Alaska
Mine and Jackie’s bikepacking trips always come about in the same way…
She finds a far-flung place with a difficult route she’s interested in. I respond with “Are you sure you can do this?” She replies with a yes. I reply “Are you sure? I don’t want to have to carry your bike, or you, to the finish.” She says she can handle it (spoiler alert, she always handles it). Then we book the plane tickets.
The birth of our most recent endeavor on the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska was no different.
I love bikepacking trips with Jackie. She is not a cyclist, she’s a runner. These trips stretch her to the limit. They challenge her in new and terrifying ways. But she’s strong and resilient, and refuses to quit. And refuses to complain. I like that. She’s my ride or die (I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool and committing).
Our trip was to consist of a long pedal through the singletrack of the Kenai Peninsula. Then we’d head up north of Anchorage to embark on a trip over Hatcher Pass, down towards the Little Susitna River, stashing our bikes at the Reed Lakes Trailhead and trekking up into the mountains for a night at the stunning Snowbird Hut on the Snowbird Glacier.
A story can be told with a lot of words to great effect. But since the Kenai Peninsula is a place of intense wildness and beauty, I’d prefer to let the images (and captions) do most of the talking. Enjoy…
Jackie in good spirits five miles into the 20 mile climb out of Hope, on the north coast of the Kenai Peninsula, up to Resurrection Pass.
Typically advisable to treat your water. We would intermittently cleanse with tablets, mixed with not treating the water at all.
Me nearing the top of Resurrection Pass, day one.
Just below the pass was a hut (we thought was first come first serve) that we decided to stay the night in, however an hour later we had visitors and they had the place reserved for the night. So on we went.
Endless water, cold water. Cold, quick baths.
Morning coffee.
A rare occasion to find an open air toilet in the backcountry. I took advantage.
Juneau Lake, Resurrection Pass Trail.
Kenai Lake near Cooper Landing, AK.
My Open One+ hardtail with all the fixins.
Ride all day, take a lot of breaks. Kenai Lake.
We ate thousands of blueberries on this trip. Endless supply for us, and the bears.
The climb to Lost Lake. Jackie is a professional hike-a-biker.
We found the Primrose Trail to Lost Lake to be primo singletrack.
Lost Lake proved to be one of the best places I’ve ever slept.
Morning coffee.
Jackie efforting the climb up out of Lost Lake, soon to be bombing down the backside into the famous port of Seward, AK.
Jackie beginning the descent into Seward.
We caught the backend of the annual salmon run in Alaska.
After a short stint on the Bear Lake Trail with ample overgrowth, technical riding, and hike-a-bike (and endless bear scat to dodge), taking on the climb out of the Divide Ski Area was an extremely welcomed endeavor.
If you despise hike-a-bike, don’t bikepack.
Moments after this photo, we were bombing back into Hope, and the end of our amazing time on the Kenai Peninsula, when Jackie carried too much speed into a rock garden and lost control over the handlebars. The result was a borderline heart attack on my part. She sustained a bad puncture wound where her teeth went all the way through her lower lip. Stitches required, but too far away from a “stitcher” so we made due with gauze and pressure to stop the bleeding. It was a scary few moments but she walked away without serious injury, and for that I am forever thankful.
The second half of the trip would involve that pedal over Hatcher Pass, and up to the Snowbird Glacier. For this endeavor, we strapped backpacks on the outside of our seatpacks so that we’d have an avenue to haul our necessary gear up the mountain to the hut. I had never done this on a bikepacking trip, and it turned out to be one of the highlights of Alaska.
Hatcher Pass.
That’s not dirt on the back of her leg. Those are bruises from striking her calf on her pedal while hike-a-biking.
Some sections of the surface on Hatcher Pass was a hardpack, much akin to many of the dirt roads I’ve ridden in the Boulder, CO, area. Almost like pavement.
A few dreamy switchbacks on the way up.
After exhausting a few other overnight options, we spent an evening of nervous sleep in what seemed to be a high bear populated area.
Silver lining meant we had more blueberries than we could ever eat for breakfast.
We spent much of our trip dodging cold Alaskan rain, but this day was to prove a wet one.
Fill the packs, stash the bikes in the woods, and twelve miles on foot up to the Snowbird Glacier.
Many times the trail fell faint, and hard to find.
The Snowbird Hut, on the Snowbird Glacier.
Gather snow, melt it, then dinner with a view.
Subfreezing temperatures, breakfast outside.
The trek requires a traverse across the Snowbird Glacier.
Back down to the stashed bikes in the valley.
Alaska was wild and beautiful and scary and humbling and majestic and life-changing. Bears and moose and big cats. Weather changes in an instant. Frigid temps. Intense terrain. I have told folks that it was the ideal place to realize just how small and insignificant we really are. It birthed a thankfulness in me that I hadn’t felt in ages. I am thankful that Jackie and I often have these opportunities in life. I hope you get these opportunities. And more importantly, I hope you take them.
For those inclined, find a video of our trip on my personal Instagram profile in the story highlights under the title Alaska.
Huge thanks to the Renaissance Cyclist and the fine folks at Revelate Designs for taking the time to answer all my crazy questions about the area and routes. It was of mass importance to our sanity and safety.
