Valdez Glacier

I’m not sure If I’m getting more in synch with a normal circadian rhythm despite the misleading cues from the light outside my windows or what, but I wake refreshed at a somewhat surprisingly normal hour. Well, time to head back up to the north a bit and check out this glacier that bears the same name as town. Honestly, I had hoped to get up a bit earlier and get out to the glacier before any of the crowds of tourists arrive. It seems that this may be a popular spot to visit. There are only two other cars in the small lot when I arrive, and one is a guy packing up his stand-up paddle board. He’s outside his car, chatting with the guy in the other vehicle. Slowly unloading my gear onto the weather beaten picnic table to take a visual inventory, I overhear a bit of the lakeside conversation. From this vantage point I can see quite a few of the small to medium icebergs floating about the lake, but I learn from eavesdropping that the glacier is really up around the bend to the left, obscured by trees at them moment. I also learn that the guy in the truck is waiting on his son and wife to return from their paddle, as well as the paddle boarder is up here every morning without fail. It doesn’t take much time to glean that the paddleboarder is quite the talker as well. Soon, he descends on me and I learn all to well of his gift of gab.

Truly, it is more welcome than off putting, just a bit early for his intensity. He’d been paddling the lake and over to the face of the glacier for a few hours though, so his day was well started. He shared his exploits with me a bit, from paddle boarding to mono-skiing. I’m somewhat preoccupied with inflating my boat, but I try to steer the conversation to his morning ritual of exploring the glacier and gleaning what I can to help guide my own little adventure. There are a few cool features that he describes and details how to find them, but we talk as much about the features that melted last week and last year as we discuss the ones that can still be found. His passion is refreshing, and I start to really appreciate the short, happy paddler. After a few questions about the packraft, chats with another lakeside photographer and rides off to “get his day started”. With my gear more or less accounted for and ready for the trip, the man in the truck’s son returns in a red canoe and helps his mom up the shore. He pretty directly comes over to me, apparently drawn in by the packraft.

We talk idly about it and then the lake for a bit and he informs me he has a couple clients coming up for a tour soon and he was just taking his mom out for a spin beforehand. Just about the polar opposite of my paddlebaording friend, he is calm cool and collected, with very specific tips and info to help with my exploration. Then, after clarifying that I have a drysuit, he lets me know that the lake has an outlet river that runs down two or three miles to a road that leads back into town and most of it is big, pushy class 2 waves and whitewater. In order to run it, I’m just faced with the age old problem of the solo paddler- Shuttle. My second new friend of the morning then offers he’d be more than happy to help run my van down to the bridge if he wasn’t waiting on his clients. Then, he has an idea. “Hey, my dad will take you down there!” Once again, I’m impressed by a stranger’s passion for what life can offer, and his generosity in sharing it and seeking to make my day better.

His dad, older than my own, excitedly agrees and we run my van down to the previously described bridge, while he watches my pile of gear. I’m able to lay eyes on most of the run, and it does look pretty big and definitely fun. I ride with him on the way back up, and learn he was the boys scout canoe merit badge aficionado for both his boys growing up. We talk about the scouts and canoeing, as well as having a healthy respect for water as we head back up to the lake.

Donning my drysuit, wriggling into my spray skirt, zipping on my PFD and finally clipping into my helmet, I shove off onto the iceberg filled lake. The helmet is overkill for the lake portion of this adventure, but an important precaution for my hopefully dramatic finish to the morning. There are quite a few chunks of ice floating only a short paddle from the shore of the lake. Each has a surprisingly different character, with some dark and covered in dirt and stone from its historic journey thus far and some much more clean and white appearing, with just hints of the bright glacial blue peeking through. The nature of the ice seems different from berg to berg, I notice as is get closer. Some seemingly more densely frozen some almost airy and fractured. Running my hands along their surface to better appreciate their textures, I once again find myself smiling like a fool, all alone on an icy lake. Just happy to be right here right now.

I’m not sure how long I paddled in and out of the various floating icebergs before I decided it was time to cross the larger open expanse of flatwater around to the hidden mass of the glacier. In a short boat with no keel and no rudder or skeg, the going was a bit slow across the flatwater. The surrounding walls of lush mountain side rising steeply on all sides provided a beautiful backdrop for the glassy water to reflect as I steadily cut my way across to the distant edge. Coming around a small outcropping, the Valdez glacier swings into view and I’m able to visualize the multiple fingers or channels that I should be able to paddle deeper back into. The mass of ice is piled on top with dirt and stone, but the face of the glacier is too steep to retain and of the collected debris and it shines out a more or less clean white. Where the ice meets the water, the deep blue once again peeks out. Probing in and out of various channels and fingers I find large overhangs and small caverns, areas of fresh calving that expose the virgin, bright blue ice as well as millions of tiny tributaries of meltwater streaming and dripping off the ice. Occasionally I hear the sudden sliding of debris losing their hold on the outer contours of the glacier and splashing into the frigid lake water below.

Luckily, I brought my gopro along on this journey, but I didn’t grab the mount I need to attach it to my helmet. Instead, I’m tucking it into my PFD when it isn’t in my hand snapping photos. That being said, operating the buttons, I notice my hands are getting quite chilly… likely because I can’t stop touching the glacier with wonder. I’ve been at this for hours, and I've still got to cross the lake again and then run the outlet river. Knowing I’ll never really be done exploring here, I turn my boat away from Valdez glacier and start paddling back across the lake.

The return trip seems to go more quickly and I find myself among the floating ice once more. I pick out a path around the backside of those that I had seen earlier in the morning towards where my ears are telling me the water pours out of the lake. As the sound builds, I start to notice a inkling of current in the flat, still glassy water. It builds more as I can finally see the narrow outlet and the beginning of whitecaps. As I pass the point of no return, where I couldn’t fight the now strong current back upstream if I wanted to, I notice basketball sized little icebergs floating along with me for my whitewater run. Well, that’s another first for me.

The water is actually a little bigger and splashier than I could appreciate from the road and most certainly colder than I gave it credit. A good facefull of icy water splashing over the bow will sure wake you up! Beaming again, but in a somehow different way I bob and weave over cold waves and among braided channels, “following the water” to make sure I stay in the deepest tributaries. There must be a decent gradient, or drop from lake to bridge, because the river miles go very quickly. To be honest, I’m thankful when I see my van and near the takeout. My hands had gotten quite cold (should’ve brought my super warm paddling gloves) and the slow pinhole leak I found just after my last float has been given enough time to add up to a noticeable softening of my boat.

Getting off the river and peeling off my cold drysuit, I'm pleased that I am indeed dry underneath. Coming out fully clothed, dry and ready to start my day, I felt a little like james bond stepping out of a wetsuit and into a tuxedo. I head down to the waterfront to admire the activity of the harbor then grab a coffee to warm up and spend a bit of time reading and writing in the comfortable coffee shop across from the water.