June in Alaska is something else… the days stretch longer, the sun lingers forever and everything feels like it’s turning up a notch. I’ve made so many new friends that it feels like we’re all part of one giant, wild Alaskan family.
Every night is a party. In the cook shack, the place where everyone gathers—eating, laughing, swapping stories—there’s a saying that’s carved into the wall: “Every night is a Friday, every morning is a Monday.” And somehow, it’s true. The nights are electric, the mornings are a little rough, and yet, the adventure never stops.
And then there were rainbows… rainbows everywhere. It felt like the sky was putting on a show just for us.
We lived right on an airstrip, and all day long, small planes would take off for flightseeing tours. I actually really enjoyed it—the constant hum of engines, the tiny dots lifting into the sky, the way it made the whole place feel alive.
Another shot shows more rainbows stretching across the sky, but if you look to the right, you’ll see the trailer I called home. We called these ATCOs. They’re basically dry cabins—four small dorm-style rooms crammed into each one. No running water, but electricity and heat keep you comfortable enough. And let’s just say the walls are thin… you can hear your neighbor talking, snoring, even pacing in the middle of the night. Privacy isn’t exactly the main feature here, but it grows on you.
Here’s my friend Steve, aka Scamp, caught mid-question, asking why, why? He’s always like that… curious, baffled, slightly dramatic.
And I absolutely loved the dogs at camp. They were like our little family, each one with their own personality and antics that kept us entertained all day.
First up is Radar, the chihuahua and my personal favorite—small but full of character.
Smoke and Snow are our Alaskan native dogs—one a striking white husky, the other a powerful malamute. You can tell they belong to this land.
Then there’s Bean, the three-pawed husky all the way from Florida, who somehow managed to steal hearts despite missing a leg.
Then there’s Weezy, one of Storie’s dogs—Storie, S-T-O-R-I-E, one of the raft guides—always ready for an adventure, and in the background,
yes… Bean again, just casually photobombing the moment.
It’s impossible not to feel a little more at home with these furballs around. They’re part of the rhythm of camp, part of the heart that keeps the place alive.
Here we are at 49th State, easily one of my favorite restaurants in all of Alaska. This is the very first one, tucked in Healy, and of course we had to take some fun photos at the Chris McCandless bus. Just to be clear, this is the bus used in the movie—not the actual Magic Bus 149—but it still carries that same sense of adventure
I finally made my first trip down to Talkeetna, one of my favorite little Alaska towns, full of charm and character. It was the 4th of July, and my first time leaving camp. My friend Luke let me borrow his little Saturn station wagon to drive down there—Alaska hospitality at its finest. We’d only known each other for about a month and a half, and yet he just handed me the keys for the weekend. I was blown away.
Getting out of the Denali area was a relief. After a month and a half of working hard and living in tight quarters with thirty other people, the cramped space of employee housing was starting to get to me. Talkeetna was the perfect escape.
In addition to the very temperate vegitation. the town itself was alive with the 4th of July spirit—I caught the parade and all the small-town festivities.
And for the first time, I saw Denali, the Great One, rising in the distance. You can actually see it from the shore of the Susitna River, its massive presence humbling and breathtaking all at once. That view alone made the trip unforgettable.
And I’ll just leave you with some parting pictures. First, Denali from the south viewpoint—a truly beautiful day, the kind that makes you pause and just take in the majesty of the mountain. At 20,310 feet, it’s the tallest peak in North America, and standing there looking up at it, you feel both humbled and inspired.
Next, another endless Alaskan sunset… the kind that drags on for hours, painting the sky in colors you didn’t think could exist. You start to understand why these long summer evenings feel magical, why every night is a Friday.
And finally, I’ll leave you with my first-ever experience dining on decadent king crab. Sweet, rich, and unforgettable, it felt like the perfect way to cap off a summer day full of new friends, adventures, and the endless beauty of Alaska. This was when it was still affordable at $65 a pound.
journeyvision 