Knik Glacier (Fatbike)

Only in Alaska would I feel like the last person in town who’s biked to our resident glacier. Only here would such a trip be possible, since that glacier is miles upstream in a massive river valley, which must be frozen and snow-covered before the glacier is readily accessible. Only in Alaska would the parking lot for such a trip be full of Subarus and Tacomas disgorging dozens of spandex-clad cyclists with those fat bikes whose tires seem almost cartoonishly wide.

Since this is Alaska, and Anchorage, in the year 2017, this scene is not atypical at all. Knik Glacier is a trip people do, which means that it is not just possible but relatively easy and even pleasant. It is our local equivalent of a walk in the park.

Knik Glacier itself is a marvel, and a worthy destination using any mode of travel. It pours forth from the massive icefield that separates Prince William Sound from Anchorage. The top of Knik Glacier is one low point of this icy expanse, and one of the stormiest places in the state. Marcus Baker, the Chugach’s highest peak, looms overhead just a few miles away. At more than 13,000 feet, Marcus Baker is well over a mile taller than the top of Knik Glacier, but the ice is contiguous. Should an iceworm wish to reside in such environs, it could dream of traversing blue ice from the windy flanks of Marcus Baker to the sunkissed gravel bars at the terminus of Knik Glacier.

Humans are the most common form of wildlife on these gravel bars, by the toe of Knik Glacier, in the winter. There’s practically a peloton of them cycling up valley on weekend mornings, following well-worn snowmachine and fat bike tracks from Hunter Creek up to the glacier. At a mere nine miles as the crow flies, it can take little more than an hour in good conditions. The trail miles are a bit more, as the path winds over sloughs, gravel bars, and follows ATV portals through riverside brush.

During warm conditions, the main channel of the Knik River would cross this route, but in cold winters the whole river valley is almost perfectly flat and white, as the snow and ice obscure the river’s location. It is wise to be careful near the point where the Knik emerges through the glacier’s old moraine. Moving water at this location makes for much thinner ice.

The glacier had retreated significantly from that old moraine bar, leaving behind an expansive lake dotted with icebergs. In winter, cyclists and snowmachiners ramble around on the ice, bunny-hopping off ice-bound bergs. On the south (looker’s right) side of the glacier, there is a narrow gorge. This is where water flows from Lake George down past the glacier. In consistently cold conditions, it is possible to bike up this iced-over gorge toward Colony Glacier and Lake George. Other times, the surging Knik Glacier will choke off this portal, as ice smashes against rock and chokes off the whole valley. During times when it’s possible to get through, it is worth touring back toward Lake George. Few people have ever traveled here, since in the summer it would take an arduous traverse across the Chugach from Girdwood.

The moraine of Knik Glacier is accessible during warmer conditions as well, though with much more effort. One way is to bike or ATV from the Jim Creek trailhead near Butte, which is approximately a 50 mile round trip including significant stream crossings. Alternatively, one could bike in from Hunter Creek, crossing the Knik River channel with a packraft. However, the most convenient method is to bike in when the ice is solid. It should be obvious that there are safety considerations with this trip, primarily the risk of falling through the ice. In addition, pack a chain tool to repair broken chains, as well as tools to fix or replace a flat tire. Nine flat miles is a short bike ride or a very tedious hike-a-bike.

Visitors to Knik Glacier encounter teetering seracs, ice caves, icebergs, and overwhelming views of the Chugach. Try to count the glaciers, the couloirs, the peaks, the valleys, the clusters of mountains rising above the icefield, the deep blue crevasses striating the glacier. And think about how this is one small corner of our state, little more than an hour’s fat bike ride from the trailhead.