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 III: Gillam Glacier to Paradise

Buchanan Pass, the second highest point reached during the traverse. (Elevation: ~6300 feet.)

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

After reaching our first food drop we no longer had to worry about running behind schedule. With only one more glacier to cross and several relatively easy gravel bars and alpine valleys to follow, the remaining 80+ miles to Healy promised to go by much more quickly. However, continued wet and dreary weather would make it difficult to stay warm and we expected to encounter a few difficult water crossings along the way.

Day 7:

After saying goodbye to our companions who decided to fly out, the remaining four of us (Peter, Phillip, Grant and I) began hiking along the south edge of the East Fork Little Delta River to Gillam Glacier. Light rain was falling and we couldn’t see much through the dense fog. There was no sign of Mount Deborah or Hess Mountain up the glacier valley, which I found quite disappointing. The river raging beside us had carved steep walls in the bank which prevented easy gravel bar travel. Instead, we were forced to bushwhack and scramble over a few small hills on the way to the glacier. We passed this Dall sheep skull along the way, which symbolized the morning’s mood.

Gillam Glacier was a mess and crossing it to get around the East Fork Little Delta River was much tougher than I had expected it would be. We skirted a big lake in front of the glacier and picked our way around standing pools of water as we approached the terminus. The rain intensified as we hiked up and down over the steep hills on the moraine toward the north edge of the glacier, where we encountered a wide stream emptying into the lake. Hiking farther up the glacier to avoid crossing the stream looked like a significant detour, though we couldn’t tell exactly how significant due to the fog. Gigantic, 20-foot high chunks of ice had collapsed off the side of the glacier and were lying in the stream next to where we would otherwise have to cross. Peter scouted the stream and successfully crossed to the far side with the water reaching his thighs. After some hesitation the rest of us followed one-by-one, taking about a minute each to cross through the icy water. After a steep climb onto the bench above Gillam Glacier we spent the rest of the day marching over tundra and sidehilling along the slope above Buchanan Creek through the fog. We passed a couple shadowy caribou but couldn’t see much else.

Day 8:

When I unzipped the tent the next morning the tundra was sprinkled with wet snow. It was tough to put on my wet socks and hiking boots, but we were expecting Phillip’s girlfriend and her dad to drop McDonald’s to us from a plane later that day and that was enough motivation for me to get moving. Most of our gear was wet, but Peter was determined to keep his gloves dry in the cold rain by wearing plastic bags over them.

Light rain turned to snow as we hiked up Buchanan Creek toward Buchanan Pass. Once we entered the clouds everything became monochromatic. We hiked up the steep incline to the pass over slippery, snow-covered rocks and then found our way down the other side with a little help from the GPS. Continuing along the unnamed creek on the far side of the pass we encountered a couple grizzly bear cubs at close range, but the mother never showed herself. The cubs looked at us curiously for what seemed like two or three minutes, then moved into the brush.

The low cloud ceiling over the West Fork Little Delta River threatened to derail the McDonald’s air drop. When we neared the river we waited on the hillside for the plane, watching as smoke rose from the chimney of a hunting cabin down below. Finally, we heard the sound of a bush plane echo through the valley and we collectively started drooling as we waved our arms. A few packages fell from the sky containing maps, four McDonald’s Quarter Pounders and 20 Chicken McNuggets. The fast food certainly helped our morale, even if it barely made a dent in our appetites. More rain fell that evening but we were expecting the clouds to finally clear the next night.

Day 9:

The water level of the West Fork Little Delta River had visibly decreased overnight and we could tell from our campsite above the river it wouldn’t be difficult to cross. A plane shuttling hunters and their gear to the cabin landed multiple times on the gravel bar as we packed up and hiked down to the river. A hunting guide approached us to chat about the area and what we were doing, and we laughed when he asked what kind of waders we were using to cross the rivers. We crossed the river easily and hiked along the gravel bar until a major fork blocked our way and forced us to take a detour up a side valley to find a safe crossing spot. The rest of the way along the gravel bar was easy, though we had to cross a few channels here and there. We turned up a valley leading to our next pass as traces of sun appeared on the mountains for the first time in three days.

As the clouds cleared and the sun came out I attached a circular polarizer to my lens for the first time since the start of the traverse. Everybody’s mood instantly improved and the nameless valley we were hiking through might as well have been called Paradise. Sheep and caribou trails crisscrossed the steep scree slopes around us, and a small group of caribou ran to the opposite side of the valley as we approached.

After nine days of backpacking we could finally set up camp in the sunshine! We set our clothes and gear out to dry and used solar panels to recharge our electronics. That night was probably the coldest we experienced during the traverse but it was worth being dry. By this time we could feel the finish line and we were looking forward to our first meal back in civilization.

Read Part IV.