Two homemade boats of marine plywood and fibreglass, four people aboard, and twelve hundred miles of the Yukon River down to the village where his mother was born. Benjamin Halvorsen was fourteen, and his account of that trip is the best thing here by a distance.
The childhood pieces are just as good. A trapline running four or five miles through the hills, walked in full every day because the family had no snowmobile, set mainly for rabbits and mainly to feed the dogs through winter. He is careful not to claim he knows why his father started it.
There are stories about hitting a tree, about a last ride, about flying radio controlled planes, and about reasons for living in Alaska that nobody who has not been would think of.
The business posts read as progress reports and they are much weaker, which he would probably concede himself.
Come here for the Alaska writing, which is what this place is really made of. Start with the boat trip, then the trapline, and let everything else wait until those two have landed.