Alaska bike journey rolls along

Ned Rozell
907-474-7468
March 27, 2026

In a snowy field studded with the tops of small spruce trees, a man in a hooded parka pushes a bicycle on a trail drifted in with snow. Taller spruce trees edge the field in the background.
Photo by Ned Rozell
Forest Wagner pushes his fat bike on a drifted-in section of trail in the Minto Flats State Game Refuge on March 25, 2026.

MANLEY HOT SPRINGS — It’s so quiet in these spruce hills and tamarack swamps that 27 hours and 50 miles passed between when Forest Wagner and I said goodbye to one human being at Old Minto and hello to the next near Baker.

Space is in ample supply here on these pressed-in snow trails between towns and villages of Interior Alaska.

Forest and I are out riding these ephemeral ribbons of blue-white, moving westward with a goal of reaching Nome.

Two men straddle fat-tired bikes strapped with gear bags on an area of packed snow. Behind them, a black and white tripod of poles, topped with a red flag, rests on the surface of a frozen river. Beyond that, a line of cottonwood trees grows above the far riverbank, and, beyond that, a rocky bluff and lightly forested hill rise into a blue sky.
Photo by Ned Rozell
Forest Wagner, left, and Ned Rozell pause in front of the tripod on the ice of the Tanana River at the town of Nenana. When the river ice breaks up and the tripod pulls a cable attached to shore, the person who guessed the time will win the Nenana Ice Classic.

Last Saturday, when it warmed to minus 12 degrees Fahrenheit, I lurched my loaded fat bike out of my home in Fairbanks. Saying goodbye to my wife and dogs, I rumbled eastward on a boot-packed trail that after a mile led to a plowed bike path. I then rolled through the familiar 51·çÁ÷¹ÙÍø campus and onward 8 miles to Forest’s cabin. 

He handed me a mug of coffee and an egg sandwich. Then we started pedaling our fat bikes down Chena Pump Road until we reached the Tanana River.

We found a trail groomed for a multisport winter race, turned right, and headed downstream on our home river, there half a mile wide. It was a day when the weather finally nodded toward spring. Fair-a-dise showed up with bluebird skies as the day warmed to 8 degrees Fahrenheit.

In a log cabin, a woman laughs while holding a toddler. A young girl stands next to her smiling and looking at the camera. In the background, a black plastic water barrel wrapped in a blue hose sits next to a kitchen counter. Peeled log beams support a plank ceiling. From the ceiling hang pots, ropes with items hanging to dry and strings of small lights. A rack of jars adorns a log wall.
Photo by Ned Rozell
Jenna Jonas holds her daughter Juniper while her other daughter Celia looks on. Jenna and David Jonas hosted Ned and Forest at their Tanana River homestead on the first night of the bikers’ trip.

After a month of pillowy snows and crazy cold temperatures and retelling people our new takeoff days to semisuppressed eye rolls, we were finally unstuck from the glue of town.

If an object wasn’t hanging off our bikes, we didn’t need it. No more fiddling with the load or obsessing on the seven-day weather forecast. Just big ol’ tires humming on dry snow.

Now, five days and 145 miles later, Forest and I are digesting French toast and bacon our friend Steve O’Brien cooked for us as we wait on the dryer in the Manley washeteria. When we get a few dollar bills, we will take showers.

It’s a good life here on the trail, just-add-water living at its finest. Eat everything in front of you, apply some sunblock and keep mashing on the pedals.

O’Brien is one of the many people helping us move westward. In one of the most clutch moments, my wife Kristen and our friend Jen Wenrick appeared wearing headlamps on the packed snow ramp off the Tanana River in Nenana. They handed us burgers and fries from the Monderosa.

A long, one-story log cabin sits in low sunlight under a blue sky, with spruce trees rising on the bank of a frozen river in the background. The cabin logs are painted yellow. On the painted red door, a sign says "Welcome to the historic Tolovana Roadhouse, a wayside for travelers since 1924.
Photo by Ned Rozell
The Tolovana Roadhouse at the mouth of the Tolovana River is open for travelers to rent a bunk in the original structure, which also hosted the 1925 Serum Run lifesaving dog team mission to Nome. Ned and Forest slept here.

After a surprise tough day due to soft trail that had us working real hard, those burgers and Cokes were like oxygen.

There have been many other acts of kindness from Jenna and David Jonas, Steve Ketzler, Forest’s dad Joe Wagner and others. Tonic for the body and soul.

We will meet more excellent people, including some old friends, as we ratchet toward Nome.

When my satellite tracker is on, you can see our arrow creeping across the landscape here: . 

Since the late 1970s, the 51·çÁ÷¹ÙÍø' Geophysical Institute has provided this column free in cooperation with the 51·çÁ÷¹ÙÍø research community. Ned Rozell is a science writer for the Geophysical Institute.