Black Rapids To Healy Traverse Part IV: Wood River to Healy

Crossing a braid of the Wood River to avoid bushwhacking.

This is the final entry in a series covering my traverse from Black Rapids to Healy in early August 2018. Read Part I, Part II, & Part III.

After nine days of dreary weather the sky finally cleared and we had our first dry, sunny day of hiking ahead of us. We agreed to take an extended lunch later to bask in the sun’s warmth and rejuvenate our bodies. A long downhill stretch along the Wood River would bring us to our second food drop, which we were looking forward to because it held the extra food abandoned by our companions John & Mike who left the traverse early. With high water levels sure to subside and the final portion of our route following the widely traveled Healy Creek, we expected to encounter few difficulties the rest of the way.

Day 10:

Thin ice covered the streams in the morning but we quickly warmed up in the sun as we scaled a steep scree slope leading to a pass overlooking Wood River. I spied a couple Dall sheep on the opposite side of the valley and the scree slope was full of sheep and caribou tracks. At the pass we could see for miles over distant peaks and valleys, and we spotted a cabin with an airstrip beside the Wood River down below. A well-trodden game trail full of bear scat led down from the pass alongside a charming mountain creek.

The creek narrowed as it wound through a canyon and we were forced to cross back and forth where it pinched against cliffs. A trail bypassing the canyon through the brush above the creek could have saved us time and energy, but the creek was probably the most beautiful we saw during the traverse and I’m glad I got to see it up close. Maybe I just feel that way because it wasn’t raining. The creek intersected Wood River and we stopped to enjoy lunch in the sun while studying the nameless peaks towering over the headwaters of the river.

A short distance past the cabin we found the wreckage of a crashed airplane. There have been several aviation accidents along the Wood River and I couldn’t determine which one this was. We cruised for several miles down the gravel bar in the afternoon sun, crossing and re-crossing several braids of the river to avoid hiking through the brush along the edge as much as we could.

That evening we set up camp on the gravel bar and built a fire out of driftwood. It was the first time we had an enjoyable evening relaxing outside our tents since Day 2 of the traverse over a week earlier. The weather was finally warm enough and dry enough for me to wash some of my clothes in the stream next to our camp and we charged electronics using the solar panels again. A small group of caribou approached the river near sunset and were about to cross when they spotted us and darted away.

Day 11:

The next day we hiked for a few miles along the gravel bar and through the brush to our second food drop at the Wood River Inn airstrip. We found our stash by lunchtime and tore into the extra food belonging to our companions John and Mike who had flown out early. (The Snickers bars were the first to go.) At this point there was no question we would reach Healy in fine shape. We looked around at the sprawling Wood River Inn compound, which was devoid of people (and horses) at the time but obviously still in use.

We hiked downriver about a mile through muddy forest until we found a braided section of Wood River suitable for crossing, shown in the image above. As we hiked along the other side of the river we picked up a horse trail and practically flew to Cody Creek on it. The Cody Creek gravel bar was fairly wide but we were forced to cross the creek a few times where it pinched against steep slopes of brush. The sun made a failed attempt to break through the clouds as we set up camp, then light rain began falling after holding off most of the day. Rain didn’t matter anymore—the Alaska Range had already thrown us its worst and we would be eating cheeseburgers in Healy in another two days, dry or not.

Day 12:

We continued up Cody Creek the next morning and passed a huge side valley where most of the flow seemed to be coming from. After that hiking was smooth and easy all the way to the head of the valley. We passed some tents and horses on our left before hiking up the trail to Cody Pass.

As we descended from Cody Pass to Healy Creek the sun came out and the wind began gusting heavily against our backs. We encountered a pair of hunters with pack horses near a weathered, out-of-place bus similar to the famous bus on the Stampede Trail. One of the horses was ailing so they were returning early and we kept pace with them for a few miles as we continued down Healy Creek. We encountered another group of horseback hunters later and passed a pickup truck parked along the creek after several miles. The scenery was still great but the wilderness vibe was quickly fading away. Soon, we would be on the dirt road leading into Healy and the adventure would be over.

With 15+ miles left to Healy we set up camp in what we thought was a sheltered spot along the gravel bar. A strong wind gust still caught hold of Peter’s tent and snapped one of the poles, but he was able to repair it. What a sad fate for the tent after having withstood so many nights of rain without leaking during the traverse. A rainbow appeared upstream as threatening rain clouds rolled over the mountains. I went to sleep anxious to reach the road the next day.

Day 13:

The weather was fittingly gloomy as we hiked the remaining half-dozen or so miles to the dirt road leading past Suntrana to Healy. I didn’t take any pictures with my DSLR on the last day because I was too tired and it didn’t really feel like we were in the Alaska Range anymore. The sun came out by the time we reached asphalt and I became uncomfortably hot for the first time during the traverse. We could have easily hitched a ride from there, but we walked an extra few miles just so we could say we finished at the 49th State Brewery, where we had been planning our celebratory meal for days. When I walked inside the porch area I saw a couple I knew from Delta Junction waiting to be seated, which felt strange because I had just seen them a few days before I started the hike and the chance meeting jarringly brought me back to normal life after 13 days in the wilderness. Mike, who flew out at first food drop, met us at the restaurant along with Phillip’s girlfriend Mary (who threw McDonald’s to us on Day 8) and they drove us back to Fairbanks.

I didn’t get the chance to execute many of the shots I had planned due to bad weather during the traverse, but Mount Hayes and the rest of the eastern Alaska Range will always be there waiting.

Mount Hayes (13,832 feet), taken in August 2016 near Hayes Glacier where we passed on Day 5 of the traverse

Black Rapids To Healy Traverse Part II: Trident Glacier to East Fork Little Delta River

Crossing Hayes Glacier. The base of Mt. Hayes is at right.

This is the second entry in a series covering my traverse from Black Rapids to Healy in early August 2018. Read Part I.

After three days of hiking we found ourselves about one day behind our estimated schedule for reaching our first food drop, which was waiting for us at an airstrip along the East Fork Little Delta River. We all had enough food to stretch an extra day but our pace was going to be slowed by another set of glacier crossings. Trident Glacier was the next obstacle in front of us, almost two miles wide with no clear path to the opposite side.

Day 4:

Threatening clouds loomed in the distance as we scrambled onto Trident Glacier. Everyone was exhausted from the physical and mental stress of the previous day, and starting the morning off with a rugged glacier crossing didn’t aid in our recovery. But when we passed a captivating bulge of rock-free ice everyone stopped to marvel and take pictures, briefly forgetting the continuous need to cover ground. These were the sights we came for, and we were going to enjoy them no matter how tired we were.

Steep, winding ice slopes and meltwater canyons forced us to take a circuitous path across the moraine of Trident Glacier. Climbing over hill after hill on a glacier like this is always slow-going and frustrating, especially with a heavy pack.

After crossing the Trident we reached a wide creek bed. The clouds were quickly lowering and we knew we were going to lose visibility again soon. We crossed a small braided stream and waded through marshy grass, which took some time because most of the team changed footwear to keep their hiking shoes dry. As we continued up the creek bed we spotted a caribou and two—people? They were presumably hunters dropped off by a bush plane, and they must have been surprised to see us pass by. We then climbed up a short, steep ridge following a game trail which led us onto a tundra plain full of squishy tussocks…and back into the fog. We navigated for another few miles without being able to see much, and we ultimately camped beside a small puddle that provided water for cooking. Several caribou passed our camp that night and the next morning.

Day 5:

In the morning we could see the bottom half of Mt. Hayes but the summit remained obscured. We hiked across tundra to the eastern branch of Hayes Glacier, then opted to walk along the vegetation-covered moraine of the glacier for a short distance until we were in position to cross to the foot of Mount Hayes on the opposite side.

Everyone’s mood lifted as we began crossing Hayes Glacier and the scale of the mountains unfolded before us, overcast skies notwithstanding. I could get lost for weeks in a spot like this. From here you could easily walk right up to the base of the unnamed 10,000+ foot peak in this shot, or to the bottom of the 8,000-foot northeast face of Mount Hayes.

Finding water on a glacier in the summer is never a challenge. After taking a break here to fill up on water and eat lunch, we finished crossing the eastern branch of Hayes Glacier and stopped by two decaying cabins next to the foot of Mount Hayes. Ground squirrels had taken over the cabins (wood floors in the Alaska Range are asking for trouble) and a grizzly bear had left its mark in one of them. We actually bumped into the owner of the cabins a day later, who said he hadn’t been there in years. What a waste…

It’s odd how glaciers are all so unique, even two as close together as the east and west branches of Hayes Glacier, which originate from opposite sides of Mount Hayes and eventually intersect. On the western branch there are several giant boulders propped up on pedestals of ice which have been insulated from the sun, probably more than I’ve seen on any other glacier I’ve hiked on. There are also moulons everywhere on this branch, ranging from rabbit hole-sized to subway tunnel-sized. For some reason, the bare ice on the western branch of Hayes Glacier is also more slippery than every other glacier I’ve hiked on—so slippery I would have preferred using a pair of Microspikes for traction, which I normally don’t need. It was a little too slippery for my companions, so we hugged the rocks as much as we could until we hopped off the glacier onto the adjacent hillside, which was annoyingly brushy considering we were still over 4000 feet elevation. We set up camp just before rain started falling again.

Day 6:

Route finding from Whistler Creek (seen here flowing into the East Fork Little Delta River) to our first food drop was difficult. The brush was dense in between, and it was unclear if following gravel bars would be easier due to the high water conditions. Rain began falling as we reached Whistler Creek, which was swollen from the previous days’ rain and breaching its bank in places. The water didn’t appear that deep but it was flowing incredibly swiftly and was unquestionably dangerous. The creek was not very braided where we intersected it, so we hiked upstream to find a better crossing, though nothing looked very safe. The two guys in our group with the most Alaska backcountry experience crossed first and successfully reached the far side, but two others in our group lost their footing as they crossed together and were swept a short distance downstream. They were lucky they weren’t injured, although one lost his hiking poles.

At first I tried to cross solo but I quickly realized the water was eating away the gravel under my feet, making it difficult to resist the force of the water. I was still holding my boots in my hands and decided I should put them away to be safe, so I stepped back onto the gravel bar before I became committed to crossing. One of the two other guys still waiting to cross was very apprehensive after watching the two others fall into the creek, so the three of us decided to cross together in a line facing upstream, one behind the other. I was in back, and as we crossed I could feel the weight of the two men in front of me being pushed back by the creek. I found a boulder with my right foot and braced myself against it, propping them up so they could move laterally without being forced downstream. We successfully made it to the other side, where some of us changed footwear and put on dry clothes. If I were to do this again, I would take the long way and bushwhack downstream until I found a more braided spot to cross. It’s just not worth the risk.

The water in the creek was so powerful it was sending big rocks hurtling downstream. A couple of guys received some nasty cuts and bruises on their shins. Thankfully, I had people in front of me to block any rocks coming at me. The rest of the way to the airstrip was a complete slog in the rain through flooded forest and soggy tundra. The blueberries were great, though.

From left to right: me, Peter, Mike, John, Tim, Decker, Phillip, and Grant. John (in red) had a family emergency and had to depart when we finally reached the airstrip. The sun shined briefly as we took this group shot before he flew away, then it promptly disappeared for another three days. Tim and Decker had only planned to hike part of the way and both were set to fly out the next day. The next morning while everyone was still in their tents, Mike, who had been struggling to keep up at the end of each day, began a speech informing us his body just couldn’t handle the strain and he was calling it quits. He expressed concern about us continuing with the water levels so high, especially crossing the West Fork Little Delta River, and he listed cabin locations where we could find shelter if necessary. When he finished, Peter said he came to traverse the eastern Alaska Range and was prepared to continue by himself if need be, and I expressed my desire to complete the traverse as well. The brothers Phillip and Grant chimed in and said they were ready to keep going, too.

Just like that, we were down to four people with about 80 miles left to go. Read Part III & Part IV.