A disputed mountain, stray moose and a surfeit of pilots await Trump and Putin in Anchorage

Telegraph

6 days ago

The Alaskan city of Anchorage isn't used to being in the spotlight.
Tucked into the vast wilderness of America's so-called Last Frontier, this unassuming conurbation is the state's economic beating heart and largest city, with nearly 290,000 residents, yet it tends to be overshadowed by the more attractive and vibrant state capital, Juneau.
For now, however, it is the city on everyone's lips, as today's high-stakes summit between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin is scheduled to take place at a US military base on the city's northern edge.
They are unlikely to have the time or inclination to explore further, unlike the rising numbers of tourists who come to ride the Alaska Railroad, hike through nearby bear country, or plunge into the plethora of adventurous activities in the surrounding national parks.
However, as the respective presidents fly in, they won't be able to miss the dramatically soaring peak of Mount McKinley, North America's highest mountain – provided it isn't enveloped in cloud, as it was when I visited in May.
At 20,310ft, it is a spectacular sight (so I was told), but regardless, Trump can reflect on a contentious change he instituted in the early days of his presidency, replacing the original indigenous name, Mount Denali, with that of former gold prospector and 25th US president William McKinley.
He had bestowed his name upon the mountain in 1896, and it remained so until 2015, when, after a decades-long campaign by Alaskans to revert to Mount Denali (which means 'the high one' in the native Koyukon language), it was changed by the Obama administration, only to be flipped back to McKinley by an executive order when Trump took office last January.
With the surrounding swath of lowlands framed by the breathtaking snowy peaks of the coastal Chugach mountain range, Anchorage's appeal lies in its dramatic setting and the natural bounty beyond the city limits. On a clear day, it is said you can spot the peaks of six mountain ranges.
The metropolis itself wins no prizes for aesthetics, its grid-like streets lined with unremarkable 1960s-era tower blocks and low-rise commercial buildings, made even drearier by the heavy grey skies during my stay.
Anchorage started life as a construction camp for the Alaska Railroad in 1915, further developing after military bases were established here during the Second World War and following the discovery of oil in the 1960s, which fuelled an economic boom, so I expected to find more traces of its historic roots.
Solitary older buildings offered a clue, but everything became clear upon learning that the city, and Alaska as a whole, is one of the most seismically active regions on Earth, sitting on fault lines that make it prone to destructive tremors.
On March 27 1964, Anchorage was hit by the Great Alaska Earthquake, which reached an obliterating magnitude of 9.2, the second-most powerful ever recorded globally. It devastated much of the city, and structures have since been designed to withstand future seismic shocks, as the earthquake risk remains high, with nearly 1,800 quakes recorded across the state in June alone.
During my visit, I headed out of the city to ride the Wilderness Express train across a plain thick with cottonwood trees to the arty settlement of Talkeetna, which inspired the cult US comedy-drama Northern Exposure.
Other visitors travel farther on to Denali National Park and Preserve, covering 9,492 sq miles (making it bigger than Wales), where rafting trips, sightseeing flights, and wildlife viewing are popular draws.
Within the city, the Anchorage Museum is the state's largest and is highly regarded, while bus tours and bike rides offer a good way to explore.
Nonetheless, these are mere sideshows compared with the natural drama of the surrounding landscape and its resident wildlife, which sometimes spills on to city streets, with moose commonly spotted plodding along sidewalks and even bears scavenging for scraps. It adds to the outback feel.
A number of Americans I met, from Colorado, California and Florida, had arrived to work at local tourist attractions for the summer, drawn by their love of the great outdoors, but as autumn draws in, they soon depart. Even locals try to escape the gloom of freezing, snowy winters, when days shrink to just five and a half hours of light.
Surprisingly, Alaska, and Anchorage specifically, suffers from some of the highest crime rates in the US; violent offences in the state are reportedly more than five times the national average.
Another downside, triggered by the region's remoteness and inaccessibility, is the high cost of living, due to the lack of a road network, which means goods have to be shipped or flown in. Getting around by air is a key way locals travel, and the 100 or so small planes and floatplanes parked outside Anchorage's international airport, the world's fourth-largest cargo hub, are testament to this. It is estimated the city has more pilots per capita than virtually anywhere else in the world.
Anchorage's economy is diverse, fuelled by the oil and gas industries, as well as healthcare, construction and financial services, though tourism has grown to become one of the strongest sectors. It supports one in nine jobs, with 40 per cent of visitors reportedly arriving on cruise ships, which dock at its two ports: Whittier (60 miles away) and Seward (127 miles away).
As Putin steps onto this patch of US soil later today, he will surely be hoping to strike a better deal than his country's imperial leaders, who ruled Alaska as 'Russian America' for nearly 70 years before selling it to the US in 1867 for just $7.2m.
The Alaska Purchase has since been regarded as one of history's biggest bargains, following the billions of dollars in oil and gold wealth that have flowed from the discovery of Alaska's rich seam of natural resources.
Both leaders are aiming for a historic outcome in today's discussions, and if the ramifications are as seismic as Anchorage, the earth may move for them both.