Hiking and Camping in the Front Range

Over the course of my life, I’ve actually spent about 2% of my nights sleeping outside. Considering that I’ve never been homeless, I think that’s pretty cool. But somehow out of those roughly 200 nights camping, I had never done a solo overnight trip before last weekend.


Not that I consider that a bad thing. In fact, the chance to hang out with friends is one of the best things about camping. But this weekend the stars were aligned just so: Beth was out of town, Chris had movers coming on Friday and wouldn’t have access to his camping gear after that, Louis is trying to finish his masters, Brynn was out of town, the weather forecast looked good and its late enough in the year that an opportunity to get outside shouldn’t be missed. So that’s how I found myself hitting the trail at 2:15 on Friday afternoon after a short day of work, heading for wilds so remote…. so distant…. so…. wild…. that significant portions of the route cannot be seen from my office window and cell phone reception for many parts of the hike is poor-to-moderate.

Originally the plan was to do a loop that hiked around and then back over a ridge behind Wolverine Peak, one of the peaks in the front range of the Chugach, and an excellent hiking destination in its own right (You can click on the map, or any of the pictures, for an enlarged view).

It’s good to know that if discretion is the better part of valor, then I had a trip that was at least 51% valorous, because in the end I didn’t trust the route I would have to take to cross the ridge, especially alone and with a strong wind blowing on the valley floor. Instead, I simply took the same route back that I had taken to hike in.

Overall, it was an excellent trip. That wind I mentioned before kicked up pretty suddenly just after I had set up my tent. Given my setting, I didn’t really have any options for a more sheltered campsite. My tent was buffeted by the winds all night which made for some restless sleep, and it was actually windy enough that lighting my cooking stove was difficult for both dinner and breakfast. But the stove did get lit and I was plenty warm, so I guess in the end it wasn’t too bad at all.

I didn’t really have my phone handy on the first day to take pictures, but on Saturday I kept it out and took a bunch of pictures. I guess that was one good thing about backtracking – I got to take pictures of all the beautiful scenery I had missed the day before!

Here's Bella on day one, making good use of the "load up" command with O'Malley Peak as a backdrop



No more pictures until this one from the morning of day 2. I camped at the far end of this lake (Long Lake), with a good view of the ridge on the left of this picture. The original plan was to hike over the ridge in the morning, but i just didn't like the look of that plan. Wolverine Peak is in the sunshine at the far end of the ridge, just left of the picture's center.

You'd take a picture of a poop this size, too. Glad I didn't run into this guy on the trail, although from the look of things he was more interested in berries than anything else.

Climbing up from Long Lake and looking back on a pretty view.

On day 1 I came down the center of this slope on the way to Long Lake. I guess thats the problem with bushwhacking and following game trails - sometimes the route you take ends up being unexpectedly steep. (Note to my mom: steep enough to risk skinning a knee, not plummeting into an abyss)

Here's where I should have crossed the divide on day 1, and where I did cross on day 2. It was much easier this way.



Bella, sitting at the head of the Williwaw Valley. My eventual route will take me right up the line of the shadow on the right side of the ridge above the lake.



Looking back up at how I came down from the divide on day 2, heading back towards the start. I guess sometimes there's no helping it and you've just gotta do a bit more scrambling than hiking for a few minutes.

Taking a break from the scrambling - out of the wind and enjoying the view...

This view.

Bella enjoyed kibbles instead.

She also enjoyed romping through the tundra.

Looking down the Williwaw Valley, towards Anchorage.

Lots of sheep on the slopes of the valley. There were 14 here (not all are in the frame), but the day before there had been 19. I guess some had wandered off.

Look! Wildlife that's identifiable in a picture, instead of just being specks!

Thats more like it. These white specks are ptarmigan. There were dozens and dozens of them in the Williwaw Valley. Strangely, Bella wasn't interested in them in the slightest, despite the fact that they were roosting on the ground and milling about not far from us making funny little noises, and then would explode into the air as we got within about 20 feet.

Looking back up into the Williwaw Valley. My route went over the lowest point in the ridge in the background.

Bella pauses before the hardest part of our hike - a very steep 600' high scramble over loose rocks as we left the Williwaw Valley and climbed to "The Ballfield," as the high flat area west of O'Malley Peak is known.

Looking back mid-scramble, as I paused to catch my breath.

Up on The Ballfield, looking west over Anchorage.

Back at home, Bella was all tucked up after the hike. You can always tell how tired she is when she lies down, because the more exhausted she gets the farther she pulls up her hind legs. When her front and back paws are touching you know she's done. Maybe this is where the phrase "tuckered out" comes from?

Packraft Adventure - The Maidenish Voyage

Over Labor Day weekend, Beth and I went on our first major packrafting adventure. Along with Chris, Bryn and Louis we headed out of Anchorage on Friday around noon and drove about 6 hours northeast to the town of Paxson (with some stops along the way). From Paxson we shuttled one car north to the finish and then drove east most of the way to the start before camping for the night. On Saturday morning we broke camp, drove the last 10 miles to the trailhead and started our trip.

Here's a map of our route. You'll want to click on it to get the full-sized version. Basically, the plan was to hike in the near the headwaters of Eureka Creek, then raft out (with one 4-mile portage) and onto the Delta River before reaching the car. This roughly followed the route of another group that we had read about online.

We were in the foothills of the Eastern Alaska Range, where Labor Day weekend comes as fall colors are at their peak and where winter is beginning to set in at the higher elevations. The first couple miles featured the only trail of the trip - an ATV trail which made for very easy walking...

...in places. But in other places the trail was alternately a pond, a stream and a beaver pond.

However, because of the planned packrafting Beth and I were both wearing sneakers instead of boots with waterproof socks underneath. The idea being that our feet were bound to get wet at some point, so the best thing was to wear shoes that wouldn't weigh 19 pounds once wet.

This proved to be a good choice, since shortly after we left the ATV trail we found ourselves crossing a fair-sized creek. For some reason, I got a major kick out of this - I guess because I felt like this was a real sign of how far off the beaten path we were going.

After we crossed the creek, we bashed our way uphill through a thick tangle of willow, alder, dwarf birch and more before things thinned out to scattered bushes and abundant blueberries. When things thinned out and we turned around we saw a pair of moose, including a big bull, that must have been just off of our path.

Unfortunately I didn't take any good pictures as we hiked over the top of a high plateau. We must've seen two dozen caribou over the next several miles, several of which Bella got to chase (fortunately they're so much faster than she is, especially with her pack on, so she couldn't chase them too far or bother them too much). We also saw a fat old porcupine, and I am happy to report that Bella did not get to chase it.

We also hiked nearly high enough to reach the snowline. It was drizzling on-and-off throughout the day and snow probably fell as low as 4700 feet. We topped out at around 4100, so although it was quite chilly it seemed like a moral victory to not get snowed on.

Anyway, we eventually descended and went around a couple of lakes before setting up camp for the night. Dinner consisted of freeze-dried food mixed with a half stick of butter as a calorie-booster, which actually made things pretty delicious.

Although it rained much of the night, it stopped in the morning as we were getting up and breaking camp, which was a welcome relief. As we set off hiking I took this picture back in the direction we had come from. We camped next to the shore of the lake in the background (left center of the picture), after having hiked down from the ridge in the far background from left-to-right on a route that is pretty much framed in this picture by the ridge in the intermediate ground.

We were up higher on day 2, which was reflected in the lack of major vegetation. This made the hiking easier, but cut down on the foliage. As you can see, it was a pretty drab day.

More rain set in as we came into view of the foot of the Eureka Glacier. I though this was going to be a beautiful picture of (L to R) Chris, Beth and Bryn hiking with the glacier in the background, but instead I think it does a good job of reflecting just how foreboding the weather was.

The doggos didn't seem to mind, though. They just raced around chasing ground squirrels and occasionally bigger game. I'll bet they covered twice the mileage we did during the hike.

After about an hour's hike we reached Eureka Creek. It was a fairly small stream, but the packrafts really don't take that much water to float. Still, there was a bit of butt-scraping in places, especially early on...

But before long some other streams joined Eureka Creek and with the steady current we were making fast time. The dogs chased along the banks as we averaged about 5 miles an hour downstream. The paddling was mostly pretty easy, and picking routes was largely about finding the deepest water as opposed to avoiding danger. Still, we did have one instance of swimming - unfortunately by the lone member of the group who doesn't own a drysuit. I will take Chris' word for it that the water was cold.

After a few hours of paddling, we reached our portage and hiked straight up from the river to higher ground as if the 25 degree slopes, thick brush and slippery mud were no big deal.

See. Is that the face of someone who minds a little bushwhacking? No way. Also, looking in the background by Chris' elbow you can see part of the reason for the portage. That rapid consisted of a drop that stretched from one bank to the other and would have easily flipped every one of our rafts.

In the end, though, the brush got really thick and the ground got really boggy and the sun started to set. Instead of making it back to the creek before camping we set up on a ridge for the night in the one piece of flat, clear, dry ground we could find. We were all pretty exhausted and within just a bit over an hour we were all in bed. It rained again overnight and then cleared. The temperature dropped enough that there was frost on the ground when we got up, but we were also rewarded with brilliant sunshine.

After breakfast (oatmeal with butter!) we set off towards the creek again, this time under much less ominous conditions than we'd had the previous day.

The bushwhacking was still pretty bad, though. I actually took the picture here because there was a bit less brush than other places, so you could see better.

We ended up following a pretty well established game trail out a ridge that looked as if it was going to plunge off of a cliff. But we kept following it under the assumption that caribou hadn't made this trail by repeatedly plunging to their deaths and were eventually rewarded with a steep but straightforward slope down to the water.

We put back in, and although the creek was no more treacherous to paddlers (still class 1 and 2 rapids) than the day before, it had become much more treacherous for the dogs to follow along the banks. Whereas the upper reaches had been fairly wide open, we were now in a canyon, with cliffs that frequently came right down to the waters' edge. This meant the dogs had to either run way uphill and go over the tops of the outcrops or swim around them. Bella hates swimming and will normally do her best to avoid it, but there were places on this route where she had no choice, which she clearly hated.

When we reached the Delta River, things opened up again and we took a bit of a lunch break. Bella was cold from the glacial waters and miserable from being afraid we would leave her and being forced to swim. And from falling off of a cliff. But at least she wasn't injured. She gladly took a huge chunk of swiss cheese and half a stick of butter (pretty standard fare for this trip, as you can see) as we held her in the sun and helped her to warm up.

The last part of the paddle - about 7 miles on the Delta River - was much more open and forgiving for the dog to run along the banks. It was quite pleasant for the paddlers, as well, with abundant sunshine and beautiful scenery.

There were no more rapids of note in this part of the paddle. Just a swift and steady of current carrying us back to our car. Amazingly, we didn't see another person the entire trip (with the exception of a couple of helicopters). With the sun out the shivers of the first two days seemed irrelevant. I was eager to get home at that point, but I also felt lucky to get out into such a beautiful place on a trip like this.

Bike Trip (finally!)

Remember long, long ago when I went on a bike trip in Oregon with my dad, as he finished his ride across the country, but I didn't have any pictures because I smashed my camera on day 1? Well I recently recovered the pictures I had taken that morning, at least, so here they are:

There's my pa, pedaling his way out of Redmond, OR.

Some of the Three Sisters (probably), outside of Sisters, OR.

Me and the old man posing for a picture on just about

the perfect morning for a bike ride.

More of the Cascades, from outside Sisters.

The Three Sisters, again.

Three-Fingered Jack mountain, with what I think are 1,500 year-old

lava flows in the foreground.

Hmmm... this looks more like Three-Fingered Jack to me than the

last one. Maybe there are two mountains with the same name.

My dad, biking past some of the lava flows near the top of the climb.

A pretty barren slot of road near the summit.

Nothing but lava on both sides.

McKenzie Pass: just a bit over a mile high, and almost 4,000

feet above our campsite for the evening!

The biker boys at the pass.

Still at the pass, with the Three Sisters (or at least two of them) in the background.

It was right after this that I tried to use a triangular monument as a tripod for my camera and had the pleasure of watching it bounce 173 times as it fell the 4 feet to the ground. That was the end of the road for my camera, so unfortunately I missed a bunch more great photo opportunities over the next couple of days. But mostly I was just so glad to be there for the trip. I felt totally welcomed by the group and had a great time on the road in camp. And of course it was the best to get to spend a couple days biking with my dad!