I’ve lived below the poverty line most of my life and I’ve done ok. One way I did that was to never eat out or buy new clothes and to almost never spend money on myself. After my ex walked out and cleaned out our bank account, I was even more afraid to spend money I no longer had, especially because his lawyer had been really threatening to me.

When I was preparing for my first thru hike of the Appalachian Trail in the 1980s, and when I was hiking all 111 of the 4000 footers in the northeast with my young son, I noticed I was not afraid to spend money on gear I needed. Hiking has always been such a boost to my emotional well-being that I was able to get past my fears of spending what I didn’t have. In addition, I knew proper gear could be the difference between comfort or misery, success or failure, and even life or death in some situations. So after my ex ran away, taking much of my hiking gear, I put what I needed on my credit card without worrying about it.

By the time I headed up to Alaska, I was determined to put my fears aside and live fully in the moment. I have never spent money on a vacation for myself other than the little bits I spent when I was backpacking. I didn’t know exactly what I was going do, or how much it would cost me, but I knew there were some things in Alaska I wanted to experience. Seeing the northern lights and puffins, and getting up close and personal with glaciers were high on my list.

I was well into my third week in Alaska and had already accomplished these goals to some extent. However, when doing research online, I discovered there were outfitters who took people kayaking among the ice fields at the terminus’s of glaciers. I also discovered a place that took people out onto the glacier and set up ice climbs so we could rappel down into crevasses and climb back up. When I told my friend Debbie about these she insisted I do them. It was the reason I was staying in Seward despite the rain. I managed to squeak in on the last trips of the year being offered by an outfitter in town.

Kayaking among the icebergs was stunning, especially since, despite the weather forecast, the sun decided to show itself. I was completely awestruck at the beauty of the sunlight coming through the ice and creating one of the most beautiful blues I have ever seen. Each iceberg was like a meticulously carved sculpture.

We spent a number of hours kayaking around these icebergs, careful not to get too close less some of them break apart. While I was sorry when it was time to head out of the bay, I felt filled in a way I hadn’t been before. I remembered a quote from climber Rene Daumal, which I’ve loved for over 40 years. When asked why he climbs, knowing he has to descend he said, “So why bother in the first place? Just this: what is above knows what is below but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees, one descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower region by the memory of what one saw higher up. What one can no longer see, one can at least still know.”

As spectacular as the kayaking was, walking out onto the glaciers and rappelling down into the crevasses was even more spectacular. Before we got in the van to drive to the trailhead, we were each given mountaineering boots, a climbing helmet, gloves, and full crampons. Then we were driven into Kenai Fiords National Park where in a light rain we hiked up to the glacier known as Exit Glacier. The park has many signs depicting the melting of the glaciers by showing where Exit Glacier ended in different years, but what was the most sobering to me was when the guide pointed to a rock and said, “see that rock? That is where we got onto the glacier in the beginning of this summer.” Then our group proceeded to walk another ten minutes before we reached a spot where we could access the glacier. The guides said they weren’t sure if they would be able to keep running these tours.

The rain stopped as we reached the edge of the glacier. After donning mountaineering boots, crampons, helmets and gloves, we set off across the ice in single file following the guides so we wouldn’t inadvertently fall into a crevasse. I couldn’t help thinking about the 40 year-old Italian researcher who had recently fallen into a stream on the Mendenhall Glacier and gotten swept into a 2 foot wide opening called a moulin. His body was swept away by water rushing into the moulin and professional ice climbers deemed it much too dangerous to search for him. I found my first steps onto the ice frightening. I knew how careful I had to be when walking on an icy mountain side. It had been years since I had worn full crampons and I had to get used to the marching way one walks so as not to trip over the points of the crampons.

By the time we reached the place where we would do our first Ice climb, my fears were lessening. The surface of the ice was fascinating to see up close and it really did feel like it was alive. Peering down into the blue crevasses what was like nothing I had ever done before. I thought I would be afraid rappelling down into the crevasse, but I’ve done enough climbing to trust the rope and trust the rappeller, who is the person holding the other end of the rope. Rather than fear, I was full of elation, and uncharacteristically I even let out a few whoops of joy as I descended as far down into the crevasse as I was able to go. If I had gone any further, I would’ve been in water.

By the time I reached the bottom, the cravasse had narrowed, and I was squeezed pretty tightly by the crack. I just rested there and stared into that amazingly clear, gorgeous, seemingly bottomless blue water directly under my feet. It gets its color from the fact that the ice absorbs every other wavelength of light but blue and so reflects the blue back to our eyes. In addition, some of the rock dust in the glaciers affect their color. I wanted to take some photos but didn’t dare risk taking off my gloves and digging out my phone while I had ice axes dangling from my wrists. Instead I made a mental memory of that place and then began the climb back up.

To climb up, I had to dig the front points of my crampons into the ice, and then swing each ice ax in with a solid thunk. Then I stepped on the points of my crampons and pulled myself up with my arms. Once I was balanced on my feet, I released the axes and repeated the motion over and over again. By the time I reached the top of that first climb, my calves were screaming and wanting to cramp. I didn’t know if I physically had it in me to do a second climb, but there was no way I wasn’t going to try. On the second descent I ended up near a waterfall and again I just stood there taking in the beauty until I began the climb up, which this time included maneuvering around an overhang. I was surprised when I got to the top and realized my legs weren’t as crampy as they had felt on the first climb. So when we were offered a third climb, I jumped right in. This truly was the highlight of my time in Alaska and I am eternally grateful to Debbie, in memory of Doris June, who helped me make it happen.

I still had another full day before I had to drive back to Anchorage to catch my plane, but once again this blog is plenty long enough so you’ll have to wait for my next blog to hear about how my Alaska trip ended. As always, thanks for coming along with me.

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