Backpacking in the Wrangells

The last Alaskan adventure for Cheri and Jared (for a while, anyway) was during the second week of September, 2010. Things since then have been so crazy that I am just now getting to posting the tale.

We spent four days backpacking smack dab in the middle of the largest national park in the United States. The 13.1 million acre Wrangell St. Elias National Park was created in 1980, and has seen relatively little visitation and development since then. There is a 65-mile gravel road leading to the old mining town of McCarthy, and from there the only access is by plane or on foot. Cheri and I hired a pilot to fly us to Skolai Pass, then leave us to find our way over 25 miles of very challenging terrain to Glacier Creek airstrip, where the pilot would return to pick us up three days later.

On the flight in, we got an arial view of Chitistone Canyon, which we would be our route for the majority of the journey. It looked big, and different from the mountains in Denali. Almost desert-southwest-ish, the watershed was cut with a slot canyon at the bottom, then U-shaped vegetated slopes ascending up through steep scree fields, then huge vertical walls up to flat-topped mesas, sometimes capped with ice fields. Watching the plane disappear into the mountains after unloading us and our packs at Skolai Pass was a weird and unnerving feeling. We crossed our fingers that we were up for the challenge and nothing unforeseen (bears, injury, impassable terrain, route finding...) would keep us from making it to the pickup spot in time.

From Skolai Pass, we spent the first afternoon climbing up the steep valley slopes to the pass at the entrance to Chitistone canyon. Here between two large hanging glaciers whose runoff gets the Chitistone river started, we camped the first night at 6000 feet on the alpine tundra. Starting day two, I shook the frost off the tent and the traveling was pleasant and scenic for the first few miles. Our pace slowed significantly when we had to start negotiating the goat trails leading through the scree slopes which are the only route around a large canyon with two huge waterfalls. Walking was precarious, as the six inch wide paths settled and slid away under our feet, and the cliffs directly down slope looked more and more threatening. The terse advice - "Don't fall" - which we got from a McCarthy local before our flight in began to make good sense. It took us the better part of the day to make it two miles, and the destination airstrip started to look woefully far away. We stretched the day and hiked until it was almost dark. At 8:00pm, we arrived at our stopping point next to a river that we had been warned would be a difficult crossing. It was much bigger than I was expecting, and the ice cold, silty, raging water looked uncrossable. We would have to wait until the morning and hope the cold night time temperatures would work to our favor and slow the glacial melt, lowering the river.

The white noise of the river did seem quieter from inside the tent when I woke up the next morning, but was it just wishful thinking? At first light I got out to find a river dramatically different than it had been 10 hours before. There were whole islands visible that had been submerged, and you could see from the wet rocks on the bank that the river had dropped a full two feet! It wasn't enough to keep Cheri from squealing when we waded the thigh-deep, 33 degree water, but it enabled us to cross without having to back track miles up to the glacier to cross the tributaries.

From there, day three was a 12-mile march down the flat river bar, with the only complications being a jungle of alder schwacking, and a few more small creek crossings. We made it to Glacier airstrip in the evening and were pleased to find a cozy public use cabin complete with a fireplace and outhouse. We slept like the many rocks we had stumbled over in the previous days, and the plane arrived the next morning to take us home.

We were blessed with clear skies for the whole trip, so nights were pretty cold, but once the sun cleared the mountains the days were quite nice. Had it been clouded in and rainy, the whole trip would have been entirely different and much more treacherous. I think the word "epic" was mentioned more than any other on this trip, and it certainly was.

Beginning the hike -- apprehensive about the plane leaving.

Snow-covered mesas at Chitistone Pass.

Top of the goat trail, soon to head down to the river in the background.

Adding another rock to the top of the cairn at the end of the long trek.

Feeling good after passing all the major obstacles and headed for the cabin.