Palmer Creek is one of those zones that is on everyone's hit list. Early season, mid-season sled access, summer skiing - it has it all. There are challenges though. Early season you're fighting alders. Mid-season the 20 mile sled approach shuts most people down. Late season the approach requires a bike; except for Alex who runs faster than I bike. Then there's the fact that driving from Anchorage to Hope means your passing countless other epic zones.
But, after skiing a line lower in the valley the previous weekend I was excited to get back. We drove down to Hope the night before, planning to catch some tunes and hit the hay early. No one goes to bed early on a summer Friday night in Hope.
Despite an unplanned late evening we were soon on our bikes inhaling the heavy smoke from the Kenai fire.
An hour on the bikes, a short bushwhack, and one stream crossing later and we were on snow. Almost too easy. Perhaps not quite as warm as Neil was making it look, I was wearing a jacket at this point.
Some cute little old man turns lower down the valley:
Once we gained the ridge our intended face came into view. We actually looked at this line in October after an early season storm plastered upper Palmer Creek. Visions of getting washing-machined by a wind slab sliding on raincrust quickly nixed that plan.
We followed the wide cornice to the top. Looking good:
Palmer Creek Headwall looking good too. Not very filled in with our low snow year, I'd love to come back in early spring with a few sleds, tents, and a grill and get after it.
I dropped first, stopping to watch Neil rip an exposed ridge:
Some people can only be described as 'powerful' when they ski. Neil is one of those people, I can imagine how hard he'd charge if he'd grown up in the West.
Lower down, playing on the fun double fall line chute wall.
Milking turns below the couloir. Still wearing my jacket, not Neil though!
On the way up we'd spied a tempting pond skim lower down. Neil and Derek investigated and gave their approval or something like that, but we decided it was definitely too deep to stand. Being engineers and scientists with quickly came up with a foolproof solution.
Or was it a foolish solution?
It floats! Note loose ski on bottom of pond:
Next puzzle, how to retrieve the ski? Neil selflessly offered to dive down and get it.
Of course, the ski settled in the deepest part of the pond. O, about 15 feet down.
Yes, that is an iceberg. Remember high school physical science? If there is ice in the water, how cold is the water? 32 degrees...
Nevermind that idea.
What we really needed was a grappling hook. So, the alpine grappling hook was born:
20 minutes later, success!
And, one last stream crossing:
July 2026 Update:
Nyssa and I woke up on a summer weekend to find clouds covering the Chugach Front Range and Talkeetna Mountains. A sunny adventure in one of these divine mountain ranges had been our plan for the day, however we decided that "sunny" was a key component of what we were looking for in our day.
So, we pivoted and bopped south across the silty gray water of Turnagain Arm to the strangely sunny Kenai Peninsula and Hope. From town, we ran up the muddy old mining grade as it became a green tube of vegetation into Bear Creek. The plan was to go north to south following the horseshoe of ridges crowning Bear Creek for a loop above Hope.
Soon after entering the drainage, the caught the scent of the small piece of flagging marking the little trail climbing steeply north towards the ridge.
I had somewhere between low expectations and fear for this "trail", and was pleasantly surprised to not be consumed by man eating alders or devils club. That being said, there was still a healthy population of carnivorous cow parsnip - we made sure to keep our biohazard PPE on until reaching the alpine where the Hope valley spread out below us.
Although relatively safe from dangerous flora, the trail made up for it with a nearly vertical grade. Our trekking poles, which were safely stashed in the car, would have come in very handy here.
It felt great to gain the ridge where we were greeted by a bit of breeze, a break for our overheating engines, and the Turnagain Arm stretching east past Girdwood and out of sight. Just miles away, Penguin Ridge rose out of the north side of the Arm. Penguin Ridge is a sort of trip down memory lane with non-stop views of the Kenai, while now were on a north-facing trip down memory lane of the mountains around Bird, Indian, Girdwood, and Portage.
There were, of course, also visual memories of Kenai adventures. Such as Alpenglow:
I think of this northwestern part of the Kenai Peninsula as a generally pretty smooth place, but the north ridge of Bear was made up of lots of sharp rocks and I spent a lot of my time looking down to protect my abused feet instead of just drooling over the peaks (like Carpathian and Isthmus). This profile view of those glaciated Blackstone giants also reminds me of the fun traverse from Moose Pass to Whittier. I love that little chunk of paradise rising above the Western Prince William Sound, don't spend enough time there, and can't imagine ever getting enough of it.
In addition to sharp little rocks, there was also a short section of borderline 5th class climbing as we approached the summit of Sunrise Mountain. Behind Nyssa is Bird Ridge where so many of us have spent so much time. For the intrepid adventure skier, there's some spicey skiing on the back side of Bird Ridge too.
Past the summit of Sunrise, the character of the ridge rapidly moderated into the rolly polly terrain that is more typical for this area.
It had been a quiet animal day for us, with barely even any tracks or sign, but we did see a couple nanny goats and a kid as we turned the corner above Palmer Creek. Given the lack of game trails on the north side of the ridge it makes sense we didn't see any animals...Or maybe it is the other way around.
Below were the headwaters of Bear Creek where a couple absolutely beautiful tarns were saturated with emerald hues. I'd love to visit these little jewels someday.
Now above the Palmer Creek Road, a little social trail materialized on the ridgeline. Gazing up Palmer Creek, I wondered if we will ever actually ski the chutes crowning the top of the drainage. I also thought about spring skiing back there with Neil twelve years ago. Too many of our peers have been lost to the mountains over the years. Every day in these places with these people is a gift.
The south ridge was much faster than its nothern sibling, and we were soon descending back towards Hope. Above Nyssa is Falls Creek where we have had all sorts of memorable adventures and misadventures over the years.
At treeline, an old glacial erratic marked the trail that we would follow down into the forest and back to our ride home. Although these particular erratics were likely from ancient glaciers flowing down the Resurrection Valley, they reminded me that there was a time in the late-Wisconsin period that the glacier flowing down the Turnagain Arm actually blocked the mouth of the Resurrection Valley.
The descent along the shady trail through the woods was on the glorious shock absorbing loam that we have come to love on these north aspects in this area. Before long we were running the last mile of road back to our ride where we found Kurt and Mollie who saved us with refreshing bubbly water. Thanks guys!
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