Fairbanks, Alaska's second-largest city and the gateway to the Arctic, is a year-round destination celebrated for its breathtaking northern lights, midnight sun, gold rush heritage, and thrilling wilderness adventures in the heart of interior Alaska.
Alaska: Exploring the Seward Highway
🛣️ South Along the Seward Highway — Hello, Turnagain Arm
We packed up and headed south out of Anchorage, bound for the Kenai Peninsula, and the first thing I should mention — because it would be dishonest not to — is the weather. I know, I know. We keep going on about it. But honestly, up here in Alaska, the weather isn’t just a topic of polite conversation to fill awkward silences; it genuinely runs the show. And today, mercifully, it was putting on a half-decent performance. Partially clear skies. Not spectacular. Not the sort of thing you’d Instagram. But compared to what Alaska can and frequently does throw at you, we were absolutely delighted.
Here’s the thing about Alaskan weather that takes a bit of adjusting to: it’s completely, cheerfully, almost maliciously unpredictable. The southern coastal regions — the ones sitting south of the Alaska Range, that colossal wall of mountains that looms across the interior like nature showing off — enjoy what passes locally for a temperate climate. And I do mean locally. It’s temperate in the sense that it doesn’t routinely try to kill you in winter, but it’s cold by any reasonable human standard and astonishingly wet year-round. The precipitation here is relentless. Rain in the warmer months, snow when temperatures drop, and the sort of grey dampness in between that the British — of all people — would find excessive. The roadside snow markers we spotted were roughly twelve feet tall. Twelve feet. That’s not a snow marker, that’s a small telegraph pole, and it tells you everything you need to know about what this place gets up to between October and April.
Not that any of that was our problem today. The sun was doing something vaguely positive, and we were rolling.
Our route took us south along the Seward Highway, one of the genuinely spectacular drives in North America — though it doesn’t shout about it, which is rather endearing. The highway runs along the edge of a tidal estuary called Turnagain Arm, a long, narrow inlet that stretches roughly fifty miles southeast from Anchorage before curving around towards the Kenai Peninsula. The name, in case you were wondering, comes from Captain James Cook himself. In 1778, he was poking around these waters looking for the Northwest Passage, realised the inlet was going nowhere useful, and instructed his crew to — you guessed it — turn again. Which they did, presumably with the weary resignation of men who’d been at sea rather too long. The whole area is also notable for having some of the most extreme tidal variations on the planet, second only to the Bay of Fundy in Canada, with tidal ranges of up to thirty-five feet. One moment it’s an estuary; the next it’s an enormous mudflat. The mud, incidentally, is notoriously dangerous — fine silty sediment that behaves like quicksand and has claimed lives over the years.
But we weren’t thinking about any of that. We were looking at the scenery, which was — and I’m going to use a technical term here — absolutely stunning. On either side of the arm, the Chugach Mountains rose steeply, their upper reaches plastered in snow, receding ridge after ridge into the distance until they vanished into the haze. The Chugach Range is one of the largest national forests in the United States, covering nearly six million acres, and from the highway you get a sense of that scale — it just goes on and on, indifferent and vast and rather magnificent. The light was doing nice things with the snow, the water in the estuary had that flat grey-blue sheen it gets on partially overcast days, and the whole vista had the quality of a landscape that genuinely doesn’t need any help from a filter.
We were, in short, rather pleased with ourselves for being there.
🦌 The Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center — A Compulsory Stop
About forty miles south of Anchorage, we pulled over at a roadside Visitor Centre to get our bearings — the sort of spontaneous pause that, back home, usually results in a disappointing cup of tea and a leaflet about local history. This time, however, the leaflet informed us we were barely a mile or two from the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center, sitting right at Mile Marker 79 on the Seward Highway. We had an animal-mad girl with us. Stopping was not optional. It was constitutionally required.
And honestly? It turned out to be one of the better decisions we didn’t actually make — it was made for us. The Center itself has a rather interesting backstory. It was founded in 1994, originally as a rescue and rehabilitation facility for orphaned and injured Alaskan wildlife, and has since grown into a sprawling complex that sits on around 200 acres of genuine Alaskan wilderness, with the Chugach Mountains providing a backdrop so absurdly photogenic it looks computer-generated. The animals here aren’t performing — they’re resident because they can’t be released into the wild, which makes the whole experience feel considerably less grim than your average zoo and rather more like stumbling into someone’s very large, very well-organised back garden, if their back garden happened to contain elk, musk oxen, caribou, and both brown and black bears.
The highlights, however — and there’s no competition here — were the brown bears and the moose.
We found the three brown bears in what can only be described as a spectacular mood. By the time we reached their enclosure, they were already in the pond, which they appeared to regard as their own personal entertainment complex. They were splashing, wrestling, rolling, and launching themselves at each other with the sort of theatrical mock-ferocity that fools absolutely nobody. These are, of course, the same species — Ursus arctos — that can weigh over 700 pounds and run at thirty miles per hour, which makes watching them behave like overexcited Labrador puppies all the more surreal. We stood there for a good fifteen minutes, cameras working overtime, as they frolicked about with complete disregard for their audience. Eventually, satisfied they’d given sufficient value for money, they lumbered off into the undergrowth and vanished. The enclosures here are large — deliberately so, and quite right too — which does mean the animals aren’t always visible, but in this case we had rather been spoiled.
We thought that was probably the high point of the visit. We were wrong.
Near the main building, three moose were loitering by the fence with the relaxed, mildly superior air of animals who know perfectly well they’re the main attraction and aren’t going to rush for anyone. Now, Emily is — and this is putting it mildly — a devoted and lifelong moose enthusiast. She had seen plenty of moose by this point in the trip. What she had not done was touch one. Moose in the wild, for the uninitiated, are not especially interested in being petted. They are large, occasionally unpredictable, and generally give the impression that they have better things to do. These three, however, were clearly different — habituated to humans, utterly unruffled, and perfectly happy to saunter over to the fence and present themselves for inspection.
The antlers — technically called paddles, for the broad, flattened shape they develop at maturity — were extraordinary up close. The texture is nothing like you’d imagine. Emily was, to put it diplomatically, beside herself.
Then a small group of visitors who claimed to be locals produced some bananas and began feeding them to the moose, offering Emily a go. Now, as a rule, we take a fairly dim view of feeding wildlife things they probably shouldn’t have. Bananas are not, as far as anyone can establish, a significant part of the traditional Alaskan moose diet. It was almost certainly not sanctioned by the management. We knew this. We exchanged a brief glance of parental acknowledgement — the kind that means we are absolutely letting this happen — and said nothing whatsoever. Emily fed the moose a banana. The moose accepted it with great dignity.
We were all, it’s fair to say, extremely happy.
Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center — Key Information:
- 📍 Location: Mile 79 Seward Highway, Portage, Alaska, AK 99587
- 🌐 Website: www.alaskawildlife.org
- 📧 Email: info@alaskawildlife.org
- 📞 Phone: +1 (907) 783-2025
- 🕐 Opening Hours: Open daily; summer hours (May–September) 9:00 am – 7:00 pm; winter hours vary — check website
- 🎟️ Entry Fees: Adults $20, Seniors (65+) $18, Children (3–12) $15, Under 3 free — check website for current pricing
🏔️ Portage Lake, a Vanishing Glacier, and the Ground That Moved
Just a short distance past the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center, we spotted a turnoff from the Seward Highway — a road that squeezes itself through a mountain pass and emerges at the port town of Whittier on Prince William Sound. We hadn’t planned to go all the way to Whittier, but we did want to stop at the Begich, Boggs Visitor Center on the shore of Portage Lake, and that was more than worth the detour.
The Visitor Center itself is a handsome building, opened in 1986 and run by the U.S. Forest Service as part of Chugach National Forest — America’s most northerly national forest, covering a rather staggering six million acres. It sits on the northwestern shore of Portage Lake, and here’s the slightly melancholy thing about that: the lake only exists because Portage Glacier has been melting. The glacier has been retreating since the late nineteenth century, and where there was once solid ice there is now a substantial body of cold, rather grey glacial water. The glacier itself has retreated so far up the valley that you can no longer see it from the Visitor Center at all. To actually clap eyes on it, you need to take a boat trip out across the lake — which, unfortunately, we didn’t have time for on this occasion. Something to file under “next time,” assuming there’s still a glacier left to look at, which given current trends is not entirely guaranteed.
The building sits, as it happens, on the terminal moraine left behind by Portage Glacier back in 1914 — essentially a ridge of debris bulldozed into place by the advancing ice before it started its long retreat. It’s named after two American congressmen, Nick Begich of Alaska and Hale Boggs of Louisiana, both of whom were killed in 1972 when a light aircraft vanished somewhere between Anchorage and Juneau and was never found. A sobering bit of history attached to an otherwise cheerful visitor attraction.
Inside, the exhibits are genuinely excellent. There’s a great deal on the glaciers of the area and how they’ve changed over time, some thoughtful material on climate change and the human contribution to it — presented in a way that informs rather than lectures, which is a skill in itself — along with coverage of the 1964 earthquake, the local wildlife, and life in Portage Valley generally. The earthquake section deserves a moment’s attention, because what happened here in March 1964 was quite extraordinary, even by Alaskan standards. The Good Friday Earthquake, as it became known, registered a moment magnitude of 9.2 — the most powerful ever recorded in North American history and the third most powerful ever measured anywhere on earth by seismograph. The ground moved for approximately four and a half minutes. Portage itself was particularly badly affected, with the land subsiding several feet, flooding the town with saltwater and essentially destroying it — the ghost town remains are still visible nearby. Across Alaska, 131 people lost their lives, the majority killed not by the shaking itself but by the tsunami waves it generated, which swept coastal communities with devastating effect. It’s one of those events that sounds almost implausible until you stand in the valley where it happened and look at the evidence still written into the landscape.
Life in Portage Valley is not, it has to be said, for the faint-hearted. Whilst the weather is somewhat milder than the brutal interior of Alaska, the valley is a natural funnel for precipitation and receives extraordinary amounts of snow each winter — we’re talking many feet of the stuff, routinely and without apology. Those twelve-foot snow markers we’d been sniggering at earlier on the Seward Highway suddenly seemed less amusing in context.
We left Portage Lake and continued south towards Seward, where we’d be staying for the next few days and where, one assumes, further adventures and questionable weather decisions awaited us.
Begich, Boggs Visitor Center — key information:
- 📍 Location: Portage Lake Loop, Girdwood, AK 99587 (Mile 5.5, Portage Glacier Road — approx. 50 miles south of Anchorage off the Seward Highway)
- 🌐 Website: www.fs.usda.gov/r10/chugach
- 📧 Email: Not publicly listed — use the website contact form
- 📞 Phone: (907) 783-2326
- 🕘 Opening Hours: Open daily from Memorial Day weekend through early September, 9:00 am – 5:00 pm; closed in winter
- 💵 Entry Fees: Grounds and viewing area free; museum exhibits and film $5 per adult; children 15 and under free; Interagency Passes (Senior, Access, Annual, Military) accepted
Best time to visit Seward
🌸 Spring (April – May)
Spring arrives tentatively in Seward, with snow still clinging to the mountain peaks but the days growing noticeably longer and brighter. Temperatures range from around 2°C to 10°C, and the landscape begins to green up quickly by May. This is one of the quietest periods for tourism, meaning fewer crowds at Kenai Fjords National Park and lower prices for accommodation and boat tours.
Wildlife is a particular highlight — sea otters, harbour seals, and Steller sea lions are active in Resurrection Bay, and migratory seabirds return to the coastline in impressive numbers. The Exit Glacier road typically opens in late April, offering early access to one of Seward’s most iconic attractions. Boat tours begin running, though some operators don’t reach full schedule until late May.
Spring weather is unpredictable. Rain and overcast skies are common, and snowfall is still possible, especially at elevation. However, the occasional clear spring day delivers spectacular views with snow-dusted peaks reflecting in the bay.
What to pack: Waterproof hiking boots, a warm insulated mid-layer, a waterproof outer jacket, wool or thermal base layers, gloves, a hat, quick-dry trousers, sunglasses, and a compact umbrella or packable rain poncho.
☀️ Summer (June – August)
Summer is unquestionably Seward’s peak season, and for good reason. Long daylight hours — up to 19 hours in June — mild temperatures between 12°C and 18°C, and the best conditions for outdoor activities make this the most popular time to visit. Resurrection Bay is alive with wildlife: orcas, humpback whales, Dall’s porpoises, puffins, and bald eagles are frequently spotted on boat tours into Kenai Fjords National Park.
Hiking trails are at their most accessible, with wildflowers carpeting the valleys and ridgelines offering sweeping panoramic views. The Exit Glacier and Harding Icefield Trail are fully open, and kayaking in the bay is a truly world-class experience. Seward’s waterfront comes alive with the Alaska SeaLife Centre, local restaurants, and the famous Fourth of July Mount Marathon Race, a gruelling and iconic event that draws runners and spectators from across the state.
The downside is the crowds. Accommodation books up months in advance, cruise ship passengers frequently disembark in port, and boat tours fill quickly. Booking well ahead is essential. Rain remains a constant possibility — Seward averages over 1,700mm of annual rainfall — so do not expect wall-to-wall sunshine even in peak summer.
What to pack: Lightweight moisture-wicking T-shirts, a fleece or light jumper, a waterproof jacket, comfortable hiking trousers and shorts, sturdy waterproof hiking boots, sunscreen, insect repellent, sunglasses, a reusable water bottle, and a daypack for trails.
🍂 Autumn (September – October)
Autumn is arguably Seward’s most underrated season. The summer crowds thin dramatically after Labour Day, prices drop, and the scenery transforms into a tapestry of gold, amber, and rust as the surrounding birch and willow forests change colour. Temperatures cool to between 4°C and 12°C in September, dropping further into October when frost and early snowfall become likely.
Wildlife viewing remains excellent well into September — brown bears are actively feeding in preparation for hibernation, and whale sightings on Resurrection Bay are still common. Boat tours continue operating, though schedules begin to reduce from mid-September. The northern lights become visible from late September onwards on clear nights, making Seward a genuine aurora destination for those willing to face the chill.
October marks the transition into the quiet season. Some businesses and tour operators begin closing for the winter, and boat tours may cease by month’s end. However, for those seeking solitude, dramatic weather, and raw Alaskan atmosphere, early autumn is a deeply rewarding time to visit.
What to pack: A warm insulated jacket (down or synthetic), waterproof trousers, thermal base layers, sturdy waterproof boots, wool socks, gloves, a warm hat, a scarf, layers for unpredictable temperature swings, and a headlamp for lengthening nights.
❄️ Winter (November – March)
Winter transforms Seward into a quiet, moody, and starkly beautiful place that few outsiders see. Temperatures range from around -8°C to 2°C, with heavy snowfall creating a pristine alpine landscape. The town’s population shrinks considerably as seasonal businesses close, but those who venture here find an experience that feels genuinely remote and untouched.
Cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and ice fishing are popular winter activities. The area around Exit Glacier offers exceptional snow-covered scenery, and the lack of foliage means wildlife such as moose and mountain goats can be spotted more easily against the white backdrop. The northern lights are most reliably visible in winter on clear nights, particularly between December and February.
Seward itself remains open — the Alaska SeaLife Centre operates year-round and the town celebrates the Polar Bear Jump Off festival in January, a lively community event that attracts hardy visitors. Accommodation is widely available and very affordable in winter. However, daylight hours are extremely short — less than six hours in December — and some roads can become hazardous. Many boat tours and attractions are closed entirely until spring.
What to pack: A heavyweight insulated and waterproof parka, thermal base layers (top and bottom), fleece mid-layers, waterproof snow boots with good grip, thick wool socks, insulated gloves or mittens, a balaclava or neck gaiter, a warm hat, hand warmers, and microspikes or crampons for icy paths.
📊 Seasonal Summary Table
🗺️ Overall Best Time to Visit
For most visitors, June to August offers the definitive Seward experience — long golden days, the full range of wildlife and boat tours, accessible hiking, and the vibrant energy of an Alaskan coastal town at its peak. However, those willing to travel outside peak season will find that late May and early September provide an excellent balance: fewer crowds, lower costs, and wildlife that is just as impressive, in weather that remains manageable. Adventurous travellers seeking the northern lights, dramatic solitude, or genuinely off-the-beaten-path Alaska should consider the shoulder months of late September or January to February. Seward rewards visitors in every season — the question is simply which version of Alaska you are looking for.
Other things to do whilst in Seward
1. The Iditaride
After spending the previous day at sea we decided to focus our last few days in Steward on terra firma. Since arriving in Alaska and Emily finding out about the existence of kennels for dog sledding huskies that were open to the public, we had been pressurized into visiting one of these establishments. Luckily enough one such place existed close to Seward. Despite this being summer and the snow is long gone this tour also promised us a sled ride – how could we turn down this opportunity. So, we set off to the “Iditaride” Dog Sled tour.
Dog sledding is a big winter sport here in Alaska and the blue riband event of the sledding world is the Iditarod, the largest sporting event in Alaska (which is not saying too much).
2. Exit Glacier
3. Northwestern Fjord Cruise
Another Alaskan summer’s day – cold with a low dank mist covering the mountains. We had an early start, and we wearily raise ourselves from our slumber, grabbed a quick breakfast from the provisions we bought at the local store and hit the road. The plan was to take a 9 ½ hour boat trip from Seward up the Northwestern Fjord, some 70 odd miles down the coast. The overcast weather put some doubt in our mind on this endeavour, but we had already bought the tickets, so we were committed to the trip.
Where to stay in Seward
1. Bear Lake Lodging B&B
Bear Lake Lodgings B&B has lake views, free WiFi and free private parking, located in Seward.
The units come with hardwood floors and feature a fully equipped kitchen with a fridge, a dining area, a flat-screen TV with satellite channels, and a private bathroom with shower and bathrobes. Some units have a seating area and/or a balcony.
An American breakfast is available each morning at the bed and breakfast.
Bear Lake Lodgings B&B has a sun terrace.
After a day of hiking, fishing or canoeing, guests can relax in the garden or in the shared lounge area.
Moose Pass is 21 miles from the accommodation, while Cooper Landing is 26 miles from the property.
2. Exit Glacier Lodge
3. Sunshine House Bed & Breakfast
Sunshine Lodge Bed & Breakfast sits in Seward, a small port town on Resurrection Bay in south-central Alaska. The lodge offers straightforward, comfortable accommodation with the kind of personal service you get from an independently run property rather than a chain hotel. Rooms are clean and well kept, and the full breakfast sets guests up properly for a day out exploring. Seward is a practical base for Kenai Fjords National Park, where boat tours take visitors out to see glaciers, sea otters, orcas and seabirds. The town itself has a decent selection of restaurants and a useful Alaska SeaLife Centre. The surrounding scenery — steep forested mountains dropping to the bay — is genuinely dramatic without any need to oversell it. For travellers who want somewhere reliable, friendly and well located rather than flashy, Sunshine Lodge is a solid choice in a part of Alaska that rewards the effort of getting there.
More to Explore
