Memorial Day in Northwest Alaska

Four hours behind the east coast this morning, we woke up to bluebird skies and fantastic temperatures. With no one in the office for the federal holiday, it was a perfect day to take a hike to look at the things we fly over all the time and never seem to have time to visit - before the summer rush of mosquitoes and biting flies.

Wildflowers taking advantage of the brief growing season on May 26th, 2025 in Nome, AK.

During World War II, the territory of Alaska was an important line of defense against a potential Japanese invasion across the Pacific. As a result, anywhere with a deep harbor, room for a long runway tended to get one. Many of these facilities continue on today in more civil capacities while countless others have been disassembled or fallen in decay due to the relentless assault presented by the regional climate.

\World War II landing craft sitting near the old USAAF satellite airfield hangar in Nome, AK.

Nome is unique since it was one of the final stops for thousands of American produced aircraft headed west to Russia, a critical ally during the war. Today, a careful eye will reveal many examples of that legacy. During the Korean War, Cold War, to include Vietnam era, Alaska continued to fulfill it's role of buffering mainland America and Canada against the Soviets. By then however, it was the 49th state.

With another local pilot, Neil, riding shotgun in our crew car, we headed up the Teller road to an old satellite airport of Nome, long since erased from the map following the war.

We managed to explore an abandoned USAAF hangar, built from wood, and somehow still mostly intact. Impressive to find a door, still resting on it's miniature railroad track, safely in the hangar. The wheel bearings were seized, but were built of such substantial material that they could probably be returned to service with a little love.

An old hangar North of Nome that would have seen countless aircraft headed westward to Russia a part of the US military cooperative program with the Soviets known as the Lend-Lease program. Estimates are that upwards of 10,000 aircraft transitioned through Nome in a short period during WWII.

Outside were a few landing craft scattered around, an old Army ambulance on a Jeep chassis, and a pair of 6" naval gun barrels lying unceremoniously in the gravel, rusting away into oblivion - out of sight, out of mind.

We had heard for a long time that there were old harbor guns in Nome. We never expected to quite literally stumble over them while walking to check out an enormous winch. Of the two, one had a blown muzzle, but the one on the right would is ripe for restoration in a monument somewhere. Only in Alaska can you find military hardware laying in the dirt on the side of the road.

These guns, emplaces on a hill above Nome provided cover against a possible Japanese invasion. Resting silently in the dirt 80 years later, it's difficult to imagine the report made by a couple of these being fired over the harbor.

Along the way we drove by a tail-less Beech 18 sinking into the silt in the bottom of a pit near the City Fire Training Center. Of course I can't resist... Into PARK she went, and down the hill we went. Some might say that my infatuation with forgotten Beech 18s & C-45s is misguided, and that's OK. I simply can't help it. I have to crawl into these old airplanes, no matter how dismembered they might be, and pay them respect. Fortunately for me, there are 18's scattered all across the state, so there's no shortage of specimens.

An old girl after my heart, long stripped of anything valuable, slowly sinking into the mud near the city dump.

Looking through the missing nose cone into the heart of the old Beech.

The mornings mission, if you can call it that, was to hike up Anvil Peak to the last remaining mostly intact White Alice site in America. The location has been remediated to remove hazards, like the asbestos panels that once covered the hulking antennas. Now, only the skeletons of these massive sentinels remain, standing in silent defiance against the onslaught of long winters, high winds, and salt air.

The old White Alice radar station as viewed from our airplane in February 2025 with low angle winter light. After we zoomed past this, we decided that a visit was in order once the weather improved.

While driving up to this once critical radar site, we happened across a few friends. Musk Ox. We frequently spot these furry critters, about the size of a yearling beef cow, although mostly fur, from the plane. It was a trip to see a few standing in the road. We respected them, and they watched us without any fear. In fact, the bull looked at me like I owed him money, but he didn't do anything about it, so our vehicle remained free of dents. While there are many animals in this state that have reputations, from Polar Bear, to Brown Bear, and even Walrus, most people don't realize that the Musk Ox, a relatively mall framed herbivore, rare outside the arctic could even be hazardous. Although, a few years ago, an Alaska State Trooper was killed outside his home while trying to scare some off.

A pair of Musk Ox shedding qiviut along the side of the Teller Road north of Nome, AK. They weren't in a hurry, and neither were we. Nice to see up close something that we spot from the airplane so frequently.

We drove quite a way up the road before the snow and ice was too deep, after that we set out on foot weaving around the deeper snowbanks and aiming for dry ground where possible. On top, the view was second only to flying past the hilltop while on approach to Runway 21 - something we do often. The engineers and construction staff who built those facilities thought they were building a tool for national defense. It's clear to me, 70 years after construction started, that what they actually did is erect a monument to the human condition. They've proven, that with nothing more than drafting paper, slide rules, and a Number 2 Ticonderoga it is possible to build something that remains for generations. I was astounded at intact the galvanizing was on all of the steel, hardly any noticeable corrosion.

As a ham radio operator and former Motorola contractor I couldn't resist climbing one of the old waveguide towers. Still solid as a rock, and straight as an arrow, but taller than I expected.

The old waveguide towers were like knew, I had no reservations about climbing the ladder, but held on because in the absence of other objects to offer perspective, I quickly realized these towers were bigger than I thought.

To the southwest of the antennas is the top of Anvil Peak. With the help of a knotted rope, Neil and I scrambled to the top of this point. Surrounded by many names carved into the stone a US Army Corps of Engineers survey marker was mounted to the top, dated 1944.

Dangling legs off the side of an easy scramble on the summit of Anvil Peak, next to a thoughtfully placed knotted rope secured to a 3/8" climbing bolt, while thinking about the history surrounding me and the sacrifices of our service members.

We're not sure exactly where, but we're told that there was a US Army gun emplacement guarding the harbor. Our suspicion is the concrete foundations surrounding this point were part of that emplacement.

Sitting on top, quietly taking in the view, at 14:59 local time, it dawned on me that without planning, and somehow equally without coincidence, we sat quietly together only a minute before the congressionally designated Memorial Day National Moment of Remembrance.

Despite the historical tradition of Memorial Day, which began as Decoration Day following the War Between the States wasn't codified until the year 2000 when it was deemed that 15:00 local time on Memorial Day would be an appropriate moment as a populace to consider the basis of our freedoms.

One of the last remaining White Mountain sites, and likely the most intact. The skeleton of these massive antennas would have been covered in panels to protect them from the weather. From this position they could surveil the Bering Sea for incoming threats from Soviet Russia during the Cold War.

In that moment, sitting on Anvil Peak it was hard to reflect on anything other than the immense sacrifice made by all of America's fighting men and women. Past, present, and future, as Howard Osterkamp said, "Many gave some, some gave all."

Happy Memorial Day.