KLUANE
When
I researched hikes in Kluane National Park, I came up
with a number of appealing options.
However, only one of them was compelling. Mount Decoeli, at
7,650’, sits at the northeastern end of the St. Elias Mountain Range. Its position promised great views. In fact, I’d read that Mount Logan, at
19,551’, is visible from there on a clear day.
Mount Logan is the highest peak in Canada. That, and the prospect of bagging a
legitimate peak in a single day, steered us towards that mountain. It suited me aesthetically, too. Most people are drawn to the largest or most
famous mountains. I have a preference
for the obscure.
We
got up at first light on Wednesday, as we would have to drive a couple of hours
to get to the trailhead. The hike itself
would probably take a full day. I made
breakfast and we broke camp and hit the road.
It was another sunny day – our fourth in a row! We enjoyed a pleasant, scenic drive on the
Alaska Highway to Haines Junction. Here,
the Alaska Highway continues towards Fairbanks, while the other road goes south
to Haines. We headed south to the
campground at Kathleen Lake. We snagged
a campsite, pitched the tent, and then drove back north on the Alaska
Highway. The trailhead for Mount Decoeli is not marked, but it is just beyond the crest of a
broad pass and there is a large parking area.
We
were gathering our gear when another vehicle pulled in. It was another group doing the same
hike. Their group consisted of three
young women that were either French or French Canadian. An older gentleman was with them. I’m guessing he was the father of at least
one of them. They also had a dog, which
was not particularly surprising. We saw
dogs on most of the hikes we did in Alaska and Canada, with the exception of
Glacier Bay. Most of the areas we
visited were relatively dog-friendly.
The
hike up Mount Decoeli is off-trail the whole
way. The first few miles are upstream
along the creek that drains the rock glacier below the mountain. After that, the route is a steep ascent,
mostly on talus slopes. It is an
extremely strenuous hike, as the round trip is 11 miles with an elevation gain
of 4,400’.
We
were a bit disorganized, and started our hike around 9:45, about five minutes
after the other group. We started out on
an old roadbed in deep forest. In the
first few minutes we passed some fresh bear scat, which is always a joy to see
in grizzly country. We emerged from the
woods and entered an area of scrubby growth that was close to treeline. We joined
a wider road, which was delightful for 10 minutes or so. Unfortunately it completely disappeared when
we reached the creek.
Like
most glacial streams, this creek is broad and has multiple channels. It is also extremely rocky. In fact, everything about this hike was
rocky. We headed up the creek bed,
staying on River Right. There were
occasional fragments of trail, but mostly we were rock hopping our way
upstream. This wasn’t much different
from the hiking we do back home, except for the lack of trees. Unfortunately though, this was the easy part
of the hike. We would gain only minimal
elevation over the first 3 ½ miles. Once
we left the creek at the foot of the glacier, the climb would be relentless.
Eventually
we reached a point where the creek was all the way against the bank. We bushwhacked for a while, but that was
tedious. We gave up on that and found a
place where we could rock hop the creek.
We continued up the far side, before we were forced to cross again. We were able to do all of these crossings
with dry feet, but it took a lot of effort to pick good places to cross. On the return hike, we just walked through
the creek. By that point, we simply
didn’t care about wet boots.
The
creek bed was so tedious that I was actually looking forward to the steep
ascent. We reached the foot of the rock
glacier around noon. We left the creek
there and climbed up into a meadow at the base of Mount Decoeli. That was a great place for lunch. The French family was doing the same thing a
short distance away.
While
we were eating I was puzzling over the route ahead. I’d read about this hike using a great
website (http://www.yukonhiking.ca/decoeli.html). The site describes dozens of hikes in the
Yukon and parts of British Columbia and Alaska.
However, the description of the route up Mount Decoeli
is very vague. Essentially it says to
hike to the foot of the rock glacier and then ascend the ridge. The problem was that I could see several
ridges leading to the summit. Which one
would be best?
One
of the young women wandered over and asked me if I was familiar with the
route. Apparently she had been pondering
the same thing. I told her that I was my
first time there. Later, they hung
around until we started and then followed us.
Apparently she was so uncertain of the route that she decided to take a
chance on following a stranger.
The
ridge on the right side looked fine until near the end, but there were some big
rock outcrops that looked like major obstacles just below the summit. I didn’t like the look of that. The ridge to the left looked less steep, but
longer. Eventually I settled on the
direct approach. From our vantage, it
looked insanely steep. Mountains like
this usually do though. I figured that
it would probably turn out to be one of those mountains that isn’t
as bad as it looks. Ha!
We
finished lunch and got started. We
crossed two minor gullies but started up a ridge at the top of a third, larger
one. The initial ascent was on a steep
grassy slope that was actually rather pleasant.
That gave way to dirt and scree, which was less pleasant. A few minutes later the talus started. The talus sucked, but we had to learn to
embrace it. It would be with us all the
way to the summit.
The
climb was tedious. Mount Decoeli is essentially a giant pile of rocks. I kept myself going by identifying short term
goals. I’d spot a boulder a short
distance ahead and focus on getting to it.
Then, after a quick breather, I’d pick my next target. We zigged zagged around a little bit looking
for the smoothest route, but for the most part we just went up.
I
waited for Christy at each stop. We
weren’t far from the summit when she caught up to me. She was rattled due to a fall she had taken,
and wanted to turn back. She’d slid
backwards a short distance, causing a minor rock slide. She’d scraped herself up a bit, but the
trauma was more mental. She was sure
that she had come close to tumbling down the mountain. I assured her that wasn’t possible. The climb was steep, but it wasn’t THAT
steep. On this type of climb it may feel
like gravity is trying to pull you down to the bottom of the mountain, but that
is wrong. Actually, gravity is what is
holding you to the mountain. Even when you slip.
We
took a longer break there for my pep talk.
I pulled out my phone and showed her the topo map on my GAIA App. We only had 500’ vertical feet to go! Even better, the steepest part was behind
us. That final 500’ looked much more
reasonable, both on the map and on the ground.
Once
Christy had fully recovered from her scare we resumed the climb. The map was right – the final ascent wasn’t
bad at all. The last little bit was
practically a gentle stroll to the summit.
There we were rewarded with a spectacular 360 degree view. The St. Elias Mountains stretched away to the
south, while to the east and north was a plateau adorned with immense
lakes. The best view was to the west and
southwest, into the core of Kluane National Park as
far as Wrangell St. Elias National Park in Alaska. Row upon row of mountains and glaciers
marched away from us. In the farthest
distance, even larger, more jagged peaks crowned the
horizon. One of them must’ve been Mount
Logan, the highest peak in Canada.
We
spent an hour on the summit. That was
probably too long, but it was a hard place to leave, and the weather was
pleasant. Oddly, it had been very windy
at times during the climb, but it was completely calm up top. We shared the summit with a wildfire
monitoring station that looked like a giant robot.
The
French family didn’t make it to the top.
The last we’d seen of them wasn’t long after our lunch break. We’d had a tough time keeping up with them
walking up the creek bed, but they dropped far behind us once we started to
climb. I’m guessing that the ascent was
just too much for them. Their car was
gone when we returned to the trailhead.
I’m sorry that they didn’t make it, but it was nice to have the entire
mountain to ourselves.
It
was late afternoon and clouds were moving in, indicating that it was long past
time to head down. After all, we were
only halfway through our hike!
Descending the steep talus fields may have been worse than climbing
them. Christy slid again during the
descent. This time, I was almost
directly below her. Her tumble jarred a
soccer ball-sized rock loose. I watched
carefully as it bounced down the slope towards me, gaining speed. It was clearly heading off towards my right,
but on its final bounce it changed direction and came straight at me. I tried to jump out of the way, but that was
virtually impossible in the middle of all of those rocks. The rock hit me in the back of the leg and
knocked me off my feet. I landed hard on
the rocks, but only suffered some cuts and bruises. When Christy caught up to me, she had another
batch of fresh scrapes.
We
still had a lot of steep terrain below us.
The hike suddenly seemed dangerous to me. I suggested an alternate descent route. From our lofty perch on the ridge, I could
see a long, relatively gentle slope of mostly bare dirt leading to the saddle
between Mount Decoeli and the unnamed mountain to the
south. We could get there easily. From that point, we’d have to descend the
drainage at the base of the rock glacier.
It was hard to tell how that would be since there was a large, rocky
ridge blocking our view. At worst, it
would be an impassable cliff – but the topo map didn’t suggest that. It suggested a steep but manageable descent.
We
decided to do it. Even if the final descent
was awful, it wasn’t likely to be any worse than the route we’d climbed. That was my logic, anyway. The hike to the pass was actually rather
pleasant, particularly once we escaped from the endless talus field. We actually took a short cut and started down
into the drainage before we reached the pass since we knew we had to go down
there anyway. We swung around the ridge
that had obscured our view and found ourselves at the top of another steep
talus slope. It was ugly, but as
predicted, not really any worse than what we had climbed.
We
picked our way down slowly and eventually reached the gully at the base of the
rock glacier. There was some exposed
glacier here, including a small ice tunnel that was interesting. From there, we simply walked down the
streambed. There wasn’t much water at
first, but the stream grew as dozens of rivulets of melting glacier joined the
main channel. Before long we passed
below the grassy bench where we’d eaten lunch many hours earlier.
The
final hike out was tedious on tired feet and bruised legs, but it was faster
than the hike in due to the gradual downhill grade. We also spent a lot less time looking for
places to cross the creek. In fact,
while the creek curves back and forth through its broad channel, we maintained
a straight line to minimize the distance.
We walked right through the icy water countless times, but that actually
felt good on our sore, swollen feet.
Our
final challenge was finding the beginning of the old road that would lead us
back to our car. If we missed it we
would follow the creek all the way to the highway. That would work, but it would make the final
mile of the hike much tougher and slower.
Plus, daylight was fading as we worked our way downstream. Fortunately I spotted the area where the old
road ended well before we reached it. It
was nearing dusk when we walked the final stretch into the woods. We actually passed a pair of elk hunters
along here. Hunting season comes early
to the Yukon.
We
reached the car at 9:30 as the last light was fading. We enjoyed a colorful sunset to cap our 12
hour hike. Then we drove back down to
Kathleen Lake, arriving at our campsite at 10:30. We grilled steaks and had potatoes, salad,
wine and beer around the campfire to celebrate.
We ate dinner around 11:30 Alaska time, which
was actually 12:30 local time! It was a
nice way to cap off a great day!
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