Cape Fairweather Traverse Alaska

Rupert on the left, is carrying a two man whitewater raft used to cross glacial rivers.

Skirting along the narrow margin of land between massive Mt. Fairweather and the raging Gulf of Alaska. Friends Rupert Burton, Thomas Barnhill, Viju Mathew and I were deposited on a remote beach in Lituya Bay via a pair of beach landing bush planes. As they flew off, we looked at each other and started the long adventure back to a remote Alaskan airstrip where we had planned to get our flight back to civilization. We were an odd collection of adventure buddies. Rupert I met on the Taklamakan Desert Crossing Expedition and is a security specialist that has held some of the most intense jobs the world over (like diffusing landmines in Angola and working security for De Beers gemologists visiting diamond mines in remote Africa). Tom and Viju and I met years back working at Patagonia. Both of them are accomplished writers and have traveled the world seeking new experiences. Tom as a copywriter for Nike, traveled with Lance Armstrong during his Tour-de-France days and Viju is the exotic automobile editor for The Robb Report and flies off to the Pyrenees or the Alps to test drive McLarens, Lamborghinis, and Bugattis.

I had read an obscure account of this remote traverse along the outside coast of Glacier Bay. For those of you familiar with the Lost Coast Trail in Northern California, think of this trip as that but with a few exceptions. First, as mentioned, access is via a bush plane into very remote wilderness. Second, according to the National Park service at the time, this trip is attempted once every 3-5 years. Third, instead of fording creeks draining the coast range you need to paddle across glacier melt lakes and rivers that frequently have icebergs drifting down them. Fourth, there is no trail to follow other than the occasional trail worn into the rainforest by the local Grizzly bears. And last, this strip of land is incredibly thin, sandwiched between the 15,000 foot Fairweather Mountains and the raging Gulf of Alaska and is home to massive coastal Grizzly bears that roam the beach for food. Our bush pilots were able to set us down on the shores of Lituya Bay, the site of the world’s highest ever recorded tsunami at 1720 feet, at low tide. Within 5 minutes of landing, the four of us were left standing on the beach, in the rain, with only our backpacks. As this was August of 1997, we had no satellite phone or Garmin emergency beacon, we were on our own and needed to hike 60 miles North to a remote dirt airstrip to meet with our pilots. I’ll share the rest of our story in the captions below the following photographs.

We started in Lituya Bay after being dropped off by bush planes. We hiked the coastline northwest for approximately 60 miles to reach a remote dirt airstrip at the mouth of the Alsek River. In this Google Earth image you can see the massive Fairweather mountains as well as the glaciers we had to negotiate.

Having just landed around 30 seconds prior, I took this photo out of my planes window of Tom and Viju’s plane setting down on Anchorage Cove in Lituya Bay.

The second of the the two planes takes off (the first can be seen in the very upper right corner of the photo) leaving us completed disconnected from civilization.

Looking for a place to land after a one hour flight from Yakutat Alaska, our bush pilot scans the beaches of Lituya Bay.

Just minutes after being left in the wilderness we start the arduous hike up the coast.

Tom ferries Rupert across Eagle Creek.

Rupert carried our white water raft while the rest of us carried our camping equipment and food to last 9 days.

Cape Fairweather is a point of land that sticks out into the Gulf of Alaska where many ships have met their demise.

Our path alternated between walking the shore line and walking around 20-30 feet back in the forest where frequently we could find a bear trail to move more efficiently on.

Rupert making good time on a bear trail.

Rupert and Viju fording a swollen creek.

Camping in this area was very challenging. We treed our food every night with a counterbalance system to keep it safe from the grizzlies. We had 2 two man tents and we would set them up as far from bear trails and the beach as possible and usually in the densest thicket of bushes as we could find.

Rupert returns to camp after gathering some fresh water.

How business is done in coastal wilderness areas. Not a bad view.

On five occasions the use of our white water raft was required to continue our journey. Here, Viju and I had paddled across this creek and once across we set up a haul line to tow the boat back and forth across the icy waters with all of our gear. When all of our gear was across, Tom and Rupert jumped in and joined us on the other side.

After several days the clouds lifted and 15,000 ft. Mt. Fairweather came out in all her majesty.

The Fairweather glacier slough was the largest river crossing we had to make. This “river” flows about a quarter of a mile from the face of the Fairweather Glacier to the Gulf of Alaska. The distance across this was too far to rig our haul system so after Viju and I made it across, I paddled back and picked up Rupert, and then after crossing again, I got out and Rupert went back for Tom.

Tom and Rupert crossing the Fairweather Glacier slough.

Viju and Tom navigating the rocky point of land that is Cape Fairweather.

The Grand Plateau Glacier river was our last serious obstacle. This photo was taken as we flew over it on the way to the start of our journey. Instead of attempting to cross the river we opted to bush-wack through dense devilsclub infested rainforest to the shore of the giant melt-water lake in front of the glacier. We then paddled around the mouth of the exit river and fought our way back through the rainforest to the coast.

Rupert and Tom paddle in the Grand Plateau Glacial lake with the magnificent Mt. Fairweather in the distance.

There was no proper shore along the glacial lake as the dense rainforest overhung the water. We had to setup and breakdown the raft in the water. Had there been a suitable place to camp we would have definitely spent an extra day at this spectacular spot.

Making great time and absolutely loving life. There are no better moments in life than ones like this.

As mentioned this is prime Grizzly habitat. Virtually every moment we were out there they would on our minds. Anytime we were near dense forest or large rock out crops we were making our presence known by calling out “Hey Bear, Ho Bear!”

We had several encounters with Grizzlies although there were signs of them everywhere (like the previous photo and this one). Most encounters were from afar and we gathered ranks (safety in numbers), waved and yelled, and on occasion we blasted airhorns. One one occasion, while Rupert was taking care of his morning business at low tide, a Grizzly popped up on the dune above where he was about 50 yards down from us. This fella did not seem as intimidated by us as the others had been. As we jumped up to join Rupert (and as Rupert pulled his pants up) this guy stood up on his hind legs to get a better look at things. He stood there for quite some time as we all grouped together. He clearly was not the least bit scared of us, which was un-expected as the grizzly bears in this area have no contact with humans so they frequently run off, unless of course it is a sow with her cubs. We stayed together and walked toward our camp and the bear simply continued to check us out until he eventually got back down on all fours and moseyed away.

We didn’t only share the beach with Grizzlies, we shared it with giant wolf.

On our final morning in the wilderness when we went out on the beach below camp we saw the fresh prints of a Grizzly and a wolf.

An ideal place to enjoy our evening meal.

Our camp kitchen. Always more pleasant when the sun is shining.

Tom and Rupert fueling up and airing their feet out. Evenings on the beach were magical if the sun was out. Look closely and you will see a little stream in the back left corner of this photo. As waves came up the beach salmon would make a break for the stream. Most would be left high and dry as the wave pulled back out to see leaving the salmon as easy pickings for the gulls and bears.

Rupert cleans up while Tom and V enjoy their morning brew.

Navigating the last of the boulder lined beaches.

Frequently while walking along the beach like this we could tell when our next major river crossing would be not by seeing the river itself up ahead, but by seeing the massive muddy breakers off-shore created by the outflow of water into the surf.

Deploying our raft for the last of the water crossings. We had several hours of hiking once across to get to the landing strip.

The last day hiking.

Looking back at our tracks along one of the most spectacular places I’ve ever visited.

From the left, Viju, myself, Tom and Rupert arrive at the remote airstrip at Dry Bay and board our bush plane that will take us back to Yakutat. The pilot told us that we were the first party in 4 or 5 years that completed the Cape Fairweather traverse. This traverse may be the single most adventurous trip I have ever done, especially when you consider that there was no safety net (sat. phones, emergency beacons, detailed forecasting were not available). We completed the 60 miles in 6 days. In those six days we experienced physical exhaustion, sleep deprivation, intense fear (at least I did!), elation, camaraderie, intense focus and clarity. Having done many trips since then I can’t help but look back and shake my head a little as to what I was thinking when I organized this trip. At any point this adventure could have turned bad very easily, but it didn’t, and my life has been forever changed because of it.