Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska – The wind has whipped through Skolai Pass all night, whistling through the willows that buffer our camp and occasionally rattling our tent.
But it’s not the wind’s moan or the nylon’s flapping that wakes me this day – and every other day of our week-long mountain trip – in the predawn twilight. Somewhere outside our shelter, but loud enough that it seems to be perched between our two sleeping bags, a willow ptarmigan clucks its guttural “good morning” song. Dulcy, my wife, barely flinches. I mutter “shut up,” then burrow deeper into my synthetic cocoon. It’s still way too early to go exploring or even to celebrate the start of another day in paradise.
The ptarmigan is as reliable as any barnyard rooster, clucking madly away between 4 and 5 a.m. daily, as if heralding the sun’s reappearance in the skies above the mountain wilderness of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve. Or, what seems more likely, the ptarmigan is begging the sun to show itself. As often as not, the fiery ball is hidden behind thick swirling clouds that wrap themselves around the peaks guarding Skolai Valley.
Built from volcanics and sediments and then later carved by glaciers, these are towering, big-walled mountains that leap into the sky. All around us are sheer rock faces that rise thousands of feet above the valley bottom; hanging glaciers that drop pale-blue blocks of ice the size of cabins; and thin, silvery necklaces of waterfalls. A few of the surrounding mountains and glaciers have been labeled – from our campsite we can identify Castle Mountain, Hole-in-the-Wall Glacier, Mount Baldwin – but most remain unnamed and largely unexplored.
This is Big Country, Alaska-style, a place that shrinks the human ego, inspires humility and awe. It’s also a place with a primeval feel: We’re witnesses to a landscape that still is being shaped in a big-time way. The valley echoes with the rumble and boom of falling, crashing boulders, as glaciers gouge and sculpt the rock.
But more than the hills are shifting shapes; there’s an ever-changing interplay of light, wind, sky and land. One moment our world is gray, still, amorphous. Then the wind rises, fog and clouds begin to swirl, and suddenly the blank curtain parts to reveal a mountaintop floating in the sky like some ancient, otherworldly castle.
At first glance, this is stark, forbidding country, ruled by rock and ice. Yet on closer look it’s not a desolate or barren world. Our valley bottom is hardly lush, but there are scattered clumps of gnarled and stunted willows and alders, and gleaming meadows of grasses and alpine wildflowers. We’ve come here in August, long after the peak of flowering, but several late-blooming species add brightness: sky-blue forget-me- nots, magenta shooting stars, purple monkshood, yellow paintbrush.
The area’s wildlife is not so obvious, but visitors who pay attention begin to notice their signs – and sometimes the creatures themselves. Songbirds chirp and warble as they flit among the thickets. Chattering ground squirrels stand beside the entrances of their burrows, while mouselike pikas whistle from their rock-slide homes. Golden eagles soar high overhead, spiraling upward until they’re black specks in the sky. Dall sheep browse on ground-hugging tundra plants and keep watch from high, boulder-strewn perches. We see no wolves or grizzlies, but occasionally cross their tracks or scat, reminders of their presence.
It is possible to reach this marvelous valley by foot, though it helps to be an experienced mountaineer and big-
stream crosser. If you go overland, the nearest community is 35 to 40 miles away; and much of the route crosses difficult terrain. Our group, like most who visit Skolai Pass, instead came by air from McCarthy, 30 miles to the southwest as the bush pilot flies.
McCarthy was settled in the early 1900s to serve workers at the nearby Kennecott copper mine. For years it acted as Kennecott’s “sin city,” complete with saloons, gambling halls and brothels. After the mine’s demise, McCarthy became an end-of-the-road haven for Alaskan recluses. Then during the early- to mid-1990s, it was transformed again, this time into a tourist town. Today McCarthy is home to about 50 year-round residents, many of whom depend on the tourist trade. Located in the heart of 13.2-million-acre Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve, McCarthy is an attraction itself and the jumping-off spot for those headed to the immense backcountry beyond.
Established in 1980, Wrangell-St. Elias is by far the nation’s largest parkland, the equal of six Yellowstones. The park crosses several climatic zones as it stretches from the Gulf Coast into Alaska’s interior. Within its boundaries are four major mountain chains – the St. Elias, Chugach, Wrangell and Alaska ranges – and six of the continent’s 10 highest peaks, including 18,010-foot Mount St. Elias, second in Alaska to 20,320-foot Denali. Besides lots of rock, there’s plenty of ice: the Bagley Icefield, North America’s largest, feeds a system of gigantic glaciers; the Malaspina alone is larger than Rhode Island, covering more than 1,500 square miles.
Wrangell-St. Elias’ alpine superlatives also have prompted longtime guide Bob Jacobs and others to call this landscape “North America’s Mountain Kingdom.” Until his recent retirement, this had been Jacobs’ summertime workplace – and playground – for more than a quarter-century. During his first four summers, Jacobs saw no humans outside his own parties.
Nowadays, the wilderness seems almost crowded by comparison. Though “crowded” in this context might mean seeing one or two other parties during a week’s time. And valleys remain that people rarely visit.
The Skolai Pass/Chitistone area is among the park’s most popular, for a number of reasons: It’s easily reached by plane from McCarthy; the alpine scenery is grand, even by local standards; and the hiking is superb, so that even those without specialized mountaineering or glacial-travel skills – folks like us – can get around easily.
Our group is content to explore the upper Skolai drainage and its surrounding hills on a series of day hikes. We constantly find grand and small delights, from the boiling of clouds around Hole-in-the-
Wall Glacier to a surprise visit by the resident ptarmigan family. Bent low, two clucking parents are followed by a half-dozen cheeping chicks that scurry through the grasses and willows.
Though it’s mid-August, fall seems to be fast approaching, with winter not far behind. The tundra is streaked in many colors, as summer’s green gradually is joined by bearberry’s crimson, blueberry’s purple and willow’s bright yellows. Another signal of seasonal change: Our last morning in the valley, an inch or two of wet snow covers the ground outside our tents and temperatures have dropped into the low 30s.
Given the weather’s chilling trend, we’re not entirely disappointed when our pilot arrives on time. Still, it’s hard to leave after only a week. As the plane lifts off, I turn for one final look toward Skolai Pass. The valley and hills that so humbled and awed us are soon lost in the far greater immensity of this vast Mountain Kingdom.
Anchorage nature and travel writer Bill Sherwonit is the author of 10 books about Alaska. His website is .
The details
Getting there: Located along the border with Canada, Wrangell-St. Elias is an immense park whose western edge is 180 miles east of Anchorage. Two roads enter the park: The northern entry is 45- mile-long Nabesna Road, a mostly gravel road that’s very rough in places; the principal avenue, also unpaved, is the 60-mile long McCarthy Road, which stretches from the park’s western border to the “gateway” community of McCarthy. Most of the park is easily accessible by air, using air-taxi operators based in McCarthy or Glennallen.
Weather: Summers tend to be cloudy and cool. July is the warmest, sunniest and buggiest month. Backcountry travelers should be prepared for cold, wet conditions; snow is possible even in midsummer. Visitors also should anticipate delays because of stormy weather.
When to go: The prime visitor season is June through August.
Facilities and services: The park itself has few visitor amenities; a small number of trails lead into the backcountry. There’s a campground along McCarthy Road and several public-use cabins in the backcountry, available on a first-come, first-served basis. Lodging is available at communities along the park’s edge and at McCarthy-Kennicott, and a wilderness lodge operates in the backcountry.
For information: Wrangell-St. Elias National Park’s headquarters, Box 439, Copper Center, AK 99573; 907-822-5234 or .
– Bill Sherwonit
