Sass and his team at the 2022 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. (Courtesy of Brent Sass)
Attitude is everything for Brent Sass, winner of the 2022 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. Always a challenging event, it was particularly harrowing this year.
Sass said he went through what he describes as “mental warfare” to bring his team across the finish line first in 2022, triumphing despite being blown off-course by a mammoth blizzard on the last leg. He credits his passion for the sport, a close relationship with his dogs, leadership skills, and an unwavering positive attitude—but most of all, he credits his dogs with keeping him honest.
“You can’t really fake attitude with them,” he said. “The dogs can see right through most anything. So you truly have to be excited and happy about what you’re doing. If you’re in a bad mood, they are, too. When you’re happy, the dogs are happy, and when the dogs are happy, you can pretty much get through any conditions.”
Brent Sass raised the dogs on his sled team from puppies and has formed a special bond with them. (Courtesy of Brent Sass)The strong bond between Sass and his dogs allowed them to triumph over seemingly insurmountable challenges. (Courtesy of Brent Sass)
Established in 1973, the Iditarod winds through roughly 1,000 miles of wilderness from Anchorage to Nome, Alaska. Teams of up to 14 dogs pull sleds for 8 to 15 days—it actually took up to 20 days in the early years—through blizzards, white-outs, and the generally rough terrain of wild Alaska with possible wind chills of minus 100°F—in a good year. The weather for the 50th anniversary 2022 race was so fierce that three mushers (drivers of a dogsled) were forced to take shelter, despite resulting penalties.
Into the Wild
Sass experienced a crash that could have ended the race for him during a harrowing blizzard. “We were having a blast, until we were on a side-hill and the wind gusted up real high and it caught me,” he said. “I got top-heavy and we just tumbled down off the trail into the abyss.” The dogs were dragged down with him. “Finally, everything stopped and the dogs immediately hunkered down. Drifts are already coming over the top of them and I knew they’d be wondering what to do.”
He looked up and realized he had lost sight of the trail. “At that point, I turned on the sled’s handlebar headlight so I could see the sled, because if you walked away 10 feet, the sled was gone.” With the light on, he walked farther and spotted a reflector on a trail marker. “The sled was pretty far off the trail, but I had been pounding my foot into the hardpack [compacted snow] so that I had some bit of trail that I could follow.”
Pink and Slater take a rest during the race. (Courtesy of Brent Sass)
With the trail found, his next focus was to tend to the dogs, calming them while cleaning their eyes and muzzles of snow and ice buildup. “Through the chaos, I was talking to the dogs to reassure them. I got them all stood up, dragged the gangline [a central line that connects the sled to the dogs’ tuglines] around, and got the sled turned around so we were pointed towards where I had found the trail, and we resumed the race.”
While 2022 was his first Iditarod win, he is a three-time champion of the Yukon Quest, a 1,000-mile dogsled race, and placed third and fourth in the 2021 and 2020 Iditarod races, respectively. With this year’s Iditarod title, that makes him one of only six people to win both 1,000-mile races. Over 21 years of mushing, Sass said he has learned the importance of maintaining a positive attitude, no matter what, as his bad mood can cause the dogs to “sour.” After experiencing a breakdown in the 2016 race, he developed a new mantra—“Run your own race”—which he had tattooed on his body, along with “Attitude is everything,” “Pain is inevitable—suffering is optional,” “Livin’ on the edge,” and “Believe.”
When not racing, he owns and operates Wild and Free Mushing, which breeds, raises, and trains Alaskan huskies for long-distance races. He also guides expeditions into the Arctic wilderness. He described himself as “professional dog musher/dog dad/wilderness guide/gold miner/equipment operator/cabin builder/landlord.”
Sass with his lead dogs, Slater (L) and Morello, at the completion of the 2022 Iditarod race. (Courtesy of Brent Sass)
A Real Connection
When he was 8 years old, his grandparents visited Alaska, bringing back photos of mountains and rivers that greatly inspired Sass. He told his parents he would go to Alaska when he grew up. After graduating from high school, he attended the University of Alaska Fairbanks, where he skied on the cross-country ski team his first year.
In 2001, he purchased land in Goldstream Valley, just outside of Fairbanks, and started building rental cabins. After two summers, he had six cabins. One day, as he was working on the cabins, he saw a dog team go by. “A light went off in my head, and I knew I wanted to do that,” he said. “I’ve never let that dream get away.”
He followed the dog team to talk to the musher, who told him to come back in a week. “When I did, he handed me a 5-week-old puppy that I named Silver,” he recalled. “Little did I know, that dog would change my life. Over the next several years, I built more cabins and collected more dogs from the newspaper’s ‘free items’ ad section,” which advertised dogs for adoption.
(Courtesy of Brent Sass)
His goal was to assemble a team of dogs that could pull him through the wilderness. It was a motley crew led by Silver, an old Alaskan husky named Brent, a Mackenzie River husky, a Saint Bernard/husky mix, and another big husky named Leer.
Around this time, he applied for a job at a kennel, having no idea it was owned by five-time Iditarod winner Susan Butcher and Yukon Quest champion David Monson. The job turned into an amazing mentorship for Sass. In addition to learning from Butcher and Monson how to raise and train dogs, Sass began studying other racers, their moves, and their dogs, eventually opening his own breeding operation. Though Silver was bigger than the standard race dog, he was extremely smart and mentally strong; he became Sass’s main breeding stud. Sass ran tours by giving sled rides to paying visitors in order to fund his races.
“I named the kennel Wild and Free Mushing after a song by Hobo Jim, the Alaska state balladeer,” Sass said. “‘Wild and Free’ is a song about a guy who follows his own path, making it the perfect name for my kennel.”
Silver, who passed away at the age of 18 three years ago, was the foundation of Sass’s breeding program. The canine is the father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather of 80 percent of the kennel’s pups. “The dogs are everything,” he said. Sass has raised all 50 dogs that he currently has in his kennel. “I bond with each dog, and the relationships that I build with these dogs is what makes it possible for us to compete at the high level required by these races.” Sass is a great example of what can be accomplished by an individual who seizes upon a dream and seizes upon his every waking hour to make it come true.
Sass behind an “IditaRider,” the winner of the annual bid for a short sled ride at the ceremonial start of the race. (Courtesy of Brent Sass)
This article was originally published in American Essence magazine.
Sisters Claire Neaton (L) and Emma Teal Privat are Alaskan fishermen and co-founders of Salmon Sisters, an Alaskan fish and nautical apparel company. (Camrin Dengel)
There were more fish than people.
Sisters Claire Neaton and Emma Teal Privat were raised on a remote Alaskaisland in a region where salmon outnumbered humans exponentially—10 billion salmon, a few hundred people. Privat and Neaton, whose family ran a commercial fishing operation, lived on a homestead near False Pass, in the Aleutian Islands. They grew up living, breathing, and eating salmon, and absorbing the values a pioneer subsistence lifestyle creates.
“We learned resourcefulness, determination—growing up in such a remote area meant that we relied on ourselves to overcome obstacles,” recalled Privat. “This taught us that nothing was impossible, and we could get through most challenges if we just worked at it for long enough.
A meal of freshly caught and grilled salmon, prepared and enjoyed at sea. (Camrin Dengel)
“We also learned the value of family and good food—we were a family of four, and we all played a role in the success of our livelihood. As kids, we helped our parents plant the garden, pull fish from the net, pick berries, dig clams, harvest kelp, cook, build, clean, mend, fix. We still work together on the fishing boat today, and it’s great to have that close relationship.”
Fishing was, and is, the foundation of their lives. So why not build a business based on marine everything, just like their own lives? Not only would it provide something to keep them busy in the winter, but it would also offer an outlet for what they learned in college: Neaton studied business and marketing, and Privat English, art, and design.
Thus was born Salmon Sisters, the now 10-year-old, wildly popular retail venture based in Homer that ships salmon, salmon-stuff, and marine-themed apparel to customers elsewhere in Alaska, in the lower 48, and around the world. From this famous little hamlet at the end of the road, customers can order salmon, halibut, and cod, frozen, canned, and “jarred,” to use an Alaskan term referring to salmon that is first smoked, then canned—a deliriously delicious, savory treat.
Neaton and Privat learned to process and cook fish at a young age. (Courtesy of Emma Teal Privat and Claire Neaton)Young Neaton and Privat with their parents. (Courtesy of Emma Teal Privat and Claire Neaton)
There are also hoodies, fleece jackets, and pullovers; scarves, headbands, and gaiters; sweatpants and leggings; and the all-important Xtratuf boots, an icon of life in Alaska without which civilization might cease. “These are still our most popular products since we started designing them for women with Xtratuf,” Privat reported. “That first octopus design we created remains our best-seller today.” Having discovered a successful theme, almost all their items are emblazoned with marine-life designs ranging from sand dollars to mermaids to puffins to, of course, salmon.
Call of the Sea
It’s impossible to exaggerate the importance of salmon in Alaska. These anadromous fish are born in almost every stream and river in the state, from the nearly 2,000-mile Yukon River to tiny creeks in Southeast Alaska measured in hundreds of yards. Ten billion salmon grow fat every summer in the food-rich ocean waters of the North Pacific; when they return to fresh water after four years, they are the foundation of Alaska food. Every Alaskan is entitled to harvest about three dozen fish a year for subsistence; most Alaska households have a freezer dedicated just to that. Salmon are celebrated in art, music, language, religion, and literature—and in debates over which kind is best, a topic on which every Alaskan has a fiercely held opinion.
The salmon migratory cycle exerts its force on people, too, Privat explained about the two sisters’ return to Alaska following college studies on the East Coast.
“The seasonal pull of the sea always brought us back for the summer salmon season. It was a constant in an unknown time of life right after college. It made sense to come back for a job we knew how to do, a semi-reliable paycheck, and spending time with our family, but also it was a part of our identity we didn’t know how to live without. It was, and is, deeply ingrained in our family and upbringing,” she recounted, expressing a sentiment shared by hundreds of thousands of Alaskans, whether they fish commercially or just recreationally.
Both sisters still work during Alaska’s commercial fishing seasons, applying the skills and knowledge ingrained in them since a young age. (Sashwa Burrous)During fishing season, which means long stretches of time out at sea, the sisters cook on their boat with freshly caught fish. ( Brian Grobleski)
Sustainability and Respect
The two siblings, just a year apart, are both now married and fishing with their respective husbands during all or most of the various commercial seasons in Alaska, and on the boat of their still-active father, Buck. Lean and hale outdoorswomen, their angular bone structure reflects their Lithuanian heritage and resembles the dynamic wild fish they harvest. Both express pride that their state manages its fish stocks rigorously to ensure they are not depleted, and they vow that if Alaska’s sustainable fisheries survive our challenging times, their family legacy can continue for decades.
“Sustainable fishing is written into Alaska’s state constitution, and protecting Alaska’s fisheries with sustainable practices helps address hunger and food insecurity,” Privat pointed out. “In Alaska, seafood is responsibly managed, utilizing a world-leading, science-based approach to help fish stocks, communities, and entire ecosystems thrive for generations to come.”
One of the Salmon Sisters’ fishing boats, the Stanley K. (Camrin Dengel)
This issue is directly addressed in the sisters’ recent cookbook, “The Salmon Sisters: Feasting, Fishing, and Living in Alaska” (Sasquatch Press, 2020). Lavishly illustrated by Privat, it contains 50 recipes reflecting their homestead heritage, stories about life growing up in one of Earth’s most remote locales, and pleas for readers to respect the land and seas that feed us. A new book expanding on this theme is scheduled for publication in the fall of 2023.
“As fishermen, we’re lucky to work in incredibly wild places and witness such natural abundance and vitality in them,” Privat said. They also do their part in preserving them.
Salmon Sisters actively opposed the Pebble Mine proposal, for instance, which threatened to place cyanide leach from the world’s largest gold mine in the headwaters of the Bristol Bay fishery. The world’s largest single salmon fishery, Bristol draws 50 to 75 million sockeyes and other salmon every year; record numbers in recent years signify the health of the runs.
Deeply Anchored
The two sisters’ earliest memories are of helping their mother, Shelly, pick salmon from the net in front of their homestead, Stonewall Place.
The sisters published a cookbook, “The Salmon Sisters: Feasting, Fishing, and Living in Alaska,” in 2020. (Camrin Dengel)
“Our childhood was rich and remarkable,” the sisters write in their cookbook, “though its reality was challengingly remote as well as extremely dependent on the seasons and the bounty of the sea. Fresh fish was the king of our wild foods, demanding the most work and the most reward.”
Hence their deep dedication to fishing and outdoor life, no matter how successful their retail business may be.
“This is our identity,” Neaton declared. “It’s our source of pride. I am not going to give up fishing for this business.”
“At this point, our Salmon Sisters and fishing businesses have both grown so well it doesn’t make sense to be anywhere else,” Privat added. “We have a team and shops and we’re deeply rooted in the North now, and it feels good to be living seasonally and in connection with our community and nature.
“Our primary value is feeding the world healthy, sustainably harvested wild fish while stewarding the marine ecosystem and celebrating the wild places where we live and work,” she added. “Mother Nature’s gifts leave us with a healthy respect for living things beyond ourselves.”
This article was originally published in American Essence magazine.
Bull moose crossing a creek in early summer at the Eagle River Nature Center/Chugach State Park, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)
Nature has always been at the forefront of photographer Colin Tyler Bogucki’s life. Growing up, he and his family lived in Outing—a small town in “Lake Country” in Northern Minnesota. Surrounded by woodland and lakes, he felt it was the perfect place to grow up. “I was outside all the time and always connected to nature,” he said. Swimming, fishing, and hunting were a few of his passions. In 1991, Tyler attended college, studying psychology. After completing his coursework in 1995, he traveled to Alaska for an internship at a counseling center, where he immediately fell in love with the untamed wilderness.
Journey to Alaska
December Sunrise, Eagle River Nature Center, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)
Equipped with a Minolta point-and-shoot film camera, he drove all the way to “the last frontier” in his little Toyota pickup truck. Tyler considers that trip as the greatest journey of his life. Struck by the natural beauty and scenery, he was hit with newfound inspiration. Words flew from his pen onto paper, taking the form of elaborate poems. “And I just had to keep pulling over and writing all these lines that were coming to me as I was driving,” he said. Tyler would go on to spend many days capturing the many wonders of wildlife through pictures and poems. “I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to arrive in Anchorage—I just wanted to keep journeying because it was so inspiring,” he said.
After finishing his internship, Tyler decided to stay as a substance abuse assessment counselor. However, he was far from happy. “It just wasn’t for me,” he said. Outside of work, he would take every opportunity to practice his photography skills. It was not until a few grueling years that he decided to take the plunge and leave his job to work on his art. In 1996, after being gifted his first professional camera for Christmas—a Nikon SLR film camera—Tyler had one of his photos published in the Anchorage Daily News. Even when offered a lucrative career opportunity with the federal probation system in Alaska, Tyler instead chose to follow his heart. “I knew I was walking away from financial stability,” he admitted. “But I could not bring myself to do that work.”
Struggles and Setbacks
Tyler spent the next few years in Minnesota, juggling between bartending and manual labor jobs while honing his photography skills. Finally, in 2007, Tyler moved back to Alaska and found work in a small portrait studio where he learned portrait photography and studio lighting. “I ran that for about five or six years in the little town of Eagle River, which is where I live now,” he said. While Tyler enjoyed the skills and techniques he learned while working at the portrait studio, he primarily sees himself as “a nature and wildlife guy.” After leaving the studio in 2013, he was once again at a crossroads, battling for financial stability. He fought off many moments of regret for not going on to graduate school or seeking what he called a “professional career.” Despite many things seeming hopeless, Tyler was very grateful to be renting a small cabin on two acres of land in the woods of Alaska, located on the end of a road, with a creek running in the back of it. Tyler and his cat, Spike, lived a life that many would only dream of. In the summer, wildflowers and strawberries would grow all around the house. “There was also a deck out back where I could play my guitar and listen to the creek,” he said.
Tyler playing guitar in Akaroa, New Zealand. (Joshua Dean West)
April 22, 2013—Earth Day—Tyler was awoken to smoke alarms screaming. The cabin was on fire. “And I did everything I could. I had a couple of fire extinguishers and I started in the front,” he told me. “I emptied the extinguishers, I threw snow at it from outside. I couldn’t control it.” At some point, Tyler ran out of the back door but then attempted to go back in for his cat, who had gotten into the basement; however, a blast of smoke and heat nearly knocked him over. This was the point when it dawned on him that he would probably not be able to rescue his beloved friend. “I stood there and yelled and yelled for him,” he said, his voice breaking.
He spent the next few hours in his neighbor’s house, who had called the fire department after waking up early and witnessing the horrific event. Tyler explained that where he was living, there were no official firefighters—only volunteers. “So it was more than an hour before they were there spraying; then a tree came down, power lines came down and blocked their path so they couldn’t get near it because of the live power lines,” he said. As the fire got bigger and bigger, Tyler’s hopes became smaller. “I was at my neighbor’s, watching, thinking okay, they get here soon, maybe the house can be salvaged. Okay, maybe not. Maybe my cat can be saved, maybe not.” By the time the firefighters were done battling the fire and smoke, the cabin had been reduced to rubble. Spike had also passed away due to smoke inhalation. This event left Tyler pondering the reasons for such a catastrophe during a time when he was already experiencing so many setbacks. Today, he realizes that he had to go through this to discover his life’s true purpose.
Double rainbow, Eagle River Valley, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)
Rising From the Ashes
Tyler always expressed a deep desire to travel and explore the world. He was often approached by friends asking him to accompany them on their photography travels. He would always decline. In 2012—the year before the house fire—a good friend of his from Montana invited him to explore India with him for two months. “I said, man, I’d love to join you but I can’t. I have this house, I have a cat—I can’t leave for two months,” he explained. A year later, after the house fire, Tyler was reminded of his friend’s offer and realized there was no longer anything stopping him. He had kept important documents in a file cabinet, but most of the contents in it had been destroyed in the fire—except for his passport. Firefighters found the document on top of the snow, completely intact. “I didn’t realize how significant of a sign that was until a few weeks later. I called my friend and said, well, you know, if the invite is still open, I want to join you. I want to go to Asia and India with you.”
A Bengal tiger on the trail of a tigress in Bandhavgarh National Park, India. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)
The pair traveled to Thailand and Cambodia before spending a whole month in India photographing tigers in various national parks. Tyler considers his trip to India as an inspiring, transformational journey that allowed him a means to express himself through his photography like never before. In India, they visited four parks and only managed to spot a tiger in their third park. During this time, he found that many people on social media waited eagerly for new updates on his journey. “People were following my story with anticipation. They would learn on Facebook every day and see what happened next,” he said.
The day they had their first encounter with a tiger, Tyler said that he could almost feel it nearby. “It was like I was hunting again, waiting for something. I just had this feeling in my gut that my cat was there with me and that today was the day.” When attempting to locate tigers, one should try to listen out for any warning calls from other animals. Sure enough, the call from a nearby deer confirmed his instincts. “We drove up the road, and there was this giant male Bengal tiger right in front of the jeep,” he said. The pair of friends were ecstatic by their discovery after all their effort. By the time Tyler sat back down in the jeep, he was trembling, and his eyes were watering. “We went all this way for this reason,” he said. Tyler had brought some of his cat’s ashes to India in a little container that he carried with him inside his camera bag. The day after spotting his first tiger, he returned and left his companion’s remains in a watering hole close to where he had spotted the tiger. That same day, either through fate or a stroke of luck, he had a rare encounter with another big cat, this time a leopard.
Spotted leopard in Bandhavgarh National Park, India. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)
Before the fire, Tyler admitted that he never would have thought about traveling around the world, but “life changes really quickly.” After his trip around Asia, he spent a brief amount of time back home in Minnesota before embarking on yet another extended trip to New Zealand. There, he took part in a program designed to connect willing workers with organic farms around the country, in exchange for food and lodging. “Sometimes it’s just a home with very elaborate gardens and landscaping. Others are actual farms or wineries,” said Tyler. He noted that it was a great way to meet locals and other travelers and that none of this would have been possible if it hadn’t been for the fire.
From Hunter to Photographer
After a summer in Valdez, Tyler decided to move to Eagle River Nature Center in Alaska—close to where he had been living before—in October 2014, as a resident volunteer. He has since been living there as a resident staff member and has acquired the position of Assistant Manager. His backyard now consists of the beautiful Chugach State Park with its abundance of wildlife.
Living in Alaska and observing the wondrous wildlife caused Tyler to view animals through a different lens. Hunting with family used to be one of his favorite pastimes; however, through photographing animals, Tyler developed a new admiration for them, and a softer, more compassionate side of him was awoken. Having the opportunity to express himself through various creative outlets played a great role in this transformation. “I had an English composition writing instructor who really inspired me with poetry. And that was in high school. He had a profound influence on me,” he said. Years later, Tyler sent him copies of his poetry, and the pair stayed in touch for a brief period. After the fire, he was pleased to discover that his little book of poems, which he had worked on during his first drive up to Alaska, had remained intact. “I thought they were gone forever,” he said. “I was just so overwhelmed that I was in tears.”
Some of his first wildlife photographs took place in the late ‘90s in the vast natural plains of Alaska, particularly in Denali National Park. He was just starting to learn about composition and lighting—which were all new to him. A significant turning point for Tyler was when he traveled to Katmai National Park and Preserve in 1999 to photograph bears. “I just had a wonderful time because there was beautiful scenery and just bears all around,” he said. He loved photographing those bears and felt very connected to them. “I just gained a great appreciation and respect for them.” To this day, Tyler considers this experience pivotal in helping him establish his passion for wildlife photography.
Alaskan brown bear looking for salmon in autumn. Eagle River Nature Center/Chugach State Park, Alaska. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)
Photographing wildlife helped Tyler experience a greater connection to nature than ever before. Through collecting pictures, rather than trophies, he began to appreciate nature for what it truly was. By appreciating smaller aspects of the scenery, smaller animals, and even insects, he has developed a keen interest in animal behavior, and his relationship with wildlife has only increased. “I’ve learned to read their body language, and just developed such a different appreciation for the natural world because it’s no longer just a target.” Now, he simply wishes to capture these brief magical encounters with wildlife through his photos, and share them with the rest of the world. What initially started as a hobby has blossomed into a full-time career, a passion, and a goal. “People appreciate what I do and what I share as it brings them joy, inspiration, and a sense of serenity,” he added. For this reason, exploring, creating, and sharing his photography with the world has become a central focus of Tyler’s life; it is in these moments when he truly feels he is accomplishing what he was born to do.
Male Bengal tiger in Bandhavgarh National Park, India. Recognized by National Geographic editors and placed in the Top 10 out of nearly 12,000 images. (Colin Tyler Bogucki)
Tyler’s work has often been recognized in National Geographic, where he won numerous photography competitions over the years. His image of a male Bengal tiger was selected as one of the winning images in National Geographic’s “My Shot” photo contest, out of a total of 12,000 entries. His Northern Lights photography also captured the attention of the United States Postal Service and was featured in one of their commemorative stamp sheets as part of a collaborative arctic climate research project.
Sharing the Magic of Wildlife
With the successful sales of his photography prints, Tyler managed to travel again. He visited Australia for a few weeks, and then Cuba, where he provided photography tours to keen wildlife enthusiasts. This new endeavor brought Tyler newfound joy and inspiration. Traveling to different parts of the world and photographing wildlife had become his passion, so he and a photographer friend decided on creating Nat Expo Tours. According to their website, their mission is to share the amazing natural wonders of the planet while offering photo tips and techniques to touring participants. Future tours are planned to take place in three exotic locations: Iceland, Cuba, and Namibia.
The tours allowed Tyler to look inward and share his knowledge and appreciation of photography with others. “Seeing them grasp the concepts and start to understand things is a great feeling,” he said. Tyler believes the best feeling for him is when people attend the tours and come away with something that they wouldn’t have otherwise captured. “It’s just wonderful.”
Tyler photographing the Fagradalsfjall Volcano in Iceland. (Courtesy of Colin Tyler Bogucki)
Tyler enjoys exploring different creative media to express his art, with videography being his newest venture. In late 2021, he released a mini-documentary featuring the active Fagradalsfjall Volcano near Reykjavik, Iceland, during one of his photo tours. Tyler looks forward to incorporating this new form of storytelling into his art.
Tyler and his cat, Spike, in front of their cabin in 2007. (Michael Gandolfo)
Constantly on the move, traveling from one location to the next and photographing stunning wildlife while meeting people from all cultures and backgrounds, Tyler has established lasting connections with the world around him. Pursuing a career in wildlife photography has led to each day being different from the last.
Through loss and grief, he has discovered adventure. His travels have taught him more about himself and led him into discovering his true purpose in life, and while he often misses his furry companion, he believes that he was liberated from a life of fear and uncertainty to one full of excitement and creativity. “As long as I’m exploring, creating, and sharing, then I feel like I’m where I need to be,” he said. Today, he proudly displays a tattoo of Spike’s paw print on his right shoulder—a tribute to their everlasting friendship.
Roland Welker in Alaska. (Courtesy of Roland Welker)
Roland Welker is as tough as they come. He’s a bushman, fur trapper, big game guide, logger, and survivalist who spends months at a time alone, deep in the wilderness of the western Bush region of Alaska. His tough exterior is evidenced in the dirt embedded deep in his fingertips, his raspy yet animated voice, and his calm and unflappable demeanor as he chops wood, butchers a fresh kill, or builds a shelter. He’s tough, yes, but he’s also incredibly reflective about the outdoors, and his call to live like the “old-timers” in the wild.
He calls his lifestyle “getting woodsy” and says it’s a mentality—like a game of chess—where you have to think about every move you make. You have to be able to look around you and utilize what’s at hand. It means living like an old-timer, dependent on skills, physical fitness, and the land.
A Lifetime of Experience
Welker’s passion for the outdoors was ignited during his childhood growing up in the Appalachian mountains of central Pennsylvania. Wanting to immerse himself even more into the wilderness, during his 20s, Welker set his sights on Alaska. Now 49, his outdoor experiences for the past 28 years have led him to become an expert at wilderness survival. In fall 2019, he participated in filming for Season 7 of the History Channel’s survivor show, ALONE, and won.
For the first time in the series, rather than determining the winner by which contestant lasted the longest before “tapping out,” Season 7 offered the largest prize yet: $1 million to any contestant who could last 100 days in the wilderness of the Canadian Arctic.
Welker was a natural, and his calm determination alongside a lifetime of survival experience led him to win the prize. He achieved a lot of “firsts” for the show, including killing an 800-pound musk ox with one arrow and a belt knife, building a shelter he termed “Rock House,” and building a meat cache that rivaled any contestant’s shelter—assuring that his meat would be safe from predators. His mindset had as much to do with his success as his survival skills; Welker said he went in prepared to stay the whole winter—well over the required 100 days—which led him to chop wood for hours each day and allowed him to amass enough wood to get through the negative 30 to 40-degree temperatures.
The Trek to Alaska
Raised in Shiloh, Penn., by the age of 8, Welker was setting traps that he would check by flashlight before going to school. He was camping solo by age 11 and had a backpack ready by the door so he could head out each weekend. Sometimes it was with family or friends, but if no one was available, he was just as happy to go alone.
“I grew up there in the 70s,” Welker said. “It was still kind of a really neat backwater place in the 70s—a lot of farms still going, the dairy industry was still there. There’s always been logging and still is to this day; coal businesses were booming in the 70s before it went extinct. It was just a really neat time to be a boy in central Pennsylvania—Shiloh, in particular.”
(Courtesy of Roland Welker)
A voracious reader, Welker said his father taught him a love of reading by introducing him to American novelist Louis L’Amour and Western books. “I remember him buying ‘The Big Sky,’ a 1947 Western novel by A. B. Guthrie Jr.” The book paints a portrait of life for mountain men between 1830 to 1843. Welker said he has read the book 30 or 40 times. “It’s my favorite. People say I kind of became a character from that book. It’s almost scary.”
At 24, Welker struck out for Alaska, eventually making his way to Red Devil by accident. Red Devil, Alaska, had a population of 23 as of the 2010 national census. Welker fished and hunted along the Kuskokwim River.
“This is mountain country. It was winter and ice was running when I arrived, and this was my first Alaska winter. I was getting into the thick quick,” he said. Welker soon realized that “this is the place I had been looking for forever. It was still frontier-y and wild west, so to speak.”
Welker says he was a bit of a reckless teenager, and credits the wilderness for taming what he calls “shift energy”—that young aggressiveness of his teen years.
“I found this place [Red Devil], and I took a lot of that energy and absorbed it into major expeditions that I would fund myself. I’d pick a piece of country and start calling in supplies so I could trap all winter.”
Welker said his lifestyle was affected by the nation’s founding fathers and historical figures he learned about through reading.
“I absorbed myself in every book on history that I could lay my hands on starting in the sixth grade,” he said. He particularly enjoyed the works of Allan W. Eckert, a 20th-century author who wrote historical novels about Native American tribes.
Welker wanted to be like the novel protagonists. “Somewhat unknowingly, I started forming myself under the likeliness of the frontiersman in the mountain at a very young age. I am not just a hunter, I’m a sportsman. I’m absorbed in the old traditions of frontiersmen, and that’s what carried me through ALONE,” he said.
Jill Dutton is a travel writer who seeks out locally celebrated foods, outdoor activities, and liquor trends. She’s passionate about telling the stories of those she meets on her travels, offering a glimpse at the culture of place. Follow Jill’s travels at www.USAbyRail.blog.
