Backpacking up the valley of Hidden Creek, in the Wrangell Mountains. Fall colors glow on the tundra. Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Please click on the image to view a larger version of the photo.

Hey Folks,

Here’s a photo from our trip last week up Hidden Creek and over to the Lakina River. What a great trip this was. The weather was amazing; huge sunny skies, bluebird days, warm afternoons, crisp cool nights and that great fall air.

The landscape – well, incredible doesn’t touch it. Jaw-dropping scenery at virtually every turn marks this route, and we lapped it up. The views of Mt Blackburn the first day were simply unsurpassed. The view from my tent the final morning in a high alpine pass, with fresh snow (“termination dust”) on the soaring jagged peaks of the Wrangell mountains, reflecting in the glassy water of the tarn (lake) was more than anyone could ask for.

Last summer I hiked this route as part of a longer route, from Nugget Creek to Kennicott, and the weather wasn’t so friendly. Not terrible, but for this section, definitely not great hiking weather. This year the tables turned and we couldn’t have asked for better weather.

The folks on the trip, the Ball family from San Antonio, TX, had a blast. They were returning here after an infamous trip we took in 2006, where they set the record for the worst weather of any backpacking trip I’ve ever done. It was so fun to see their smiles and hear their joy as we didn’t have to set up the cook tent for each and every meal. A stark contrast to their previous hike!

This route, though not too far in terms of miles, offers a lot of exploring and side-hiking along the way, and we took advantage of that as often as possible. Some of the waterfalls we found, clear lakes and streams, as well as intense fall color in those high alpine passes were just too cool. And the herds of Dall sheep and mountain goats on the hillsides nearby were the icing on one helluva great cake!

I shot some video on this trip, as well, and will try to edit that and get it posted online in the fall. I’m looking forward to this hike again next year; hopefully the great weather will return and the hike will be as rewarding as this year.And the company will be as much fun as the Ball family. Thanks so much to Rob, Deb and Saundra for coming out again.

Cheers

Carl

Backpackers crossing a creek in Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska.

Hey Folks,

One of the more challenging aspects of an Alaskan backcountry trek is river crossings. With the exception of the occasional Kenai Peninsula hike, all of these treks are off-trail, wilderness backpacking trips, and so there’s no easy way to get across the streams, creeks and rivers that meander through the mountains. A few tips that can be useful to heed:

1) For smaller streams, I prefer to cross one person at a time. If by chance someone in the group does stumble, it means we have one wet person to deal with. Everyone else in the group is safe and secure on shore. Things unravel quickly in the backcountry, and that happens most often when something small goes wrong. One person stumbles, takes a dip, someone else reaches to grab them, they go down, knock their partner off balance, and all of a sudden bedlam results. That’s how people get hurt. It can also mean everyone gets wet gear. A much simpler problem to deal with is getting one person out of a creek, drying them off, and loaning them some warm, dry gear that another person in the group has in their pack. One person falling is a hassle – a group falling can be a disaster.

2) For anything over knee-high, unbuckle your hip belt and sternum strap on the backpack. Often these creeks and streams are fast, and the power of rushing water can be hard to struggle against. Compound that with the silt and glacial silt that is typically in the rivers here, and your backpack can become a led weight before you know it. What seems like a manageable load on your back is not so manageable if you’re upside-down in a rushing stream, and the backpack getting heavier by the second. Worse still, lying facedown in a rushing stream is NOT the time to try to undo your hipbelt and and get your pack off your back. Undo those buckles BEFORE you get in the water (see the photo above).

Similarly, rain covers go on the backpack before crossing. If you lose your balance and tumble, that small procedure can keep a whole bunch of your gear dry. If the river looks a little more gnarly, dry bag your food, your sleeping bag and insulating gear as well — the old adage “a stitch in time” means something here.

3) Take some time to look around for a good crossing place. Often creeks and rivers that might be waist deep become braided and shallower right around the corner. I’ll spend 20 minutes at times walking upstream or downstream or both looking for a good crossing spot. It’s WAY too easy to feel rushed, and just say ‘well, this place is as good as any’. The chances are very high that this place is NOT as good as any. Slow down, take some time out, and look for the best place to cross. Walk along the shore, and check the lay of the land before you arrive at the creekbank; oftentimes you’ll see a good spot to cross from a distance, and change your approach to arrive at the better spot.

And a good spot to cross means more than shallow water. It means a good easy entry into the water, a nice easy exit, not a steep, wet rock, or wall of brush, or means ‘good water’ downstream in case someone swims. You don’t want any ‘strainers’ in the creek, submerged or partially submerged brush that can easily hold a swimmer under water.

4) Don’t be afraid to drop your pack off, and have the strongest hiker (and swimmer) in your group test the depth and feel of the water without a backpack on. These glacial melt waters can be absolutely impossible to gauge depth visually, so you’ll need to wade in. Use your hiking poles (you ARE carrying hiking poles, right?) and test the depth ahead of you as you go.

5) Watch carefully for holes – it’s easy to be caught, thinking ‘this isn’t too deep’ and have the ground suddenly drop away beneath your feet. Fast rivers and creeks can easily dislodge a boulder or similar and leave a big hole on the riverbed that you won’t see, but will disappear under when you step into it.

6) I prefer to cross in sandals, tennis shoes, crocs, or similar, and keep my hiking boots (and socks) dry. Don’t cross in bare feet. If you wear crocs, add some security by tying them on. In a fast creek they’ll easily wash off your feet when you raise your foot. But, with reasonable precautions, they do make great creek crossing footwear. Or try the Trailbreak – a more sturdy version of the croc. Do NOT carry your boots in your hand – that’s a disaster waiting to happen. Tie them securely on to your backpack, not over your shoulder, etc.

Safely crossing a creek in Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Excellent form, shoes tied safely on to the pack, backpack buckles undone, small steps, good use of the trekking poles. 10/10!!!

7) For rushing deeper rivers, I find crossing in couples or trios works well. More people gets a little unwieldy and the group moves too slow. These rivers are C-O-L-D!!! Have 2 people together, the stronger on on the upstream side, using 2 trekking poles and locking elbows/wrists is a good idea. For 3 people, I prefer the ‘triangle’, with the stronger person again on the upstream side. Some folks like to form a circle, and cross with all hikers facing one another; whatever method you do, undo your backpack buckles, and practice the movements a bit before you enter the stream. Even a quick 30 second practice on land can make a big difference.

Wait til morning. Typically, these rivers and creeks subside over night, as they’re glacial fed, which means the water levels drop when temperatures cool down. Set up camp somewhere nearby, make an early start, and cross before the heat of day lifts the water to more dangerous levels.

9) Go back. River crossings can be dangerous. If you (or someone in the group) are uncomfortable with the crossing, go back. It’s simply not worth it. You’re in Alaska – your trip doesn’t hinge on being on the other side of some river. There’s plenty of cool stuff to see and visit on this side of the river.

10) Face slightly upstream. Don’t “force” the crossing, but move with the current, tread carefully, and feel for good footing. Be careful. Take small steps and keep your center of gravity close. You’ll see some bad form in the video below, with one hiker reaching with his poles and taking larger, unstable steps. That’s a good way to take a swim.

I prefer to have someone in the group on shore at all times. I don’t like everyone in the water at one time, on any crossing. If somebody stumbles and needs assistance, the people crossing are NOT the best choice to help, in most cases. 9 times out of 10 that kind of thing means more people falling and stumbling. Get yourself safe, and keep the ‘victim‘ number low. The person on shore can more easily maneuver into position to provide assistance to swimmers. The person on shore should have their pack off, means even if they fall and get wet, their gear is dry. Dry gear in Alaska can save your behind!

I also don’t like ropes. Ropes and water don’t mix well. Ropes and water and brush and rocks and inexperience hikers mix generally very badly.

Watch the video below; you’ll see the trekking poles used, and also how slowly to cross. You can see we found, in the first one, a nice wide braid of the river to cross; we hiked alongside this river for nearly 1/2 mile before we arrived at this spot. In the 2nd, take note of the location again. Downstream is a nice shallower braided section. Also note that by carefully choosing where we start crossing, we have an easy entry, shallow water, no brush, etc, then one deeper channel, followed by a nice shallow exit. You don’t want to be waist deep in a flowing stream and have a wall of brush meet you at your exit point.

You’ll also notice I cross ahead of the 2 backpackers here, without a pack, and run a guide line for them to follow – they see where I went, and know to follow my line. Once I set off, I cross and stand on shore. Hypothermia sets in fast in water that’s barely above freezing – this crossing is about 1/4 mile downstream from the glacier that feeds the river. I’m on shore safe, slightly downstream of the hikers, where I can be of use if one stumbles. You’ll also see, as the 2nd hiker exits, the easy exit point, as well as the lack of any real threatening spots downstream. If someone tumbles, there’s no immediate rapid or hole they might get caught in just below our crossing spot.

Be safe out there.

Cheers

Carl

River Crossings from Alaskan Alpine Treks on Vimeo.

Backcountry campsite in the Chugach mountains, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve. From the Iceberg Lake to Bremner Mines trip.

Hey Folks

Here’s a short post with some tips for you on picking a campsite in the backcountry.  Why a post about picking a campsite? I think it’s useful because many folks overlook this part of a trip, as most people are (typically) so used to backpacking and hiking on trails in the Lower 48 states that it doesn’t really occur to them until it’s time to set up a tent. And by then, it’s too late.

Your campsite is your home, albeit ever so temporarily, and it’s well worth taking a couple of steps toward setting up home for the evening in a setting that you enjoy. Backpacking all day with a heavy load through rugged but beautiful mountains is hard work, and an important part of the trip, to us, is enjoying a great campsite. What makes a great campsite?

Firstly, it needs to be “low impact.” Essentially, low impact campsites are those that don’t leave undue stress on the landscape, or on other visitors to the park, both while you’re camped there and after you’re gone. There are a number of elements that are important, and I’ll stress a few of them here (this is not a comprehensive list).

Resilience of the ground underfoot to your camp. Camping is not merely a tent footprint. Camping often means, particularly in bear country, many trips back and forth from tent site to kitchen. With a group of even 4 people, that can quickly lead to  trails and travel sign on the tundra. Even all the most careful planning in the world won’t counter forgetting a jacket, or your gloves, or a lighter, etc; it’s amazing how rarely dinner goes by without someone having to make a trip or 2 back to the tent/backpacks to grab something forgotten; or grab a camera for that exhilarating sunset that always seems to happen while you eat.

A backpacking campsite on the Bremner to Tebay Trip, Wrangell St. Elias National Park, Alaska.

Fragile tundra can be damaged by heavy, stiff backpacking boots very easily. Even sitting enjoying your pasta fettaccini and scrunching around a little can damage the dryas (tundra); multiply that by 4 people and 2 meals, breakfast and dinner, and the kitchen can quickly become broken and torn underfoot. You might not notice it, but once you break camp and move on, the scars are left behind and clear for all to see.

Find hardy soil, rocky ground, etc. Move carefully back and forth to camp, don’t always use the exact same path, unless a social trail already exists. I believe it’s better to concentrate wear on existing trails than create new ones.

Secondly, try not set up right on a water source; this one, I think is more important in some circumstances than others. Smaller groups might be able to camp by a stream without leaving the same kind of impact as larger groups, and stressing careful camping practices around the area make a big difference. But the big issue is the volume of traffic the site may get. There are a couple of areas on some of our more popular routes that get more traffic during the summer backpacking season than others, and we’re always careful to avoid camping at those sites.

On the other hand, some sites might get used once or twice a season, and the area seems to bounce back well. If you DO choose to camp on a water source, take extra care to not pollute that source. The standard Leave No Trace practice for using the bathroom in the backcountry is 200′ from a water source, so we tend to set 300′ as a standard. Don’t cook and eat near the water source. Don’t wash dishes directly in the source. A swim and bath in a cool stream or tarn is an awesome experience in the mountains, and if you value it for yourself, value it for others – make the effort to not pollute and dirty the water.

Backpacking campsite on the Sanford Plateau, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska. Mt Drum towering behind.

The view: your camp is your home. Stop and spend the evening somewhere nice. One of things we pride ourselves on the most is killer campsites. Even on the exploratory trips, where we’re hiking the terrain unseen, we’ll typically hike an extra hour or 2 to find somewhere nice to camp. Getting up high is almost ALWAYS worth the effort. Nothing beats sitting on a high ridge with that great expansive view stretching down the valley beyond as you enjoy your cocoa.

If the weather is inclement, a suggestion is to save the climb for later, and hunker down low. Being exposed on a ridge isn’t a great option in a storm, and the view is typically not happening anyway. In such conditions, stay low, dry and warm. Save the hike up for a time when you’ll be able to see those distant peaks, and the sun lights up some high cloud from underneath.

On the issue of vista, do pay attention to your neighbors, i.e., both other hikers and wildlife. Don’t set up camp in an obvious wildlife corridor, or on a game trail, etc. Don’t set up camp next to an Arctic Ground Squirrel’s home, or close to nesting birds. Just as important, don’t set up camp on a trail or right alongside a route you expect other backpackers might be using while you’re there – unless you have to. But DO make the effort to camp out of the way, and not intrude your campsite on others’ experiences, both those who call the park/refuge home and those who are also visiting.

The last thing I’ll comment on here is campfires. I almost NEVER have a campfire in the backcountry any more. It’s rare indeed the times I have fire. When someone on a trip really desires a fire, and circumstances allow, or when a fire is good judgement, such as someone is cold and wet, we’ll have a campfire — BUUUUUTTT — we always make sure to use only dead and down wood, and remove as much sign of the fire as possible. Picking a spot for the campfire is a topic unto itself, so I’ll keep that topic short by saying be careful, take the time to know the regulations and suggestions from the relevant land management agency, and follow those.

Most often what causes problems is someone thinks ‘oh, I know the rules or protocols are x-y-z, but it’s just this once’. Well, that once follows someone else’s ‘just this once’, and precedes the next, and so on. Before you know it, there’s 4 or 5 fire rings within 100 yards of one another. Not to mention potential for starting wildfires. So if you’re out there on your own, do be careful, and respect the land you’re in. It’s good form.

One of the reasons I like the 1st photo in this post for this discussion is because it shows some of the things I’m talking about. You can see the water in the background, a good 100 yards from the tent ( a Mountain Hardwear PCT 1 – great tent!). The view is awesome, the terrain is solid and resilient, flat and comfortable for sleeping and you can see on the left hand side, a big, high ridge wall around the back end of the camp offers some shelter from inclement weather. One of my favorite campsites anywhere!

The other photos hopefully inspire you to spend some time finding a good campsite – it’s your home!

Remember: Great Campsites are Found, not Made.

Cheers

Carl

MSR Hubba tent, campsite in Chugach Mountains.

Sunset over a tarn, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park, Alaska.

Camping on the tundra, Denali National Park and Preserve, Alaska.

Sunset over Hanagita Peak, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska.

School teacher Natalie keeps up with her reading on the Sanford Plateau trip, July 09, Wrangell - St. Elias National Park, Alaska.

Hey Folks,

Here’s a photo of school teacher Natalie from this past trip. We had a great walk across the Sanford Plateau in July. The weather was awesome, as you can, and we had an absolutely gorgeous evening after dinner up on the Plateau; the sun going down to the north lit up the entire region just beautifully. Natalie wanted some photos of her reading a book that she could show to her school students when she returned to teaching after the summer. I took a couple of her in front of Mt. Drum, and a few with the awesome west flank of Mt. Sanford as a backdrop. You can also see some of the glacial moraine in the valley below, a remnant of the receding Sanford Glacier. We hiked across the lower portion of the moraine, and then climbed up on to the plateau the following morning. It’s a steep climb, but as is the case so often with climbs like this, so well worth the effort. Once upon the plateau, the walking is easy, and the vast open range of tundra really a great place to visit.

This trek was a first for Natalie, she’d never taken on quite a trip like a backpacking trip in Alaska before, and I admired her willingness to jump right on in with a fly-in trip like the Sanford Plateau hike. Even when we got a little re-routed by high water in the Dadina River, and had a bit of bushwhacking to do in order to get to our landing strip destination, she handled it with aplomb! Far better than I did on my first ever bushwhack through Alaskan alder. Great job, Natalie.

This trip is really a nice walk, and generally gets far fewer visitors than some of the better know hikes on the south side of the park. We didn’t see another hiker on the entire trip. We saw a grizzly bear, found a huge moose rack, and saw bison (and a grizzly bear den) from the plane on our flight back to Glennallen. Don’t let the lower visitation deter you; the views don’t get any better than from the Sanford Plateau, which offers spectacular vista of Mt. Drum, Mt. Zanetti, Mt. Wrangell and Mt. Sanford, all of which stand over 12 000′ high, Mt. Sanford topping out at over 16 000′ high! Snow-capped peaks like these, bathed in warm summer alpenglow, make for great hiking, camping, backpacking, photography, and even reading.

Cheers

Carl