From Homer to Haines - The Roadtrip to Start the Summer

The Matanuska glacier. The largest glacier accessible by car in the U.S., measuring 27 miles long and 4 miles wide.

This was the first hike I did during my road trip from Homer to Haines, and it marked the start of one of my most fun adventures yet.

The hike to get this view was an incredibly strenuous one. The amount of snow on Lion's Head Mountain in May is enormous, and I walked on and through snow the entire time. By the end of it, my shoes and pants were soaked through, and it was definitely worth it.

After exploring the Matsu valley, I took off for Tok, a small town at the junction between Anchorage, Fairbanks, and Haines. The drive was amazing, with few cars. I drove with my windows down, and the smell of raw wilderness had me constantly grinning.

I took the first photo on a pull-off of the Glenn Highway. With all the photo stops I made, what could have been a 5-hour drive took me more like 8 hours.

This photo is where I spent my second night. Pictured are the Wrangle-St. Elias mountain range and national park. This photo screams Alaska with the towering mountains and meandering river in the valley.

The sky was very dramatic that day, which was telling about how I was feeling at this point of the trip. My body and mind were adjusting to the lower level of stimulation and silence I was experiencing on the trails, and I was starting to enter a state of connection with my surroundings.

On the third day, I reached the Canadian border and entered the Yukon Territory. After a quick lunch stop in Beavercreek, Canada's westernmost town, I set my sights on Kluane National Park.

Having spent most of my recent summers in Ontario and spending time with Canadians, exploring the Yukon became a dream of mine.

On my first day in Kluane, I hiked Sheep’s Creek Mountain, which is appropriately named, as you’ll soon see. This was one of the best nights of my life. I camped at the top of the trail in a small grove of trees, protected from the wind. I spent the evening beside the fire, taking in this fantastic place.

The path begins

I spent the evening by the fire drawing and simply being

I was so happy, as you can tell

Here's the same view, but in the morning light

The next day was just as spectacular as the night before. I packed my bags and started walking down the mountain. I planned to hike down Sheep Creek Mountain, drive to Mt. Decoeli, and camp at the top.

I ran into this huge group of male Dall sheep on my way down. They were blocking the trail, so I had no choice but to spend some time photographing them. I did my best to give them their space, but the mountain's edge was beside me, leading to an encounter closer than I was comfortable with. Fortunately, the photos turned out well.

The next two days after descending Sheep Creek Mountain proved to be some of the most challenging days I’ve had in my outdoor adventures. I had driven to the base of Mt. Decoeli. This hike was supposed to be a 9-mile round trip, reaching the summit at 4300 ft. It was supposed to be a steep and straightforward hike. It proved to be everything but straightforward.

Mt. Decoeli

I started the hike, and after the first 20 steps, I encountered snow. There was still roughly 3 feet of snow on the ground at the head of the trail, and I didn’t know the conditions of the rest. I decided to continue until I didn’t feel like it, and I had no goal of reaching the summit. I was following an old XC skiing trail, so the snow was packed enough for me to continue.

I walked, and I walked. I was really enjoying myself, although it was challenging. I could hear a small stream of water under the snow, and the sun was shining bright. Around 3 p.m., and a quarter of the way done, I decided that my goal was to reach the peak. I postholed and scooped snow out of my boots, but I kept on…

I ended up learning a precious lesson from this hike.

There is a difference between losing a battle, or giving up and consequently losing the battle. The failure isn’t in the loss but in the act of giving up and giving in.

In this case, my opponent was Mt. Decoeli and my mind vs. my warrior spirit. I was halfway up the mountain when the first thought of giving up infiltrated my mind. I was getting tired, and my backpack felt heavier. I fell through the snow more often and wanted to turn back. But I had made a decision to reach the peak, and I wasn’t going to allow my mind to convince me to give up.

I pushed past the point I thought was exhaustion and just kept going. I was moving really slowly since every step had to be calculated so that I would not fall hip-deep into the snow. The time kept ticking away.

At 7 p.m., I was about 1000ft from the summit. The sun was starting to set behind the mountains. The terrain was just about vertical and comprised apple-sized rocks that would slide if you moved too fast. I had a very tough decision to make.

If I kept going, climbing to the top would have taken me at least one hour. And if, by chance, there wasn’t a camping spot at the top, then at least another hour to climb down and set up camp, all while in the dark. I had to decide to stop where I was and camp for the night. I was alone in a place without any cell service and far from any help.

As disappointed as I was in not making the summit that day, I knew I had made the safe and wise decision. And I was desperately hoping that I could reach that summit the following day. Little did I know what was to come…

After a day that felt like defeat, I got a mediocre night's rest. I woke up excited to see what lay on the other side of the mountain I was climbing.

The only problem was that when I stepped out of my tent, there were 6 inches of snow on the ground, and I was in total white conditions. I had definitely made the right decision in not pushing for the peak, but this meant that I wasn’t going to see this summit at all. I don’t have a photo, but I included a video so you can see what it looked like.

I was bitter for a while, knowing that I wouldn’t achieve my goal. However, there was a subtle sense of feeling proud in myself. I might not have beaten the enemy this time. I didn’t reach the top, but I did not give up, not even a little bit. I fought until it was dangerous to continue. I made the right survival choice in turning back and then again in not climbing in the snow.

I learned a big lesson from this failure. And yes, it was a failure, not a defeat. I didn’t reach my goal, but I gave it all I had until the end and beyond. One day, I will return to Mt. Decoeli, and the summit will be mine.

It was such a relief to get back to my little car

Here are some of the creatures I saw while on that hike. Seeing these beings, along with the stream under the snow, the occasional tree that provided me shade for a few minutes, and the breeze, made me appreciate each part of this hike. Although challenging, these small gifts made me enjoy the journey much more.

A red fox scurrying away from me and this also shows what the trail actually looked like.

A small ground squirrel peeks out of his hole to check me out.

Ptarmigan were all over the trail. Their call sounds like a rubber chicken.

After the fiasco of not reaching the summit of Mt. Decoeli and the snowstorm, I was exhausted. My original plan was to descend Mt. Decoeli and hike Kings Throne Peak. I was so beaten down that I decided to rest instead of climbing another mountain. So, I drove to the trailhead of Kings Throne Peak. I honestly didn’t even know that there was a lake at its base, making it an even better place to spend the day and night.

Kathleen Lake hosts a landlocked species of Salmon called Kokanee, which most likely evolved from Sockeye. The theory is that they migrated here from the Gulf of Alaska when the Lowell Glacier surged and blocked their return to the ocean. They are now entirely freshwater salmon.

The relaxation and peace that can be achieved after doing something so physically demanding is so rewarding. As a naturally restless person who likes to be busy all the time, I find physical activity to be the best way to silence my mind.

I spent the day tending to a bonfire I built and lying in the sand. I reflected on Mt. Decoeli and past times when I had actually given up, not just failed. The time of rest and reflection really allowed me to internalize the lessons from that hike and think about how I am going to apply them.

As the sun set, the light unfolding at Kathleen Lake was unreal. I experienced the slowest sunset I have ever seen. The sun started to set around 11 pm, and the sky wasn’t fully dark until 1 am. Since my trip was slowly ending, I decided this would be a great place to stay up late and do some astral photography.

That orb in the sky is the moon

I decided to stay up all night to photograph the Milky Way above these mountains, but there ended up being very few stars in the sky. Instead, I was treated to a display of the Aurora Borealis.

On the last night of the trip, I lay in my tent feeling sad and lost. Part of that was the normal feeling about an awesome adventure being over, but I had the sense that there was something more to learn. I inquired within myself to see why I was sad instead of just joyous that I had that much fun.

I realized that as I was soon rejoining society after having been off the grid for seven days, I felt like I had to leave a part of me behind. Having had extreme challenges and long periods of quiet and alone time, I had carved away all my masks, and the most authentic and joyous version of myself I had ever experienced was revealed. I was sad because before this lesson, I would have previously felt like I needed to conform and that the authentic version would be buried in social conditioning. This realization made me a little more free.

Being aware of that tendency allowed me to consciously try to bring the most real version of myself into the world again. I would be doing everybody, including myself, a disservice if I retracted what I had gained in the Yukon. I deserve to be my most authentic self, and by doing that, I allow people around me permission to be themselves.

This road trip turned out to be exactly the adventure I needed before starting my summer job. It was challenging, rewarding, sweaty, dirty, and full of bliss.

After arriving in Haines, I drove onto the ferry La Conte and was bound for Juneau to work on a whale-watching boat. I will share more stories about that later.

Thanks for reading, until the next adventure...