Out the window looks cold, dark, and rainy, but I remind myself that there is no bad weather… only poor clothing choices. Forcing myself not to snooze the alarm, I’m glad everything I need is already laid out and all I have to do half asleep is braid my hair.
The rain is coming down just as hard as I’d expected, but as I walk away from the ship into Seward, I find that my raincoat is less than waterproof. A quick walk to the tour office is enough to soak me through, but I have resigned myself to the fact that I will likely be wet all day. As I stand to the side, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, a steady drip drip drip comes from my clothes until I have my own personal puddle.
Once everyone has arrived, our guides Rebecca and Julian begin to get us all properly outfitted. We pack bags with helmets, harnesses, ice climbing boots, crampons, extra warm layers, and lunch, before we are ready to set out for the glacier.
Our ice climbing adventure will take place in Kenai Fjords National Park. Of the nearly forty named glaciers that originate from the Harding Icefield, Exit Glacier is a valley glacier, and the only one that is accessible by road, so that’s where we’re headed!
As our group of seven strikes out up the mountain, it takes only 5 minutes for the slight chill of our wet clothing to be replaced by sweat. The trail continues up and up the mountain and the higher we climb the higher the excitement builds. At a viewpoint along the trail, we can see our first glimpse of the ice that had been hidden in rain and fog. The anticipation of reaching the side of the glacier makes the grueling hour and a half up the mountain seem to take no time at all. Sooner than I expected we’re leaving the maintained trail and scrambling down to the ice.
Cold wind off the glacier hits us as soon as we get within reach off the ice. This means it’s time to take off our sweaty hiking layers and put on our extra warm layers to get all geared up. The last thing we had to put on, was our crampons. Wearing crampons is like strapping tiny daggers to your feet, and since they are what will allow us to walk on the ice safely, securing them to our boots is the most important step of gearing up. It’s of such importance that Rebecca and Julian tell us that they will come around and help with this step, leaving me feeling a bit like a kindergartener that needs help tying their shoes.
After the all-important safety talk, it is time to step up onto the ice! Crunch crunch crunch go our crampons on the ice as we walk single file along the glacier. On each step we stomp flat footed to ensure that every blade of the crampon digs into the ice. Rebecca and Julian coach us on how to move most effectively and safely across this colossal frozen river. As I am trying to focus on my footing and soak in the majesty of our surroundings, I can’t help but notice that our guides look far more at home than I feel.
Julian struck off ahead to scout out our initial climbing location, while Rebecca keeps a close eye on the rest of us. Since we are all novices a small wall, just 12 feet, was selected for our first intro to climbing. Julian anchored the top lines as Rebecca guided us through the basics. The motions would be kick, kick, swing, swing, repeat. The goal was to kick and swing straight on to the ice, keeping your body close to the wall for efficiency and maintaining three points of contact at all times. The wall looked very small on approach but as you began to set into the ice, and feel the strength required to pull yourself up, I found myself extremely grateful for this practice run. On this wall Rebecca could easily belay, correct form, and encourage us all as we climbed.
Once each of us had had our turn, we set off to our secondary climbing location. The current terrain of the glacier meant that we had to first be lowered into a crevasse to then get ot climb back up… I found myself equally nervous and excited as we caught our breath while Julian and Rebecca set up to belay. Anchors were fixed and the climbs were set about 100ft apart in the same crevasse. Julian came over to brief us, both climbs he said were of equal difficulty, Rebecca’s was rounder while his was a sheerer surface, each descent could be about 30-40ft. Then he asked the question I’d been waiting for, “Who wants to go first?” My hand shot into the air and I awkwardly scrambled to my feet from where I’d been sitting on the ice.
Julian escorted me to the edge of the crevasse and clipped my harness in. Crawling backwards into the abyss was by far one of the most unnatural things I’ve ever done. I pressed the toe of my crampons into the wall of the crevasse and leaned all my weight against the harness to begin the repel.
The further I descended into the crevasse the colder it became. The sound of rushing water filled my ears and the world turned blue. I was decidedly less stoic than my surroundings, and laughed and shouted with delight as I dropped lower and lower. Calling up to Julian to stop lowering me only when I had reached a point in the crevasse where my back rested against the opposing wall. If I were to descend any further, I would not have been able to swing my feet as I began my ascent. Pausing at this deepest point in the crevasse, Julian held me suspended to enjoy the incredible feeling of being cradled by ice, and then it was time to climb.
Kick, kick, swing, swing; this was the intended pattern of movement up the wall. My inexperience meant that it often took several kicks to secure my footing, and several deflected swings of the pickaxe before I could use it to support my weight. As I climbed showers of ice shards spattered across my face with each swing of the axe. In the depth of the crevasse the ice was far denser than that at the surface, so more strength was needed in each swing and kick.
I marveled at the smooth undulating surface of the wall, the sound of steel against the ice, and how powerful it felt to climb. With each movement I advanced up the wall, Julian removed the slack from the line to make sure I didn’t lose any progress if I slipped. Focused as I was on every movement I made, and the feeling of being ensconced in the ice, I reached the top far before I was ready. Breathing hard as I topped out, adrenaline was rushing through me as I got back to my feet, and my immediate thought was, “Again!”
I ate my lunch while I watched my fellow climbers make their own descents into the crevasse. Waiting for my turn on Rebecca’s climb gave me a chance to catch my breath, and enjoy the feeling of simply being on the ice. I stared around at the topography of the glacier, the contrast of the ice against the mountain side, and felt lucky that the overcast skies were making the glacier shine as blue as could be.
Climbing backwards into the crevasse felt less ominous the second time, but no more dignified as I settled my weight back for the repel. The roundness of the wall made the descent less straight forward but just as fun. When I reached the bottom and was enjoying the view, I called up to Rebecca to ask if we felt comfortable enough to let me pull out my phone for a few pictures. She gave me the go ahead, so I let the ice pick fall the end of its tether and produced my phone from under several layers of coats. I snapped a series of fast, fairly precarious photos before stashing the phone back safely and getting ready to climb.
During this second climb I was torn between wanting to test my skills and efficiency and wanting to make the experience last as long as possible. I don’t know if my climbing looked as powerful as it felt, but it was incredibly fulfilling. After I topped out the second time, I gathered my trekking poles, pack, and snapped a few last photos so I’d be ready to head down the glacier when Rebecca and Julian finished packing up all the gear.
As in any adventure, the return felt like it took about half the time of the approach. We were off the ice and on the mountain taking off our gear far too soon. Down the mountain we enthused over the experience, and talked about continued adventure plans in the days to come. Piling into the van to head back to town I felt tired, strong, and accomplished. The fog had finally lifted and as we drove away, we got a farewell view of Exit Glacier. In that moment I knew I would take any opportunity spend time such time with glaciers again, and that Exit Glacier had provided an incredible entrance into the world of ice climbing.
This tour, Intro to Ice Climbing, was taken with Exit Glacier Guides in Seward Alaska.
