These are illustrative stories — composites drawn from the kinds of moves Alaskans make every year, written to show what the decision and the logistics actually look like. Names and details are not real people. Have your own story? Share it with us.
We left Anchorage in late May, right after break-up, because we wanted the roads dry and the days long. The plan was simple on paper: pickup truck, a 16-foot cargo trailer with most of the house in it, two kids in the back seat and the dog between them. Roughly 2,800 miles to Boise, eight days.
The thing we almost forgot was passports. We had ours, but the kids' had never been ordered, and we only caught it because a friend asked what we were doing about the border. We paid to expedite. The dog needed a current rabies certificate for Canada, and I'm glad I had the paper copy in the glovebox, not just a photo on my phone.
I'd budgeted for hotels and food, but not for how little cell service there is in the Yukon. For long stretches there was simply nothing. We downloaded offline maps before we left and booked our Whitehorse and Fort Nelson stops ahead, which turned out to be the best decision of the trip — rolling into a small town at 9 p.m. hoping for a room with two kids is not a plan.
Fuel was the biggest surprise. Pulling a loaded trailer through the mountains, the truck drank far more than I'd estimated, and it ended up being one of our largest single costs. We'd sold the second car in Anchorage rather than tow it, and I've never been happier about a decision.
Somewhere past Watson Lake, with the kids asleep and the dog snoring, it finally felt real. We were leaving. It was hard and it was beautiful, and I'd do it again — just differently.
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