By: James Hu
On our trip to Alaska, I was privileged enough to openly hike to the beginning of the Matanuska Glacier icefall. Considered one of the greatest and largest Glaciers in Alaska, its accessibility is what draws the attention of eager travelers like my family and me. At 23 miles long, it is America’s largest Glacier that is accessible by car. It lies near the Glenn highway, which is where our journey began. Our car sped across the road hidden in the mountains, and I carefully watched the mountains surrounding us. Their sizes were unreal. It was a beautiful feat of nature, with such vast mountains producing glaciers that are one of a kind. A silt-spread river lay below the valley, carving through it like a butter-knife cuts butter. The silver water threads through the tiniest of the gaps and fills the largest ones.
The view was terrific, yet so still and quiet as we advanced through the wilderness. Nature’s serene obscurity can be so hard to find in a city, and so I was bewildered by its vastness and endless scenery. Near the Matanuska Glacier there are many small glacially-fed creeks. Silt that was carried by the glacier deposits in the melting ice, giving it the signature “gray water.” Its color is murky, dark, and hard to see clearly. Ribbons laced through it making it seem dirty with mud. Yet, that is what gives into its beauty. The unique water, lit by the sun, paved through valleys like a road of melting silver; shimmering and glittering like a glorious crown. Glenn highway followed the path of these rivers, and driving along with them made everything feel alive. At last, we were greeted with a new and different sight: Matanuska Glacier. A wall of ice, almost as if eaten through the surrounding mountains, its tainted hue of blue and turquoise from a distance. The entrance was like a waterfall flowing and pouring down with great force. Except, it was a frozen waterfall. I felt as if I was looking at a great lion, a beast and a king.
After gearing up at the campsite, our tour guide drove us down to about a mile away from the glacier. Now, what seemed small, was titanic. The glacier loomed ahead, casting its fine shadow a mile along its footholds. As I step out of the van, a soft powder of silt and grinded dust greets me. Every step was in slow motion as I exclaimed: “this must be how it feels to be walking on the moon!” To my surprise, my family agreed. The dust floats upwards with each step, almost like a majestic plume of feathers. We continued our journey, and we were soon stopped with an interesting material. Its state was constantly interchanging between a liquid and a solid, so when stepped on hard, it becomes a solid. When stepped on softly, it retained a liquid formation. While we listened, my silly brother got himself stuck in it, and had to be pulled out. I hope he is traumatized enough to not do that again!!!!!! After a short while we were introduced to: “black ice” It had an onyx color, which made it beautifully etch into the ground with the sunlight out. However, it was dangerous. Step on a patch of it, and good luck with your medical bills. Luckily, I had none to pay.
Making our way up and around the piles of debris, around us encircles a large and great “wasteland” No trees were to be seen, small streams trickled through the barren land. I was surprised when our tour guide told us that these little streams can be up to 50 feet deep! He even demonstrated it by throwing a rock into it. Imagine stepping into such an innocent stream, just to trip into a 50-foot crevice and pointy piles of silt piled many feet into the air! These piles were once Mulans, divots in the ice where water drilled its way through it. The land was once covered by a glacier, so the grinded rocks were left sitting on the ground in plain sight. Although given a wasteland appearance, it made what was left in front more exciting to confront. Ahead of us loomed the Matanuska Glacier of Alaska, jagged cliffs of ice
pouring from its mountainous home. We put on our crampons here, at the very front of the glacier. Table rocks provided us with magnificent sitting stools. We learned how to navigate up and down slopes with them on, and after that, our journey into the glacier began.
We started with a cave area, situated just around the entrance. We all took pictures in it, and even got to taste the thousand-year-old ice. The design of the cave was simple, and simplicity gave it beauty. A simple crack above let just enough sunlight to illuminate the ice walls, creating a glowing effect of blueish and brilliant white color. In the ground, a spire stood in the center of a twisting shallow stream. A glint reflected perfectly through the stream, slicing through the water like a thread through a needle. The next destination was a small, unique waterfall. The water flowing down was hundreds of thousands of years old ice-melt. I even was able to taste it. Its flavor was pure and refreshing, and its coldness made it so nice to drink.
Finally, it was time to head out, and so concluded our four hour hike through Matanuska glacier. We only hiked a tiny fraction of the great glacier, as the rest is too dangerous and steep for us to continue, but there were many things that were forever changed within me. I would never underestimate the power of mother nature, despite the smallest of streams. A tiny 1-foot-wide stream could be a hidden crevasse, nearly 60 feet in depth, how fascinating! Yet its sheer size and unique glint in the now glaring “sunset” (because the sun barely sets in Alaska summertime) was really something to appreciate. Overall, it was my privilege to share a fascinating story of mine, but it really hits me differently when you are face to face with one of nature’s greatest beasts.