John Guthrie and I departed Anchorage, for McCarthy, September 7th to begin a multi-day backpacking trip through the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. It is now a month later. I've been writing off and on and have finally finished. This is my story:
...and if you don't want to read the long story, scroll down to the end and at least watch the video. Here's the story:
Thrilled at our accomplishment, saddened not to still be out there, and joyed to be back at home with family. I go back and forth between these three emotions. Andrew McLean said it best, "When you're on an expedition, you wish you were home; when you're home, you wish you were on an expedition - that's the sign of a balanced life." I look forward to keeping a balanced life long into the future. Though, with a trip this grand its hard to not want to be out there still.
The trip began with a colorful autumn drive into McCarthy, then was proceeded by a flight to the snout of the mighty Nizina Glacier. We are dropped here, between the glacier and the mouth of Doubtful Creek. Our bird flies off and leaves us to travel by foot and eventually pack-raft, back to McCarthy.
The first day of travel, was up the menacing, Doubtful Creek. Doubtful Creek had layered canyon walls and colorful cliff bands, rock glaciers and glacier capped peaks, these were the only comfort we had to the upward stumble of this rock choked creek bed. After the eight mile struggle on a continual upward slope of 3500 feet, we made it through the pass and camped just a few miles down. Our campsite was near a small creek with views of the University Range. Dall sheep grazed on nearly every hillside.
Now, on day two, we were pushing for the famed 'Goat Trail' in the Chitistone Gorge. We walked five miles to where we would drop onto the trail's highest point. As we walked we were accompanied by snow, sleet, and three waterfalls. Once on the colorful cliffs of the 'Goat Trail', our eyes peer down thousands of feet to the Chitistone Creek. We looked out across the gorge to cliff bands of similar beauty and forward to the steep trail, yet to be traveled.
I now understand why Chitistone Gorge is so prized. The mountains are painted in green, red, orange, grey, and purple. The colors lay horizontally and diagonally, and fan out below the chutes of cliffs to the valley below. Snow highlights every ridge and cliff in the gorge making it more of a canvas in September.
After a long day through world class terrain, we make camp at a tarn in Chitistone Pass. We will stay two nights to walk the pass' many benches and have a day of rest. With the wind howling through the pass, we were forced to cook within the shelter of our tents vestibule.
On the second evening at Chitistone Pass, I laid outside in a sleeping bag on the bank of the lake to eat dinner and gaze at the surrounding landscape. The cold wind was moving our small part of the world that late evening. The cotton grass seemed to shiver, while clouds moved quickly across mountain peaks, spires, ridges and saddles like a delicate fabric is brushed across the back of one's hand and fingertips. Chitistone gave us another gift of color and visual majesty when the moon and the aurora would show its light with each break in the cloud layer. The phenomenon appeared in an emerald green and in one instance had a champagne like edge.
Chitistone, however, was not done yet. The fourth morning we awoke to a lone, bull, caribou. He stood silhouetted on the horizon in the morning light, antlers towering in a grand display of prowess. As he vanished the same way he appeared, we stuffed our gear into packs and began our descent down the pass. Just above where a creek begins its fall to the valley floor, we met another treasure from the grandeur of Chitistone; Dall Sheep, had come down from their pasture, as if to meet us before our descent. We shared a drink of water with these trusting creatures, then we both went our separate ways.
With another moment to be ecstatic about we quickly descended to the valley floor of Skolai Creek. Crossing this marshy valley we were happy to have had the cold temps freeze the otherwise ankle deep muck and swampy landscape. Nearly half way across the valley we see three dark beasts with a mane of white - more caribou. They are moving up the valley in a majestic trot. We spooked them off their way but they are soon looking down on us from a high bench. We move on down the valley towards the Fredrika River.
We made our way to the Fredrika, on an old trail. We cross the cold glacial river after a short bushwhack. We make more consistent bear calls as we move through old river bars lined with willows and bear scat. Just as another call goes out a grizzly, hearing the call, rises above a stand of willow. As soon as he is up he is back down and out of sight, hoofing, with his exit from our presence. After I get my heart beating again, we move on up the valley and make our camp near the toe of the Fredrika Glacier.
Dinner made, consumed, and fire started; we again admire the stars and full moon, but this time on a cloudless night. Watching the sky for satellites and shooting stars, a slow emergence of green appears in the sky, above a ridge, high on the Fredrika Glacier. The Northern Lights appear for the second time this trip in a ribbon of green. We couldn't believe this trip deserved to get any better, so we just laughed and watched the Aurora, until the show was over.
After a good nights sleep on a nice flat river bar we walked up the easy going Fredrika glacier, the easiest walking of the trip. A few miles up the glacier we exited the Fredrika to go up 1000 feet and over a glaciated pass. Once we were on top of the pass we could see the Nizina Glacier, the first views of it since we started our trip seven days earlier. Feeling closer to the end we walked down hill toward the glaciers edge. That evening, next to the glacier, we found the only camp and anticipated tomorrows walk on the Rhone and Nizina Glacier.
The Nizina unlike the Fredrika was not so easy to travel down. More route finding had to be put into navigating its moraines and crevasse fields than we hoped. Soon we found ourselves being pushed to the west side of the glacier. This was not in our best interest as we had stashed our boats on the opposite side before our trip began. Nearing the toe we decided to exit on the west side unless we could find a way across. Admitting our defeat prematurely, we were able to cross to the east a quarter mile from the toe of the glacier. Tomorrow, we would boat to McCarthy; the end of our trip.
We awoke to descent weather, but a storm was on the horizon. After blowing up the boats and strapping on our packs, we were in the water. Paddling in the lake, around large icebergs was incredible and reminded us how small we were in this big place. Entering the river, the current picked up, the excitement ensued. The water was low but also exposed more holes and rocks. Waves splashed over our small boats. Currents came from where large braids crashed together and tugged at us, but we endured through 30 mph gusts and pelting rain. The weather hammered us for more than an hour but soon it subsided and the river did as well. The river was still swift and cold but not as intense as the first several miles of the float. We leisurely floated closer and closer to McCarthy.
Nearing the McCarthy Rd. we saw four humans on the banks of the Nizina. They pointed us to where the road ramps down to the river bar, as this was our take out point. We then march the road, ten miles into the town of McCarthy.
Being the end of the season in McCarthy and eleven o'clock in the evening, everything was closed, including the pub. So, pints of ale unavailable and out of trip whiskey, we drove to Anchorage. Delayed by a flat tire half-way down the seventy mile, dirt road of McCarthy, we put on the 'donut' and slowly motored our way through the night, back to our lives and its adventures.
I've never been through better country. This was a seemingly magical land. There were surprises around every bend and roll in this area. Crystals littered the ground while cliffs and waterfalls appeared from thin air. The good Lord, must have took more time creating this magical area. And it was good.
I'd like to thank John Guthrie for helping to make this trip a reality. I don't know how he did this trip, with his larger than life pack, weighing at least twenty pounds more than mine, but he did, and much respect to him. Also noting, his perseverance to get off the Nizina Glacier the way we had intended.Here is the video I shot, all with the GoPro. Take note pictures and videos rarely do justice as to the grandeur of the country. This is no different. The wide angle of the camera shows the size of the country but nothing replaces the eye. The video is seven minutes long, we were out there for eight days.
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