Brooks Range Part Two: Rivers, Ridges, and Nervous System Rhythms

I’m back with Part Two of my Brooks Range 2025 summer trip! If you missed it, you can catch Part One right here. 

Nothing Like Training in Action 

When I think back on this summer’s trip, one of the things I’m struck by is how much the first half of the journey set me up perfectly for what came next. With a foundation of prep work – through Summer Strong, weightlifting with Allison Tenny’s Alpha program, and as much spring hiking as I could squeeze in (we had an early spring melt and good hiking earlier than usual) – I had set myself up for success. Last summer, I was sick most of the season with walking pneumonia and lost a lot of fitness & lung capacity, so I had been motivated to get as much as possible back this season! Luckily, it seemed to be working. 

The structure of the trip itself helped, too. In the first half of the trip, we used a basecamp at the airstrip to allow us to do an initial short hiking loop, only three days with light packs. Then we returned to the airstrip and loaded up for an eight-day traverse with a moderate load. 

By the time we met up with Luc and Pat at the airstrip, I had already banked miles, strengthened my body, and gotten my legs and shoulders used to steady work. I was tired, though.

It worked great to use the flight day as a zero-day to rest, resupply, and eat a bunch of food that Luc & Pat flew in with, including fresh fruit, peanut butter M&Ms, and Fire Island pastries (the best fuel). When it came time to heft the intimidatingly heavy packs of the next stage, I was pleased at how doable it actually felt. We were carrying twelve days of food, plus packrafts, but it felt surprisingly manageable.

From Airstrips to Rivers

We had two days of hiking to get through the mountains to what we hoped would be floatable water on the north side of the Brooks Range, where we’d start floating up (down?) the north slope. The first couple of days with heavy packs were challenging, but my body held strong. We covered more ground than expected and even had the energy to enjoy the landscapes around us. Luc flew his drone to capture an old landslide he’d been studying on satellite imagery, giving us a bird’s-eye view of the terrain.

We traveled through some beautiful places en route to the Kokolik River. At the end of day two, we were walking downstream to try to get to boatable water. A storm was brewing on the horizon though, and headed toward us. When we walked by a perfect camping bench in the late afternoon, we decided to camp early and stay dry. The plan worked, and we tucked into the tents right as the rain hit us. I enjoyed a nap, reading on my Kindle (I read 10 books on this trip!), and listening to the rain on the tent. 

On our third day, we launched into barely boatable water – but it worked! From there, the rhythm of the river carried us north.

The float was a gift: clear water that eventually merged with a muddy tributary, speeding our travel while transforming the character of the river. We passed through surreal landscapes, full of rocky ridges and cut banks, watching the geology unfold from our boats. One day, with enough time in the bank, we hiked up a side ridge we nicknamed Marmot Ridge for the endless parade of marmots squeaking at us from every outcrop. We had a couple cool encounters with muskox and bears too, that added to the sense of wildness and awe. And so many different birds herding their babies along, or squawking at us as we floated past their nests.  

Across the North Slope

After several days of floating, we turned our sights to the Amatusuk Ridge, which stretched between two rivers and offered a direct line toward the ocean. This section tested us: hot, sunny days with no shade and little water. We improvised shade from sleeping bags draped over our tents to get a little relief from the 24-hour sun that circled us like a hawk. It’s strange to be navigating heat in the Arctic, and we found out when we got out that while we were out there, an extreme weather warning had been issued in the Brooks Range for heat. 

Despite the temps, Luc was like a giddy child on this section. He’s a geology nerd and was fascinated by the landscape. It really is a unique area, and the terrain kept us guessing as we threaded together a series of rocky ridges with pretty easy tussocks between them. We’d ride one ridge for a while, until it tapered out, leaving us to cross tussock-land to the next rock thread. 

We spent two days working our way across Amatusuk Ridge to a second river, the Kukpowruk.  The route we took off the ridge ended in an unexpected treat – a perfect swimming hole! Stripping down and plunging into cool water after days of heat was one of those moments of pure gratitude. It felt like a real backcountry paradise moment.

To the Coast

From there, the Kukpowruk River carried us toward the coast. In a weird new experience in my Alaskan boating repertoire, the weather was so warm we opted out of the drysuits we’d carried the whole way. I was in my sports bra and PFD for some of it – that never happens in Alaska. Unusually packrafting is very cold here! It was strange to be so *comfortable.* And also unsettling – I wonder how the fish are doing. The water was warm enough to swim in for long stretches. A reminder of the changing climate, even as we soaked in the comfortable traveling conditions.

This river section was rich with life: goslings learning to swim, a muskox herd, curious bears, and countless birds raising their young. 

Out of respect for the land we were traveling through and the people who own it, we had checked in with the Point Lay tribal office before the trip, though we refrained from side hikes, uncertain of our rights to be onshore. 

Eventually, the river braided into endless meanders, and we crossed through a shallow lagoon onto a barrier island – a strip of sand dividing the lagoon from the Arctic Ocean. We had a gorgeous night camped under a golden sky, bug-free, on what felt like a tropical beach.

The next day, we walked the beach for ten miles to Point Lay, encountering whale bones, walrus remains, and even enjoyed watching a couple grey whales spout. It was fun to think about having started in bear country in the mountains and made it to sand, whales, whales, and the sea.

We received a warm and grounding welcome in Point Lay. A local woman and her son on an ATV checked in with us as we packed up our packrafts, and then came back by with water and a bag of fresh apples. Amazing. It was the first fruit we’d tasted in weeks, and fresh apples are a big deal in rural Alaska! Such a generous share. 

The next day, we flew out to Utqiagvik, where it was cold (45 degrees, I wore all my layers for the first time on the trip). The sea ice was still right offshore. We walked around town and ate incredible Bimimbap at Osaka Restaurant. 

Integration

This trip was nearly a month in the backcountry, and it shifted me in ways I’m still understanding. 

These long trips pull me into an altered state that feels almost like a psychedelic journey. Daily town routines fall away, and a new rhythm of backcountry travel settles in. My nervous system recalibrates, and I become deeply attuned to my body, the land, and their shared rhythms. Coming home required a long integration period, and it’s been nearly two months now before I’ve felt ready to put words to the experience.

I’ve been thinking of this time, following a big trip, as similar to the integration phase after somatic therapy: a period where new pathways solidify, old patterns dissolve, and clarity emerges about what fits into my life and what no longer does. 

In this post-trip integration window, I often have a lot of clarity about what doesn’t fit anymore – what boxes I’m no longer willing to fit back into. The vision of what wants to happen next takes longer to clarify, but I’ve gotten better at giving that time and space to crystallize. 

What’s solidified in me since then are not only memories of muskox, rivers, and whales, but also new creative energy and a clearer sense of what’s next, for myself and for Mind & Mountain. This blog (and the podcast that grew out of it) are part of that unfolding.

One of the most powerful things about extended backcountry trips is how they shape not just the body, but the nervous system. This summer’s expedition reminded me again and again that wilderness travel can impact us in so many ways: physical training, deep nervous system healing, a powerful coregulator, and something I wouldn’t trade for the world.  

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Are you interested in expanding your nervous system skills and the healing potential of your backcountry trips? If so, Backcountry Trips as Healing Portals might be for you. I am creating this offering to help you have the kind of impactful experience on your trip that I’ve been having in recent years. Send an email to [email protected] if you’re curious about this offering.