Drifting off to sleep my first night in the Aichilik River Valley I hear, or perhaps imagine, the distant howling of Canis lupus. Wolves enter my dreams and celebrate a successful hunt with wolf song.
Several hours later I’m awakened by the cries of Homo sapiens, singing the praises of a glorious arctic morning. I quickly leave my tent and join the others for breakfast beneath a cloudless cerulean sky. Stirred by breezes that keep mosquitoes away, the late-summer air is surprisingly warm. By midmorning our thermometer registers 680F in the shade and in sunlight the air is 10 to 15 degrees warmer.