Quickly stuffing camera gear and extra jackets into waterproof bags, then back into my backpack, I had no idea what to expect when facing the challenges of airport security during my upcoming travels. However, if you want to learn about airport security, you can find help here. I was the last one on the surface – Mitch, Brett and Carey had one by one rappelled into a massive hole in front of me. Eight to ten meters across and straight down through the surface of the Spencer Glacier was an almost perfectly vertical shaft that opened up into a massive ice cave below my feet. According to a women who travel, the sounds of excitement each person had made as they lowered themselves down the chute gave clues to what I might see below and I was already nearly shaking with anticipation. I clipped my rappel device into the rope and leaned back to see what all the excitement was about…
| Brett making a second rappel in the entrance of the massive ice cave. |
Much like on that rappel, when Brett invited me along on this excursion I had no idea what to expect. We would ride a train from Girdwood 40 minutes out to the middle of nowhere. There, our friends who worked for Ascending Path as glacier guides would have kayaks waiting for us so that we could paddle two miles out across an ice-berg filled lake, make camp, and spend three days exploring and ice climbing on the Spencer Glacier.
Brett planned this out for his only real weekend this summer working for MICA Guides. He would have three days off and had invited his climbing friend Carey up from Oregon to explore Alaska. When Brett and I picked her up from the airport in Anchorage the night before we would set out on the train, she had no idea what we would be doing. Carey knows, though, like I do, that any time Brett organizes an adventure, it’s going to be a good one. Tex and Sage, who had worked at MICA during my first season in 2015, and Emily from the 2016 season – along with her boyfriend Mitch who worked for Nova Guides (also on the Matanuska Glacier in 2016) – had all taken jobs for Ascending Path. The four of them made up over 50% of the team there in 2017. After some catching up, Brett, Carey and I spent the night on Tex and Sage’s floor in Girdwood. Tex and Sage left early the next morning to catch a helicopter out to the glacier. Seriously! They spent the next two days as a safety crew for a fashion shoot taking place on the Spencer. Two helicopters would fly in and out most of the day carrying models, photographers, food, gear, and loads of designer clothing worth more than my new truck.
Brett, Carey and I, however, took the less expensive route: the Alaska Railroad!
| Looking out a dome window on top of the train into the Chugach National Forest |
The Spencer Glacier lies in a remote part of the Chugach Mountains, and no roads exist to the area around the glacier. However, Ascending Path guides have established a ‘Whistle Stop’ on the rail line, where clients can exit the train to go on a trip with them. From the train, a short dirt road (they bring vans out on the train early season) brings us to the lake for our first view of the glacier.
| Brett and Carey looking across the lake to the Spencer Glacier |
A two mile trail along the left side of the lake will bring you to a fantastic viewpoint of the glacier, but we wanted to get right up on it. Prepping the kayaks, we loaded them probably well beyond the recommended carrying capacity and set out across the lake.
| Let’s just try and keep them upright… |
We paddled past icebergs in a beeline to the opposite side of the lake, aiming for the left (looker’s right) side of the glacier where a gradual slope on the moraine next to the glacier allows a safe, easy landing. We set up camp quickly. With only one full day out of three to explore the glacier (train travel and paddling takes a lot of time!), we wanted to get right to it and get climbing that afternoon.
| That’ll do. Let’s go climbing! |
| Onto the white ice of the Spencer Glacier |
Once on the glacier, we quickly spotted Tex and Sage by sound of helicopters and a massive yellow dome tent. We talked briefly before they had to get back to work coordinating helicopters and models or whatever they were doing. We had spotted a deep dark hole on our way over so of course we were going to check that out. But first, a quick warm-up climb on a smaller wall, to teach Carey how to ice climb. Oh yeah, she’d never been!
Over at the big hole, a small river was draining into a moulin, carving vertical tunnels as it melted the ice. The form taken of this moulin was very unique, it was like six or seven vertical tubes had been cut into the ice, barely connected along their sides. We set up a line to drop into the widest of the tubes, figuring it would be a straight-forward vertical climb. It turned out to be much more exciting than we thought.
| Brett gettin’ weird in the moulin |
| Carey’s second-ever ice climb. Not a bad place to learn! |
As I went down, I quickly realized the first shaft would only go so far. But, just beyond that, the next one was a bit wider, then the next, and pretty soon I was all the way back to the other side and just above the water in the bottom. The tube-like features created some of the most interesting ice climbing I’ve ever seen, granting the ability to swing into adjoining tubes, squeezing between them, and sometimes having body parts in as many as three different sections, which all could have been their own amazing climb. The possibilities were endless. We did a quick climb each, then hustled back to camp to make dinner.
That night would be cozy, with constant rain we didn’t care to leave much outside. We fit as much as we could under the tarp next to the tent, and crawled inside the tent, hanging wet clothes overhead. We slept shoulder to shoulder with two sleeping pads between the three of us, inside a two person tent. It was definitely cozy!
The next morning we awoke to beautiful, calm weather deep in the Alaskan wilderness. Life was good!
The lake was so calm I absolutely had to get out on the water. Brett wanted to take a bit more time, but said he would join me on the lake soon. Carey would stay around camp and work on some drawing and painting. So I momentarily went out alone to capture photos of the kayak among icebergs and mirror-calm water in front of the glacier.
I lost track of time as I drifted alone among crystal clear icebergs on the perfectly smooth water.
Before long, Brett paddled out to join me, and we headed around the calving face to the opposite end of the glacier.
We hit the opposite shore where we climbed out of the kayaks to do some exploring. A short walk granted an incredible view of an area undercut by a river coming in from the mountains to the north. The ice had been melting from below, resulting in a collapse of the side of the glacier and massive towering walls jutting up from the lake below.
We wondered about traversing the glacier to climb some of the huge vertical walls rising in front of us, but ultimately would be distracted by other things before we got a chance to scout it from above.
Returning to the kayaks after a bit more exploring, we set out across the lake in gorgeous weather, ready for some proper ice climbing.
When Brett and I returned to camp, we found Carey relaxing nearby. The three of us packed up our gear for the day and headed straight back to the moulin we had climbed once the night before. I brought along an extra rope to allow me to hang over the edge and capture photos.
We all went in twice more before we finally decided to move on and explore the rest of the glacier a bit more. Before we left though, I had to go down one more time.
I wanted to bring my camera in, so I decided to drop a rope that I could rappel down, then later use a mechanical ascender to slide back up the rope. This way, I could move with the camera on my side and be less likely to smash it into something on the way up. I had done this on the Matanuska many times, it also makes for a pretty cool photo looking back up the rope at the sky.
This time, though, I decided I wanted to get a photo without the rope in the frame. I told Carey and Brett my plan to drop in, drill an ice screw or two into the ice just above the water, and clip into the underground anchor. I would then remove my rappel device, and have Carey raise the rope back out of the hole so I could capture the photo. Then I would yell up to have her lower the rope back to me, clip in and ascend the rope as usual.
There is nothing quite like being in the bottom of a moulin; it’s cold, it’s loud, but above all, it’s incredibly beautiful. Perfect, clear blue ice surrounds you in every direction. You can’t even think straight, though, for the rocket-engine sound of rushing water below you, and the nice cool breeze that sprays a fine mist of water from the rushing river all around you. Suffice to say it’s an incredible experience, but somethingvyou’d want to do for very long.
As my rope disappeared above me, I was left to contemplate where I was and fully soak in my surroundings. I grew colder by the second but I didn’t care. I was stuck to the wall of a moulin 70 feet down inside of a glacier, less than 5 feet above a raging river giving off a deafening roar. This is as wild as it gets!
The acoustic qualities of a moulin with running water are very interesting. Two people above a raging river in the bottom of an icy tunnel won’t be able to hear each other yelling at the top of their lungs, and especially can’t hear anyone on the outside, above them. However, anyone on the outside can easily hear a person from the bottom yelling up. It’s sort of like talking into an orange traffic cone: the sound is focused and amplified by the tunnel-like nature of the moulin. I knew from experience Carey and Brett would be able to hear me from the bottom, but I would not be able to hear anything they said. If something went wrong, or the plan had to change on their end, they would drop a rope immediately.
When the time came to get out, I yelled with, of course, no audible response. It was a bit unnerving, even though I knew they should be able to hear me. A few seconds later, I was incredibly relieved to see the knot on the end of my rope bouncing down toward me as Carey lowered it back down the moulin.
I clipped back in, triple-checked everything in the system, and ascended as planned. The long, slow process of ascending gave me plenty of time to enjoy the details and texture of the ice on my way up, something that’s difficult to do when you’re focused on ice climbing!
I figured that after that experience, nothing the Spencer Glacier could offer would possibly be better. Somehow, I was wrong!
After an hour or so wandering around looking for more cool features to climb and photograph, we saw another person approaching from across the glacier. As difficult as the access to the glacier is, and the fact that 98% of people that came out here were working for or assisted by Ascending Path, chances were good that we would know whoever this person was. Indeed, it turned out to be, Mitch, who had worked for NOVA on the Matanuska the year before. He now worked with Ascending Path and had come out to find us on his day off.
We gleefully told him about the moulin we had climbed in, and about paddling around the perfect still water that morning. Mitch, however, was excited to tell us about something he had found a couple weeks back. He said little more than there was a big hole, which had been filled up with water. When he walked by it the day before, showing his clients the way off the glacier, it looked to have drained and seemed much deeper. We were, of course, intrigued by this. So the four of us set off across the glacier, back in the direction of our camp. Mitch said it was not far from where we had first stepped onto the ice.
When we finally came upon the giant hole in the ice below us, we sort of just stood there in awe. We didn’t really know how to go about getting into it, as it was massively undercut 10 feet down, which would result in a free-hanging rappel for an unknown distance to an unknown landing. Could we stand on anything? Was it full of water down there?
We could tell there was a lot of water below us by dropping rocks into the cave, but we could also see a large chunk of ice that seemed to be fairly sturdy. Mitch would head in first, ensure that there was something to stand on, and the rest of us would follow only if it seemed ‘safe enough’ to get us all in there. That was the easy part.
Ascending back out, with a free-hanging rope and nothing to kick into would be absolutely exhausting. I had plenty of experience ascending ropes as a photographer, and Brett and Mitch had practiced a bit for rescue scenarios, but Carey had not. With the assistance of my mechanical ascender and some foot loops attached to it, we could manage easy enough, but it would be a time-consuming and exhaustive effort. This was much different than in the moulin earlier that day, because there I had ice to kick crampons into to help with upward momentum. This would take much longer and require much more physical effort.
All the more reason to ensure we had a safe place to hang out before too many of us got down there. We talked a lot about risks; An evacuation would be nearly impossible, best to avoid any injuries while we were underground. The opening presented the most obvious causes of an accident as the dirty ice held several large rocks, seemingly ready to drop into the opening and potentially onto our heads later.
After 10 minutes of throwing rocks at rocks, trying to dislodge the larger hazards before we began, we were satisfied that we could send a person inside without the overhead threat of a massive head wound. Mitch dropped down the rope whooping and hollering about how cool it was down there. He easily stepped onto a large chunk of ice, and was able to get across to a solid ledge which he reported had plenty of room for everyone to come down and explore. So, one by one, we followed him into the massive vertical tunnel into the darkness.
Inside, we were granted stunning views of crystal blue ice in every direction. The drop had deposited us in a massive cavern with a few smaller passages heading in either direction.
Brett followed the smaller of the two passage ways and quickly it narrowed to a crawl-space as Brett disappeared around a corner. He decided to turn back when he reached a downward slope with water below. Not an option for going any further.
Left: Mitch standing on a ledge below our sky-light entrance (look closely for the rope hanging down).
Traveling in the the opposite direction of the tiny passageway, we witnessed more ice shelves and blocks. Several large chunks had come loose and sat scattered around the large passageway. By now we were traveling mostly by light of headlamps, with a bit of glow added in whenever the ice above was thin.
We were all excited to see that around the corner more light spilled in from outside. This potential exit was much lower down and looked to have an easy ramp to walk out of. The only problem was the ramp was undercut and started about 5 feet off the ground. Mitch and Brett simply leaped up, swung an ice tool in, and were able to squirm their way up and climb out.
Carey was slightly more nervous, never having travelled on ice until the day before. However, with lots of climbing experience she, of course, had no trouble getting up and out.
I opted to walk back through the passages to the large cavern and wait for the others to return. They planned to rappel in once more so we could spend more time inside the cave. It was comforting to know we had an easier exit now, though.
I hurried back around to find a place to photograph the others coming back in from the main entrance.
After a bit more exploration, someone (Brett) decided we were in a great place for a rope swing. If we pulled the rope a few feet back to the ledge, it would provide a perfect stepping off point with nothing in the massive cavern to run into out ahead of us. Mitch jumped at the option and Brett volunteered to hold the lower end of the line on the ledge below. That way, if anything went wrong he could, theoretically, stop Mitch from slamming back into the ledge he stepped off of. He could also give us more speed by pulling away as we stepped off.
If you look closely at that photo you’ll notice the ice screw and other gear on Mitch’s harness has just dragged across the ledge behind him. Maybe we set the knot a little low – maybe a few inches to spare before a sore tailbone would have been inevitable. But it worked out great and we all took a few turns running and swinging into space in a massive underground ice cave…
Since Mitch had to be to work the next day, he had to rush out to catch the last train home. Carey, Brett and I returned to camp for dinner, with talks of going back underground late at night, in the dark, for some more photo opportunities.
We gathered every source of light we had to illuminate parts of the cave. Despite being exhausted from miles of glacial travel, ice climbs, and paddling that morning, we headed back out after dark to play in the cave some more.
The next day was a blur of rain and wet clothing with camp breakdown and paddling into the wind back to the train stop. Wet, cold, and elated, we rode the train back to our vehicle in Girdwood. We would drop Carey off at the airport that night, her time in Alaska a whirlwind of 3 very full days. But first, dinner at Mooses’ Tooth for pizza (a mandatory part of any Alaskan adventure) and cheesecake.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave comments and questions below!