Dick Griffith, Grandfather of Modern Alaskan Adventure and Pioneer of Self-Supported Expeditions, Dies at 98
Dick Griffith, an iconic figure revered as the grandfather of modern Alaskan adventure, passed away peacefully in his sleep last week at the age of 98. His death marks the end of an era for the wilderness community, leaving behind a profound legacy that reshaped the landscape of self-supported exploration, challenged the boundaries of human endurance, and fostered a vibrant outdoor culture in Alaska and beyond. Griffith was not merely an adventurer; he was a philosopher of the wilderness, a practical innovator, and a generous mentor whose quiet tenacity and dry wit inspired generations.
A Life Defined by the Wild: Early Expeditions and Pioneering Spirit
Born in 1927, Dick Griffith’s life journey began far from the Alaskan peaks he would later define. His formative years, including growing up on a dirt farm during the Great Depression, instilled in him a deep resourcefulness and a pragmatic approach to life that would serve him well in the wilderness. This early foundation of self-reliance became the bedrock of his adventurous spirit.
In 1949, at the age of 22, Griffith embarked on an ambitious undertaking that foreshadowed his future: retracing John Wesley Powell’s historic 1,200-mile expedition down the Green River from Wyoming to the end of the Grand Canyon. It was on this journey that he met Isabelle, who would become his lifelong partner in adventure and marriage. Isabelle’s offer to finance the trip in exchange for participation marked the beginning of a remarkable partnership. While they didn’t complete the full descent that year, their shared passion for the wild blossomed into love. They married a year later, in 1950, and returned to the Green River in 1951 to achieve a significant milestone: the first complete inflatable rubber raft trip down the Grand Canyon. This pioneering use of inflatable rafts, a stark contrast to the wooden dories or larger, more rigid craft typically associated with such expeditions, highlighted Griffith’s innovative and minimalist approach to wilderness travel, a precursor to modern packrafting.
The couple’s audacious spirit continued into 1952 when they undertook another first descent, navigating a small Air Force survival raft through the formidable depths of Mexico’s Copper Canyon, specifically the Rio Urique. This feat, accomplished with rudimentary gear, underscored their belief in accessible adventure. Griffith famously recounted finding these military surplus rafts, stating, "They were everywhere after the war. You could buy ’em for a dollar." This anecdote encapsulates his pragmatic ethos: using readily available, often overlooked resources to achieve extraordinary ends.
Embracing the Last Frontier: Alaskan Life and Arctic Ventures
The call of the wild intensified, leading Dick and Isabelle Griffith to move to Alaska in 1954, a territory on the cusp of statehood. It was in this vast, untamed land that their children, Barney and Kimmer, were born, rooting the family firmly in the rugged Alaskan landscape. Griffith’s engineering background provided a practical anchor, but his true calling remained the exploration of the wilderness.
Five years after their move, in 1959, the year Alaska officially became a state, Griffith embarked on one of his most legendary expeditions: a 500-mile walk from Kaktovik on the Arctic Ocean to Anaktuvuk Pass, traversing the immense North Slope and the rugged Brooks Range. This 50-day epic journey was a masterclass in self-sufficiency, as Griffith lived off the land, relying on his wits and skills in an unforgiving environment. His understated recollection of the journey—"I left Barter Island with three dogs and a partner. The partner went lame the first week and flew out. One of the dogs died. I ate the second one. And the third one got smart and ran off"—epitomized his dry humor and unflappable resilience in the face of extreme hardship.
Despite the profound hunger and relentless challenges posed by swarms of mosquitoes and treacherous river crossings, Griffith successfully reached Anaktuvuk Pass. There, he forged deep and enduring friendships with the Nunamiut people, who were then in the process of transitioning from their traditional nomadic lifestyles to more settled communities. These relationships were not merely transactional; they were built on mutual respect and a shared understanding of life in the Arctic. Griffith’s Anchorage home, adorned with masks carved by his Anaktuvuk friends, serves as a poignant reminder of how his life uniquely bridged the pre-statehood era of Alaska with its modern development, embodying a deep respect for indigenous cultures and traditional ways of life.
Resilience and Continued Exploration: The Brooks Range and Beyond
Throughout the 1960s and 70s, as his children grew and he dedicated time to his engineering profession, Griffith’s adventures remained closer to his Alaskan home. However, the pull of the wilderness, particularly the Brooks Range, remained strong. In 1977, at the age of 50, he returned to the Arctic to complete his full Brooks Range traverse from Kaktovik to Kotzebue, accompanied by his trusted friend Bruce Stafford. This expedition stands as the first complete documented traverse of that formidable Arctic mountain range, cementing his place as a pioneer in northern exploration.
Griffith’s dedication to pushing boundaries was coupled with an extraordinary capacity for resilience. Just two years later, in 1979, he faced a life-altering challenge during a solo Arctic ski trip. Caught in a brutal blizzard, he suffered severe frostbite to his legs and buttocks. He spent a month recovering in the frostbite unit in Anchorage, recounting the experience with characteristic humility: "They amputated my butt." For many, such an injury would signify the end of extreme expeditions. For Dick Griffith, it was merely a setback. His unwavering spirit propelled him back to the Arctic, where he continued to undertake long-distance solo ski trips, demonstrating an almost superhuman will to persevere.
The Epic Hudson Bay Journey: A Decade of Arctic Solitude
At 61, an age when most people contemplate retirement, Dick Griffith embarked on one of his most ambitious undertakings: a 4,000-mile journey from Unalakleet, Alaska, to Hudson Bay, traversing northern Alaska and the Northwest Passage. This monumental expedition was not a continuous push but a series of annual solo ski trips, typically lasting a month or two each March or April, over the course of a decade.
These solo Arctic journeys were fraught with extreme dangers, including the ever-present threat of polar bears. One harrowing encounter involved a polar bear that tracked him for days, eventually slashing his tent wall with a claw while he slept. Lacking a firearm, Griffith’s quick thinking and ingenuity came to the fore. He devised a unique solution: wrapping dozens of Tylenol and Advil tablets in smoked salmon and leaving them on the snow for the bear. Remarkably, he never saw the bear again, a testament to his creative problem-solving and deep understanding of animal behavior. After eight annual trips, he finally reached Hudson Bay at the age of 73, completing an odyssey that stands as one of the most remarkable feats of solo Arctic travel in history.
Roman Dial, a close friend and the author of the original tribute, reflected on Griffith’s later adventures with renewed respect. "How old are you?" Griffith had asked Dial, then 64. "You’re only 64? Well, you’re in the prime of your life!" This exchange encapsulates Griffith’s perspective on age, viewing it not as a barrier but as a phase of continued capability. Indeed, at 64, Griffith himself skied 450 miles alone from Point Barrow to Barter Island, dragging all his supplies in a sled for a month-long journey. His philosophy, "Life is like a bicycle. If you stop moving, you fall over," was not just a saying but the guiding principle of his extraordinary longevity and continued engagement with the wilderness.
Mentorship, Community, and the Alaska Mountain & Wilderness Classic
Dick Griffith’s influence extended far beyond his personal expeditions. He was a foundational figure in the development of the Alaska Mountain & Wilderness Classic, an annual weeklong self-supported race across challenging Alaskan terrain. He participated in his last Classic at 81 and continued to row the Grand Canyon until he was 89, demonstrating an incredible commitment to the activities he loved well into his elder years.
His legendary wit was as sharp as his navigational skills. During the inaugural Hope to Homer Classic in 1982, Griffith, then 55, produced an inflatable vinyl raft at the first river crossing—a section the younger racers dreaded swimming. Donning a furry Viking hat, he famously chided them: "You young guys may be fast, but you eat too much and don’t know nothin’!" Adding for good measure, "old age and treachery beat youth and skill every time." He then inflated what would become known as a "packraft," rowed across the churning glacial river, and waited to ensure everyone else crossed safely. This moment not only highlighted his practical ingenuity but also his deep-seated desire to help and guide others.
Beyond his direct participation, Griffith was the heart and soul of the Classic for 43 years. He hosted the pre-race dinner at his Anchorage home, serving his famous salad in a giant wooden bowl, and for over three decades, he personally drove racers to and from the remote start and finish lines. Crucially, he often "brought up the rear," corralling stragglers and mentoring them through the wilderness. Many who spent a week with Dick in the backcountry learned more from him than in all their previous years of outdoor travel combined, a testament to his experiential wisdom and patient guidance.
A Legacy of Generosity and Environmental Stewardship
Dick Griffith’s impact was not confined to adventure sports; it permeated the broader Alaskan community. Raised with a strong work ethic, he once wrote, "I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth but I certainly intend to die with one." He made good on this promise not through extravagant wealth but through shrewd financial management, living frugally, avoiding debt, and building his modest home in the Anchorage Hillside woods. He then shared his success generously, particularly with the Eagle River Visitor Center and his friends in need.
His generosity extended beyond financial contributions. He regularly hosted holiday and Sunday dinners for his "orphans," as he affectionately called his chosen family of friends and fellow adventurers. He was also a tireless volunteer, dedicating countless hours, days, and weeks over decades to hand-working trails in Chugach State Park, often alongside other volunteers and Boy Scouts earning their merit badges. This commitment to trail maintenance reflects his deep appreciation for public lands and his desire to ensure access for future generations.
Broader Impact and Enduring Implications
Dick Griffith’s life and work created a ripple effect that profoundly shaped the Alaskan outdoor sports world. His early use of inflatable rafts for serious expeditions laid the groundwork for the modern packrafting movement, a minimalist approach to river travel that combines hiking and rafting. His philosophy of self-supported, low-impact travel became a guiding principle for adventure racers and wilderness enthusiasts globally. The Alaska Mountain & Wilderness Classic, which he almost single-handedly kept alive, remains a premier event, embodying the spirit of self-reliance and community that Griffith championed.
His enduring friendships with the Nunamiut people, symbolized by the carved masks in his home, highlighted a respectful engagement with Alaska’s indigenous heritage, bridging cultural divides through shared experiences in the wild. His commitment to conservation, demonstrated through his volunteer work on Chugach State Park trails, underscored his belief in giving back to the land that gave him so much.
Dick Griffith was a man of extraordinary character, embodying the rugged individualism and community spirit that defines Alaska. He never sought fame or accolades, pursuing his wild journeys for personal reflection and the pure joy of exploration. Yet, his accomplishments, his resilience, his mentorship, and his generosity combined to make him a legend. He was the rare individual one might encounter once in a lifetime, if lucky, whose presence irrevocably alters one’s perspective on what is possible.
As the Alaskan wilderness community mourns his passing, they also celebrate a life lived to its absolute fullest, a life that carved new paths, literally and figuratively. Farewell, Dick. Your spirit will continue to guide countless adventurers on their next great journey.
