This is the final day of guest blogger Roger Norum’s four-part series on driving Alaska’s Haul Road with his father.

To my surprise, GPS is a real advantage on a trip that follows a single, solitary road. For one, knowing the distance to the nearest petrol station is essential – especially if it’s hundreds of miles away and you’re only getting 12 miles to the gallon. But you also get unexpected navigational gems, too, such as when the little gizmo announces “Turn left. Continue straight on unpaved road for two hundred and thirty two miles. Then turn right.”

This is the longest stretch of road without service stations in North America – though quite frankly these days I’m happy not to be reminded of the painfully high cost of North American gas (as much as $7.40 in one remote village). An irony of globalisation: Alaska holds and produces 20% of America’s crude oil, yet petrol prices here are consistently among the highest in the country.

During the 1980s, in the early years of the pipeline, the oil companies were consistently pumping 2 million barrels of oil a day out of Prudhoe Bay. Today, this number has shrunk to 400,000. Some argue that this is due to the pipeline rusting away at various points (the pipe was designed with a 30 year planned obsolescence – 31 years ago). Depletion theorists, meanwhile, assert that the reduced flow is due to the fact that the fields are rapidly drying up, and they regularly make calls for the US government to prioritise locating alternative means of energy production.

“Here, let’s give you a chance to stretch your legs,” Norm beams, before pulling over to the bank of the Sagavanirktok River – “The Sag” to locals. At the edge of the river, Norm runs his fingers over a beige rock and fondles it gently. “This is so neat!” he whispers excitedly. He strokes the figure of a plant etched in the stone, explaining that it is fossilised coral – sedentary rock that existed as marine life eons ago and, after being tectonically uplifted into to the mountains, is now slowly eroding its way back into the ocean. Again, a cycle of regeneration – though one which takes millions of years to complete. Norm confides in me that we haven’t stopped so that we can stretch our legs, but so that he can forage for a few pet rocks to add to his collection.

As I leave Norm, his shoes now soaked as he putters about the water cuddling a palm full of rocks, a family of mosquitoes is buzzing about impatiently at the van, waiting to call shotgun. Suddenly, a golden plover lands in front of the van and cocks his head to look at me quizzically. The plover has arrived here at Alaska’s North Slope for breeding after enduring an amazing 2-day, 2,200-mile transoceanic migratory flight from western Hawaii. Feigning injury, the bird begins a quick limp towards the highway, hoping to lure me away from its nest, which it presumes I am preying on. It hops briskly towards the road, scampering across the highway before ducking into the thick, dried brush. Norm returns from the river, catching sight of the plover, who is now fluttering eagerly about the tussock waiting for us to depart. Norm lets out a sigh and smiles over at me, very occupied with swatting away the mosquitoes and spraying myself with OFF! [mosquito repellent]. He pauses for a moment, clutching one of his fossils. “Life is pretty good right now,” he asserts, deadpan and candid, before hopping into the van and speeding us off south for the few hundred remaining miles before America begins, leaving a spoor of camel-coloured dust and the tiny, rugged plover in our wake.

This completes the end of Roger Norum’s guest series on Alaska. Read part 1 , part 2 or part 3 of Roger’s journey here.

A very warm thank you to Roger Norum for his contribution. Roger has previously written about Oxford for Roaming Tales and you can read more about him here