Tag: HABR

Brooks Range Voices: Barry Whitehill

September 25, 2026 by Bjorn Dihle

Barry Whitehill has a deep knowledge of Alaska’s interior and arctic regions and is generous in sharing his hard-earned perspective. He regularly takes a wide array of people on river floats, fishing, and hunting trips to the Brooks Range.

Barry looks on at sled dog team mushing.

Whitehill jokes that he has ulterior motives. He wants more people to understand how special the Brooks Range is so they will help protect it for future generations.

He does not mince words when it comes to the threat the proposed Ambler Road presents for hunters, anglers and anyone who cares about wild public lands. If built, the Ambler Road would be a 211-mile industrial corridor across the southern flanks of the Brooks Range that would open the region to mining and industrial development. The private road would mostly benefit foreign mining interests, while wrecking opportunities for local and visiting hunters and anglers.

Here is his story.

Barry on a river float in the Brooks Range.

Describe the types of activities you’ve enjoyed in the Brooks Range.

I’m a hunter and my focus is getting meat on the table. Caribou have been an important part of my family’s dinner fare. I’ve mushed dogs, floated rivers and hiked into the Brooks Range to hunt caribou. One of the cool parts of hunting the Brooks Range is how you come across evidence of past hunters using the land going back many, many generations. Things like stone circles that mark old campsites. You realize you are not the first hunter here and that people have been chasing caribou and calling this place home for a very long time.

The North Slope of the Brooks Range has been a desert for so long that it really preserves things. There are caribou sheds found out there that have been dated to be more than a thousand years old. In old drive fences you can still find sticks the old people likely hung netting from to tangle Dall sheep. If you touch them, they’ll disintegrate. I once found an arrowhead that I believe was made from the femur of a marmot. The Brooks Range has long been used by hunters. It’s important we keep it the sort of place that we can pass on to future generations.

Share one memory that stands out to you.

I took a 60 Minutes cameraman into the Brooks Range who wanted caribou footage for the Sunday Morning Show. At the time, the Western Arctic Herd was at its peak, numbering nearly half a million animals. We flew over a vast stretch from Bettles to the Killik River without seeing a single caribou.

Finally, on day three of the trip, we spotted a trickle of caribou coming our way. Soon after that, we had caribou passing by camp on both sides of the river. I estimated that a thousand animals went by every hour. It was incredible to be so close to such an amazing event, smelling their smell, listening to their grunts and the sound of their tendons clicking. They were so close we could have reached out and touched individual animals.

Think of your first trip to the Brooks – what was different than you expected?

On one of those first trips, I was with my sons when they were three and five. We drove the Dalton Highway and when we crossed Atigun Pass, I remember looking out on the unaltered landscapes away from the road and feeling like I was seeing what Lewis and Clark saw when they made it to the Upper Missouri River two centuries earlier. It is a place you can still look out as far as you can see without roads, fence lines nor power poles marring your view.

What is most special about this place?

The Brooks Range is a transformative and healing place. It’s not a barren wasteland as some would like you to think.

For the past ten years, I have been taking combat veterans on fishing and hunting trips in the Brooks. One trip I took out veterans with PTSD and a group of inner-city teenagers. I wondered if it would be a disaster, but it turned out to be an incredible trip. I remember one of the veterans had received a Purple Heart. His best friend had died in his arms in Afghanistan. As he was fishing, he began to smile. His buddies were shocked. They told me that they couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen him smile.

Share at least one piece of essential gear you’d recommend packing or advice you’d share with someone going to the Brooks for the first time.

My gear recommendation would depend on what sort of trip you’re planning. If you’re going on a trip where weight isn’t a big issue, consider bringing a torch you can attach to a small propane bottle. That way you can get a fire started in even the wettest weather.

I’ve whittled down the weight of my kit as much as I can. I like using a Siltarp as a sleep shelter when I have willows to set it up with. I pair it with bug netting during insect season. It’s nice to be able to look around in case you have a large, hairy, unwanted camp guest.

For advice, don’t bite off more than you can chew. Take your time. Look at the small things. Don’t get lost in how big a place it is. The more time you take and the more you pay attention, the more worlds will open to you.

What aspect of the proposed Ambler Road project concerns you most?

Where to begin? I dread the idea of an industrial corridor going east to west, cutting across all those river and creek drainages. The road would be entirely different than the Dalton Highway. The Haul Road runs south to north, impacting less watersheds. The Ambler Road would cut across the watersheds draining the southern Brooks Range and likely devastate them.

The Ambler Road would cut across the most premier wild lands left in North America.

It would damage the hunting and fishing opportunities for locals and visitors. Over the years I’ve gotten to know a lot of Alaskan Natives who live in Evansville, Allakaket and other villages who are devastated by how the Ambler Road could threaten their subsistence lifestyle.

Then there’s all the ore trucks that would come with it if the project went through. The Dalton Highway has gotten harder to drive. We can’t keep up with maintenance on that road. How will it handle all the additional ore trucks? My list of concerns goes on and on.

How do you think your experience in the Brooks would change if the Ambler Road was built? What do hunters and anglers stand to lose?

Hunters and anglers from the Lower 48 come up to the Brooks Range to make an adventure that they’ve often spent a lifetime dreaming about. The road and the ensuing development that will come will destroy that dream.

What’s the biggest misconception you’ve heard about the project?

When they say they’ll put the land back to the way it was after they are done mining. There is no way to put the fragile Arctic landscape back. You can still see the Hickel Highway, which was a failed attempt to build a connecting road to Alaska’s Arctic in 1969.

What might you say to someone who said, “I don’t understand why this road is such a big threat?”

You haven’t been out there and seen how special a place the Brooks Range is.

It’s the last of the last of the real wilderness. Once it’s gone, we’re not getting it back.

Why is it important that hunters and anglers across the nation speak up against the proposed Ambler Road?

The Ambler Road would go through the heart of our best wild public lands for what? Foreign-owned mines. That’s ridiculous.

Hunting and angling transcend political party lines. We can have a powerful voice that reaches both sides of the aisle. If we band together, we can make a difference. We can keep the Brooks Range a place where future generations of hunters and anglers can chase caribou, catch sheefish and experience how special and transformative a place it is.

Where the Proposed Ambler Road Stands: A Summer 2026 Update

August 12, 2026 by Chelsea Pardo

Over the past several months, the proposed Ambler Industrial Road has remained in the news. Federal actions related to domestic critical minerals and a recent Alaska Board of Game meeting have prompted many hunters and anglers to ask the same question:

What does this mean for the future of the Brooks Range?

While the policy landscape continues to evolve, the fundamentals of the project have changed very little. The Ambler Road has not been built and continues to face significant legal, financial, permitting, and logistical hurdles. At the same time, hunters and anglers remain engaged and committed to maintaining North America’s most wild and remote hunting and fishing grounds.

Here’s where things stand today.

Federal Directives Continue to Emphasize Domestic Security

In July, the administration issued a new Executive Order 14415, Securing America’s Defense Supply Chains and Ensuring Domestic Acquisition of Critical Minerals, a directive aimed at reducing America’s reliance on foreign-controlled supply chains for national defense. It is the latest in a series of federal directives—including Executive Orders 14272 and 14241—aimed at reducing or eliminating America’s dependence on foreign mineral supply chains. The order emphasizes that critical materials and components should be sourced domestically or from allied nations, and it calls for greater scrutiny of where those materials originate, how they move through the supply chain, and whether foreign adversaries retain leverage over the process.

At first glance, that policy might appear to strengthen the argument for industrial development in the Ambler Mining District. But the details point in the opposite direction. The administration’s stated goal is not simply to mine more materials; it is to build secure, resilient supply chains that serve U.S. interests from extraction through processing and end use. If minerals from Ambler are shipped overseas for processing, particularly to markets dominated by China, the project would fail that test.

According to the most recent feasibility study by Trilogy Metals, “delivery of all concentrates would be to a smelter in the Asia Pacific region,” adding that “the significance of the Chinese market for concentrate cannot be understated.” That is a critical distinction. A road built through the Brooks Range would not necessarily create a secure American minerals supply chain. It could instead move raw mineral concentrates out of Alaska and into the same overseas processing networks that federal policy is trying to avoid.

That makes the proposed Ambler Road difficult to square with America First priorities. Rather than strengthening domestic security, the project could perpetuate U.S. dependence on foreign-controlled processing, benefit rival markets, and deepen the very vulnerabilities the administration has pledged to eliminate. For hunters and anglers, the conclusion is clear: the risks of the Ambler Road continue to outweigh the potential benefits.

Alaska Board of Game Proposal 4

Another significant development occurred this summer at a special meeting of the Alaska Board of Game in Fairbanks.

The Board considered Proposal 4, which would establish a two-mile-wide hunting and trapping closure along the proposed Ambler Industrial Road corridor. After hearing testimony from hunters, residents, organizations, and agency staff, the Board voted to table the proposal until its January 2027 meeting in Kotzebue. We thank the Board of Game for tabling the vote and utilizing the necessary time to consider the proposal next year.

The Board’s decision postpones consideration of hunting restrictions tied to a road that has not been built and remains subject to significant uncertainty. If constructed, the Ambler Road would operate as a private industrial transportation corridor with controlled access, meaning the public would not be permitted to use the road to access public lands.

We appreciate everyone who participated in the process by attending the meeting, submitting testimony, or following the issue closely. The Board’s decision provides additional time for hunters, anglers, local communities, and other stakeholders to weigh in before any final action is considered. Given that the proposed road remains unbuilt and faces substantial permitting, legal, and financial uncertainty, many hunters and anglers believe associated changes to hunting regulations are premature.

What Hasn’t Changed

Although federal policy continues to evolve, the fundamental realities surrounding the Ambler Road remain largely unchanged.

The Ambler Road has not been built and continues to face significant permitting, financing, and legal challenges before construction could begin. Major federal permits remain outstanding; financing questions have not been resolved, and additional regulatory review remains ahead.

The proposed route would cross thousands of streams and numerous major rivers while traversing one of North America’s most intact hunting and fishing landscapes. The Brooks Range supports the Western Arctic Caribou Herd, world-class fisheries, and populations of moose, Dall sheep, bear, and other wildlife that sustain Alaska’s hunting and fishing traditions and rural food security.

Just as importantly, Ambler Road has always been proposed as a private industrial transportation corridor. Although the public could ultimately bear financial risk associated with the project, hunters, anglers, and other Alaskans would not be allowed to use the road to access the public lands it crosses and could even see future public lands hunting closures as a result.

Looking Ahead

The coming months will likely bring additional developments as federal agencies consider applications related to the project and the Alaska Board of Game prepares to revisit Proposal 4 in January 2027.

Whether you’re preparing for another season in the Brooks Range or simply care about the future of Alaska’s public lands, your voice continues to matter. Hunters & Anglers for the Brooks Range will continue tracking developments, sharing fact-based updates, and ensuring hunters and anglers have a seat at the table regarding the future of this unparalleled hunting and fishing landscape.

Seasons of the Caribou

August 3, 2026 by Bjorn Dihle

A calendar of the Western Arctic Herd’s migration

I was camped in the mountains of the western Brooks Range when I heard something big approaching in thick fog. There was a decent chance it was a grizzly, so I quietly unzipped my tent and crouched, ready with my pistol.

“I’m here,” I spoke, squinting into the gray.

The animal exhaled, paused for a few moments, then continued towards me. Antlers, followed by the rest of a big bull caribou, appeared. He was followed by two more equally impressive bulls. They passed by just a few yards away.

For thousands of years, caribou have been feeding, clothing and sheltering people around the circum-polar north. In Alaska, there are 31 different herds of caribou, each recognized by their calving grounds. Herds range in populations from double digits, like the Fox River herd, to over 100,000 animals, like the Western Arctic Herd. The three bulls I encountered were most likely part of the Western Arctic Herd, which undertakes one of the longest migrations made by any terrestrial mammal — through some of the wildest, most intact country left on earth.

In this blog we will take you through the seasons and migration of the Western Arctic Herd.

Spring

The Western Arctic Herd’s home range consists of around 140,000 square miles and is shared by about 40 communities, which depend on caribou as an important food source and on a deeply cultural level. Each spring, female caribou lead the migration from their wintering grounds on the Seward Peninsula, Nulato Hills and the upper Kobuk and Koyukuk Watersheds. The cows, followed by yearlings and a few stray bulls, head north across snow covered tundra and valleys, over the Brooks Range to the Utukok Uplands. These foothills on the North Slope have long been the herd’s calving grounds, historically having fewer predators and good forage. The cows give birth in the first week of June. This coincides with when nutritious tundra plants come to life, helping mothers replenish their strength and nurse their young, as well as providing calves with high quality forage.

It is never easy to be a caribou, but they are exceptionally vulnerable during their first two weeks of life. Calves are born able to walk and can travel within a few hours, but studies have shown that it’s not uncommon for around half to be killed by predators like golden eagles, wolves and bears during their first two weeks. All the cows calving within a few days of each other, along with their search for calving areas that historically have fewer predators, increase the odds of calf survival. The Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADF&G) writes, “Caribou ‘swamp’ predators – the cows in a herd give birth to a lot of calves in a very short period of time, essentially overwhelming predators in the area with an overabundance of food.”

Summer

It might come as a surprise to some that summer, at least from mid-June to the end of July, historically has been the most difficult period for caribou. Swarms of biting insects begin hatching around the time caribou calves have reached the two-week mark, when they are better able to avoid predators and travel larger distances.

To contend with insect harassment as well as heat, caribou form post-calving aggregations numbering from the hundreds to tens of thousands and travel to windy, colder places like the Arctic coast, or high in the mountains, where the bugs are less prolific. During this time, biologists flying aerial surveys have the best opportunity for getting a reliable population estimate of a herd.

ADF&G writes that the Western Arctic Herd’s “post-calving aggregation is different than the summer aggregation. During post-calving, at least for this herd, bulls and nonmaternal caribou are still segregated from cows with neonates (newborn calves). Then in summer (which is also called the insect season) cows and calves gather with bulls and nonmaternal caribou to form the large aggregations.”

Caribou travel more during the summer than any other season, both to evade insects and to take advantage of the seasonal forage. Around August, when frosts begin killing off insects, bands of caribou separate from bigger herds. During this time, caribou put on weight and gain strength and, as summer fades to fall, most begin migrating south.

Fall

Caribou are in peak shape when the first snows of fall come. The rut occurs during September for most southerly herds in Alaska. But for northern herds like the Western Arctic Herd, September will have bulls sparring but serious fighting and mating begins around mid-October. ADF&G writes, “Unlike many other members of the deer family, bull caribou do not control a harem of cows. Instead, they control a space around themselves, and prevent other bulls from breeding females within their space.”

Before 2000, the Western Arctic Herd began its fall migration south in mid-August. Now, because of warming temperatures, the fall migration is not beginning until September or even later. Weather models show fall weather continuing to get warmer, which is also causing the fall caribou migration to occur later in the year. Changes in migration timing have negatively affected many villages that have historically depended on caribou. So has the decline in the herd’s population. In 2003 the Western Arctic Herd numbered nearly a half million caribou. A 2025 estimate put the herd at 121,000. In several cases the herd is no longer crossing areas locals have long relied on for harvesting caribou.

Winter

Many bulls, injured or exhausted from fighting, are killed by bears and wolves after the rut. Around then, the Western Arctic Herd returns to its winter range. Studies on collared caribou, as well as observation from communities in northwest Alaska, have shown that during the last decade more of the herd is wintering farther north. Historically, the winter season has been easier for caribou to contend with than summer. That’s changing with the Arctic warming up four times faster than the rest of the world. There are more winter rain and freeze-thaw events, making it difficult for caribou to break through the ice crust atop the snowpack and graze lichens and vegetation.

Warming temperatures have also led to the tundra’s grasses and lichens being replaced by woody plants that are less nutritious for caribou. On top of that, the longer warm season is increasing the amount of time caribou are harassed by swarms of biting insects. The effects of climate change combined with current push to develop Northwest Alaska make it clear that life for the Western Arctic Herd is not going to get any easier anytime soon.

An uncertain future worth fighting for

The Western Arctic Herd is confronting multiple pressures at once. Rapidly changing arctic conditions and industrial development like the proposed Ambler Road, a 211-mile industrial corridor to facilitate the development of an unknown number of mines and fragment much of the Herd’s range, have a lot of people concerned about the future of caribou.

The 2024 National Ocean and Atmospheric Administration’s Arctic Report Card shows that the world’s caribou population has declined by 65% during the last two to three decades. A team of researchers analyzing fossil and climate data going back 21,000 years found that caribou are facing a greater decline right now than at any point in that timeline. The researchers predicted that unless meaningful action is taken, by 2100 there will be a 58% population decline of caribou across the globe. The future of caribou in North America looks significantly worse, with an 84% decline.

I’ve experienced few things in the natural world as awe-inspiring as caribou migrations — but until a decade ago, it was something I took for granted. Now I know better. If we want caribou not to go the way of the buffalo, it’s going to take hunters and anglers uniting on their behalf.

Visit Hunters & Anglers for the Brooks Range to learn more.

Before the Road

July 27, 2026 by Mary Glaves

Dispatch from the Middle Fork of the Koyukuk

By Mary Glaves, Alaska Program Manager, Backcountry Hunters & Anglers

There are still places in Alaska where the landscape—not the clock—sets the pace. Along the Middle Fork of the Koyukuk River, travel depends on water levels, weather, and a willingness to adapt. Gravel bars become campsites. Rising rivers determine where you sleep. Wildlife appears on its own schedule, not yours.

This summer, a small group of Backcountry Hunters & Anglers staff from Alaska and Washington D.C., members, and folks committed to conserving wild public lands, traveled north on the Dalton Highway before launching onto the Middle Fork for a week-long float through the southern Brooks Range. The trip was part wilderness adventure, part opportunity to document a landscape receiving increasing attention as planning and field work continue around the proposed Ambler Industrial Private Road.

Like many Alaska trips, our plans were intentionally flexible. We packed fly rods for Arctic grayling, tackle for northern pike, bear tags, and enough food to adapt to whatever the country offered. In Alaska’s backcountry, success is often measured less by what you accomplish than by your willingness to go with the flow.

The drive north from Fairbanks provided familiar reminders of Alaska’s working landscape. Construction slowed traffic along the Dalton Highway while the Trans-Alaska Pipeline stretched north toward Prudhoe Bay. Moose browsed quietly along roadside ponds, largely indifferent to the steady stream of trucks heading toward the North Slope.

Coldfoot

In Coldfoot, conversations naturally drifted toward the Ambler Road. At the truck stop, where travelers fuel up before continuing north or south, a wall covered in stickers reflects decades of opinions left behind by visitors. Among them were several simple messages:

“No Ambler Road.”

That evening we made camp at Marion Creek Campground beneath the midnight sun, organizing gear, preparing meals, and getting to know one another before launching the next morning.

Marion Creek serves as a gateway to the Brooks Range, welcoming hunters, hikers, anglers, photographers, and travelers seeking a few days in one of Alaska’s most remote regions.

Before long, I ran into someone from Juneau who recognized me from local BHA Pint Nights—a reminder that while Alaska’s landscapes are enormous, its outdoor community often feels surprisingly small.

Launching on the River

The following morning, we prepared to launch under nearly continuous daylight and unusually warm temperatures.

Before we ever pushed away from shore, helicopters carrying sling loads crossed overhead, moving equipment between work sites supporting nearby pipeline and field operations. It was our first indication that industrial activity had become a regular feature of this otherwise quiet country.

Once on the river, however, the pace changed immediately.

The Middle Fork carried us through broad gravel bars, willow-lined banks, and sweeping views of the Brooks Range. We found Eskimo potatoes growing along the shoreline, shared meals of moose and salmon around camp, and watched evening light linger well past midnight.

The river also reminded us who was in charge.

Cold rain settled over us for much of the second day, slowing progress and leaving everyone soaked while we searched for high ground and dry firewood. On the third evening, steadily rising water had a few of us watching the river through the night to ensure camp remained above the flood line. Thanks to modern technology we had some hydrographic information to base some peak time calculations on, so imminent danger was not at the absolute forefront of our minds, but you must always be vigilant in the backcountry.

These weren’t inconveniences so much as reminders that wild rivers still make the rules.

Signs of Change

Throughout the trip, however, signs of change were difficult to ignore.

Near Tramway Bar, where previous visitors remembered quiet campsites, active placer mining had returned. Heavy equipment worked nearby while barking dogs rushed the riverbank as we floated past. Trucks, excavators, hose lines, and CAT equipment sat just beyond the willows, framed by fresh flood scars left behind only weeks earlier.

By the time we reached Bettles, helicopters had become a familiar part of each day.

Aircraft crossed the valley repeatedly. Helicopters landed nearby in the black spruce forest, on pre-carved landing zones (LZs) still semi-visible from camp, while residents described Bettles increasingly serving as a staging area for exploration, environmental monitoring, and logistical support connected to activity in the Ambler corridor.

Several members of our group had floated the Koyukuk before and remarked that they had never experienced this level of aviation traffic.

Farther along the corridor, we observed helicopter landing zones, monitoring sites that appeared associated with permafrost studies, field crews traveling between work areas, and activity near potential river crossings and gravel sources.

None of this represented road construction itself. They did, however, reflect the growing amount of exploration and data collection taking place as agencies, corporations, and developers continue evaluating the proposed route.

Conversations Along the Way

Just as notable as what we saw were the conversations we had.

Hunters, local residents, pilots, and longtime river travelers offered a variety of perspectives, but several common themes emerged.

Many observed that discussions about wildlife management, subsistence, and future access are increasingly occurring in anticipation of a road that has not yet been built. Others wondered how much of the ongoing field work is visible to the broader public.

One longtime visitor to the region summed it up simply:

“It’s not just the road people notice. It’s everything that starts happening before the road.”

Hunting and Access

For hunters, access was often at the center of the conversation.

The country surrounding the Middle Fork supports relatively low-density moose populations where distance and limited access naturally influence hunting pressure.

Several experienced hunters observed that roads—or even the infrastructure supporting them—could significantly change hunting opportunity.

Residents of Bettles spoke about relying on these lands to fill freezers each winter, while others pointed farther north and west, where similar changes could affect both Alaska residents and, in some areas, nonresident hunters.

Others focused less on harvest opportunity than on the experience itself.

One hunter who has returned to the Brooks Range for years told us that the biggest difference wasn’t what he harvested—it was what he heard.

“There are just more helicopters now.”

This statement isn’t a prediction of things to come with the Ambler Road but an observation by a regular user on the changes already happening on the landscape.

Questions About the Future

Questions about economics also surfaced repeatedly.

Several residents wondered how much long-term benefit nearby communities would ultimately see compared to the scale of the proposed development, while others questioned whether the road’s primary beneficiaries would be outside Alaska.

Those conversations often returned to the same point: weighing potential economic opportunities against changes already becoming visible on the landscape.

Why This Place Matters

Our week on the river also served as a reminder of why places like this continue to matter.

The Brooks Range still offers experiences that have become increasingly uncommon:

Watching a bear swim across a river.
Hearing distant echoes carry through an empty valley.
Finding a quiet gravel bar to call home for the night.
Floating for hours without seeing another person—or hearing anything but the current and wildlife.

These moments are difficult to quantify, but they remain central to Alaska’s hunting, fishing, trapping, and outdoor traditions.

Alaska remains one of the few places where people can experience vast landscapes, genuine solitude, and a way of life shaped more by seasons than by calendars.

For generations, that promise has drawn people north.

Landmark events—including statehood, the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, and the Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act—helped shape the Alaska we know today.

Yet despite decades of growth and change, much of the Brooks Range continues to offer something increasingly rare: intact country where remoteness remains part of the experience.

Helicopters, monitoring crews, and conversations in communities like Bettles suggest that change is no longer something discussed only in planning documents.

Exploration, environmental studies, and logistical support are already becoming part of the landscape.

Looking Ahead

Our goal on this expedition wasn’t to settle the debate over the Ambler Road.

It was simply to document the country as it exists today—to record the places, the people, and the conversations that define this corner of Alaska while larger decisions concurrently shape its future.

For now, the Middle Fork of the Koyukuk still flows much as it always has.

Rainstorms can transform the river overnight. Gravel bars that serve as camps one evening can disappear beneath rising water the next. Moose move quietly through willow bottoms.

Hunters, pilots, river travelers, and local residents continue to experience this country on its own terms—while also noticing changes in the landscape, including increased aviation activity and growing concerns about airspace use in the region.

Whether the landscape looks the same a decade from now remains an open question.

Before the road, we wanted to document what still exists today.

Unanswered Questions Remain About the Ambler Road Project

June 24, 2026 by Chelsea Pardo

Unanswered Questions Remain About the Ambler Road Project

As summer arrives in Alaska, hunters, anglers, guides, pilots, and other outdoor businesses are preparing for another busy season in the Brooks Range.

Floatplanes will soon lift off from gravel runways carrying anglers to remote rivers in search of sheefish, Dolly Varden, grayling, and salmon. Hunters are making final preparations for fall adventures across the tundra and mountains. Guides will open camps, air taxis will shuttle clients into the backcountry, and rural communities will once again welcome visitors drawn to the unmatched hunting and fishing opportunities of the Brooks Range. For generations, this landscape has supported a thriving outdoor economy and world-class hunting and fishing experiences without an industrial road crossing its heart.

Despite decades of debate, fundamental questions about the proposed Ambler Industrial Road remain unanswered. Chief among them is whether the project’s estimated $2 billion cost and its extensive impact on the lands, waters, and wildlife of the Brooks Range can be justified. Supporters often describe the road as a path to economic opportunity in northwest Alaska. But for many Alaskans, the Ambler Industrial Road would do just the opposite. Furthermore, the public and local communities would not have access to the road.

The region supports thousands of jobs, sustains rural economies, and attracts visitors from around the world. This is why more than 100 businesses, organizations, and brands have joined together to support and continue to grow the Hunters & Anglers for the Brooks Range coalition. The Brooks Range is not an empty place waiting to be developed. It is a working landscape that already provides significant economic, cultural, and recreational value.

“Our business relies on the Brooks Range and supports dozens of families in interior Alaska,” says Michael Wald, the owner of Arctic Wild, a family-owned and operated wilderness guiding company. “We’ve been working in the Brooks Range for decades and will be far into the future.”

Earlier this spring, we examined the growing price tag associated with the Ambler Industrial Road and argued that Alaska taxpayers should not shoulder the burden of financing a private industrial corridor through one of the world’s greatest hunting and fishing landscapes, especially when the project’s economic viability remains in doubt.

Since then, the conversation has evolved. During a recent convening in Alaska, state and federal leaders emphasized their desire to develop hard rock minerals and discussed efforts to advance resource projects across the state. At the Alaska Sustainable Energy Conference in Anchorage, Trilogy Metals announced that Ambler Mining District projects had been accepted into the federal FAST-41 program, which is intended to expedite permitting for federal mining. Yet, even as federal attention on the proposal increases, significant questions remain about how the proposed Ambler Industrial Road would ultimately be financed, permitted, and built.

Discussions about financing often proceed as if the project is shovel ready for construction. It is not, and in reality, substantial hurdles remain. A completed design plan for the road has not been unveiled, key federal authorizations, including a Clean Water Act Section 404 permit, remain unresolved, and ongoing litigation could upend decisions that were already made. Before Alaskans are asked to assume financial risk for the road, there should be transparency about exactly what would be built, how much it would cost, and who would ultimately be responsible for paying the bill.

It should also be made clear that this road will only be available to private mining companies. The public is being asked to potentially help finance an infrastructure project where they would be denied access at a security check point at the start of the road.

Before additional public resources are committed, Alaskans deserve clear answers to several fundamental questions:

Who ultimately pays for the road?

Who bears the financial risk as costs continue to rise?

What role should public investment play in supporting private infrastructure that the public will not be able to use?

What benefit is it for Americans to extract minerals that will be shipped overseas to our competitors?

What would taxpayers receive in return?

What impact will this road have on the landscape of the entire region?

We know what exists today is worth safeguarding. The Brooks Range already delivers economic opportunity, world-class hunting and fishing, and access to one of the most intact landscapes remaining in North America. What remains unclear is why the public should assume financial risk for a private industrial corridor that would primarily benefit foreign nations. The minerals extracted from the Ambler Mining District would be shipped to Asia for processing, meaning foreign countries—including strategic adversaries such as China—could ultimately benefit most from a project financed by American taxpayers.

As the administration considers the future of the Ambler Industrial Road, we respectfully urge leaders to reconsider whether this project reflects our shared values of conservation, strengthens America’s interests, or represents the best use of public resources. Before risking one of Alaska’s greatest hunting and fishing landscapes, decisionmakers should carefully weigh what could be lost and who truly stands to benefit.

Video: The ‘Water Wolves’ of the Brooks Range

April 28, 2026 by James Wicks

“Sheefish are the main draw. That’s what people usually sign up for,” says Greg Halbach, owner of Remote Waters, which offers guided fishing trips in the Brooks Range. “But it’s not the only game in town.”

This short video highlights the perhaps overlooked and underappreciated northern pike fishery found in the clean, cold waters of the Brooks Range. Whether throwing streamers or enticing pike with mice patterns, “the takes are vicious,” says Halbach. “It’s just pure excitement!”

Watch other videos from the Brooks Range HERE.

Take action for the Brooks Range.

The Ambler Industrial Road is a Multi-Billion-Dollar Question for Alaska

April 17, 2026 by Bjorn Dihle

Alaska’s Brooks Range is sometimes called the most Alaskan part of Alaska, and for good reason. The arctic mountains and valleys, stretching 700 miles from the Yukon border to the Chukchi Sea, offer a step back in time. There, you can witness massive caribou migrations and pursue everything from sheefish to Dall sheep, grizzly bear to Dolly Varden. The Brooks is the sort of place that supports a subsistence lifestyle as well as unparalleled outdoor opportunities for visiting hunters, anglers, and anyone who loves America’s wild public lands. The proposed Ambler Industrial Road threatens all that.

If built, the private road would stretch 211 miles across the southern foothills of the Brooks Range and serve to develop some 1,700 mining claims. The companies that own these mines have made it clear that their intention is to ship the ore to Asia, specifically China. By enabling raw minerals to be exported overseas, the Ambler Road project would deepen U.S. dependence on foreign mineral processing and supply chains. This would directly undermine America First priorities which emphasize reducing reliance on adversarial nations for critical minerals and strengthening American control over strategic critical resources. 

Now, let’s discuss how the project is likely a multi-billion-dollar boondoggle for American taxpayers.

AIDEA and Rising Estimates

The Ambler Road is backed by Alaska’s state-owned and financed corporation, the Alaska Industrial Development and Export Authority. AIDEA is tasked with promoting economic development by financing businesses and industrial projects.

However, their track record is less than stellar, with reports from independent economists indicating AIDEA’s past decisions have lost the state $10 billion in opportunity cost. This is money that could have been used to fund schools, law enforcement, the Permanent Dividend Fund, social services, and any other state-funded entity. Over the last 35 years, AIDEA has left a trail of failed, abandoned, and money-losing projects in its wake, including the Mustang Road on the north slope of the Brooks Range and a fish processing plant in Anchorage. A bill was introduced in the 2025-2026 Alaska State Legislature, commonly known as the AIDEA Accountability Act, to increase oversight, transparency, and accountability of the entity, although it failed to pass this session. Now, a new report shows that the proposed Ambler Road could be another gamble made by AIDEA that could leave the bill with Alaskans.

The project will likely cost significantly more than estimated in 2024. The study puts the new cost at about $765 million for road construction; about $88 million for closure and reclamation; more than $630 million in long-term maintenance; and roughly $550 million in financing costs. Together, these figures bring the price tag to approximately $2.03 billion.

However, while this report’s construction and maintenance cost estimates represent updated, inflation-adjusted values, they do not address the potential deficiencies in the 2024 supplemental environmental impact statement’s original cost estimates. The proposed Ambler Road’s current estimated cost per mile is about $3.6 million. This estimate is notably lower than two other proposed remote road projects in the state: the Western Alaska Access Road and the West Susitna Access Road. The estimate for the Western Alaska Access Road is $5.6 million per mile. The estimate for the West Susitna Access Road is more than $10 million per mile. If construction costs for the Ambler Road ultimately track closer to estimates of the other two projects, a comparative analysis shows the estimated construction of the Ambler Road rising from $765.2 million to $2.17 billion, not including maintenance and financing.

This would mean the Ambler Road would cost American taxpayers closer to $3.5 billion over its lifetime with maintenance costs. Alaska is projected to receive roughly $1.1 billion in revenues from the project in mining license tax revenues, corporate income taxes, production royalties, and claim rents—less than a third of the costs.

Costs Are Still Evolving

AIDEA has described the construction estimate for the proposed Ambler Road as preliminary as it was developed before the final engineering design. At this stage, key factors including detailed road design, material sourcing, and construction logistics are still being drafted.

Infrastructure costs in remote regions of Alaska often rise as projects move from concept to construction, so the actual price is likely to increase. Environmental factors like floods and melting permafrost present additional challenges. Unknown maintenance costs following closure and reclamation of the road; yet-to-be-collected fisheries data that’s needed to design the road’s culverts and bridges; and inflation will also likely increase costs.

Additionally, AIDEA must pay for access across two Alaska Native Corporation lands. Those two corporations, Doyon and NANA, would charge for the road right of way across their lands.

The Revenue Question

AIDEA has proposed funding the construction of the proposed Ambler Road through revenue bonds. Under this model, upfront costs would be covered by the State of Alaska, with the expectation that tolls paid by future mining operations will repay the debt over time. This financial model depends on a future scenario where mining operations are developed and generate enough traffic to repay the bonds. This outcome is not guaranteed.

Mining projects in the Ambler district are still in early stages, and timelines for development can shift based on market conditions, permitting, and global demand. Without sufficient toll revenue, the obligation to repay the bonds remains. This raises a fundamental question: What happens if the expected revenue doesn’t materialize?

Unlike public highways that serve communities across Alaska, the Ambler Road is designed as a private industrial access road tied to future resource development. That distinction matters. It means the project’s financial success depends on a specific set of outcomes that are not promised.

A Decision with Long-Term Consequences

Hunters & Anglers for the Brooks Range treasures the Brooks as an intricate part of our American outdoor heritage and supports responsible development in Alaska. The Ambler Road is not responsible development.

Beyond negatively impacting world-class hunting, fishing, and other outdoor opportunities, the Ambler Road is a major outlay of taxpayer dollars with long-term consequences for Alaska. Alaskans and fellow Americans deserve a clear understanding of what this road could cost, and who carries the risk of funding this project.

The significant economic questions surrounding this project are one more reason that we believe the Ambler Road is a gamble not worth making.

Click here to learn more about the Hunters & Anglers for the Brooks Range.

Brooks Range Voices: Thomas Lees

April 9, 2026 by Bjorn Dihle

The hunter, adventurer, and filmmaker tells of his love for the Brooks Range and why the proposed Ambler Road is not worth the price for damaging one of the last big, beautiful, wild places left on earth.

Thomas Lees lives in Fairbanks, works on the North Slope, and has made 50-some adventures in the Brooks Range. An avid hunter, fisherman, and filmmaker—we recommend checking out his work on YouTube channel @BackcountryAlaska—Lees has a deep penchant for living and documenting the Alaska lifestyle. Whether it’s chasing Dall sheep or traversing the Arctic by snowmachine, Lees lives the hard-earned Alaskan dream.

Lees’ love of hunting, fishing, and the Brooks Range is a big part of the reason why he’s against the proposed Ambler Road. If built, the 211-mile private road, designed to support the development of an unknown number of foreign-owned mines, would cut through the southern Brooks Range. It would negatively impact hunters, anglers, and everyone else who wants to chase the Alaskan dream.

Describe the types of activities you’ve enjoyed in the Brooks Range.

I made my first sheep hunt at the age of 12 in the Brooks Range in 2008. Since then, I make at least a couple trips to the Brooks each year to hunt sheep, caribou, and fish for grayling, pike, Arctic char, and sheefish.

This past year I went on a different sort of adventure. Me and a few buddies snowmachined from Fairbanks to Kotzebue. We traveled down the Kobuk River, through the Brooks Range, and out to the Arctic coast. We basically traveled the route of the proposed Ambler Road. There’s nothing but wild country there right now, and we won’t be able to make that adventure again if the road is built.

Share one memory that stands out to you.

Deciding on one Brooks memory is far too difficult. Some of the best hunts of my life have been there with my dad. Lots of heavy packs, laughs, sore feet, and nights in the tent in those mountains. The Brooks has so many special memories for me.

If you could come back, what would you love to do there next?

I’d love to travel via snowmachine through the villages along the Brooks Range again. On the trip we made from Fairbanks to Kotzebue, we had many very cool experiences through the foothills of the Brooks Range. I saw the most beautiful sunset I think I’ve ever seen. Wintertime in the Brooks is just as special as the summer or fall.

Think of your first trip to the Brooks – what was different than you expected?

It certainly felt very big compared to the photos my dad would show me of the sheep hunts he’d made up there when I was a kid. It’s hard for a young kid to grasp the scale of the Brooks from a photo.

What is most special about the Brooks Range for you?

The time spent there chasing Alaskan game with my dad.

Share at least one piece of essential gear you’d recommend packing or advice with someone going to the Brooks for the first time.

A real, true four-season tent is a must-have in the Brooks Range. I see guys carrying the lightest weight tents you can buy, and I just think about a three-day rainstorm that turns to snow and how miserable that’s going to be for them. There’s nothing better than a real tent, warm sleeping bag, and hot ribeye steaks when the weather gets crappy.

What do hunters and anglers stand to lose if the Ambler Road is built?

We stand to lose one of the last great wild places on earth, untouched by man since the beginning of time.

What aspect of the proposed Ambler Road project concerns you most?

Everyone is focused on the road, but few people talk about what the actual mines would look like or potential damage they’d cause. The road would be a huge ugly scar across a land untouched by man and, on top of that, the mines would likely lead to entire mountains getting deleted off the horizon.

What’s the biggest misconception you’ve heard about the project?

There’s a lot of outdoorsmen out there who believe that the Ambler Road will give them vast amounts of access to hunt and fish. This would NOT be the case. There would be no public access. It would be a private road for industrial use. There will be a security guard shack at the start, just like the oil field leases on the North Slope.

What might you say to someone who said, “I don’t understand why this road is such a big threat?”

I’d say you need to go see the Brooks Range right now for yourself and you’d understand.

Why is it important that hunters and anglers across the nation speak up against the proposed Ambler Road?

Every road, mine, city, or town was once a wild place. The Brooks Range is one of the last big, beautiful, wild places left on earth. It’s unscarred by man and we should fight to keep it that way as long as we can.

_{Photo credit: Thomas Lees}

The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the above blog are those of the individual and do not necessarily reflect the views of Hunters & Anglers for the Brooks Range or partners. HABR does not accept responsibility for these views, thoughts, and opinions.

Video: Chasing the Tarpon of the North

March 16, 2026 by Chelsea Pardo

“The real draw on the Kobuk, aside from it being a remote beautiful river, is it’s got the best run of sheefish in the state of Alaska and maybe in the world!”

This short video highlights the ‘Tarpon of the North’, one of the many sport fishing opportunities made possible by the clean, cold waters of the wild Brooks Range. Anglers from across Alaska and all over the country include the Kobuk River on their bucket lists, largely because of these sheefish – one of the most exhilarating and unique species to target on the fly.

“They can push to over 40. It’s exciting when you get a 20-pound, 30-pound fish slam your streamer mid strip… There’s nothing quite like that!”

However, the proposed Ambler Road, a 211-mile private-only industrial corridor that would require nearly 3,000 river and stream crossings, could forever alter the habitats of fish like these and eliminate the allure of places like this.

Watch other videos from the Brooks Range HERE.

Take action for the Brooks Range.

Brooks Range Voices: Mat Brunton

March 9, 2026 by Bjorn Dihle

Mat Brunton lives in Valdez but his work as a guide and educator, as well as his love of hunting, has allowed him to experience much of wild Alaska. He points out the Brooks Range is unique even by Alaska standards. Whether it’s guiding visitors on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure or hunting caribou for his table fare, Brunton says the Brooks is “beyond words special.”

Brunton opposes the proposed Ambler Road. If built, the Ambler Road would be a 211-mile industrial corridor through the southern flanks of the Brooks Range that would open the region to mining and other industrial development. It would mostly benefit foreign interests’ short term economic gain and leave Alaskans and visitors who love wild places to pay the cost.

Here is his story.

Where was your first trip to the Brooks Range?

My first time to the Brooks Range was guiding a backpacking trip in the Arrigetch Peaks region. The famed granite spires are located off the Alatna River, one of the 3,000 rivers and creeks the proposed Ambler Road would have to cross. I was very excited and felt especially blessed to visit such an iconic area.

The Brooks is a very diverse mountain range. That southern part has much more forest and vegetation on lower elevations than the vast, seemingly endless tundra of the northern Brooks. Words can’t adequately express how special it is. Many of the clients I guide come with lifelong dreams to visit places like Gates of the Arctic. Often the experience greatly exceeds their dreams.

Share a favorite memory from the Brooks

I’ve had some magical experiences hunting caribou. I’ve used skis and a pulk sled for hauling meat in the spring (which is more efficient than on foot with no snow and a backpack in the fall). My first hunt was a total beatdown: a five-mile (one way) ski from the Dalton Hwy and no caribou in this area. My next hunt played out wonderfully. It was bulls only, which required careful glassing since the bulls don’t have antlers at that time of year. It was April and I harvested two bulls on a long sunny day in a majestic area. The distant mountains were so enticing that I came back later to climb the most prominent peak on a long backpacking trip.

How is the Brooks Range different from other places in Alaska?

There’s the endless daylight during the Brooks’ short summer. It’s also the farthest point in Alaska from modern civilization to the south. Yet, for being so vast and remote, you can still drive and access the Brooks via the Dalton Highway. The Ambler would offer no such access. Words can’t adequately express how special and unique it is. You must visit the Brooks to understand. Further industrial development could change that “beyond words” sacred character.

What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone heading to the Brooks for the first time?

Avoid summer bugs when and where they’re bad!

How do you think the Brooks Range experience would change if the Ambler Road was built?

For one, it’d make the most affordable and easy way to experience the Brooks, driving up the Dalton Hwy, a much less enjoyable experience due to increased industrial traffic. This would come without the benefit of expanding access since the proposed road would be closed to the public.

What aspect of the proposed Ambler Road project concerns you most?

The precedent. Once we accept that something like the proposed Ambler Road is allowed in one of the last intact landscapes in North America, what’s next?

Industrialization will only spread to our other last, best wild places. Roads like Ambler invite more development, more pressure, and more justification for use. The concern isn’t just environmental impact; it’s the cultural shift that says wild places must prove their economic value to exist.

What’s the biggest misconception you’ve heard about the project?

That it’s “just a road.” Roads are powerful forces. They reorganize how the land is used and change human and wildlife behavior. Another misconception is that opposition to Ambler is anti-hunter or anti-Alaska. Many people who oppose the road do so precisely because they’re very “Alaskan” and value subsistence, hunting, fishing, and long-term stewardship — not short-term extraction that will result in permanently damaging effects.

What might you say to someone who said, “I don’t understand why this road is such a big threat?” 

Roads make decisions for us long after they’re built. You don’t get to choose later what a road means. The impacts of this project on the land would be permanent, not to mention that we can’t foresee all the consequences that would result if it were to be built.

Why is it important that hunters, anglers, and other folks who care about wild public lands across the nation speak up against the proposed Ambler Road? 

Ambler isn’t just about Alaska. It’s about whether public land still includes places where restraint is a management strategy. If the Ambler Road is built, it would mean that no landscape is off limits to being industrialized.

The Brooks Range doesn’t need to be opened to more industrialization. Short-sighted development will permanently damage the land, the experience, and the opportunity for more innovative and sustainable uses in the future.

_{Photo credit: Mat Brunton}