Rising from the wind whipped seas of the southern Cook Inlet, Augustine Volcano has been on my list since soon after I moved to Alaska over a decade ago. Finally this spring, Dmitry and I had what we needed to make it happen.
From Anchorage, we lifted west into the air, crossed the Knik Arm, then flew south along the west side of the Cook Inlet. We passed through the peaks of Tuxedni, Chinitina, and Iliamna, then at Ursus Cove climbed above glide slope for the crossing to the stratovolcano island.
The west beach was covered with fat otters and eagles, and it took a couple low passes to convince the wildlife to share the beach with us. We tied down to dead-manned driftwood, strapped our skis on our packs, and stepped into a grassy landscape reminiscent of the Aleutian Islands. The initial slopes of the cone are mild, and it was several miles before we gained enough elevation to leave the lava behind and reach snow.
Off the loose debris flows and onto the compact maritime snow, the slopes of the lava dome began to increase and we climbed faster. Behind Dmitry is Mount Douglas - Tony has fond memories and good stories from a ski trip down there. Hopefully someday I will get to check it out!
On the summit dome, with more and more stream vents appearing around us, it became clear we were on an active volcano.
Past more vents and we were on the warty and rimed summit. We skinned past steaming holes in the snow that disappeared into the earth as we explored. I've heard stories of people falling into these volcanic crevasses - after having been here in the summer and winter I think this fall hazard is absolutely real and to be taken seriously.
I particularly liked a line of vents along an exposed ridge on the south side of the peak. We listened to the air whooshing out of these holes big enough to stick a hand into if they hadn't been pouring out hot steam.
Dmitry with a fist sized vent in the foreground and the Kenai Peninsula in the background.
Satisfied with our explorations of the volcanic activity up top, we ate lunch, and strapped our boards on for the descent.
Rolling over the edge of the bowling ball, we found a rimey chute dropping southwest from the summit. Depending on snow and wind conditions, I think there are probably nice lines off all aspects of Augustine.
We chased after each other down the carveable corn snow as the terrain transitioned from the steep summit dome to tentacles of snow fingering down the lower mountain.
At about 1,000 feet, we ran out of snow, sat down to put our running shoes on, reminisced about this crazy place, then started the easy descent back to the salt water.
Back on the beach, we drooled over the panoramic views sweeping from our little volcano to the giants of the Neacola and Chigmit Mountains to the west.
In late September, Tom, Nyssa, and I went back for a summer ascent of Augustine. Again, we followed the west side of the Cook Inlet south; and just like last time, waited until the distance from mainland to island was the smallest before crossing the intimidating open water.
On the west beach, again there were plump otters and lazy eagles who were more interested in lounging than moving. We waded through the tall grass of the dunes then crossed the lagoon towards the bands of alders that stood between us and the lava flows. There is a break in the alders that makes for a route with just a few minutes of bushwhacking.
Despite the calendar being the end of September, there were still salmon swirling in the creek when we scampered across the shallow fresh water and through the alders. The incised drainage gullies of the lower mountain were no longer filled with snow and we peered into these surprisingly deep crumbling features as we worked our way up. Leaving the protection of the vegetation behind, we hid behind a blob of lava tossed from the volcano while winds pouring down the inlet buffeted our snack break.
Passing porous and bubbly rocks colored in oranges, reds, yellows, and chemical green, the mountain seemed even more volcanic and alive without snow.
It also felt steeper. Around 3,500 feet we reached a steep headwall of loose ash that we carefully ascended as pieces of it came off in our hands and under our feet. I found descending this feature to be pretty tedious too.
On top, and no longer hiding in huge drifts of winter snow, the summit had so many cool features to explore. We soaked in steam vents, crawled into craters, and peered into the depths of the earth. It was a whole new experience from May, and an equally awesome adventure.
We poked around the nooks and crannies of the summit until the shadows began to lengthen, then jogged down the loose ash and debris towards the sea.
Back on the beach, as so often happens in magically beautiful and otherworldly places like this, it was hard to turn north for Anchorage and leave this special island behind.
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