The 49th state has been an elusive state to get on my list. When I lived in Seattle, I always thought it would be within reach, since Washington is its closest neighbor, with only that bit of Canada in the way. Turns out after studying the atlas on many a late night, I found out the drive from Seattle to the lowest bits of Alaska's tail is about like driving across the United States and then some. And once you actually got to Anchorage, that's another thousand miles. And my dream was always to keep heading north on the (unpaved) Barrow highway, past the Arctic circle. But with my junk Ford Escort and no cash, I never made it. And then I moved east to New York, even more out of reach of Seward's folly.
I did finally get to Anchorage in 2006, via a long plane ride, and enjoyed it. It isn't for everyone, but it also isn't Eskimos and igloos. It's very much a Pacific Northwest kind of place, with the an overabundance of the spirit I only found in droplets when I lived in Seattle.
Here's my story and photos from my trip: