Travel: Alaska

I AM in Anchorage, having dinner with a group of Scottish teachers, and it's hard to tell which of us is more excited.

The conversation is dominated by our impending trip to the North Slope's native villages. Co-ordinated by the Living Earth Foundation, the Polar Pairs programme is designed to promote the sharing of learning between teachers and students in Alaska and Aberdeenshire.

The North Slope Borough lies above the Arctic Circle, between the Brooks Range to the south and the Arctic Ocean to the north. During the winter, the sun disappears for 67 days, meaning the people live for more than two months in total darkness. We fly over the snow-covered tundra and the freezing ocean to Kaktovik, a native village on the Arctic coast. It's not full-blown winter yet, and we arrive in daylight. As we disembark, we see two polar bears across the inlet from the tiny airstrip.

Our hotel, the Waldo Arms, is a place of rattling pipes and shabby paintwork and has the feel of a hostel for grown-ups, but the five-star welcome provided by Waldo Audi and his partner Merilyn more than compensates. Waldo's operates as the local hotel and restaurant, and is the source of flight charters and tourist information. It's unlike any other place I'll ever visit.

After a day spent with students at the Harold Kaveolook School, Kat Fisher, a teacher and our guide for the evening, takes us out to look for polar bears. Within minutes, we find ourselves watching a family of the animals drawn to shore by whale carcasses at the local bonepile. We're within 20 feet of these amazing creatures, yet they seem almost oblivious to our presence, engrossed in their meal. We're spellbound and happy that we don't need to follow the advice in the practical leaflets, produced to protect people and bears alike. Among the advice offered is, "If a bear attacks, hit it on the nose and face."

Next day, back in school, we're working with a group of students to create a film about life in Kaktovik. The youngsters are clever and keen and take us out to interview some local worthies. We record Waldo speaking about the changes that have taken place in the 45 years since he came to the village. These include the arrival of electricity, roads and running water. What would he like to see change in the future? "Not too much," he says. "I hope it stays basically the same. Enough progress for survival but not so much it overwhelms the people." Isaac, an Inuit elder, is asked what has been the single most important development in his lifetime. "School," he replies.

In the afternoon, lessons are interrupted by word that a whale has been landed down at the beach. School's out. In a village where subsistence whaling is at the centre of community life, not even education gets in the way of a party. The afternoon offers a fascinating insight into a surviving culture. The whole village is here to celebrate the harvesting of food that will sustain the community for months to come. The children climb on to the back of the whale in a ritual that has survived for centuries.

The whale is eaten in many different ways, and nothing is wasted. The kids love muktuk, raw whale skin and blubber that is regarded as a delicacy. High in vitamin C and calories, it provides a core part of the diet of the Inuit people. For Westerners, it's an acquired taste.

Next morning we head back to the airport for another flight across the Arctic, on another small, scary plane. This time we're off to Barrow, the administrative centre of the North Slope and the northernmost city in the United States. Americans come here to visit and collect their certificate to say they've been to the 'Top of the World'. Our accommodation is the King Eider Hotel. The heating is blasting but it somehow lacks the warmth of Waldo's.

Barrow is big enough to feel cosmopolitan yet at the same time is very much an Inupiat town (north and north-west Alaskan). You can eat Chinese here. Korean and Japanese too, and the food is good. One of our hosts tells us that no trip to Barrow is complete without a visit to Joe's Museum. Joe Shults arrived in Barrow around 40 years ago. Known for years as Joe the Water Man, he delivered drinking water in his shirt sleeves through many cold, cold winters in temperatures as low as –35C in order to honour a lost bet. "Now," he jokes, "I'm Joe Not the Water Man."

Over the years, Joe has built up a renowned collection of artefacts, fossils and stuffed animals. If you go to Pepe's for breakfast, which you should, Joe's likely to be your waiter. If he likes you, he'll invite you to his museum.

For two days we are based at Barrow High School. We're shown around the town by the people who know it best. Out at Point Barrow on a good night, you can catch the Aurora Borealis. Today, the Arctic is nearly frozen and has the consistency of a giant slush puppie. Undulating and iridescent in the dying light, it is quite simply stunning. "Look at it," says one of the girls, "our beautiful Arctic Ocean."

We fly Alaska Airlines back to Anchorage, and the stewardesses sing country songs when the turbulence gets scary and serve Alaskan Amber beer to the faint of heart. Back in town I should be exhausted, but it's hard to sleep with a head full of whales and bears, so I head to Humpy's, on West 6th Avenue and F Street, to try a few of the 60 beers they have on tap. I feel I deserve a couple after a week in the alcohol-free north.

There are 114 unmarried men for every 100 unmarried women in Alaska, the highest ratio of men to women in the US, and seated next to me at the bar is Steve, who has arranged a blind date. He asks me to stick around until she arrives, so we sit and chat about bullfighting and George W Bush. He's nervous about being stood up, and I'm as grateful as he is when she arrives.

Later, over more beers in Darwin's Theory, on G Street, our ramblings are interrupted by the arrival of the Crow Creek Pipes and Drums, a 12-piece Scottish pipe band, playing in a back room called the Heavy Petting Zoo. Even this far south, Alaska is never short of surprises.

Flying back to Minneapolis, I find myself taking stock of this and other visits to the North Slope. I've seen the Northern Lights, whales and polar bears. I've met and dined with people from a culture that has survived in its unique way for generations and will, I hope, do so for generations to come. I have been very lucky indeed.

Fact file Alaska

Return flights from Scotland to Anchorage with KLM (www.klm.com), via Amsterdam and Seattle or Minneapolis, cost from around 750. Return flights from Anchorage to Barrow start at about 400 with Alaska Airlines (www.alaskaair.com).

A double room at the Captain Cook Hotel, Anchorage, is around 100 a night, while a double at the King Eider Hotel, Barrow, is about 130 a night.

• This article was first published in Scotland on Sunday, February 14, 2010