December 31, 2014
- as seen by -Jonathan C. Slaght
In northern Alaska, the Brooks Range yields slowly to a coastal plain; a flat, arresting expanse rolling confidently north for 125 miles until it’s stopped dead by the Arctic Ocean. This is a surreal landscape of grasses, stunted shrubs, and standing water where travel is akin to walking on wet pillows, and sound is largely reduced to the static of wind and the whine of mosquitos; two tyrants vying for dominance over this tundra kingdom.
Anything taller than a foot draws the eye on the North Slope, so I noticed this lone wolf immediately. He limped across the gravel of the Haul Road before pausing to look back at me with curiosity and mild suspicion. He then turned and pushed out across the endless carpet of tundra flowers; moving with slow deliberation and no obvious destination in sight.
Canon Rebel XTI