A run through the tundra in Kotzebue
A weekend well-spent in rural Alaska.
KOTZEBUE, ALASKA — Have you ever had a bad day outside, and just wanted to stop?
As an enthusiastic skier, biker and runner, I’ve struggled through my fair share of races when I wasn’t at my best. But I’d never given in to the impulse until a late summer day a few weeks ago.
As a participant in a half marathon in this Northwest Alaska hub town — a race I’d signed up for 36 hours before the start — I’d run about eight miles and had five to go. My legs hurt, and the carpet of tundra just off the road looked soft and inviting.
Welcome to the Cape Blossom Marathon and Half — the northernmost organized marathon in America, and, so far as I know, the only one where nobody will judge you if you take a break during the middle of the race to sit in the moss and shove sun-warmed blueberries into your mouth.
As a matter of transparency: My friend Hannah Atkinson is the race organizer. She is not paying me to hype up the Cape Blossom Marathon. But the time I spent 30 miles above the Arctic Circle last month was sufficiently joyous to justify some free advertising and a bit of rural Alaska travel writing in Northern Journal.
The City of Kotzebue, which sponsors the event, is already planning the second official edition next year, on Aug. 29. Here are some of the reasons you should go.
1. Unlike running races on the road system, where you might have to train religiously to vie for a top result, you are practically guaranteed an age-group podium at the Cape Blossom race. Just 12 people finished this year’s half marathon, and only five finished the full marathon. Everyone got a sweet finisher’s medal, and a certificate signed by the city mayor.
2. Boats! Marathon competitors took a 10-mile ride across Kotzebue Sound, south from downtown to Cape Blossom, where one day the city plans to build a deepwater port. From the beach at Cape Blossom, the course led back to town — but not without more boats! To get past a creek between Cape Blossom and Kotzebue, runners had to climb into a communal kayak and, with volunteers, paddle themselves across.
3. Other pre-marathon pasta feeds might feature dubiously sourced meat sauce. At the Cape Blossom Marathon, community members cooked up noodles not just with ground caribou, but also with ground moose. Other dinner options: fresh-caught trout and chum salmon, including one filet garnished with the classic combination of cheese, onion and mayonnaise. (If you’re still only cooking your salmon with lemon and dill, it’s time to branch out.)
4. The whole community, including the runners, pitches in and supports the event. The night before the race, Hannah enlisted me in organizing snacks for the aid stations; meanwhile, city workers stayed late after dinner at the Kotzebue Boys and Girls Club to fill water jugs. During the race, every runner I passed gave me a high-five.
5. As they say in the Northwest Arctic, Aug. 24 is always a good day. Okay, actually, they don’t say that, and I think the weather in Kotzebue in late August has the potential to be prettttty cold and unpleasant. Hannah asked us to bring a fur hat and mittens that she accidentally had left in Anchorage. But on this particular Aug. 24, the sun came out, and the half marathon took me, plus some old and new friends, down a glorious stretch of beach along the sound, then up to the bluffs and on to a road through the tundra. In other words, the weather and scenery in Kotzebue can be sweet in the late summer, and it’s worth rolling the dice because sometimes you might win.
After an awards ceremony back at the Boys and Girls Club, we capped off the day with an official race barbecue on the beach, roasting Costco hot dogs over a pile of burning pallets. Some of us swam. Twice. There were sled dog puppies. New friends exchanged phone numbers and emails. Late-night pizza, kimchi and keepsakes were procured from Uutuku, one of Kotzebue's incredible convenience stores.
Moral of the story: Getting off the road system is almost always worthwhile. Buy more last-minute mileage tickets for weekend visits to rural hubs. And sign up for next year’s Cape Blossom Marathon. There’s an email list where you can register for updates.
And no, I won’t leave you with a cliffhanger: I did, in fact, begrudgingly get up from my comfortable perch on the tundra and finish the race. I plan to go back next year — and I may or may not be better prepared.