For more than 70 years, two heavy fossil vertebrae in a museum drawer in interior Alaska were proudly labeled as woolly mammoth. New tests now show they belong to whales instead, forcing scientists to rethink a small but eye-catching piece of the mammoth extinction story.

The bones were collected in the 1950s near Dome Creek, north of Fairbanks, roughly 400 kilometers, or about 250 miles, from the nearest coastline.

Learning that these fossils came from ocean animals has raised a basic question that would puzzle any road trip planner looking at a map of Alaska today; how did whale bones end up so far inland?

From field discovery to museum drawer

In the early 1950s, naturalist Otto Geist found the vertebrae while working in gold mines near Dome Creek and sent them to the University of Alaska Museum of the North. Curators cataloged the round bone disks as mammoth remains, based on their appearance and the well-known presence of Ice Age giants in the region.

For decades, the fossils rested out of sight in collection drawers while visitors focused on full skeletons and tusks under bright gallery lights. It is the kind of small label most museum goers accept without a second thought as they stroll past the glass cases. 

Radiocarbon dates that broke the mammoth timeline

That quiet routine changed when the Adopt a Mammoth project invited members of the public to sponsor radiocarbon dating of stored specimens, including these two vertebrae. When a team led by Matthew Wooller at University of Alaska Fairbanks checked the results, the dates came back between roughly 1,900 and 2,700 years old.

Those numbers created a serious mismatch, since woolly mammoths on mainland Alaska are thought to have disappeared around 13,000 years ago. If the dates had truly belonged to mammoths, the bones would have represented the youngest known fossils of the species in this part of the world by many thousands of years.

At first, researchers considered the possibility of a technical error in the dating process. The more they studied the data, though, the more it looked as if “something was amiss” with the old mammoth label rather than with the lab work itself.

Isotopes and DNA reveal two ancient whales

The team then measured stable isotopes of nitrogen and carbon in the bone material to see what kind of food the animals once ate. The chemical pattern matched marine food webs rather than the grasses and shrubs a grazing mammoth would have relied on, a red flag that pointed toward the ocean.

That clue pushed the scientists to extract fragments of ancient DNA from the fossils. Genetic tests showed that one vertebra came from a common minke whale and the other from a North Pacific right whale, both large whales that normally spend their lives in saltwater.

Knowing the bones came from whales also meant the radiocarbon ages needed a correction, since ocean animals can appear older on paper because of the way carbon cycles through seawater. After adjusting for this marine effect, the team estimates that the whales lived roughly 1,100 and 1,800 years ago, long after mammoths had vanished from the mainland.

A whale mystery in the middle of Alaska

One puzzle remains, and it is the part that keeps the story from feeling too tidy. Dome Creek sits about 400 kilometers from the coast on a small stream that today could barely float a fishing raft, which makes the idea of a whale swimming there hard to picture. 

The study outlines several possibilities, including whales that traveled far inland along major rivers and died there, or bones that ancient people carried from the shore to use as tools or building material. The authors point out that both ideas have practical limits, especially for a massive right whale that feeds on plankton not found in rivers.

For the most part, the simplest explanation may be a human one rather than a natural one, a basic cataloging mistake when the fossils entered the collection, since Geist gathered bones from both inland and coastal sites and the wrong box may have been marked with the Fairbanks location.

In everyday terms, it is a reminder that even expert labels can age badly and that revisiting old collections with new tools can flip a neat story on its head.

The official study has been published in the Journal of Quaternary Science.

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (KTUU) – The Anchorage Police Department is looking for help finding 61-year-old Mathew Thomas Becker.

If you see him, “do not attempt contact with him,” APD said.

Instead, call 911 to report his location.

“He is considered armed and dangerous,” APD said.

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All eyes are on the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race this week — and it seems the whole world has gone to the dogs.

The leaders in the thousand-mile race already have reached the Yukon River on their way to Nome.

Just two weeks ago, the “fastest dogs on earth” raced on a 26-mile course through Anchorage as part of the big three-day Rondy race: the Open World Championship Sled Dog Races.

These races, in addition to other races like the Yukon Quest in Fairbanks, the Kuskokwim 300 in Bethel and the Copper Basin 300 in Glennallen, reinforce dog mushing’s position as the official state sport.

So it’s no surprise that visitors and residents alike want to learn more about the dogs and the unique culture of mushing.

Whether you want to get up close and cuddle with puppies, ride on a sled behind a team or take the reins yourself, Alaska in the winter is the perfect setting.

Around the state, there are plenty of mushers who have set up shop to showcase the dogs, the sleds, the Iditarod and everything that goes along with it.

Matthew Failor is a veteran of 14 Iditarod races and a Kuskokwim 300 winner out in Bethel. He and his wife, Liz, own and operate Alaskan Husky Adventures in Willow.

Their company is steeped in Iditarod history and the race is a big part of the experience they share with visitors from around the world.

On arrival at check-in, one of Failor’s sleds is set up to give visitors an idea of all the gear necessary to run an endurance race through the wilderness. There’s a life-size mannequin that’s draped head-to-toe with the parka, the bibs, the boots and the headlamp — all part of a musher’s setup.

“The Iditarod bib is the one that Matthew wore and it’s signed by all the mushers from that year,” said Liz Failor.

Two of the crew who checked us in are mushers themselves. Lead guide Dane Baker finished the 2025 Iditarod. Jaren Ulrich, the musher who took four of us on his sled around the 2-mile course, just finished his first 100-mile race.

Another lead guide, Sam Martin, is running his first Iditarod this year, with a team from Alaskan Husky Adventures.

Visitors are encouraged to dress warmly for the weather. Still, there are plenty of coats, bibs and gloves for those who need extra layers before heading out on the trail.

“We have a few pairs of overboots that will slip on over people’s shoes,” said Liz Failor. “We have more on order, though.”

There are several options for folks to get up close to the dogs. But during March, most of the energy is devoted to getting out on the trail for a 6-mile ride. It takes between 45 minutes and an hour.

After an initial briefing to gear up and sign the waivers, would-be mushers follow their guide out to the dog yard — the beating heart of a musher’s operation.

The Failors’ kennel is split into two sections: touring and racing. The racing dogs have a more robust training schedule than the touring teams. In fact, many of the touring dogs are retired from racing. Two of the dogs on our sled’s team, Loot and Gale Force, were former race dogs.

The setup for our tour resembled those at the Iditarod’s ceremonial start. There were two sleds in tandem. One person sat up front, with the tour leader in back giving commands. Another rider sat in the second sled. On our tour, I got to be the brakeman in the back.

Our leader, Jaren, gave commands to the dogs to go right — “Gee” — or left — “Haw” — on the trail. He also had the master brake, a snow hook, to act as an anchor in the snow.

There weren’t a lot of hills on the 6-mile course, so there wasn’t much for me to do as the brake man. But Jaren was busy making sure the nine dogs on the team didn’t get tangled up.

“The optimum temperature for the dogs is between 10 and 20 degrees below zero,” said Jaren.

Although it started out cold that morning, by the time we hit the trail it was about 15 degrees above zero.

The Failors’ kennel is right off Hatcher Pass Road near the Parks Highway, so there are incredible views of Denali and Mount Foraker from the trail. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so it was a perfect day to be out on the trail, even if it was a bit warm for the dogs.

There are a couple of scheduled stops along the trail to check on gear, pet the dogs and take pictures.

To go for a 6-mile loop on the sled with the dogs, it’s $165 per person, $145 for kids.

There are other mushers and kennels in the area, including Happy Trails Kennel, owned by four-time Iditarod champion Martin Buser. Before Matthew Failor had more than 50 dogs and a kennel of his own, he worked with Buser and raced the Iditarod with a team of Buser’s dogs. Happy Trails Kennels also offers a selection of trail rides and mush-your-own-team options.

This year, Buser’s son, Rohn Buser, again is racing the Iditarod. Rohn Buser and his wife, Alyssa, have their own kennel and tour business, Susitna Sled Dog Adventures in Talkeetna.

Farther north in Fairbanks, Trail Breaker Kennel also offers wintertime sled dog tours. The kennel was founded by Iditarod champion Susan Butcher and her husband, Dave Monson. After Susan’s death, the family still operates the kennel year-round. David and Susan’s eldest daughter, Tekla Butcher-Monson, is the lead guide and general manager.

Forty miles outside of Fairbanks on the road to Chena Hot Springs, the Last Frontier Mushing Co-op is a collection of kennels that works together to offer mushing tours on a portion of the Yukon Quest trail.

In addition to the daytime tours, the co-op offers nighttime mushing tours under the northern lights.

Given the deeper snowpack this year, there’s a good chance you can ride with the dogs well into April. Take advantage of the good weather and see a section of Alaska’s wilderness from a new perspective: from a dog sled. Mush on!