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Many Alaska lawmakers remain unopposed with election filing deadline looming

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Many Alaska lawmakers remain unopposed with election filing deadline looming


With days remaining before the filing deadline for Alaska’s legislative candidates, more than a third of the state’s 40 House members are poised to run for reelection unopposed.

Candidates have until June 1 to formally declare their intent to run with the Alaska Division of Elections. Some candidates wait until the last minute to file their paperwork. But in large swaths of the state, lawmakers could keep their seats with little or no competition.

The 2022 election led to the largest freshman class of lawmakers in two decades, with 20 out of 60 lawmakers new to the Alaska Legislature. The change was brought about in part by a one-a-decade redistricting process that put multiple incumbents in the same districts, and allowed newcomers to run outside the shadow of longtime politicians.

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But 2024 is set to bring far less turnover. In the Senate, every incumbent up for reelection has indicated an intention to run again. In the House, only three lawmakers have indicated they don’t plan to attempt to keep their seats — creating limiting possibilities for open races.

Rep. Jennie Armstrong, D-Anchorage, whose Alaska residency was challenged during the 2022 election cycle, is not running again. Democrat Carolyn Hall is currently the only candidate registered to run for the seat.

Rep. Laddie Shaw, R-Anchorage, is retiring this year at the age of 75. Multiple candidates have indicated they could run for the seat, including Girdwood Republican Lee Ellis, a craft brewery president, and Ky Holland, a nonpartisan candidate and entrepreneur.

Rep. Ben Carpenter, R-Nikiski, is not seeking reelection to his House seat, instead running for a Senate seat against incumbent Sen. Jesse Bjorkman. The two Republicans differ on key issues, including education funding. Bjorkman voted to override Gov. Mike Dunleavy’s veto of a bill that would have permanently increased education spending, while Carpenter voted to sustain Dunleavy’s veto.

Two Republicans have registered to run for Carpenter’s seat — Ben Elam and John Hillyer, both of Soldotna. Elam is a member of the Kenai Peninsula Borough Assembly. Hillyer is a retired Air Force general and pilot.

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Rep. Jesse Sumner, R-Wasilla, said Thursday that he was still undecided on whether he would run again, after winning the open seat in 2022 a four-way Republican race. He said he was weighing several factors, including his family and his business, and would likely decide whether to run close to the June 1 deadline.

Where incumbents do face challengers, several races promise repeats of 2022 match-ups.

Rep. Tom McKay, R-Anchorage, will again face Democrat Denny Wells. In 2022, McKay beat Wells in a ranked choice tabulation by seven votes, and the race is again expected to be very tight this year.

Rep. Stanley Wright, R-Anchorage, has indicated he plans to run again. So has Democrat Ted Eischeid, who in 2022 lost to Wright by 72 votes.

Rep. Dan Ortiz, I-Ketchikan, is again facing Republican challenger Jeremy Bynum. In 2022, Ortiz beat Bynum by 343 votes.

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Rep. Julie Coulombe, R-Anchorage, will again face nonpartisan candidate Walter Featherly. In 2022, Featherly received over 45% of the vote but was bested by Coulombe in a ranked choice tabulation, after third-place Republican finisher Ross Bieling was eliminated.

Rep. Cliff Groh, D-Anchorage, will face Republican David Nelson. Groh bested Nelson in 2022, when Nelson garnered 44% of votes in the district.

Rep. Neal Foster, D-Nome, will face Tyler Ivanoff, a member of the Alaska Independence Party from Shishmaref. In 2022, Foster beat Ivanoff by 92 votes.

Sen. James Kaufman, R-Anchorage, will face Democrat Janice Park, who lost to Kaufman by more than 1,300 votes in 2022.

Sen. Kelly Merrick, R-Eagle River, is set to again face Republican Ken McCarty, along with two other Republican challengers. McCarty, a former House member, ran to the right of Merrick in 2022, and lost to her by more than 2,400 votes.

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At stake for challengers hoping to unseat incumbents is control of the Alaska House and Senate. The Senate is governed by a 17-member bipartisan coalition that is likely — though not guaranteed — to survive the coming election. But in the House, Republicans narrowly gained control of the chamber in 2023 thanks to support from four non-Republican members of the Bush Caucus, which represents rural districts. Control of the chamber could easily flip, many say, if one or more seats currently held by Republicans are won by Democrats or nonpartisan candidates.

A single seat can make a difference in control of the Legislature and in the outcome of key legislation, as lawmakers learned earlier this year, when they failed by a single vote to override Dunleavy’s veto of the education bill.

In District 6, incumbent Rep. Sarah Vance, R-Homer, faces multiple challengers — including nonpartisan candidate Brent Johnson, who is currently the Kenai Peninsula Borough Assembly president. Announcing his legislative bid earlier this month, Johnson cited Vance’s decision not to override the governor’s veto of the education bill, which was broadly supported by public school educators across the state.

The announcement foreshadows what lawmakers have discussed behind closed doors ever since Dunleavy vetoed Senate Bill 140 earlier this year: that opposition to veto override vote would come back to haunt some Republican incumbents in their reelection bids.

Johnson said in an interview last week that he had first considered running for the Legislature more than a decade ago. But he enjoyed working on his local borough assembly and living in his Clam Gulch home.

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“I didn’t want to change any of that. And I held that position consistent, even though people asked me to run several times, until the failure to override the governor’s veto of education funding,” Johnson said.

Vance is a conservative member of the current Republican-dominated majority, and a key backer of Dunleavy’s policies. Johnson said that if elected, he would look to join a bipartisan caucus, and to rebuke some of Dunleavy’s policies, including in the areas of education and fishery management.

The Kenai Peninsula is not the only place where the veto override vote has motivated some challengers to enter a race.

In District 40, which includes the North Slope and Northwest Alaska, Robyn Burke, an Utqiagvik Democrat, said she decided to run for the state House after Rep. Thomas Baker, R-Kotzebue, became one of several Republicans who initially voted in favor of the education legislation but later voted to sustain Dunleavy’s veto.

“Baker’s vote virtually assured deep education cuts that make it improbable to adequately staff our schools or provide basic materials,” Burke, the North Slope Borough School District board president, wrote in an op-ed that appeared in the Daily News.

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Burke is one of two challengers who have so far indicated they plan to run against Baker, along with Kotzebue city mayor Saima Chase. Baker was appointed to the seat by Dunleavy after former Rep. Josiah Patkotak was elected North Slope Borough Mayor last year. Baker had not yet filed to run for the seat as of Thursday and did not respond to a message asking if he intended to. Earlier this month, Baker announced on social media that he would change his party affiliation from Republican to undeclared “to more effectively address the specific needs” of his constituents.

The primary election is set to take place on Aug. 20. Under Alaska’s election system, the top-four vote getters in every legislative race, regardless of political party, advance to the general election.

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Black bear breaks into Alaskan mall, eats a peach and relieves itself on floor before leaving: video

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Black bear breaks into Alaskan mall, eats a peach and relieves itself on floor before leaving: video


Can bearly believe it!

A black bear was caught on camera seemingly running errands at a local shopping mall in Anchorage, Alaska over the weekend.

A black bear in Alaska strolled through the automatic doors of the commissary mall on the military base on Sunday. Kory Godbout

The bear entered the commissary mall at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson around 9 a.m. Sunday, KTUU reported, citing a JBER spokesperson. 

Wild footage shows the young cub strolling through the commissary’s automatic doors and exploring all that the mall had to offer.

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Barber shop employee, Kory Godbout, saw the black bear approach his store and ran to the break room. Joint Base Elmendorf Exchange

The hungry bear stole and ate a piece of fruit before emptying its bowels on the hallway floor on its way out of the building.

Kory Godbout, who works at the barber shop on the military base, was waiting for his first customer of the day when he spotted the furry intruder traveling through the automatic doors.

“My coworker, who is cutting hair in front of me, she yelled, ‘Bear!’” Godbout recalled. 

The grizzly bear decided to “use the restroom in the hallway” of the shopping mall. Kory Godbout

“And I looked up from my phone and the bear was walking into the barber shop right in front of me,” the barber said. “And we all ran into the break room and shut the door behind us.”

After a few minutes, Godbout and his coworkers emerged from the break room and followed the out-of-place bear into the commissary, where it took a peach from the grocery store and ate it. 

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The barber recalled that a few onlookers were “going big to try and scare” the bear out of the grocery store.

The bear cub stole a peach and ate it while exploring all that the commissary had to offer. Joint Base Elmendorf Exchange

But all of a sudden, the black bear returned to the barber shop.

“By that time, we were able to run back to the shop and then lock the door,” Godbout said. 

The bear cleared its bowels on the floor before leaving the shopping mall. Facebook

“And then we were watching him from the window and then that’s when he decided to, you know, use the restroom in the hallway.”

Officers from Conservation Law Enforcement attended the peculiar grizzly scene and were able to direct the wild animal towards a river and into the woods, according to the JBER spokesperson.

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JBER’s wildlife program manager Colette Brandt said in a press release that the bear had triggered the automatic doors and that Sunday’s events were entirely incidental, KTUU reported.

While there has been a decline in bear-related calls since the military base installed bear-resistant dumpsters, seven bears have been put down at JBER for public safety over the past year.



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Fatal crash closes Glenn Highway southbound lanes near Eagle River

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Fatal crash closes Glenn Highway southbound lanes near Eagle River


ANCHORAGE, Alaska (KTUU) – The southbound lanes of the Glenn Highway were closed Thursday morning near the S-curves due to a fatal crash, according to the Anchorage Police Department.

Police confirmed shortly after 11 a.m. that at least one person was dead. As of 12:45 p.m., one southbound lane is now open to traffic.

The southbound lanes of the Glenn Highway were closed July 9, 2026 near the S-curves due to a fatal crash, according to the Anchorage Police Department.(Alaska’s News Source)

An Alaska’s News Source reporter on the scene said the crash took place near the Eagle River Loop Road. Video from the scene shows multiple vehicles took damage in the incident.

This is a developing story. It has been updated with new information.

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See a spelling or grammar error? Report it to web@ktuu.com

Copyright 2026 KTUU. All rights reserved.



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Did I Find a Cure for Male Loneliness? No, But I Found a Way to Embrace Solitude in the Wild.

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Did I Find a Cure for Male Loneliness? No, But I Found a Way to Embrace Solitude in the Wild.


Published July 9, 2026 03:00AM

On the longest solo trip of my life, I stepped off a two-seat float plane onto the rocky shore of Upper Twin Lake in Alaska’s Lake Clark National Park.

I had taken four flights from New Jersey to Alaska to write about the iconic cabin handbuilt by Richard “Dick” Proenneke, the self-taught naturalist whose 30-year solo life in the wilderness was captured in the beloved PBS documentary Alone in the Wilderness. Proenneke never married, never had children, and spent nearly three decades completely alone, save for the birds he fed by hand and bears that occasionally clawed at his logs.

“He must have been lonely out here,” a fellow traveler said during the park ranger’s tour of the cabin.

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On that chilly June morning last year, I found myself wondering the same thing. I was just coming to a different conclusion.

Park officials told me the cabin has seen a recent uptick in visitors, which they attribute to Proenneke’s newfound popularity on social media, and to a direct flight to the property by an outback flying service. I visited the cabin as a member of a tour group led by two guides. My group included a doctor, a retired attorney, a veterinarian, and a handful of National Parks superfans. Still, I stuck mostly to myself, spending the trip deep in my own thoughts. In Alaska, I wound up pondering a life like Proenneke’s, sans the means or skills to make it happen.

The Richard”Dick” Proenneke Site is located on the southeast shoreline of Upper Twin Lake in Lake Clark National Park and Preserve, Alaska. (Photo: National Park Service)

According to podcasters, writers, polls, therapists, influencers, and anyone else with a mouth or keyboard, there’s a male loneliness epidemic eroding the dated fabric of masculinity, like the snake of patriarchy eating its own tail.

Remedies for this epidemic are everywhere in the media, with new ones popping up weekly. The New York Times wondered if pickleball held the answers; others have suggested buying a personal watercraft, joining a mosh pit, or taking off your shirt at a college football game, or watching a horror-comedy starring Paul Rudd. In recent months, brunch, AI-powered companion dolls, and Jack Black have been mentioned as cures.

Outside wondered whether “outdoor friendships,” volunteering, or getting a pet could work.

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These cures may seem unrelated and even, perhaps, a little silly. However, the common theme between them seems to be social interaction, choosing community over individualism, a bowling league or running club over your PlayStation.

Some entrepreneurs have even launched businesses to combat male loneliness. A deep-dive earlier this year in the New Yorker revealed how fathers are paying men to turn their sons into “alphas,” while others are joining men-only retreats to be screamed at. Men are taking reams of peptides, smashing their cheekbones with hammers, and getting chin implants in an effort to chase some warped standard of masculinity.

Most of these solutions seem alien to the introverts of society, myself included. I’m not sure I’ve ever been lonely, per se, or even bored, unless I’m stuck in small talk. I’ve never loved team sports or double dates either. In school, hearing a teacher say “let’s break into groups” made me groan.

Richard
Richard “Dick” Proenneke’s iconic cabin in Lake Clark National Park and Preserve, Alaska. (Photo: National Park Service)

During my trip to Alaska, I realized that Proenneke enjoyed solitude but not loneliness. The former feels intentional and rewarding, as opposed to the latter, which causes anxiety and depression. He wasn’t a misanthrope. He welcomed visitors and was thoughtful enough to whittle a variety of walking sticks to match their height.

Monroe Robinson, author of The Handcrafted Life of Dick Proenneke, spent nearly 20 years living at the cabin and maintaining it for the National Park Service. Robinson knew Proenneke, who died in 2003, at the age of 86. “He liked when people came to visit,” Robinson told me later in a call, “and he also liked when they left.”

I can relate.

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My aversions to crowds and clubs have been a source of personal confusion over the years. I’m not a misanthrope, either. As a reporter, I crave deeply personal interactions with others and get invested in the people I write about to a fault. Part of me always thought loneliness was a good way to avoid heartbreak. I’ve loved deeply anyhow, and lost people in my life to suicide and divorce.

In June of 2024, I learned my then-wife was deeply unhappy in our marriage. I had a real breakdown. The ensuing algorithms of online divorce content can be toxic for men, a slippery slope greased by manosphere grifters. Well-intentioned friends and family will often just take your side during a breakup, too, and there’s not much growth in that. So I tried to avoid that noise, choosing to walk inside myself, to find a “vast inner solitude” as the poet Rainer Marie Rilke advised.

f Richard L. Proenneke, a legendary writer, wildlife photographer, and conservationist lived alone in this cabin he built by hand.
The Richard L. Proenneke Site is located on the southeast shoreline of Upper Twin Lake in Lake Clark National Park and Preserve, Alaska. (Photo: National Park Service)

I wanted to confront my own bullshit.

I spent a few dozen nights sleeping in tents for the rest of that year, mostly in the Northeast. Sometimes I slept in single-digit temperatures. I’d reserved a tent site for my wedding anniversary, a campground where I’d wanted to renew my vows. But after my marriage began to crumble, I took my young daughter, instead of canceling. I put her in a hiking backpack to slog my way up a few summits. I kept on punishing myself too, on trail runs and difficult hikes, hoping exhaustion would tamp down the urge to beg my ex and anyone who knew her for answers. Bad cell service helped with that.

(I also found a great therapist, thankfully.)

On a long-planned family vacation to Southwest Colorado in August of 2024 that I couldn’t afford and couldn’t cancel, the San Juan Mountains loomed everywhere I went. I saw them from the window of my cabin, the dirt roads I drove along with my kids, and the hammock where I finished The Snow Leopard, in which author Peter Matthiessen joins an expedition to find the mythic beast in Nepal after the death of his wife.

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The mountains felt timeless and unavoidable there, and they spoke to me, a perfect epilogue to the book’s zen message.

“Accept what’s happening” they said.

And so I accepted that my marriage was over.

In May of 2025, the divorce was finalized. A few weeks later, I was in Alaska as a freelancer, pinching myself as my plane touched down on the icy, blue lake.

Robinson, when I asked, said “feeling lonely was not a thing” for Proenneke. He was too active, too busy trying to survive. Proenneke left society, yes, but he didn’t withdraw from life. In the long winters, when no sun hit Proenneke’s sod roof, when no planes landed on the frozen lake, he would spend months penning thoughtful letters to close friends, family, and his growing legion of fans.

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Inside Richard Proenneke's cabin
The author sits at the desk of Richard “Dick” Proenneke in his cabin he built by hand. (Photo: Courtesy of Jason Nark)

Proenneke cared about his cabin’s appearance too, about beauty, and that matters. He built a stone fireplace, an extra bunk for guests, and hand-carved a much-beloved Dutch door. Windows would be an inconvenient luxury in a trapper’s cabin in Alaska, but Prokenneke fashioned one that offered a grand view of the lake anyway.

While I was contemplating Proenneke’s contentment in Alaska, I was also watching contentment in action with the two young guides in charge of us there. For a moment or two, I envied both of them, the same way I envied Proenneke. Guide Dom Gawel, who is in his mid-20s,  was the quieter of the two, and he led a few of us on some longer hikes while others stayed behind at camp. Later, I asked Dom about loneliness. He thought young men feel lost today “because they are comparing themselves to others in a negative way through social media” and “disconnected from nature.”

Luckily, there’s nothing close to a signal at Lake Clark National Park, no texts you feel compelled to answer, no influencers to interact with. That’s not easy to do in the United States.

I also found kinship with Dr. Adam Bolour, my kayak partner at Twin Lakes and roommate at Port Alsworth, a tiny Alaskan village on Lake Clark where we slept on our final night. We talked about fatherhood, relationships, and nature. He was traveling solo too, from California, and while he was upbeat and talkative with everyone, I watched him steal away to read some Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Self-Reliance by the lakeshore. I did the same with Proenekke’s book there.

I emailed to ask about male loneliness, when I got back to New Jersey.

“I cherish solo trips, whether I’m married, feeling alone, feeling super connected with someone or a big group,” he wrote. “It’s just great to get away and convene with silence and space.”

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Lake Clark National Park and Preserve.
Arriving by float plane to Lake Clark National Park and Preserve. (Photo: Getty)

My revelations in Colorado and, later, at Proenneke’s cabin, helped me realize I must connect deeply with myself in the outdoors from time to time. Nature can’t just be an emergency room for me, either. It’s long-term maintenance for my physical and mental health, whether it’s trail running, floating in a swimming hole, or staring at mountains. It’s more than a hobby. The version of me who returns from those trips is a better father and, hopefully, a better partner someday.

Unlike Matthiessen, who spent months away from his young, grieving son in search of a snow leopard, or Proenneke, who spent 30 years away from almost everyone, I couldn’t and wouldn’t want to pull myself away from my children and responsibilities to that extreme. I have been guilty of that in the past. I’ll make do with a vow to see mountains like the San Juans as much as possible, even if it’s just a few days to convene with solitude, as Adam does. And if I can’t get to the Sawtooths or Switzerland, I’ll cut myself a break and keep exploring Pennsylvania or the Catskills.

A few months after I got back from Alaska, I tackled Pennsylvania’s Black Forest Trail. It’s the state’s most difficult hike, a 43-mile loop with a mind-boggling 8,500 feet of elevation gain. I was craving solitude, again, and found the trail emptier than the Alaskan backcountry. I saw as many rattlesnakes as people on that trip.

On my final night of the hike, after pushing hard for about 18 miles, I took off my boots and socks and stretched out on a shady vista as the sun began to sink.  Two hikers came in, a father and son, after their own long day. They hoped to camp there too and asked if I minded. I said it was fine and then, a few minutes later, reached for my socks and boots.

I shouldered my heavy pack, wished them a deep sleep, and pushed on to find solitude, that little bit of loneliness all the world says is a problem.


Jason Nark is a reporter who covers the outdoors for the Philadelphia Inquirer and and a freelance writer whose work has appeared in The New York Times, Outside, The Alpinist, Adventure Journal, National Geographic, Dwell, and other outlets.

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