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.

This peak is accessed from the penguin creek trail:…read morehttps://www.yelp.com/biz/penguin-creek-trail-anchorage Depending on who you ask, it may be considered the most difficult hike in Chugach State Park. It definitely requires lots of off-trail travel and navigation, that's for sure! Here's my trip report from when I summitted it: We left the penguin creek trail shortly after and began our traverse into the hanging valley. We ended up maintaining an elevation of roughly 1400 ft before steadily ascending to 2600 ft to drop down into the hanging valley. This decision was...OK. It wasn't a sufferfest, but it wasn't exactly great. There was definitely some bad snow and some alder-wrangling. The lake of any chlorophyll in any of the foilage made route-finding through it much easier...but there was still ample grunting and rubber-banding-gunning of branches. Rather than take the full ridge up Bird, we decided to go up-valley and then gain the ridge near "Point 4800"/"Point 4840" (I've heard it called both things, and on my map it isn't either of these elevations, anyone know where this name is documented?) Anyway, we started ascending form the valley floor at roughly 60.9989, -149.3137. It was mostly snow climbing on snow of marginal quality. Lower down it was very bad wallowing, so we climbed the rock bands. Eventually the rock bands ended and we were climbing a spine of snow (reminded my of the "hogsback" from my Mt Hood climbing days!). It was straightforward ascending, but extremely bad visibility was a little anxiety-inducing. We were in and out of rolling whiteouts and there was so little contrast my camera couldn't auto-focus, ha! We kept taking the obvious gully up, and eventually were dumped out onto a flattish rock band. From there steep, firm snow climbing to gained the ridge proper. (we didn't put our crampons on for this, but we probably should have) We aggressively side-hilled to avoid going up and over Point 48XX, a decision that didn't end up saving any time. Knife-hard Icy snow slopes peppered sloppy scree fields making travel annoying, unless you're really good at crampon-changing! Eventually we were at a low-point in the ridge, where I found a sneaky route down. I was a line I had heard described in some trip reports at the end of the valley that could take you directly to the summit ridge and probably save a lot of time, if it had snow on it. There was a ton of good-looking snow on it, so I noted it in caltopo (60.9981, -149.2958) for a possible, hot-pizza-at-Moose's Tooth-preserving descent short-cut. What we did next is hard to describe, but sticking to the ridge became difficult so we started side-willing east towards the true summit. Eventually we were on and off of really bad choss that was either dusted with half-melted powder or hardened by rime ice (similar to what Kevin Downie experienced last fall: https://www.peakbagger.com/climber/ascent.aspx?aid=1524570) . I can see how this would be a fun scramble in the summer, but dodging icy gullies and scraping choss with crampons was not! Abbey found an "easy" icy ramp to the summit area (I thought it was kinda scary), and after front-pointing on some rime, we reached the snow-and-rime dome that is the Bird Peak summit...to absolutely zero views. Vis was probably at 20-30 ft? There was enough visibility for us to scout an easy snow ramp that would take us down from the summit. (Anything to avoid down-climbing the Abbey M0 variation!) Long story short, the snow ramp was also extremely hard snow. It would've protected beautifully with even vertical pickets. We just kept our heads down and slowly front-pointed down it for what seemed like forever. Eventually we got back down to the scree slopes, took the crampons off, and started side-hilling back to the ridge (west). We went right to the descent line I had marked and...it still looked pretty good. I got out and tested it a little and it was just too hard to tell what the quality of the snow would be once we got out on it. I still had some mild anxiety from the summit downclimb and wasn't interested it going down a long slope with that level of firmness (especially with my crappy ultra light crampons, but that's for another time) We talked about it and, with some hesitancy, decided to go down the way we came up. We didn't side-hill Peak 48XX this time, we stayed pretty high, and travel was much faster! We found where we were topped out on the ridge, put our crampons on, and started down-climbing. The first small section was really steep, but eventually we were quickly plunge stepping down the slopes. I decided to go left (south) down a different way than what we came up to make it a pure snow down-climb. Heavy, wet snow in this area made for perfect wet-cement, slow-and-steady glissade conditions. We then trudged through chunky-water-style snow back to our tent, and we quickly saturated our gaitered mountaineering boots. Good day in the hills? Um, kinda?

The climb to this peak starts at the overflow lot (where all the ATVrs park) for the Eklutna Lake…read moreTrailhead: https://www.yelp.com/biz/eklutna-lakeside-trail-eklutna Somehow I'd gotten it into my thick skull that West Twin was more difficult that East Twin (https://www.yelp.com/biz/east-twin-peak-palmer). Somehow I've done East Twin twice, and back-burnered West Twin. I was wrong. I was silly. This is probably one of the most pleasant peak-bagging experiences I've had in the Chugach: - no people - amazing fall weather: crisp and cold on approach; sunny, warm, and glorious for the rest of the day - fun "bushwhacking": you go through the trees but it's very quick and easy travel - great summit views: fun to take shots of people on the summit of East Twin, I wish I had brought my telephoto! - lots of lazy sheep - we got back in time for ice cream at Rochelle's (https://www.yelp.com/biz/rochelles-ice-cream-stop-chugiak)

The crux for me on these Eklutna Glacier summits is that I don't have a mountain bike, but Abbey…read morehelped me out by renting one for me downtown ahead of time, so we could go right to the trailhead after work on Friday. We cycled in and setup our tent. There was a man and his dog plane-camping there, something I've heard happens at the Bold airstrip, but that I've never witnessed. We decided to get an early start and wakeup around 4:30am. At around 5:30 we were crossing the braids of the Eklutna river. I learned my mountaineering skills in the Pacific NW where you walk across bridges, so every time I cross these in Alaska... it kind of feels like the first time. It was extremely cold and unpleasant. Lucky for us, we had some uphill bushwhacking just ahead to clear our minds and warm us up. I've heard there might be some sort of "trail" up to the ridge of The Watchman, but we didn't find one. I was in front, following weaknesses in the trees. Initially it wasn't that bad, but, before I knew it we were hopping over rubbery tree branches stabbing at us from the slopes. In maybe 3-4 hours (it felt much longer) we were gaining the summit ridge. (Beta note: while I can't vouch for our bushwhacking route-finding, I can vouch for our ridge top-out. Once you can start to see up towards the ridge again, aim for ~61.3160, -149.0299. There is a big grass bench there, great for napping. The slope leading to it is quite moderate.) Once on the ridge, it's straight forward class 2 hiking. At about 61.3126, -149.0290 we left the ridge and started side-hilling to the climber's right (West). The side-hilling eventually turns to a wide grass bench with very comfortable hiking. This would be an amazing spot to make a high camp. (if you enjoy crossing rivers and bushwhacking with overnight gear, that is. There were ample streams for water here, but they seemed like they might be seasonal only.) Eventually the grassy bench ended (~61.3002, -149.0275) and we had to start picking our way up a series of choss gullies and rotting snow tongues. From here, the summit of The Watchman looks close (spoiler: it ain't) and there are great views of Peak 6530 (which I stupidly thought was Benign when I first saw it). The creatively-named peak (there's another peak with the same name, less than a dozen miles from this one) looks like it has some great couloir routes on its north-aspect. After ~1,000 feet of gain we were on the ridge proper. From here, it's mainly 3rd class ridge scrambling. You just have to be mindful of the runouts and not climb up anything that feels harder than that. (unless you want to) After a few false-summit top-outs, we eventually reached the summit proper. The summit area is how we all imagined the tops of mountains were before we actually started climbing them: it's the narrowest, steepest part of the climb with the scariest runout. We stayed on a ridge of increasing narrowness. Finally, we were looking at the last ~80ft. It was a slabby-looking slope off to our right with a thin (maybe 3-5 inches) layer of snow. In front of us, there was gravelly rock spine snaking up to the summit. Abbey mentioned that she didn't feel like going all the way to the summit, and, even though I'm the one with the higher risk tolerance...I definitely agreed with her on this one. It seemed like there wasn't a non-slippery way to the top. Either you go on ball-bearing gravel on top of rock or you go on a thin layer of snow of dubious quality. Abbey mentioned she read some people had gone "around" at this point. I started looking for another way. I found a sensible, short down-climb off of the ridge (climber's left/North). And then we side-hilled around looking for a less-terrible way up. I spotted some tat (the "summit anchor") around a horn and thought that was probably the summit. In front of us was something halfway between a shallow chimney and a narrow gully. After testing holds repeatedly, and breaking many, we were back on the summit ridge about 10ft from the summit. From there it was an easy crawl-scramble to the summit. Apart from an ominous storm cloud forming near Thunderbird Peak, the views were sunny and incredible! Abbey signed us into the summit register, and then we started picking our way down. In a surprise twist that rarely happens in the hills, down-climbing from the summit area was actually easier than going up! However, the dread of the bushwhack and the river re-crossing hung over our descent the entire time. We weren't precious about the creek crossing on the way out, we just marched straight through with our boots on this time. The rigidity of the mountaineering boots made It much easier, despite the flow coming up maybe a foot higher (mid-thigh now, instead of knee-high earlier). We got back to the Bold Airstrip and hydrated meals at Eklutna Lake. In our tent, we watched TV on a phone, and Abbey fell asleep with a nine-tenths of a beer in her hand.

We got here about 630am on 20 May 2021 (a Thursday) and the gate was still closed but we are able…read moreto go around the side. There is not too much ice on the trail and other than a snack and a single glove that someone seemingly dropped accidentally, it is fairly clean. The initial incline will have you gasping for air (you'll be fine if you're fit or not coming from flat, low incline area). There are a lot of switchbacks but the trail is clearly marked.

This is a great after-work hike, especially if you're getting bored of Flattop…read more The hike is shorter than Flattop (only 1.5 miles one way) and probably has less gain (although I'm not certain). Don't be fooled by its being in Eagle River, the driving distance is still pretty similar to Flattop. (you can go faster on many of the roads) The hike is pretty steep and the trail isn't incredibly defined in spots, but it's straightforward. Just keep going up. It's not a scramble like Flattop, you'll never need to use your hands. There ain't many trees up here, hence the name. You'll get some really unique view of the Eagle River area Chugach mountains. You can turn this into a larger hike by continuing up the ridge to Blacktail Ptarmigan Rocks, or a longer day by going up to Roundtop. If you want to go higher still, you can go up Vista Peak. This trailhead is still accessible in the winter, just be sure to bring gaiters and/or snowshoes. Huge snow drifts can accumulate on the trail, and you will probably punch through a couple times. This trail sees enough traffic that there will often be a bootpack leading up, though. I'd also recommend some form of foot-traction/spikes if doing it with snow. Watch out for: the winds. They can be pretty insane up here. I went up yesterday and it was sustained 40mph with 50-60mph gusts!

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 enjoyed a wonderful morning out on the Matanuska Glacier with Nova and would definitely…read morerecommend them! Our guide was very knowledgeable and gave us lots of information about this and other glaciers as he safely got us up close to experience all its different features, all while being humorous, fun, and a great photographer. Loved this experience!

Carsen was a great guide on our glacier tour. She was very…read morethorough, had a great personality and we enjoyed visiting with her while we experienced this incredible glacier. Took our 3 daughters and we had a great time. Very cool experience.

If you're looking to setup your game from your usual Flattop, Ptarmigan is a great bet!…read more You start at the Rabbit Creek trailhead, go about halfway up, then just aim for Ptarmigan! It's the pyramid-like summit to your left, you can miss it! The usually route is a fun 3rd class scramble. Like the very top of Flattop, except way more of it. Another great route in the winter for skiers/mountaineers is the "S-colouir". That route starts from Glen Alps. There are even crazy ice/mixed routes in the winter, some that have only been climbed handful of times.