Standing atop Matanuska Glacier, sheer magnificence was on display — awe-inspiring blue ice spikes atop towering walls, the jagged Alaskan mountains beyond, and the icy waters of the Matanuska River flowing down below all added to the amazing sight.
An invigorating cold wind whipped across the glacier’s face, its whistling adding to the sound of the stream of ice-melt gathering momentum, splashing down in a magnificent waterfall below. The mist from the cascade caught the sunlight, creating delicate rainbows that danced in the crisp air.
In the midst of this spectacle, the excited murmurs of our fellow trekkers echoed the wonder and appreciation and laughter and exclamations of awe that my wife and I found on this bucket-list experience.
Our journey across Alaska, a culmination of bucket-list experiences, involved immersing ourselves in Native Alaskan culture, encountering wildlife, and navigating jagged peaks and geological wonders. As we traversed diverse terrains and delved into the multifaceted charm of the Last Frontier, Matanuska Glacier stood out as a significant gem in our exploration.
Initiating our visit to Matanuska Glacier required no more than a few keystrokes and the click of a mouse. With over 100,000 glaciers gracing Alaska’s landscape, each a unique masterpiece shaped by centuries of geological evolution, many remain remote and inaccessible within the vast Alaskan wilderness. However, Matanuska Glacier distinguishes itself through accessibility.
This glacier provides a rare opportunity for trekkers and adventurers to witness the majestic beauty of an ancient ice giant without the constraints of remote inaccessibility. Once we confirmed its compatibility with our schedule and realized the physical demands were within our comfort range, the decision to embark on this adventure became a certainty.
Our journey from Palmer, our temporary Alaskan residence, to the entrance of Matanuska Glacier took just under an hour on Glen Highway. Upon reaching the Nova Alaska Guides’ office, we were outfitted with essential gear for traversing the icy expanse: fully waterproof boots, a hard hat, and crampons—sharp and spiky foot gear designed for optimal grip on the slick glacier surface.
Our guide, Steven, drove our group of eight novice ice adventurers in a van, tracing Glen Highway, navigating down a dirt road that was at times steep and narrow. A strategic pause allowed us to pay the necessary access fee at the landowner’s gift shop. While he didn’t own the glacier itself, he controlled the only road to it, and we eagerly paid for the privilege.
Arriving at the designated parking area, our attention was immediately captured by the colossal wall of ice standing before us. The sheer magnitude of Matanuska Glacier, adorned with intricate blue hues and exuding a formidable presence, commanded a moment of admiration before we commenced our icy odyssey.
After crossing the bridge, our guide meticulously checked and approved our hard hats and crampons before we ventured onto the ice. Our introduction to the glacier commenced with a concise class. Gathering at the glacier’s edge, our guide took the lead, providing essential insights for the journey ahead.
First and foremost, we were introduced to the intricate art of walking with crampons. Our waterproof boots, now fitted with these ice-gripping spikes, required a lift, stomp, lift, stomp rhythm, emphasizing caution to avoid skewering our own legs by never swinging our steps inward.
Next, we were informed that the ubiquitous mud at the base of the glacier wasn’t just an inconvenience; it was an integral part of glacial mechanics. As glaciers advance, their relentless movement transforms boulders into the substance beneath our feet — a glacial clay. Our guide, with a touch of geological insight, explained that glaciers don’t carve out dirt like a bulldozer; rather, they sandpaper the surface down.
The clay, a non-Newtonian material, flows when stood upon but remains firm for an instant if stomped on. This characteristic made any pools of wet clay a hazard that required careful extraction of our boots (and ourselves). The technique involved lifting the heel first to break the suction, followed by lifting the rest of the foot up, toe pointed downward.
By this point we had shifted onto the ice itself. Without realizing it, what we thought was solid ground had been a 50 foot layer of ice with a coating of glacial clay. Occasionally we’d see a spot where the mud had cleared, exposing the clear ice below as it seemed to stretch into darkness.
Our guide next demonstrated the deceptive nature of seemingly innocent puddles by dropping rock into one. Rather than striking the bottom a couple inches down, the puddle made a deep-pitched “glooop!” as the rock vanished into the depths.
Then he warned us that there is a bigger danger than a twisted ankle and water-soaked embarrassment — moulins.
He provided a vivid description bringing to life the moulins — meltwater rushing across the glacier’s surface finds a crack that it opens into a hole, tunneling through the ice and dropping a hundred or more feet. Within the power generated by that drop spins a rock-filled whirlpool that would grind anything or anyone that falls in. Thus the name – “moulin”, the French word for “Mill”.
Rocks dropped down those holes didn’t echo back a splash or clack for an ominously long time, hinting at their depths.
His safety lecture completed, and no cowards among our cadre, we followed our guide along pathways that are constantly changing as the glacier advances, the summer sun melts, and the water etches new channels, passages, walls, and contours across the surface of the glacier.
Every twist and turn brought new sights — sheer ice cliffs, crevices yawning open, and scary moulins with their dark secrets of the glacier’s inner workings.
It was more exerting than a casual hike, but not quite as strenuous as boulder scrambling. For the most part we kept our balance with only occasionally needing to lean against a wall of ice, though a few jumps over deep cervices called for our guide to offer a steadying hand and encouragement to build up enough determination to jump. And, at one point, someone had thankfully carved a few steps into a treacherous incline.
Sometimes the ice was pure white, sometimes it was streaked by embedded clay, sometimes it was clear, sometimes blue, and sometimes it was an odd amalgam of chopped up chunks of ice and stone refrozen into a solid mass.
In spots, the solid ice was so clear that it looked like running babbling splashing stream of meltwater, frozen solid in instant.
We stopped to peer into holes, some vertical, some horizontal, and took a refreshing pause to collect and drink the ancient water melting off the glacier. The water, clear and pure, hundreds of years old from before modern man’s touch helped us imagine the journey the glacier had made to this point. It wasn’t just hydration – it was a taste of the untamed wilderness.
During the warmer months, the glacier melts at about six inches a day. Occasionally, large stones would sit on pillars of ice that they protected from the sun. Over time, these structures would succumb to gravity’s pull, dropping the stone to start the process of sheltering a new pillar again a little farther south.
Our journey led us to a flat sheet of ice, squeezed between the towering ice wall and the pristine meltwater pond. Here, a spectacular waterfall of rushing meltwater splashed from the ice above.
Our glacial ascent continued, a succession of climbs and occasional slips that added an element of adventure to our journey. Small tumbles became a testament to the dynamic nature of the icy terrain, each stumble serving as a reminder of the glacier’s untamed spirit.
As we persevered through the challenging climb, the landscape transformed, and the culmination of our efforts revealed itself.
Atop the towering ice wall, we found ourselves in a realm that transcended the ordinary.
From this vantage, we gazed down upon the frozen cascade, the same waterfall that had captivated us from below. It was a moment of triumph, a culmination of our collective efforts to conquer both the challenges of the ascent and the unpredictable nuances of glacial navigation.
Sharp blue ice spikes jutted into the sky in what our guide described as an ice fall. The blue ice is harder and purer than the rest of the ice, so when the glacier hits a hard obstruction, the forward movement of the glacier splinters the blue ice and thrusts it upward.
The blue ice spikes, the sheer ice wall, and the stream of pure glacier water rushing past our feet to create a waterfall — all these elements converged in a transcendental experience of a glacier that could both humble and inspire.
As we descended, the glacier revealed new facets, and the guide’s insightful commentary offered a fresh perspective on the ever-changing landscape. The intricacies of crevasses, the subtle shifts in ice formations, and the dynamic interplay between light and shadow became part of our descent narrative. The glacier, in its constant state of metamorphosis, ensured that no two journeys were identical.
As we ended our glacial expedition, a final, unexpected treat awaited us — a hug bull moose ran ahead of the van for a moment, just long enough to thrill and give a reminder that Alaska had more than glaciers to amaze and enchant us.
Should you plan your own glacier adventure, Matanuska Glacier is accessible through guided tours year-round, booked online. The guided tours typically last 2 to 3 hours, depending on conditions. Essential equipment, including crampons, helmets, and waterproof boots accommodating a wide range of sizes were provided by our guide service, but make sure that your guide service offers the same to you.
Dressing in multiple light to medium layers is recommended during summer months, as the glacier wind is cold but your body can become warm from the walk. Sunglasses, a waterproof outer layer, and a a light backpack for personal items is advised. The glacier tours cater to all ages and levels of ability, but the terrain atop the glacier requires a reasonable level of physical fitness.
Matanuska Glacier is just a two-hour drive northeast of Anchorage, accessible along the nationally designated scenic byway of the Glenn Highway. The journey itself provides breathtaking views of the Chugach and Talkeetna mountain ranges.
There are a range of other adventures in the area, with some guide services providing multiple experiences like whitewater rafting, ice climbing, and wildlife spotting. Helicopter excursions with a chance to land atop the glacier may also be available.
Your journey to Matanuska Glacier awaits, promising an immersive exploration of frozen wonders and untamed beauty. As you contemplate the sheer majesty of the glacier’s blue ice spikes, the rush of glacier water, and the whisper of the wind across the icy expanse, consider this your invitation to a glacial odyssey like no other.
For more information:
• www.alaska.org/guide/matanuska-glacier-scenic-drive
• www.novalaska.com/glacier/
About the Author
PAUL PENCE not only writes many of the articles in the pages of this magazine, he is also the publisher and editor of all of the magazines in the Amygis Publishing’s family of travel magazines.
He loves exploring, traveling the back roads, experiencing the world, and finding what is unique and memorable about the places he visits.
And he loves writing – poetry, short stories, essays, non-fiction, news, and. of course, travel writing.
For over 20 years, he has shared his explorations with readers in a wide variety of outlets, from groundbreaking forays into the first stirrings of the dot-com boom to travel guides, local newspapers, and television, including Runner’s World, Travel Lady, Providence Journal, and Northstar Travel Media. He currently publishes and writes for Amygis Publishing’s magazines Jaunting, Northeast Traveler, and Rhode Island Roads.