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Published: October 22nd 2017
Matanuska Glacier
A front view of the glacierGeo: 61.5997, -149.113
Aside from getting clear views of Mt. McKinley while in Denali, perhaps the highlight of the trip so far has been our ice climbing adventure in the Matanuska Valley. Sean, Caleb, and I met up at the blue yurt in front of the Matanuska Glacier where we met our guide, TJ, who helped outfit us for our climb on the glacier. Helmet, harness, rubber gloves (with stinky cloth liners), boots, and crampons. Then after meeting the others in our climbing party—Scott, a sports agent from San Diego and Kaitlyn, a recent high school graduate from Ohio—we headed to the "burb" (suburban), and drove to the glacier. One single family has complete ownership of all roads that lead to the glacier (can you imagine essentially owning a glacier?) so after paying our dues at their house, we were on our way. As we bounced down the dirt road, the glacier grew larger and bluer through the windshield.
Because there were only 5 in our climbing party, TJ planned three climbs for us in three different locations on the glacier (instead of the usual two). But first thing was first—he taught us how the heck we were supposed to actually CLIMB
Solo Wall
Sean makes his first climb up Solo Wall the ice. We learned to kick in our toes and then put our heels down so as to actually engage all the spikes on the toe. We learned how to use the pick axes—one for each hand, though we all felt a little silly with our left hands at first. We learned how to aim for the divots and dimples in the ice when aiming our axes, because if you hit a bump or a bulge, it would likely just break off in your face. We learned the rhythm—left hand, right hand, left foot, right foot, then left foot and right foot again to establish a wider base.
One, two, three, four, five six. Stand up, repeat.
And we learned about the verbal contract between guide and climber. Before beginning a climb, TJ would say “You are on belay,” and when ready, we would say, “Climbing!” and he would say, “Climb on!”
Our first climb was on Solo Wall, a sheer face of ice perhaps 25 feet high. We climbed with the pick axes the first time, and then to emphasize the importance of foot placement, TJ had us climb it again without the axes and just using our feet and balance. (Of course we were roped up the entire time, but it was a bit unnerving not to have the axes in hand.) After two successful climbs each, we moved onto the second location—The Crevasse. “How big is that?” we asked. And TJ said, “I don't know. That thing is massive.”
When we reached The Crevasse, none of us could believe were actually about to rapel down into that huge blue cavity in the ice. It looked like the crevasses out of which people are rescued (or into which people fall to their deaths) on TV, and we had half a mind to ask TJ: Are you SURE we're ready for this? But we didn't, because here's the crazy thing—we all WANTED to descend into that beautiful blue crevasse. And the view from inside that canyon of old, compacted ice, perhaps 60 feet down, with all its shades of glacial blue and white, and with all its echoing sounds of falling and skidding ice, was really one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. There's something so humbling about being inside a natural space that is so much larger than you. Sean called it the greatest adventure of his
life, and I would have to agree.
The final climb of the day was on a crack of gravel and ice called Black Lightning—aptly named as you'll see from the pictures. This one was unique because we were suspended over gray, bottomless, glacial water. Rather than climbing straight up, this time we had to zig and zag to the right and the left. And rather than having your feet square to the ice, this climb mandated that sometimes your right foot would be deeper or higher than your left foot, or vice versa. And any rhythm we had established from the earlier climbs (
one, two, three, four, five, six) went right out the window here, which is what made this one so fun. We had to be a bit more creative in our approach, and no two climbs were the same. I loved the sound of this climb the most, because with each pick of the axe, the spray of ice would plummet to the water below, and make the prettiest tinkling sound. After each climb, it became customary for each of us to hold up our arms and axes high above our heads in victory. Then we'd look down "The Beach"
Stopping at "the beach" before climbing The Crevasse at the rest of the group, smiling. And now, looking back at what we did—something that a human just shouldn't be able to do—it really did feel victorious.
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Tot: 0.181s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 5; qc: 44; dbt: 0.0435s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Jana J
non-member comment
A-M-A-Z-I-N-G photos, Erin! So jealous! It looks like you guys are having the time of your lives. I can't wait to hear all the stories and see more pictures. Keep good notes.....we may need tour guides when we end up going to Alaska. Have f
un and be safe on the last leg of your journey!