August 7-10, 2024.
4 days | 14.4 mi. | 2320′ ele. gain
Check out those stats. Those are Alaska miles. They’re unlike any other miles anywhere in the country. Nonetheless, this is one of my highlights from spending the summer in Alaska.
This trip began with an email to the backcountry ranger at Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. I’d been incredibly intimidated by the thought of planning a backpacking trip in Alaska, especially in a place that doesn’t see too many visitors. I’m sure if I’d taken a few days to hike around the Chugach range outside Anchorage, I wouldn’t feel so alone. But out there? The potential for solitude was at the same time enticing and frightening.
What about bears? Glacier travel? Routefinding? No trails…really? From where I sat in my cozy van, I couldn’t differentiate between reality and fearmongering online. So I found an email address on the Backcountry FAQ page on the official park website and dropped in some questions. The next day, I got a phone call from the ranger! He talked me through a wide range of options based on our skill, fitness, time frame and interests. If only this service was available for every piece of public land across the country. I was so grateful for this person’s time and expertise.
I decided to make a very conservative plan with a couple of options based on how we were feeling and what the weather did. We picked up our loaner bear canister from the ranger station and started making a packing list. We planned to hike into Donoho Basin.
Day one
We took the first shuttle into Kennecott so we could catch the breakfast buffet at Kennecott Glacier Lodge before our hike. For $24 a piece, we ate our fill of muffins, eggs, sausage, fruit and all the fixins. Not a bad way to fuel up for a long day on the trail!
With full bellies, we waddled into the Kennecott Visitor Center to leave our backpacking itinerary. It’s not required, but we figured why not? We joined lots of other people on the march toward the Root Glacier. We passed several large guided groups who were on their way to their own glacier experiences. Guiding is big business out there; most people have only one or two weeks vacation and zero knowledge about the Alaskan outdoors. There are plenty of companies who will take these folks out for a safe, educational and exciting walk on the ice! We were happy to see so many people enjoying the outdoors.
When we reached the end of the trail, we gingerly stepped onto the ice and put on our traction devices. Aaron had just bought some crampons. I discovered after we’d left civilization that I only had microspikes. And so, we each set off across the undulating glacier waves in our traction devices.
I’d done plenty of glacier travel before, but only on rope teams. The rangers at the park assured me that there was no crevasse fall danger. If you can navigate around all the little cracks and hills and pools, you’re good to go. We followed the various aggregations of people until we could see people no more and made a beeline for the medial moraine.
What surprised me so much about being on glaciers in Alaska is just how much of the surface ice is covered in dirt and rock. When we reached the moraine, we climbed up and over it to bare ice on the other side. But so much of our time on the glacier involved being on rocky terrain. We crossed that last stretch of ice to reach the lateral moraine and then looked for a path up to the basin.
Fortunately for us, we’d run into a couple who were returning from their overnight trip. They pointed out the best place to get off the glacier, which was not intuitive whatsoever. That information made the next section of routefinding as easy as it could possibly be (minus the scrambling over loose rock in an overnight pack).
Our first option for camping lay just atop the moraine. We saw the food storage bins right where they were labeled on the map and decided to keep going. It wasn’t too much further to the camp across the basin, I thought. I wanted to go deeper into the park.
As soon as we dropped off the rocky moraine, we plunged into thick vegetation that encroached on what you could loosely call a trail. We spoke loudly and constantly to let any bears know that we were there. I saw plenty of bear sign along the route.
Long story short, we endured several hours of exhausting bushwhacking in order to get to the far camp. I’ll tell you the story if you ask. I definitely threw my pack on the ground at least once in protest and because I really, really needed a snack. It was grueling work, but the big reward awaited us. A pristine, turquoise lake set beneath towering mountains and impossibly complex glaciers. And no one else was there.
Throughout the afternoon, gray clouds were building and the wind was blowing steadily. Despite that, Aaron stripped down and jumped into the lake. I changed into clean clothes and set up our camp. The wind dried our sweaty hiking gear quickly. We feasted on whatever freeze-dried meal was on the top of our food bag. Then, we stowed all our food and scented items in the metal storage bin before collapsing into the tent.
Day two
We woke up to the sound of rain bouncing off the tent. It was windy, too. We had to get up to grab our food from the bear bin in order to make breakfast. This would not be fun. We waited for a break in the rain, then went for it. Powdered eggs, cheese and lots of butter made for a hearty meal. We put our food away and raced back to the shelter of the tent.
It rained and rained. We emerged briefly just two more times: lunch and dinner. After dinner, we took a short foray up along the moraine past the turquoise lake. From the top of the dirt pile, we could see everything with so much more clarity. It was indescribably beautiful. We returned to the tent and waited to see what the next day would bring.
Day three
It poured rain all night and into the morning. We laid in the tent as long as we could, until we just had to go outside and pee. Aaron took one for the team and also walked out to collect our food. I prepared coffee inside the tent vestibule and we ate our no-cook breakfast. Then for the next several hours, we listened to podcasts, played UNO, read books, created art. It rained and rained and rained.
We had to move our camp at some point in order to break the return hike into more manageable chunks. Once we were confident that the rain broke, we quickly packed our things. I opted for shorts and Bedrock sandals for the hike back based on how wet everything would be. We hoped that the rain would not start up again, but we also knew all the dense vegetation would be soaked. Plus, we had to hike through some muddy patches on the way in that now could be much, much worse.
Aaron led us back out through the brush. As predicted, it was wet. I happily sloshed around in my sandals. Better to have wet feet than wet socks and shoes, in my opinion. Aaron did his best to keep his leather boots dry (you can ask him how that went). Somewhere near the second lake. Aaron thought he found a better way through the brush.
If you’ve ever backpacked or hiked off trail before, you know exactly where this story is going. The “new and improved” path led us off course and downhill into tall, thick shrubs. We pushed our way through just to find ourselves stuck in a mire of bogs and running water. We knew we weren’t that far off the route, but it was a “can’t get there from here” situation. Frustrated, we sought our own paths back to the GPS track on my phone and a sure way out. I opted for walking directly in the stream while Aaron fought the shrubs, at least for a bit. He ended up in the creek too.
Eventually we returned to the beaten path. As we feared, it was 10x muddier than on the hike in. We accepted this fact and tried to walk cheerily towards our last camp. Once the Root Glacier came into view, we breathed a big sigh of relief.
We chose a site high up on the moraine that had enough of a breeze to act as a mosquito deterrent. Once the tent was set up, we got ourselves in comfortable, dry clothing and looked at our remaining food options. There was one last backpacking meal for dinner and a packet of instant mashed potatoes for dessert. The next day, we’d feast!
Day four
In the morning, gray clouds formed a thick blanket over our heads. The earlier we got out of there, the less likely we’d be scurrying across a glacier in the rain. So we ate some food, packed up and were on the go by 8 am.
We followed the marked route down the moraine and put on our crampons for the glacier crossing. We picked our way across the waves, ridges, crevasses and rivers. Since I led most of the way in, Aaron took a turn routefinding on the way out. Everything looked a little different from this perspective. Plus, the glacial ice changed since we last saw it. It’s an ever changing piece of the landscape. Geology doesn’t happen on a hundred-thousand-year scale here; it shape-shifts practically in front of your eyes.
Despite a few sprinkles here and there, the impending rain never materialized. Once we hit the trail, the remaining walk back was a breeze. We reached the Meatza Wagon food truck just as it was opening and ordered one of everything (or so it felt like it). Our first Alaskan backpacking trip was a huge success! We gave ourselves plenty of leeway to build in some rest time and not have to push through huge days. I’m sure we overpacked a bit, but I feel like we were ready for everything. Plus, we both built some confidence in our strategy to co-exist with bears in the wild. I’d been so hesitant to go into the backcountry in a strange place with large, menacing beasts. But knowledge and preparation are really helpful for doing things that feel scary.
Next time we visit Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, we’ll feel much better prepared to tackle a fly-in trip or plan a more robust itinerary. I’m so glad we took the time to talk to several rangers and read a bunch of trip reports before leaving, as well as doing plenty of hiking in similar habitats to get used to this place. An experience I’ll never forget.
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