7/5- The Ascent of Wolverine Peak

Wolverine Peak 4,530 ft

I was told that bear spray was the most effective way to deter a bear from charging you and ripping one into a shadow of a ragdoll. A prudent hiker going into an area where only a week ago a sow had mauled and killed a hiker who was protecting her cubs, would have prepared, and stocked up on bear spray, noisemakers, and even a good old Saturday night special. Well prudence has never been my middle name, its Gregory, as in gregarious and plenty loud with my big old hiking boots to announce my presence.

Bluebells I believe they're called

The big hike idea begins with Dennis Buller, my right-hand man at the AK Lifetouch office. He’s describing how to get there using typical Anchoragisms: you head towards the mountains on Tudor Rd., you look for the moose that’s always hanging out at the corner of Baxter and Campbell Airstrip Rd. then take a right and go over a fork of the Campbell River. “The road turns into Basher Rd., named after this guy who just bashed down everything he came across on his property so they named the road after him… keep going like 4 or 6 miles until you come to the power lines, the trailhead parking lot is on the right after the power lines” explains Dennis. I ask Dennis: “Are you hoping that I get mauled by a bear so you can be the Photo Manager?” We laugh together as he explains how to avoid the area where the mauling took place. So I arrive safely at the Basher Rd. trailhead access to Chugach State Park. The goal: climb Wolverine Peak, (elevation 4530ft.), photograph moose and other wildlife, and enjoy the sun while it lasts. Cloudy/rainy weather seemed to be the staple weather pattern until today. I get going at a brisk pace following the power lines until they drop right down into a ravine. I hear the creek far below, a chill goes up my spine as I think of the mauling that happened below. The plan: stay up on the ridge and keep it moving, which is hard since every bunch berry, and flower begs to be photographed as the morning dew still clings to their thinly veiled sex organs. The trail splits many times, and I happily follow a path that keeps me away from the creek below. At some point the trail plunges downwards and I reluctantly follow as I worry about the creek area, but soon realize that this is just a wetter drainage not the spine-chilling creek heard earlier. This would be prime moose habitat, but today their tracks and milk-dude scat are all I see of them.

Bunchberry: I'm too early for yummy little berries

1/2 million-acre Chugach State Park overlooks Anchorage and provides welcome respite from city-slicking life

The trail begins a steady ascent as I look over to the north to see hikers on the spine of near point, a pleasant hike to the a panoramic hilltop. I choose a more strenuous hike to Wolverine that Dennis said would take me all day. The trees and shrubs became more stunted and the bunchberries became scrappy little white flowers holding on for dear life as the wind whipped. Should I put on another layer? The answer came by meeting a couple who was decked our in their gore-tex jackets. My sweaty t-shirt serves me another 100yds. And then a gale-force wind from the north nearly lays me down on the cairn marking the intersection of the wolverine peak trail at the ridge. My hands fumble with my gore-tex jacket and long- sleeve shirt as I weigh my options. Should I pussy out here and head back down, tie myself off to this cairn and become a human kite, or head up the steep trail? I choose to go forward chasing a group of hikers already up on the scree. The hunter becomes the hunted as a mountain trail runner approaches from below. She runs to the scree then power walks until she meets me halfway up the mountain. A gopher greets me with an alarm call as I get my wind-frozen hands to operate long enough to take a few frames on the gopher scurrying to another hiding place. The wind whips and threatens to blow me off the mountain, with every lash I hold firm waiting it out, but soon there is no lull in the wind and I must plod forward leaning hard into the gale. I catch up to the group of three hikers. One of them is wearing shorts. He sprints ahead then waits for the other two to catch up, his legs chapping with every step up the scree. The other two: a girl wearing a pack that would last me on a three day trip, and her boy companion walks with her packless. I jokingly ask why “the girl” why she was required to carry the heavy pack. She answers: “It matches my eyes”. We talk about the wind and the view then I get on my way.

Ground Squirrel, and it's little one are alert to my presence on the trail

I think of all the things I would acquire if I allowed myself to match these items to my eyes. A mountain of hunter green and azure blue camping and outdoor gear extends to the clouds on my back, and soon I’m paragliding to the top of Wolverine peak buoyed by the friendly gale-force wind to the applause of the gophers amongst the rocks. Reality sets back in as the wind lays me low, a not so subtle slap to the face after letting my mind wander. As the body aches the mind seeks respite in the tall tales of the mind.

A thin rusted skeleton frame of a plane with a desiccated tail sits as a reminder of a disaster on this mountain pass. I know that the small planes can’t go real high up. Their cabins aren’t pressurized, so 3,000 to 5,000 ft. tends to be their max altitude. Wolverine Peak has an elevation of 4,530ft. A plane coming over the Chugach Range instead of over Turnagain Arm would just barely clear this elevation. The wind itself would nearly slow the plane to a stand still. Very rough swirling squalls could’ve buffeted the plane and sent it into the heart of Wolverine Peak. The wreck makes for an interesting leading line into a landscape of mountains, inlet, and the grid of anchorage streets far below. The muscles are burning now but I gain the ridge and just have the spine to the peak to complete, there is some shelter here, but every time I pass a rock gully the wind finds me and stings me to tears.

Anchorage and the city street grid far below

The final steps to the summit I reserve for the moment, plopping down in the lee of the summit to grab a clif bar and other quick energy confections as I ready my freezing camera equipment for some panoramic images. After bagging the 180 degrees towards Anchorage, I climb to the summit and get met with a wall of wind that is hardly deterred by my clothing, sapping vital body heat from me by the second. The mountain air rushes into my lungs and I quickly take pictures of a valley that leads to a snowmelt-fed lake. My eyes are full of tears begging the wind to relent and just like that I’m hopping like a sheep down the spine of the mountain, trying not to be too exuberant in my gallop lest I take off and never come back. In less than fifteen minutes I gain the ridge below, and begin my descent towards the tree line. A string of people are now making their way up the trail, many stop at the cairn and turn to go back down after experiencing a few moments of the wind’s fury. But a stout few continue up the slope where I just loped down like a dall sheep.

A snowmelt lake and stream facing east from the summit

The rest is child’s play, but on the way I pass many parties from families to grizzled-looking-mountain men, to happy-go-lucky labs with saddle packs. The final stretch brings me to the power lines again, but this time my canter causes a disgorgement of my camelback and miscellaneous camera equipment goes flying out into chest-high brush. After searching for fifteen minutes I find everything but the lens hood for my 70-200mm 2.8 lens and in the process have cause a beaver-like flattening of the weeds on the side of the trail. Fate brings me a family on their way up the trail. Just when I think of giving up, one of the preteen kids comes running around the corner. He holds in his hand the lens hood and a big grin. I thank him and make it back to the Basher Rd. trailhead in one piece with all my gear eye-matching or not, and a sense of accomplishment at having climbed to the top of such a formidable peak.

Signs of moose on the trail as I head back down