The last seven months have been absolutely great. 20 Mile, Carpathian, Kanuti: its impossible to pick a favorite. But, at the beginning of February things were bleak. Actually, they were dark and downright wet. December and January were filled with unstable snow and, as the Weather Service put it, a firehouse of tropical moisture (rain).
That Friday night brought the usual weekend warrior data collection and decision making: making phone calls, reading blogs, and checking weather stations. Conclusion: it had rained everywhere; skiing was not in the cards.
So, Toni, Alex, Rachel, and I did something different: we didn't go skiing. Instead we drove south toward Callisto Cabin (reservations here) along the beach outside of Seward.
Our dear friend Nick had been making the most of the rain by skating the smooth ice that it had left behind. Following his advice we stopped at Tern Lake on the way to Seward:
The hike to the Caines Head cabins is an awesome beach walk at low tide. With the short winter days, the low tide occured in the dark. Walking on the icy beach in the dark in February was a bit sketchy, which I was recently reminded of when my coworker broke his leg doing the same walk in the day this summer.
Walking in the dark, we felt the cold katabatic wind draining the valley behind the Callisto Cabin and knew it was time to leave the beach and look for the cabin. Found it!
All hut/cabin trips are accompanied with at least a few memorable games of Bananagrams. This time Toni learned a new word. Thanks Alex!
Sunday morning's light confirmed that we had indeed reached our intended destination:
The view from the cabin proves that it does actually snow here. Or, maybe the rain just freezes when it hits the ground?
The rain had done a very effective job of melting the snow, so we went for a hike out to Caines Head.
The high tide during the day led to some very interesting scrambling and bushwhacking along the way. I remember seeing all sorts of cool little deer beds in the woods though.
Lunch time on the beach: red salmon, bell peppers, and smoked gouda. If it weren't for that hoar frost it could be summer!
Caines Head was spectacular; perched above Resurrection Bay we could see a pod of porpoises in the water below. The deserted military base was also fun, and reminded me of a dark adventure with Mike through an abandoned base on the north slope which involved a Geiger counter.
Heading back to Callisto, we waited for the tide to go out so we could walk along the beach. Alex and I kept ourselves entertained.
Hehehehe...
!!!!!!!
Not a bad place to wait:
Back at the cabin, we packed our bags and hiked bmornack towards Seward as the sun set.
Returning safely to the car, we slept as Toni drove, none of us aware that by the end of the week a storm would push through Portage Pass and then turn south, dumping 40 cm of cold smoke on Turnagain Pass.
August 2026 Update:
For years I have seen the incredibly beautiful pictures taken from the summit of Callisto Peak looking south and west towards the Gulf of Alaska and Bear Glacier. Rising above Caines Head, Callisto surveys the endless Pacific, the storm-torn Chiswell Islands, the foggy mouth of Aialik Bay, the huge river of ice that is Bear Glacier, and the iceberg jewels that the glacier is spitting into its terminal lake.
We had heard from Sabrina that there was a short exposed and technical section just before the summit of Foundry Peak. It was indeed exposed, technical, and sketchy. Downclimbing Class 4 and easy Class 5 with shitty rock over 1,000 feet of exposure, I had little interest in ever going this way again. Unfortunately, it was also no place for Annie's pup, so they turned around while Nyssa and I continued.
Past the crux, the climbing rapidly improved to moderate scrambling to the top of Foundry Peak.
From the peak, the Tonsina ridgeline unraveled in front of us. The travel appeared to initially rapidly improve, but after that, it wasn't clear what our route would be. We jogged down summer snowfields, followed goat trails, and cruised across glacier-smoothed bedrock to the summit of Benchmark Peak.
.jpg)
On top of Benchmark, the otherworldly views that I had been hoping for stretched out in front of us. It was even better than the pictures, I hope everyone gets to experience this sight.
At the same time, we also were getting a clearer picture that it was going to be slow and tricky to get around the Dose Peaks that guarded the route to Callisto.
Descending the ridge towards Dose, we didn't know what our route would be our how it would go. At the pass between Benchmark and Dose, we decided to drop west down steep and slippery scree towards Bear Glacier Lake. Like much of the route, the rock here was extremely sharp and I again wished I'd brought gloves. We bathed in glowing evening light collected in the west-facing basin and watched icebergs seemingly just out of reach as they sailed across the lake.
Figuring out a way to traverse the steep moraines and kitty litter cliffs of the basin was a tedious challenge, and it was about three hours since leaving the ridgeline that we climbed back onto it at the pass between Dose and Callisto peaks.
At this point it was probably 9:30 PM. This was, in a way, a good thing because if it had been any earlier we probably would have incorrectly thought that we had enough time to jog up Dose or Callisto. Which would have led to even more of an epic... But, we knew we were running really late, so made a B Line across the snow and ice of the old glacier towards the Callisto Ridge.
The sun had set and twilight was arriving when we found the ephemeral Callisto social trail.
It was night when we reached treeline and dropped into the murky forest with no headlamps and many miles ahead of us.
It was hard to follow the small trail in the dark woods. We walked slowly so as to not lose the faint path, end up on our faces, or fill our hands with devils club. Focused on the task at hand, we were both impressed how much our other senses and brains came alive to fill in for our limited gray-scale vision. Around midnight we popped out onto the Caines Head trail at Tonsina Creek where we could hear the splashing sounds of a bear chasing salmon in the creek. The maintained trail was a major improvement and we cruised the last couple miles of trail draped in moonshadow back to the parking lot.
Nearly 20 miles and 10 hours after starting, we arrived to find the car and burritos that Annie had so kindly stashed for us. Thank you so so so much Annie!
That Friday night brought the usual weekend warrior data collection and decision making: making phone calls, reading blogs, and checking weather stations. Conclusion: it had rained everywhere; skiing was not in the cards.
So, Toni, Alex, Rachel, and I did something different: we didn't go skiing. Instead we drove south toward Callisto Cabin (reservations here) along the beach outside of Seward.
Our dear friend Nick had been making the most of the rain by skating the smooth ice that it had left behind. Following his advice we stopped at Tern Lake on the way to Seward:
The hike to the Caines Head cabins is an awesome beach walk at low tide. With the short winter days, the low tide occured in the dark. Walking on the icy beach in the dark in February was a bit sketchy, which I was recently reminded of when my coworker broke his leg doing the same walk in the day this summer.
Walking in the dark, we felt the cold katabatic wind draining the valley behind the Callisto Cabin and knew it was time to leave the beach and look for the cabin. Found it!
All hut/cabin trips are accompanied with at least a few memorable games of Bananagrams. This time Toni learned a new word. Thanks Alex!
Sunday morning's light confirmed that we had indeed reached our intended destination:
The view from the cabin proves that it does actually snow here. Or, maybe the rain just freezes when it hits the ground?
The rain had done a very effective job of melting the snow, so we went for a hike out to Caines Head.
The high tide during the day led to some very interesting scrambling and bushwhacking along the way. I remember seeing all sorts of cool little deer beds in the woods though.
Lunch time on the beach: red salmon, bell peppers, and smoked gouda. If it weren't for that hoar frost it could be summer!
Caines Head was spectacular; perched above Resurrection Bay we could see a pod of porpoises in the water below. The deserted military base was also fun, and reminded me of a dark adventure with Mike through an abandoned base on the north slope which involved a Geiger counter.
Hehehehe...
!!!!!!!
Not a bad place to wait:
Back at the cabin, we packed our bags and hiked bmornack towards Seward as the sun set.
Returning safely to the car, we slept as Toni drove, none of us aware that by the end of the week a storm would push through Portage Pass and then turn south, dumping 40 cm of cold smoke on Turnagain Pass.
August 2026 Update:
For years I have seen the incredibly beautiful pictures taken from the summit of Callisto Peak looking south and west towards the Gulf of Alaska and Bear Glacier. Rising above Caines Head, Callisto surveys the endless Pacific, the storm-torn Chiswell Islands, the foggy mouth of Aialik Bay, the huge river of ice that is Bear Glacier, and the iceberg jewels that the glacier is spitting into its terminal lake.
I've always wanted to feast on this view with my own eyes, hoping to do the hike as an loop around the Tonsina Creek drainage instead of the more common out and back. After a late Friday night of dipnetting, I slept in at home, got my usual slow start, then received a call from Nyssa suggesting I rip down to Seward for an afternoon hike. It was 2:45 PM by the time Annie, Nyssa, and I were at the Caines Head trailhead. What a perfect start time for a long, complex, and challenging loop that we knew nothing about.
From the parking lot, we followed the small trail through mossy fairy forests to the alpine of Foundry Ridge. Like anywhere around Seward on a sunny day, the ridge had absolutely jaw-dropping views of the aquamarine waters of Resurrection Bay framed by snowy peaks rising from the water.
We had heard from Sabrina that there was a short exposed and technical section just before the summit of Foundry Peak. It was indeed exposed, technical, and sketchy. Downclimbing Class 4 and easy Class 5 with shitty rock over 1,000 feet of exposure, I had little interest in ever going this way again. Unfortunately, it was also no place for Annie's pup, so they turned around while Nyssa and I continued.
Past the crux, the climbing rapidly improved to moderate scrambling to the top of Foundry Peak.
From the peak, the Tonsina ridgeline unraveled in front of us. The travel appeared to initially rapidly improve, but after that, it wasn't clear what our route would be. We jogged down summer snowfields, followed goat trails, and cruised across glacier-smoothed bedrock to the summit of Benchmark Peak.
.jpg)
On top of Benchmark, the otherworldly views that I had been hoping for stretched out in front of us. It was even better than the pictures, I hope everyone gets to experience this sight.
At the same time, we also were getting a clearer picture that it was going to be slow and tricky to get around the Dose Peaks that guarded the route to Callisto.
Descending the ridge towards Dose, we didn't know what our route would be our how it would go. At the pass between Benchmark and Dose, we decided to drop west down steep and slippery scree towards Bear Glacier Lake. Like much of the route, the rock here was extremely sharp and I again wished I'd brought gloves. We bathed in glowing evening light collected in the west-facing basin and watched icebergs seemingly just out of reach as they sailed across the lake.
Figuring out a way to traverse the steep moraines and kitty litter cliffs of the basin was a tedious challenge, and it was about three hours since leaving the ridgeline that we climbed back onto it at the pass between Dose and Callisto peaks.
At this point it was probably 9:30 PM. This was, in a way, a good thing because if it had been any earlier we probably would have incorrectly thought that we had enough time to jog up Dose or Callisto. Which would have led to even more of an epic... But, we knew we were running really late, so made a B Line across the snow and ice of the old glacier towards the Callisto Ridge.
The sun had set and twilight was arriving when we found the ephemeral Callisto social trail.
It was night when we reached treeline and dropped into the murky forest with no headlamps and many miles ahead of us.
It was hard to follow the small trail in the dark woods. We walked slowly so as to not lose the faint path, end up on our faces, or fill our hands with devils club. Focused on the task at hand, we were both impressed how much our other senses and brains came alive to fill in for our limited gray-scale vision. Around midnight we popped out onto the Caines Head trail at Tonsina Creek where we could hear the splashing sounds of a bear chasing salmon in the creek. The maintained trail was a major improvement and we cruised the last couple miles of trail draped in moonshadow back to the parking lot.
Nearly 20 miles and 10 hours after starting, we arrived to find the car and burritos that Annie had so kindly stashed for us. Thank you so so so much Annie!
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