You have to be a hot-water freak to seek it out in February, 75 miles south of the Arctic Circle. Or maybe just one of those genetically challenged types who thrives on risk. Either way, there I was last winter, standing in a steamy bathhouse at Circle Hot Springs, in Alaska, unzipping my expedition-rated down jacket with the fur-lined hood and shivering with exhilaration.
Outside, where fog rising off the outdoor pool frosted the trees with ice crystals, the temperature stood at 25 below zero, “warm for February,” according to the pilot who flew me here from Fairbanks. In contrast, the water rushing up from the springs deep in the earth poured into the pool at a blistering 139, cooling down to 110 degrees as it flowed to the far end.
But before I could take the plunge I had to grit my teeth and strip to the skin, squeeze into a skimpy nylon suit, and walk–not run–through the arctic air on a path of slick ice, mounded into smooth lumps by hundreds of dripping bathing suits.
“Don’t hurry and you won’t slip,” warned Circle resident Julie Cooper, who had ended a training run through the woods with her sled dogs and was looking forward to a hot soak. “And don’t step on the metal ladder–it’ll burn your skin. Jump off the edge,” she added, leading the way into the frigid air.
A blast of cold, an anxious moment as my bare feet slipped on the ice, a hot splash and we were in, cocooned in the thick fog that hung over the pool. As the warmth enveloped me, the disembodied heads of other bathers bobbed out of the fog and then faded away in ghostly shapes.
The pool and bathhouse belong to the Circle Hot Springs Resort, a high-toned name for the area’s only place to stay, a rustic, 33-room hotel built at the turn of the century in a small wooded valley about 15 miles west of the Yukon River. Since only 150 people live in the area, the hotel sells them pool passes for cheap. The hot water isn’t a big draw in summer, but in winter, it becomes a community gathering place, a relaxing way to soak in the purple twilight of the arctic winter, after which everyone troops into the hotel bar and restaurant.
I got into the pool because, like Everest, it was there. Then I discovered that if you want to meet the folks crazy enough to live here, you’ve come to the right place. When you’re half naked and your hair is a mass of icicles, conversation flows as naturally as a salmon swimming upstream.
Just at that moment, a large bearded face topped by a crown of frost moved out of the mist and grinned. This was Dennis, Julie’s husband. The Coopers, who live in the woods near Circle, left no-future jobs in Washington in search of a better life in the wide-open spaces.
The next day the Coopers drove the dog team to pick me up and show me their house, a cozy log cabin with a fireplace, fur rugs and thick quilts, but no central heating or indoor plumbing. A big window looks out on the snowy woods and a dozen doghouses, with each dog tied by a long chain to protect it from wolves.
In summer, when the sun rarely sets, Dennis works as a miner and Julie gardens and preserves food. In winter they train the dogs, mend harnesses, sew gloves and mukluks and stoke the Franklin stove at 3 a.m. so they won’t wake up frozen to death.
Alaska is a risky place, but the Coopers like the sense of independence.
“You have to take care of yourself here because nobody does it for you,” said Dennis. “But the great thing is that people stick together and help each other.”
Five years ago, he said, four friends were floating on the Yukon River when they saw a grizzly bear and her two cubs on the bank. The two couples, who were fishing in the daytime and camping at night, thought the bears were following the boat, so for two nights they slept on board.
When the bears disappeared, they set up camp on shore. But while they were sleeping, the sow tore into the tent and mauled one of the women, ripping off her scalp and crushing half of her head. She was near death, but her friends didn’t give up, carrying her for three days until they found help. She survived and, incidentally, still lives near Circle.
The Circle Hot Springs hotel was built around 1898, to take advantage of the rush of gold miners ferrying up the Yukon to mines in the Klondike. From the beginning, the hotel was heated by hot water, which bubbles up at 139 degrees and feeds into pipes beneath the first floor.
The miners are mostly gone, but the place is still busy, particularly with weekenders from Fairbanks, who can make the drive on the Steese Highway in about three hours. The busiest weekend is Valentine’s Day, when the northern lights provide nightly entertainment for romantic trysts.
As in most wilderness “resorts” here, style is a relative term. Here the decor is frontier rustic, with dark furniture, brown plaid pillows and red-checked tablecloths. Nature collectibles stud the walls: long sprays of whale baleen, feathers, a couple of ooziks (the boney center of a walrus penis–they get up to 30 inches long), yellowed photographs, calendars from 1963 and stuffed animal heads. The dining room serves hearty home-cooked food, with great pies and a surprising variety considering that Circle is at the back of beyond.
The guest rooms are small but cozy, with chintz curtains and thick blankets. I brought long underwear and never wore it. Some rooms share a bath. The top floor, under the eaves, has been converted from triangular-shape storage bins to tent-size carpeted “Hobbit” rooms, each with a window, where you can rough it in your sleeping bag.
When we were done soaking and ready to climb out, I asked Julie why mounds of towels were frozen onto the railing of the pool ladder, like some weird sculpture. She laughed. “Oh, that! It’s so you won’t pull your skin off touching the metal with wet hands,” she said. “Just one of the little things you learn in Alaska.”
DETAILS ON THE HOT SPRINGS
Getting there: Warbelow Air (907-474-0518) flies from Fairbanks to the Circle Hot Springs Resort for $67 one way. Sled dog rides with the Coopers can be arranged through the resort.
Where to stay: Circle Hot Springs Resort has 33 rooms and 8 cabins ($45 to $110 per room); 907-520-5113.
When to go: The hotel and hot springs are open year around, but to experience the eerie twilight of winter, come between mid-October and mid-February. The sun at it’s lowest point on Dec. 21 barely rises above the horizon here. The aurora borealis (northern lights) may appear on any dark night, but it is most active during spring and fall months. Summers can be very warm; 80-degree temperatures are not uncommon in Fairbanks.
For more information: Contact the Anchorage Convention & Visitors Bureau, 1600 A St., Suite 200, Anchorage, Alaska 99501; 800-446-5352.
A.Z.C.
