This is a very short, but very strenuous, hike with incredible summit views of the Twin Peaks, Bold…read morePeak, and Bashful Peak (the highest mountain in the Chugach). It is usually starting to melt out in April, although it can be done year-round with the right equipment. Micro spikes are useful for snow in the winter and snow and mud in the shoulder seasons. No five stars for Gold Star because the summit contains a lot of stuff that I would consider litter. Man-made trinkets that take away from the beauty of nature. But, it is outside the boundary of Chugach State Park so I don't think it's illegal or anything. I would expect it to take the average hiker 2-4 hours up, half that down.

I don't know if bittersweet is the right word but, this is one of the most scenic zones in the park…read moreand access issues are fraught. It reminds me of when I lived in the PacNW and would read about access into the Picket range of the North Cascades. There would often be 3 approaches listed, all painful, all for different reasons. For Rumble, it goes something like this: 1. Hike in about 20ish miles on Peter's Creek Trail 2. Go up and over a steep, off-trail mountain pass of questionable quality and feasibility from Eagle River Nature center. 3. Luck out and get access from a private property owner bordering the park boundary. Optionally, I've heard a decent access area might be the pass behind The Watchman (I took photos of it while I was on the summit). Anyway, I lucked out and was able to do option #3. My hope is that @mountaineering can secure legal and efficient access before I finish the 120. As I crested up over into the valley, I was bloom away by the serenity of it all. It's a magical place. I anxiously scanned for bears (I've had some encounters that were a little too close for comfort in this area...maybe they are hanging out here more now that there are less people) and started hiking up the valley. I road the tundra-cuts and consolidated snow all the way to Bombardment Pass. I was debating if I should camp at the pass or carry my overnight gear down into the (next) valley. I decided to split the difference and camp at a pretty lake about halfway down. I slept for exactly 8 hours and woke up to Rumble completely obscured from my tent. I attempted to snooze another hour but sleep wouldn't come back. The series of sheep trails winding down the pass into the valley are magic. The grade is perfectly gentle. It made me feel "fast" even though I very much am not. Finding a spot to cross the creek to keep my precious princess feet dry was initially a challenge. But I just kept following the creek uphill until I found a sturdy snow bridge. This whole area (Peter's Creek Valley?) is even more scenic than Ram Valley. It's got bright green hills of sod rolling down off the craggy peaks, dotted with massive boulders that almost resemble stonehenge. I made my way up into the long gully of Rumble and it didn't look as intimidating as I was expecting. It looked boring. A long slope of scree with old snow tongues on climber's right. Towards the end, things do get tricky. The gully funnels into a tight corridor that ends in a drop. There are probably a couple ways to scramble up. I went up some wet fourth class climber's right. It wasn't too bad but eventually I had to traverse across a very short but very scary snow tongue. it was maybe only 10 ft wide but the top was bullet-hard and 5 ft below it, where my feet were, was loose sugar. I didn't realize it till I was halfway across, so booted a platform so I could have a decent stance. I awkwardly took my pack off and more awkwardly put my aluminium crampons on. The snow was so hard that I could probably only get 4 inches of my ice axe shaft into it, but the crampons really helped I was able to take a wide step onto the wet choss on the other side. Looking back at this snow feature, I felt ridiculous. It looks so easy, why was I so flummoxed? Once above that it was just fun, choose-your-own-adventure, snow and rock ramps that were no harder than 3rd class. In classic mountaineering style, as soon as I got into the ridgeline, the sweltering sun subsided and clouds covered the south-side of the mountain. I drank a pint of my luck beer "'Scend"(it's 2/2 so far) on the summit and took in the great views of Thunderbird to Bellicose and everything inbetween. I saw a pile of rocks where the's usually a summit register, but I couldn't find one. I saw that Caltopo/Gaia/Peakbagger/OSM have the true summit marked further down the ridge so I walked over there just in case. (just eyeballing it, I don't think it's taller) I took a summit selfie, summit pano, checked-in with my emergency contacts/family (had 2 bars of LTE on Verizon on top, the only place with any signal on the trip, save Bombardment Pass) The hike out was gorgeous with light coming over the pass and shading the layered golf courses of Peter's Creek Valley various bright and shiny shades of green. Coming back to a ready-made tent with no chores (other than delicious rehydration) is really something special. Hike out was largely uneventful, save for the fact that I got my first unobstructed view of the entire massiveness that is Rumble.

Yukla has been on my radar since I moved to Anchorage from Portland. I heard about it in the worst…read moreway possible. Another Portland climber, Dasan Marshall, had died climbing it in January of 2015. The first thing I did was google the mountain and look upon all of the gnarly mixed ice routes on its west and north faces. I quickly decided this mountain was "not for me". I satiated my thirst for high places with pedestrian Chugach hikes, punctuated with trips to the lower 48 to grapple alpine rock in the Wind River Range and the Sierra. Then, in the early days of COVID, when we were being told to limit any and all "risky" activity, Abbey and I took a leisurely hike to Echo Bend and saw an incredible, snowy view of the mountain. I decided to probe a little bit deeper, and eventually found there were some far easier ways up it. I'm not sure what this route is called. Northeast gully? Northeast Face? Twinsicle Pass? Anyway, the line we took goes up from Twin Falls, up the Twinsicle Glacier, through the pass, and corkscrews around to the NE side of the peak. We had foolishly penciled in Yukla for the 3-day Memorial Day weekend because, that's how weather works, right? It looked like the forecast was going to improve so we decided to give it a go. Worst-case scenario, we would have a soggy and secluded backcountry camping experience. We headed out Sunday around noon. The hike from Eagle River Nature center on the maintained trail to the Twin Falls area was mostly uneventful and felt quick. We reached the creek where it was time to branch off and up into the Twinsicle drainage and...we saw an adorable squirrel. Dead. In the creek. It looked so peaceful. It looked pristine and holy, like it was just taking a nap. More weird Yukla omens, yay. A little less than 6 hours after setting off for camp, we were at the iconic boulder that most folks seem to camp near. (not to be confused with the iconic/infamous "boulder bivy" in Icicle Creek, one drainage over!) We found the flattest spot, cracked open some beers (my first time bringing my canned homebrew on a Chugach 120 mission!), and setup camp. We went to bed about 8pm for a planned alpine-ish start of 4:30 am. It felt like I had just begun to fall asleep when...I was being shaken awake? The shaking then continued. And continued. Eventually I realized it was an earthquake. Abbey had also woken up. We heard rockfall. Having had two near-miss/bad-fall/thought-I-was-dying experiences in the mountains, all I could think of in my drowsy state was "let it come." If the mountains wanted to unceremoniously smush me in a tent while I was asleep, that seemed fine for some reason. Abbey peaked out of the tent and notified me that none of the rockfall seemed to be coming near us as I was drifting back to sleep. The weather was fine. We decided to wake up and see if we could get up this thing. We started trudging up the snow towards Twinsicle Pass, it was also fine. There was no post-holing, but a little bit of softness made every step take a smidge more energy that if the snow were firm Styrofoam. Eventually we reached the start of the glacier (according to the old scanned USGS topo maps, we had our doubts). We were greeted by a prompt Pika. It was having the time of its life screaming at us. We continued up, and stayed center-left, basing our path on previous trip reports we had read. We chose not to rope up as the snow grew firmer the closer we got to the pass. Any exposed cracks we could see were very small and easily avoided. At the pass, the wind picked up and the clouds rolled in. I suddenly had most of my summit motivation blown clear off of me. I didn't want to dampen Abbey's spirits, so I didn't say anything. I then left the shelter of Abbey's great kick steps, and started corkscrewing us around the mountain onto the NE side. There was a faint but obvious boot pack from the many folks that had been up Yukla in the sunnier days before. Eventually we stopped side-hilling and were going up mostly firm snow with our crampons, axes, and whippets. We went up the false summit and down-climbed it on the other side, facing-in. As we made our way closer to the true summit, the clouds continued to clear. At last we were on what was unmistakably the true summit. Brutal exposure fell off the west side. From this point one can really see the stark contrast between the two faces of Chugach State Park: the public-facing "dense green growth on brown slopes snaked by braided rivers" and the glacial "land of always winter". When we got back to camp it started drizzling, because of course it did. We took some big swigs of plastic-flasked Scotch and tried to delay packing up the tent for as long as we could. Besides the intense tenderization of our feet from far too much time in rigid boots, the hike out was largely uneventful. Moose's Tooth pizza and beer were had, with time to spare. It really felt like we pulled one over on the Chugach.

We had an unbelievable time and experience with Dallas. We saw bears, goats and amazing…read morelandscapes...glaciers, rivers, reflection ponds etc...we learned a lot about the wildlife, the valley and Alaska. When we arrived in Whittier, we realized we had 3-4 hours before we were scheduled to leave town and Dallas helped us plan an experience we will remember for a long time. Will definitely book another tour with he and his team the next time we are in Alaska.

Awesome time!! Had family in town and we decided to give this a try. The guided tour was so fun,…read morebeautiful and perfect length. We winded up the trail and thru some parts of the river. Threw snowballs around up too and enjoyed some hot chocolate then made our way back. Great time l! Will definitely do this again!

I really like this trail. It's the type of trail that you can't pin the direction it's going to go…read more You're kind of just weaving your way up and around. The trail (in October when we went) gets progressively more muddy as the you get higher. Most of the first couple miles are in the trees and shrubs. Around the 2.4 mile mark you come to a picnic table and an open viewing area. All that said, it's really not a great trail when it's muddy. Scary in places really. Especially coming down. Excited to try it out in summer after a couple really warm, really dry days.

Probably the most brutal hike in the Anchorage bowl!…read more It's short on mileage but HEAVY on gain. Trail has great views of the Knick Glacier as well as some nice wild flower-sprinkled tundra near the end. The trail ends at a ridge that eventually reaches the shorter of Pioneer Peak's two summits. I would not recommend this section unless you are very comfortable with exposed scrambling and/or you are a confident rock climber. Once on the South Summit you can glimpse at the slighty taller, "true" summit: the North Summit. Our intentions were to downclimb from the South Summit and then go upthe North...but after climbing down the ball bearing scree with sickening runouts, we decided to go get breakfast in Palmer instead. It's very tough to get to the true summit from this trail head, best options would be: 1) Do it when there is snow on the summits, might be easier to downclimb and then climb up the other side if there is enough snow. At least you could arrest a fall with an axe. 2) Climb the North Face route, which leads directly to the North Summit. This is best done in late spring. There is considerable avalanche risk if conditions aren't perfect. 3) Have bigger balls than us and just go for it when it's dry.

So this is a fun course! Some of the most breathtaking views!! Challenging and long holes. If you…read morearen't taking a cart- you will definitely be getting your steps in. Covered driving range is nice and prices are good for the area.

This peak is relatively low elevation, and starts at a marked trail head: the generically named…read more"East Fork Trail" on the south side of Eklutna Lake. Given the distance from the trailhead and relatively low elevation Abbey and I definitely underestimated this one, DO NOT be like us! We leisurely biked in on Saturday morning, set up a camp on Eklutna Lake near the crowded Bold airstrip, and were hiking out on the trail by 1pm. We didn't have a route in mind that we were 100% committed to. We had read mixed things about many of them. The trail was delightfully NOT overgrown (I've been in here just a few weeks late in the season, and it was a jungle). We got to the falls and started trying to find a way up the West/NW Ridge. I encountered my first strand of scratchy Devils Club, looked at Abbey and said "I'm not doing this". We had also caught a glimpse of the trail as it continued across the creek, it looked to be in great shape. And it was. As we continued to navigate the mountain, we continued to look up toward the summit and see a face littered with walls of vertical rock. It all looked very, very bad. A maze of grassy slopes and rock drop-offs. Eventually, we had curved around south and west of the summit and kept going. We then saw a clear, easy route up the mountain.! It was a magical veggieless path of scree and then snow up an alder-choked stretch of mountain. Just like we had heard it described by others. And then we saw a black bear right next to the scree slopes, munching on grass. We yelled at Them, and then yelled at Them some more and...They didn't really move. They just continued to graze, walk into the brush, walk out of the brush, repeat. Eventually the bear was out of view, and we started making our way up in the blistering heat. Progress was slow, but eventually the mountain cooled. Scree gave way to snow, and we could start to feel the gentle breezes of the valley. We got on the snow and it was much easier going. Great boot snow with no need for crampons. Eventually the snow we were on continued to thin and snake into a narrow constriction. The rock all around us was closing in and was really rotten. At some point the snow was gone and we found ourselves on 3rd and 4th class rock composed of thousands of brittle butter knife blades. It chipped off when you stepped on it. There were no cracks, there were no horns. Nothing to plug or sling. (not that we had any gear with us) This was, by far, the most challenging section, mostly for the brain, I wouldn't call the climbing quite 5th class...I would say it was very similar in character to Chickenshit Gully on Bashful, but it was much longer (it started at around 4,200-4,300') We just kept calm and continued upwards. The terrain did get easier to climb, but the exposure did not let up. Exiting the chossy butter knives section just before the ridge turns knife-edge, we climbed through a series of chimneys (the first started at about 61.27546, -148.89408): the stemming was fun, the extremely loose rock, was not! We had to gingerly take turns so as not to knock rock on each other. Finally the exposure started to level-off and we were leisurely scrambling to the true summit. It was warm and cozy, with blob of snow on what was mostly a comfy bed of turf. We hung out and drank our adult summit beverages, and pondered the the way down. The "West Ridge" (it's more NW if you ask me) looked to be pretty straight forward. It mostly was. (while on the ridge) The scrambling on this line was much easier than the line we took up, 3rd class at the worst, and mostly pleasant hiking. It starts to get challenging as you near the treeline though. There are a series of sneaky cliffs buried in the brush. When we followed the path of least resistance, we were suckered onto the tops of them. We needed to constantly side-hill and down climb around them. Once we were firmly below treeline, there were veins and memories of the trail but...there wasn't much. We grabbed lots of devils club and did a mudslide or two. I broke a beer (but didn't realize it, as it soaked all my camera gear) and a trekking pole and Abbey also sacrificed a beer. Still, we were grateful to not be descending what we had climbed up! Finally, we were free. As we rested at the creek, Abbey thought she saw another bear and instinctively yelled at it. It turned out to just be a sleepy Wolverine that quietly returned to the woods. We found a make-shift log bridge to cross the creek, and saw a mouse that looked like it was drowning, and then proceeded to run on the water, against the flow. Savior vole drowned for our souls. Times: it took us about 9 hours to get to the summit from the trailhead, and about 7 to get back to camp. We summit'd just before sunset, and got to our pre-pitched tent just before sunrise. Like a couple of vampires.