A True Alaskan Beginning

Matthew Beedle July 21, 2017

By Gavin McNamara, Dalhousie University

After a hectic day of packing, errands, showers, last minute phone calls, and final tastes of civilization, we were ready to hike to Camp 17. This is where our home base was for the first 10-12 days on the Juneau Icefield. Our ten person trail party got to the trailhead and began the long hike with some speed as we knew the trailing group, led by Ibai’s lightweight and fast mentality, would be at our heels. We were certain Ibai [JIRP's Safety Manager] meant business as Christoph heard Benjy exclaiming “I poured out half my GORP (Granola-Oats-Raisins-Peanuts) for you!” when Ibai was checking the weight of bags the night before.

So, after 4-5 hours of efficient movement through forest and steeply angled swamp, we came across an unforeseen obstacle: a large black bear munching on an unlucky goat. To top off this Wild Alaskan scene, there were bald eagles screeching and circling above the valley.

The bear eats the goat. Photo: Gavin McNamara.

Other goats look on. Photo: Gavin McNamara.

The black bear stood up over the goat and stared directly at us, chunks of bloody white hair dangling from its mouth. As it was clear the bear had no intention of deserting his coveted goat, we retreated to the ridge to decide upon a course of action. We were bound on both sides by high angled forest and rock bands, so we made the decision to wait for the other two trail parties before making any moves. We felt that there was safety in numbers, so with our larger group of 25 we traversed as high as possible above the bear in order to regain the trail. Luckily, the bear appeared to be in a complete food coma; we safely passed while the bear had dreams of his goat. The rest of the hike was spectacular and we welcomed our new home in the clouds at Camp 17 with cold and open arms. We relished in the comforts of our new rugged abode, happy to have made it past the bear and eager for our own hot meal.

The group successfully past the bear. Photo: Gavin McNamara.

Waiting in Cloud

Matthew Beedle July 10, 2013

By Jeff Kavanaugh

As anyone who has spent time in coastal Alaska will tell you, weather here pays no heed to schedules or the wishes of its inhabitants (or itinerants). Nowhere is this more true than at Camp-17, which often sits in cloud even when the surrounding landscape is clear. Currently, the weather is engulfing not just that camp, but also Camp-10 – where I sit typing this – in the very heart of the icefield.

The first of three student groups was scheduled to begin the two-day traverse from Camp-17 to Camp-10 on July 6th, with two other groups departing on the 7th and 8th. As that morning dawned, the decision was made to wait: wind, rain, and poor visibility made the prospect of negotiating Nugget Ridge too risky to contemplate. These weather conditions remained until well past 10:00 am, the cut-off time for departure from Camp-17. (The first day of this traverse is long, generally taking 10–12 hours to reach the tents and food of the Norris Cache, which is established in advance from Camp-10. A late departure from Camp-17 therefore makes for a very late arrival at the cache.)

Poor visibility persists at Camp-10 and across the icefield, delaying the students’ departure from Camp-17. Photo by J.L. Kavanaugh

To minimize the impact of the weather delay, two actions were taken. When the weather improved slightly later in the day, a group of field safety team members (including Jeff Barbee, Annie Boucher, Stanley Pinchak, and Adam Toolanen) put their experience to the test by marking the route through the toughest sections of the traverse. This was accomplished using both the high-tech (waypoints marked using handheld GPS units) and the low-tech (bamboo wands, which were driven into the snow to mark points of safe travel or, if crossed as an “X”, hazards). The following morning, a subset of the staff (including Field Logistics Manager Scott McGee, Mechanic/Carpenter Ben Partan, and myself) boot-skied to the lowest reach of the Ptarmigan Glacier, which sat below the cloud deck. From here we were picked up by helicopter and flown across to Camp-10 – thus being granted incredible views of the icefield’s terrain, but denied both the challenge and the reward of traversing it under our own power.

We’re now two days past these actions. Both mornings we’ve awakened to rain and limited visibility; both mornings we’ve further postponed the departures from Camp-17. We’re well-set to take advantage of any positive change in the weather: the students are primed and ready to depart Camp-17; a safe route has been established up and over Norris Ridge; the Norris Cache supplies are packed and ready to deploy; and Camp-10 is open and functional. Additionally, four more participants have fleshed out the skeleton crew at Camp-10: Jay Fleisher, JIRP Director Emeritus and glacial geologist; Bill Isherwood, geophysicist; Bill Peterson, MD; and Ben Slavin, a JIRP ’11 alumnus who has returned to investigate the genetic variability of a particular insect species across the icefield. (You’ll read about each of these individuals in later blog posts.)

Over the next few days, the weather will surely clear sufficiently to allow the trail crews to depart Camp-17 for the broad views and spectacular peaks that await them on the “high ice”. In the meantime, students will continue to practice their skiing (both roped and unroped) and crevasse rescue techniques, write a few more letters to family and friends, and master the art of brownie baking. We’ll soon be reunited at Camp-10.

The Hike to C17

Matthew Beedle July 1, 2013

By Grayson Carlile, Photos by Jeff Barbee and Mira Dutschke

After almost two weeks of hot weather in the Juneau area we had an extremely rare experience for Southeast Alaska, on the long trek up to Camp 17, the trail wasn't a stream! Our hike up to Lemon Creek Glacier was truly unique. Most amazing was the sunlight that filtered through the high forest canopy as we wound our way up, up, up the valley.

The trail wasn't a stream, but we still had a number of stream crossings to challenge us.  Photo:  M. Dutschke — The trail wasn't a stream, but we still had a number of stream crossings to challenge us. Photo: M. Dutschke

Hiking through the dense understory of Lemon Creek Valley.  Photo:  M. Dutschke — Hiking through the dense understory of Lemon Creek Valley. Photo: M. Dutschke

Ascending the "vertical swamp".  Photo:  J. Barbee — Ascending the "vertical swamp". Photo: J. Barbee

The alleged "vertical swamp" that took us up past tree line, was pleasantly un swamp-like and after a muddy mosquito filled trip through southeast Alaska's temperate rain forest we were finally greeted with a refreshing drizzle of rain in the high alpine valleys. Skirting a glacial "tarn" lake, a flash of lightning and a peal of thunder caught us exposed near a ridge. We found safe lower ground and waited out the worst of the danger before heading up towards Camp 17 once again.

Hiking in the alpine after ascending from Lemon Creek Valley.  Photo:  J. Barbee — Hiking in the alpine after ascending from Lemon Creek Valley. Photo: J. Barbee

Ascending to the low pass that leads into Ptarmigan Valley.  Photo:  J. Barbee — Ascending to the low pass that leads into Ptarmigan Valley. Photo: J. Barbee

Descending into Ptarmigan Valley.  Photo:  J. Barbee — Descending into Ptarmigan Valley. Photo: J. Barbee

Climbing the upper Ptarmigan Glacier near camp, the most amazing thing of all were the cloud-free views of Juneau's Auke Bay, the fjords of the inside passage, and the jagged ridge lines that mark the far western edge of the Juneau Icefield. While it was a tiring 14 hour day, we could not have asked for a more amazing introduction to our first research camp.

Juneau Icefield Research Program