The Toyota Ever-Better Expedition Through Alaska
As my plane descended toward the runway at the Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, I glanced out of my window at a living painting of the Alaskan horizon. The stark white peaks of the mountains contrasted with soft pink, calming orange, and awe-inspiring purple. I had come to a state as massive as a country and a world away from Toyota’s future North American headquarters in Plano, Texas. I would soon step out into one of the unofficial cold-weather development and testing laboratories that Toyota would use to discover the weaknesses in its current vehicles and make its future offerings “Ever-Better.”
The next morning, I was standing in downtown Anchorage wrapped in my giant red Toyota-issued winter parka and full of regrets about not putting hand warmer packets in the tips of my duck boots. Toyota’s fleet of expedition vehicles, which included a Tundra, a Highlander, and the hardcore hybrid of a Sienna and a Tacoma, the Ultimate Utility Vehicle, lined the side of a street. Across from them were some beaten but unbroken older Toyotas modified to the Nth degree by a local shop.
I wouldn’t see Toyota’s white trucks, crossovers, and SUVs until my last full day in Alaska. Many of Toyota’s American and Japanese engineers would be traveling across the The Last Frontier in them, taking notes about their strong suits and areas of improvement in real-world conditions.
My five fellow journalists and I would be taking a different route, one that would involve no driving by us at all, but would provide us plenty of time to take notes of our own. A snowstorm expected the day after forced us to move up our scheduled flightseeing tour by a day. I rode in the back seat of a rental RAV4 with all-wheel drive on the way to K2 Aviation in Talkeetna. I thought to myself that the outside temperatures in the teens which made nose hairs crystallize also served as testing conditions for oil weights and batteries. The durability of plastic door handles and rubber weather stripping must continually be put to the test in a climate that makes everyone outside of a heated room look like a two-packs-a-day smoker.
It took us more than a couple of hours to get to the airfield and into the skies above the Denali National Park and Preserve. The property’s namesake 20,310-feet-tall mountain loomed in the distance, its size and eternal, lethal indifference to the ambitions of mankind inspiring both horror and awe. I’d heard temperatures during our flight could plummet past 20 below. Luckily, the plane’s heater was effective. It made me think of the importance of a robust heater core and fast-acting heated seats to Toyota buyers, especially those in the extreme northern states and Canada. The altitude brought to mind the shortness of breath you experience at high elevations. Snow can have the same effect on a vehicle. Perhaps Toyota was monitoring airflow to and within the engine as its greatest technical minds plowed their ways through the white stuff.
That evening, Toyota took me and my fellow writers to visit Jerry Sousa and his wife Kathleen at the Sun Dog Kennel. Jerry has run the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race more than 10 times. Along with enough food for a team of Alaskan Huskies, cooperation from them, and an unwavering determination, traction is important to “mushers” like Jerry in the nearly 1,000-mile trek from Anchorage to Nome. The same goes for Toyota’s vehicles. They need the right tires, properly calibrated traction control, and reliable four-wheel drive hardware to handle the ice and snow that’s abundant in Alaska as their odometers spin into the hundreds of thousands of miles.
We were escorted back to the Anchorage airport the next day to take a passenger jet up to Fairbanks. After we landed, we made a stop at the Fairbanks Curling Club. While sweeping the ice to aid in the delivery of the granite “rock” to the “house” (aka target), I fell and hit my elbow. The cold really can take it out of you. The experience tested the strength of my bones; I’m sure places like Alaska regularly and thoroughly test the corrosion resistance of Toyota’s cars and trucks.
My time in Alaska ended at the Chena Hot Springs Resort. I hiked up one of the surrounding trails with two other journalists, my boots sinking deeply into the immaculate, powdery snow, the sweat collecting in my top base layer. Occasionally, we stopped for water and breathing breaks. The silence was total and ironic. Outdoors in the company of two people and surrounded by the life of squirrels and birds and moose and reindeer, I was completely alone. I had never heard nothing so completely.
Ultimately, Toyota’s engineers covered more than 1,430 miles, going from Anchorage to Talkeetna to Fairbanks to Coldfoot and back to Fairbanks, where they made a stop at a dealership. There, they interacted with loyal Toyota customers who shared with the team the kinds of driving conditions they and their vehicles face in their everyday lives.
My life has become richer after my time in Alaska. I made new friends and colleagues there. I saw sites that have inspired countless paintings and poems over the decades. I developed a greater appreciation for the tranquility of nature. I also became convinced Toyota took its development fleet to the right place. Alaska is a challenging, unforgiving land whose frigid winds can whip across anything and expose its vulnerabilities. I just hope Toyota was able to look away from the stunning beauty around it long enough to notice those that exist in its vehicles.
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*Courtesy of Anthony Wallen Photography
