacle pales in comparison to this. These are the tides of the Turn Again Arm in winter. Sea ice chokes and clogs the arm, flowing in and out of the arm twice a day. Fresh water freezes at 32 degrees Fahrenheit, but because of its salt content, seawater freezes at a balmy 28.4 degrees. It is almost mind-bending to watch the ice tides, as if a whole piece of the earth itself is slowly moving inland, only to later slide right back out to sea. We are on the homestretch now, driving home on the Seward Highway. Like the Richardson and Glenn highways, this road is breathtaking just about any time of year. But there is something about the Kenai Mountain Range in winter. Pure, rugged beauty rising from sea level straight into the sky. The Seward Highway in winter is notoriously dangerous, and we are grateful that our little Prius is handling the ice patch as well. And that brings us to perhaps the other theme of our winter road trip adventure. This little car, whom we lovingly call Sancho. This little car has boldly gone where no Prius has any business going. And now, the final test of Sancho's medal. After all of that, can this little dude make it up the drive freshly blanketed in thick snow? Take one didn't go so well. See about take two. Take two. That's how it's done. Naked man, where'd you learn to drive like that? That's top secret. Now we return to our winter life in Seward, ready to soak up the rest of our time on the Kenai Peninsula. But it's not all winter hikes, cabin time, and delightful winter traditions. This winter has also been about our mission, to celebrate the landscapes and people of the Americas through the lens of our art. And to that end, we have a little something to share with you. An original song written long ago, and now finally brought to life in the very place it seems it was always waiting for. We are so excited to share this piece with you next time on Art We There Yet. 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