Making the Most of Girdwood
We were scheduled to fly to the town of King Salmon (home of Bear Trail Lodge) on the afternoon of Sunday, July 12, which necessitated an arrival in Anchorage on the 11th. Originally that had us leaving DCA at 8am on the 11th, flying to Seattle, and then thanks to the time change arriving in Anchorage at 3:21pm.
Due to the ongoing pandemic, Alaska Airlines canceled that route, which forced us to scramble, and we ended up moving up our departure to Friday the 10th at 5pm, which put us in Anchorage just before midnight. That left us with the need for two nights in hotels, but more importantly 40 hours to maximize.
In order for out-of-staters to enter Alaska without quarantining, you had to have a negative COVID test within 72 hours of departure. We had our paperwork ready to go, and after an on-time arrival we got in the processing line. I’d expected it to be ridiculously long, but they were efficient, and we were through in about 15 minutes. That was quick for us, but not so fast for the woman behind us in line who had two kids – Hazel and Kelvin, probably 3 years old and 9, respectively – who were not particularly patient. Despite the fact that the purpose of the wait was to demonstrate our good health, Hazel was rolling around on the floor, bumping various people, basically licking doorknobs. Meanwhile, poor Kelvin is either a great actor or was suffering a debilitating panic attack. He complained of hunger, then intense chest pains, and was in tears most of the time. Meanwhile mom was trying to fill out the forms online and the site kept crashing, at which point she’d yell, “This app sucks!” It was highly uncomfortable, but eventually we escaped.
By the time we got through the health check, our baggage was waiting and our rental car was ready. We made a beeline for the Hyatt Place a few miles away, used the keyless entry app to avoid human contact, and fell into a deep sleep. We set the alarm for 7am, but we were up long before that due to the time change so we got moving ahead of schedule. The normal breakfast buffet was 86ed due to health concerns, but Hyatt came through with an ample supply of prepackaged items. Next we headed to Fred Meyer, which is like an Arctic Wal-Mart with a better grocery selection. We stocked up water and snacks and headed south on the scenic Seward Highway.
The whole drive is remarkably gorgeous, but our first pull-off was at Beluga Point (just about 15 miles or so outside of town), where we hoped to see some of the namesake whales. There were plenty of spectators there with their eyes trained on something, but none of them were facing the water. Instead, they were looking up into the roadside mountain, at a group of little white specks hundreds of yards away. Mountain goats. Hanna went back to the rental car, got her big camera lens, and was able to get some good shots despite the distance.
After maybe a half hour there, we decided to get back on the road. We hit a couple of other scenic overlooks and then after a total of less than an hour of actual driving we hit the turnoff to the town of Girdwood, which is known for its ski area.
Depending on the weather and availability, we were either going to go dogsledding or on a hike, so first we stopped at the local airport to inquire about the possibility of the former option. While normally this is a tough seat to get in July, due to reduced tourism there were openings both that afternoon and the next morning. The host noted that the morning’s earliest outings had been postponed due to fog, so we elected to go sooner rather than later — a cancellation the next morning would prevent us from going at all — and made a deposit for the 1:45 trip. Then we headed to the Hotel Alyeska to see if they’d let us check in early. It turned out they would, so we brought our bags up to the room and headed back out.
Our friend Kristin Helvey recommended Chair 5 Pizza in town for lunch so we went there. After all, even though it was 11am in Alaska, our stomachs were telling us it was 3pm and we’d missed one of the three most important meals of the day.
I started off with an Alaskan White Ale, and Hanna, who has been super-disciplined after going on a life-changing diet a few years ago, got an iced tea. She added a Greek Salad (no feta, no croutons) with halibut on top.
I hadn’t had pizza in forever, possibly not in 2020, so I decided to go with the house specialty. For some reason the Thai Chicken Pizza, which has red onions, spicy peanut sauce, crispy noodles, carrots, red peppers and parsley appealed, so that’s what I ordered, and it was a really good call. The “small” was big enough that I could only eat two-thirds of it, and brought the other two slices back to the hotel.
After a leisurely lunch (we are among the world’s fastest eaters, and always in a hurry, so the ability to take our time was a treat in itself), we made the short drive through a residential neighborhood back to the airport, where they fitted us with overshoes and gloves for the trip up Punchbowl Glacier to go dogsledding. The family whose trip had been canceled that morning also returned – a couple about our age with their kids, a daughter who’d just graduated from the University of Pennsylvania, and a son who’d recently finished his first year at the University of Alabama. The son wore shorts. Not a commentary on our educational system, just make of it what you will.
Alpine Air has two Robinson R44 helicopters, which seat four, but after asking our clothed weights they chose to send us up in three groups of two. Hanna and I were on the last ride, but we were promised that we’d be the last ones out and get equal time with the dogs.
It was less than 10 minutes up to the glacier, over streams and through mountain peaks, a butter smooth ride that felt like we were living an IMAX film. It was over too quickly, to be perfectly honest.
Then we were standing on a glacier, hosted by two young women who spend five days in a row up there living in heated trailers before getting two days off. They tend to the dogs owned by Mitch Seavey, who won the Iditarod in 2004, 2013 and 2017. They told us about the training, let us play with the tethered dogs, and then took each pair of guests on a 15-20 minute sled ride. Hanna sat in the “Princess Seat” and I stood behind our guide, careful to hold on because apparently the dogs only have a “go” button and don’t stop unless forced to do so. The sleds even have an anchor to hold them in place, because if the musher falls off and there’s nothing holding them, it’s “see ya!”
After that, more time with the dogs, and then another all-too-quick helicopter ride back down to town. In all it took about 2 hours, and it wasn’t inexpensive, but it was worth every penny. I mean, any aspect of the helicopter/glacier/dogsledding would be incredible, but combined together it was a true Robin Leach experience.
On the way back to the hotel we stopped at Jack Sprat, a local restaurant that had gotten strong reviews, and made a reservation for 7pm. Not only was that the first one we could get with social distancing protocols in place, but it also ensured that we’d stay up reasonably late.
Jack Sprat, like Chair 5, more than lived up to expectations. I started off with a King Street IPA, which had a heavy citrus flavor, which I like in a beer. Disciplined Hanna = Diet Coke. Then she got their grilled ribeye with vegetables. She asked for none of the “thyme sumac compound butter,” but it came anyway, and it pained me when she pushed it to the side of her plate. I got their “Peanut Pan,” continuing the lunchtime trend of Thai-inspired cuisine: noodles with peanut sauce, shrimp and vegetables. It was all delicious. While the chocolate desserts around us looked extraordinary, we were full and passed, but stayed a few extra minutes for some people-watching.
Then we returned to the Hotel Alyeska. When Keith Combs and I visited Alaska last summer, I’d looked into staying there, but a night was well over $300. Now, with reduced tourism, Hanna and I had managed to snag one for $170. Really nice place, and even though it stayed light past 11pm, we were too exhausted to take the tram ride up to the top of the mountain. Plus, Sunday was going to be a big day.
Our goal for Sunday was to go to the town of Whittier and take a hike out to the Portage Glacier. The complicating factor in all of this is that not only is Whittier about a 30-minute drive from the Hotel Alyeska, but to get there you need to go through a one-way, 2 mile tunnel. You can go TO Whittier every hour on the half hour (i.e., at 6:30, 7:30, etc.) and FROM Whittier on the hour. Accordingly, if you miss the passage, you could end up twiddling your thumbs for a long time. We made it with plenty of time for the 7:30 crossing. The tunnel itself is bizarre, narrow yet tall with a train track through it and unfinished rock walls. It felt almost something out of “It’s a Small World.”
We made a quick sweep through the town, and then hit the trailhead a little bit before 8am. We were the only car there, and the only hikers, no doubt because it was raining fairly heavily. It was a test of our 50-year-old legs and spirits as we made the ascent to the 800’ peak over the course of a little over a mile.
The rain picked up but our pace did not. Hanna started to get a little bit worried that we wouldn’t get back in time. Nevertheless, we both agreed to push it and make it all the way to the lake that provided a view of the glacier. We didn’t want to be left saying that “we almost made it.”
As the trail progressed, it went from a wide but rocky to very narrow and brush-covered. In fact, at several points it wasn’t abundantly clear which way the path was going. Of course, as you brushed across each soaked branch you unleashed gallons of water. We’d worn light rain jackets, but no rain pants. Our legs were soaked and the water leached down our socks into our otherwise waterproof shoes, but we’d be damned if we were going to turn around before we saw the glacier.
We finally made it, had a brief stop for water, and then turned around to head back. At or near the halfway point we ran into a young couple with even less protection from the elements than us. The guy was wearing one of those “Disney World ponchos” but they were friendly and carefree and we pushed on in opposite directions.
The trip back, despite requiring the same distance and the same elevation up and then down, seemed substantially faster, and before we knew it we were back at the rental car, soaked to the bone. I’d spent much of the last hour fantasizing about the heater and a change of clothes, but we decided to get a warm drink and then worry about changing as we got into Anchorage.
We stopped at the Lazy Otter Café in Whittier first for a latte (me) and hot tea (Hanna). It’s a small space and there were several families in there, not all of them wearing masks, so I was a little uncomfortable, but I really wanted that drink. Meanwhile a family came in with a small bespectacled boy named “Maverick” who lived up to his name. He had a band-aid on his forehead from some recent accident, sat down at another family’s table, and then proceeded to complain that his hot chocolate (with sprinkles) was too hot and he needed water. He whined about it until his parents gave in. We took our drinks to the car so that we could make the 11am tunnel opening.
The drive back was uneventful and as we headed toward the airport we had plenty of time for some shopping and lunch. We hit Sportsman’s Warehouse, a chain that I desperately wish we had here, and as I ogled the foreign-to-me fishing tackle, Hanna found a pair of $70 sweatpants that had been marked down to $35 that she decided would be comfortable to wear on the plane. When the cashier rang them up, she got another 50% off, so they ended up being less than $18.
Between all our steps (close to 6 miles according to Hanna’s electronic monitor) and the elastic waistband of her new sweatpants, we were primed for some Mexican food, and Gallo’s was right there, so we got our feed on, headed to the airport, and hopped over to the main event of our trip – Bear Trail Lodge.
Not a bad use of an extra day and a half – a lagniappe.
