Mcgarryphoto

Exploratory Snowkite Expedition to the Tazlina Glacier. Words by Obadiah Jenkins, Photos by Andrew McGarry

Its 3 am and I think the tent is coming apart around us... slowly succumbing to the constant force that surrounds our little oasis of safety we call base camp. The wind outside is howling with a patient rage that only storm-bound adventurers can appreciate and respect. There’s nothing new in the sound of the freight train bearing down on our tiny world, but something woke us all up, something has changed in the world around us. We sit in relative silence in the howling darkness, all our senses focusing on finding the thing that doesn’t belong. It’s there, a new flapping sound of fabric and an obvious degradation of our tiny structures integrity. This realization leads to a grumbling of agreement and annoyance as insulated pants and mittens are pulled from the depths of sleeping bags and headlights are donned for the stormy shoveling ceremony about to begin. 

With the long alaskan summer days, the first signs of daylight are not far off, but there are problems that must be addressed in this dark moment. Shoveling the drifts from our tent walls and cutting more, bigger, thicker blocks for the quickly disintegrating storm walls are on the list. Then shoveling out the tent vestibule, which doubles as our dug in kitchen and has now been reduced to a piece of flapping fabric with a tear running the entire length of the support pole. A gust had blown part of our storm wall, over a foot thick, through our vestibule rendering it a storm casualty and our kitchen a buried disaster. The irony of the situation is that we might be the only people who have ever come to this place specifically seeking wind, and wind we found in spades!

Mike Meekin flying a super cub into the Chugach mountains.

There is a place in the Inner Chugach Range, a place where few visit and none stay. A place where the average annual snowfall is almost 1000 inches, and you have 5.4 million acres of mountains and glaciers to play in relatively all to yourself. A place where 100 mph winds are common and storms can last for days,... or for weeks. Just a short bush plane ride out of the Matanuska Valley and you’re in snowkite heaven. Our plan was simple, our goals were achievable, and our hopes were grandiose. The plan: Explore the Inner Chugach and its potential for snowkite based expeditions in the future. The goals: Kite, every time the wind blows, kite until your legs hurt and you have tunnel vision, kite until its too dark to kite, then kite some more. The hopes: Kite everyday and explore the Tazlina, Nelchina, Upper Columbia glaciers, 3 of the biggest sheets of ice in the range. We had enough food and fuel for ten days of luxury glacier living, light enough rigs to travel, and some kites. What more could a young kiter like me ask for?

Looking out the window of a sup cub at Mt Vallhala. Chugach mountains, Alaska.

Earlier the previous evening we landed smooth as silk on the upper Nelchina glacier at a place recommended by our pilot as having the best chance of being clear for a landing so we could get our ride home in 10 days. Always take advice from a seasoned alaskan bush pilot, this information turned out to be a pivotal location for our expedition as it was our landing, our first camp, and a very windy place. We set up camp under a long Alaskan sunset with the never ending alpenglow adding some of its own color to the mix. The wind was fickle as we set up our shelter and built what were surely adequate snow walls to protect us from the storm winds that frequent this place. There is evidence of wind everywhere, from a textured snow surface that looks like the wind brushed the top with her fingertips, to massive wind loading and cornicing along the ridges of the peaks popping up out of the glaciers. Yeah, these snow walls will do fine..