The Bad, The Ugly and the Good Idea

Ski Mountaineering in the Wasatch Mountains, Utah (February 2023)

Bryan:  Well, we’ll find out pretty soon…

Me:  If this is a bad idea?

Bryan:  Yep.

We had been assessing the snow quality for the entire two hour approach to the base of the climb up to the couloir. As we skinned from the car along a wide road that suddenly narrowed to a hiking path, the snow progressively got deeper and “better”. Sure, there was some nice, fluffy, fresh powder from the snowfall overnight. But only about 5 inches below this delightful powder was an undeniable crusty layer. And that crust varied from mildly crunchy to rock hard depending on where we stabbed our ski poles. That’s a very quick and dirty and non-scientific way to determine snow quality and how much “fun” our impending ski turns are going to be. To understand what I mean about this, think about baking brownies. When the timer goes off to signal that the brownies are done, you stab the brownies in the middle of the pan with a toothpick. When you remove the toothpick, what does it look like? If it’s clean with no gooey, unbaked batter spindling off of it then the brownies are finished baking. This is a “good” assessment. If the toothpick is a gooey mess, this is “bad” because they’re not finished baking. Now let’s apply this to snow evaluation. If you stab the snow with your ski pole and it comes out clean when you remove it, that means the snow is dry and fluffy and your ski turns are going to be so tasty that you’ll be salivating for the rest of the day just thinking about it. If, on the other hand, you stab the snow and your ski pole removes a crunchy crust or gooey slush, then you are going to have a very memorable day but for very different reasons. In short, rather than a smooth, creamy ride down the mountain you are going to feel more like you are riding one of those mechanical bulls in a cowboy bar. Does this sound like fun to you? Hold that thought.

Now let’s get back to the couloir. On the climb up we were increasingly hopeful that we would find some “good” snow in this narrow chute. After all we did find some great pockets of fluffy powder in places as we zigzagged our way higher and higher up the steep slope. We also found a lot of nasty crust but why dwell on the negative, right? I guess we figured there was just as much chance of finding powder as there was of finding crust in the couloir. And the sun was shining so bright that it cut right through the cold air as it warmed my face and hands. It was a beautiful day. So why not just take the chance and go for it? What’s the worst that could happen? As it turns out, it was both a bad idea and a great idea. How could it be both? Well, there’s a simple answer that explains this very clearly. Perspective. 

The pure, raw sensory input that we were getting from the snow conditions was objectively bad. Actually, it was downright horrible! As we entered the bottom of the couloir we immediately realized that we had to remove our skis. The snow was so steep and hard that our skins could no longer “bite” to give us any grip. It was like trying to walk up a sliding board that was just freshly greased with wax paper (remember doing that as a kid?). So we took off our skis, attached them to our backpacks and started kicking steps up the steep, snowy funnel. And this is where things got really interesting. One step would plunge us to the depth of our hips while the next step would feel like kicking into concrete. Unable to find any sort of rhythm we simply decided to drop to our knees and pseudo-crawl-kick our way up the slope. After about 50 ft of this nonsense we managed to burn about 5000 calories while going exactly nowhere. We barely got a quarter of the way up the couloir and the snow just kept getting worse. The snow was so bad, in fact, that we realized that we would have to slide down much of it. Imagine trying to ski down a concrete sidewalk. Just turn to one side and scrape and slide on your ski edges. That’s what we were facing. So we decided to stop climbing any further and survival ski back down to the powder immediately below the chute. 

The initial ski down the couloir went exactly as expected. It was ugly for lack of a better word. Scrape, scrape, slide, jump-turn, scrape, almost fall, scrape, stop, curse and regroup. Repeat as many times as necessary. Then we actually found some nice powder turns from the base of the couloir all the way back down to the skin track. For good measure, however, the mountain was perfectly booby-trapped with randomly placed solid ice chunks just below the snow surface. Were these the best snow conditions for skiing that I’ve ever had? No, not by a long shot. But it was a fun and very memorable day. 

Now I ask you, was our decision to ski the couloir a good idea or a bad idea? That depends on your perspective. If you only care about the quality of the snow and the resulting quality of your ski turns, then you would likely say that it was a bad idea. But for me, the actual skiing part of skiing is of secondary importance. I really enjoy spending time in the mountains, especially with friends. And I really enjoy pushing myself to do new and challenging things. And I really love to take photos. If we had simply given up and decided not to try to ski the couloir due to imperfect snow quality then we would have robbed ourselves of a very fun and memorable experience. I also happened to get a few really great photos that I would not have gotten otherwise. 

So was it a good or bad idea? I answer that it was unquestionably a terrible idea to ski that couloir in those conditions. The snow was garbage and not even capable of skiing. The external sensory input from the mountain told us that very clearly. But we decided to do it anyway. By pushing past our negative expectations we were able to create a positive experience out of imperfect conditions. Simply stated, we used the power of perspective to turn a negative into a big positive. The mountains provide endless opportunities for fun and personal growth but ultimately the mountains do not care about your day. So it’s entirely up to you to find your own bliss. And I promise you can have fun in the mountains every single day if you’re willing. The decision to go is always a great idea.

Silence Do Good

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My buddy Brian enjoying a quiet evening deep in the remote wilderness of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (July 2021)

Try not to hear anything. Seriously, give it a try. Try to hear absolutely nothing. Pure Silence. Not a single sound. It’s difficult, right? In fact, it’s so difficult that it’s nearly impossible.

A few days ago I was working hard at my computer editing videos for a client, then I heard the familiar churgling sounds in my stomach. It was time to take a break and eat lunch.

Normally I put one of my bluetooth earbuds into one ear and listen to a podcast or grab my iPad to watch a documentary while I prepare a meal. But this time, for whatever reason, I just walked into the kitchen and started making my lunch without grabbling any form of entertainment. Immediately I noticed sounds that I had muted for so long that I had almost forgotten them. The beep of the oven, the “thwang” of the pan, the “swoosh” of my socks across the hardwood floor, the crinkle of the cheese wrapper, the creak of the house and the list goes on. That’s when I realized that was the quietest it had been for me in a while. And then I realized that was the quietest it could get in my everyday life.

I tried for the next 10 minutes to be completely silent to see if it was possible to hear no sounds at all. I didn’t move. I heard a car go by the house. Then another. And another and another. The heater kicked off during its cycling process. The house creaked again. The hot baking sheet “thwanged” as it was cooling (good ol’ physics). Then I noticed my heartbeat. Then my breathing. My ears “crinkled” as I swallowed. This felt good. I may have failed in my experiment to find true silence by reducing all noises to zero. But I dialed down any external noises as much as I was able to control and found it to be pleasantly calming.

My mind started scrolling through memories of the many days and hours that I have spent in the mountains in Alaska. This little experiment reminded of one of the most greatest gifts that anyone can get in remote wilderness areas…..silence. Our modern world has lost nearly all of what would be considered true wilderness. By this I mean getting off the grid, so far away from roads, towns and cell phone towers that nobody can hear you tweet. The only sounds are naturally occurring ones. There’s nothing man-made creating any noise whatsoever.

I remember the first time I was dropped off in the Alaska wilderness. As the hum of the bush plane faded into the distance the first thing I noticed was the deafening lack of noise. It was honestly pretty unsettling at first. Up until that point my brain had never experienced that level of silence. I realized how vulnerable I was. But then I quickly felt a wave of relief crashing over me. I never knew how noisy my life had been.

Now fast forward 13 years since I first stepped foot in Alaska and I can honestly say that experiencing multiple consecutive days of silence is one of the main reasons I spend so much time in the wilds of the Last Frontier every year. My normal, modern American life is filled with noises all day long. There are so many noises all around us and it’s not even possible to turn them off. Even in the smallest of rural towns, we still largely live in communities with lots of machinery and many forms of digital technology. Our neighbors are just as busy as we are each and every day running the rat race with cars, phones, garbage trucks, airplanes and everything else that makes sound. Not even a trip to a designated wilderness area like a national park or a local hiking trail can guarantee a break from urban noise. Most of our outdoor spaces are often filled with people trying to escape their own hustle and bustle.

But there are a few truly remote places left on Earth that aren’t filled with noise pollution. The vast wilderness of Alaska is not only filled with some of the most stunning scenery in the world but it is home to one of the most rare and precious gems…..Silence with a capital ‘S’. Of course it isn’t completely quiet. The birds chirp, the wind whirls, the creeks babble. The sounds of nature are all around you but they are all that you will hear (and possibly the occasional hum of a bush plane overhead). But that’s it. No industrial sounds, no vehicle sounds, no smartphone notification pings. It’s a nice break from the constant bombardment of disruptive, arrhythmic noises that fill our tech-fueled daily lives.

On a final note, it’s worth mentioning that the more recent noise of social media is not only escalating but it’s becoming a serious problem. No, I’m not suggesting that we all delete our social media accounts. I use social media and enjoy the positive attributes of sharing my work to help promote my business and see what my friends are posting. But it’s the darker side of social media that has become quite problematic. I’m talking about the constant noise of partisan finger-pointing, echo chamber soap-boxing and cancel culture torch-bearing that fills our feeds every single day. This behavior is appalling and destructive. It’s nothing but noise and it’s worth avoiding. So whenever you find yourself getting sucked too far down the social media rabbit hole, I recommend that you just stop, turn off your phone and sit in silence. Better yet, go outside and go for a walk or run. Find the least noisy place that you can. You’ll always feel better for it.

Silence is necessary for a healthy brain and there is science to support this. Our minds are in a constant state of alert from the continuous onslaught of daily urban noise. We need a noise-free break every so often to recharge our batteries. Sitting in silence, particularly the quiet of nature, has a calming effect on the brain. Obviously, the more you do it the better. However, spending even a few quiet days in wilderness just once each year can have lasting positive effects on our mental and physical health.

I know what some of you are probably thinking, “Won’t I be bored?”. How could a life without Netflix, YouTube or Instagram not be boring, right? Trust me, once you are sitting on the ground, sipping hot coffee in the cool, crisp mountain air while watching the sun rise above the horizon, you won’t even think or care about anything else. Silence is the loudest sound you’ll hear and you’ll be happy for it.

Whatever Doesn't Kill you, Doesn't Kill You

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My buddy Brian Sachs “celebrating” another finished backpacking trip in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (July 2021)

One of the things I love so much about Alaska is that nothing is guaranteed here. There are so many variables involved in planning any trip that a lot of things can go wrong. As much as I want to be in control, Alaska always faithfully reminds that I’m not. Sure, I plan every detail of my trips meticulously. But once the plane lands and I step out into the wilderness I am quickly reminded that I can’t control everything. This is very humbling. And that’s a good thing.

As humans our brains are programmed to seek comfort as a means of survival. It makes sense. And through so many amazing advances in technology our modern lives are very comfortable. In fact, we’re so comfortable that we don’t need to struggle to survive on a daily basis the way that our ancestors did. All of these modern comforts and conveniences make survival much more certain so it should make us happier, right? Well, not exactly. The reason is that we humans have not only evolved to survive through seeking comfort, but we also paradoxically crave adventure. Why? Simply put, comfort feels nice but it is boring. We need excitement in our lives. With adventure comes uncertainty and discomfort. This challenges us to break out of our predictable behavioral patterns and try something new. We’re deliberately doing an about face and walking away from the protective environment that we’ve so carefully constructed to ensure our survival. It’s scary and that’s exciting!

To be blunt, we Westerners are living in a ‘Crisis of Comfort’. All of our technological advances have made life so much easier for us. Not that this is a bad thing. I’m so thankful for modern medicine, vehicles, airplanes, computers, phones and, most of all, my camera. Technology improves the quality of our lives, increases life expectancy and boosts our creative potential. But the negative consequence of technology making our lives so much easier is that it makes our too easy.

I have such fond memories of growing up as a kid in the ‘80s. Sure, I had technology for entertainment but nothing nearly as complex and advanced as what I have today. We had a tv and even got cable when I was about ten or eleven (which was pathetic by today’s standards). I eventually got an Atari and then the first version of Nintendo (both were embarrassingly pathetic compared to modern video games). And I even had a cassette tape player (remember those?). None of these devices was portable and the quality, although quite revolutionary for the time, was nowhere near as impressive as the little desktop and pocket-sized powerhouses that we have today. Don’t get me wrong, I looked forward to weekly sitcoms like Seinfeld, reveled in cracking the Contra game code “Up-Up-Down-Down-…..” on my Nintendo and played “Little Red Corvette” until the tape literally broke. <Sorry Gen Zers, you’ll have to Google those references> But my machine-based entertainment options were very limited compared to today. Heck, most of them were even analog. Digital technology was just starting to come onto the scene. Almost nobody had a computer yet. The internet was still being developed and wasn’t a thing yet. And smartphones were as futuristic as a hoverboard. Even cell phones were the size of a big black brick that only Gordon Gekko could afford. <Start Googling GenZers!>

As nostalgic as it is to take a walk down memory lane, I actually do have a point to make about all of this so let’s get to it. When I was a kid in the 80’s I had entertainment-based technology and I really enjoyed them. But options were very limited, devices were largely not portable and gratification was not so instantaneous. There was no streaming on Netflix or binge watching your favorite series. Want to make a music playist for your next roadtrip? Ha! That’s funny. You had to buy full cassette tapes (later DVDs) and then record or burn each individual song. This took a lot of time and effort and money. So I remember having to be a lot more creative back then. The limited technology I had for entertainment purposes was really fun to use but it wasn’t so effortless and endless as it seems to be today. I didn’t have a lot of options to choose from so I did a lot more reading than I do now (by that I mean books, with actual paper, and not swiping a digital screen). I actually built things to accessorize my G.I. Joe figurines and Matchbox cars. And I played outside and rode my bike a lot! Today, there are so many options that are readily available for relatively cheap prices. And the most important and powerful device that we all have fits right in our pockets. It takes almost no effort at all to find entertainment at all hours of the day no matter who you are or where you are in the world. And we never even have to leave our houses to find entertainment if we don’t want to.

Today we are all always connected to the digital world. The problem with this is that it requires us to disconnect from the physical world. And that’s not a good thing.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my technology as much as anyone. I love my camera and my computer. I love my smartphone. I love streaming movies. I love listening to music and podcasts. I love bluetoothing. My iPad doesn’t suck. My wireless ear buds are a godsend. These are all really good things that I enjoy. But I inevitably find myself getting too much of these good things. I start feeling anxious and overwhelmed by constant digital stimulation. It’s so easy to be entertained whenever I want. There’s no challenge in it. It’s so darn easy, in fact, it becomes boring after a while. When I eventually catch myself picking up my phone and mindlessly swiping just for the swipe of it, I know it’s time. What time you ask? It’s time to go.

We all love nature. Why do you think so many tax dollars are spent on making city parks? For centuries cities have always carved out space for some green among the grey. Concrete certainly provides a more efficient surface for a sidewalk and bricks houses are much stronger than mud huts. But nothing beats a stroll through a green park full of trees and flowers for relaxing and clearing your head.

Whether it is simple hike on your neighborhood trail, a weekend camping trip or a a multi-day backpacking trip in the remote Alaska mountains, spending time in the outdoors is a fundamental part of being a human. We all love it. We all want it regardless of how advanced our technology gets. But the funny part of this is that going into the outdoors means inherently sacrificing some level of modernly fabricated comfort. It’s paradoxical that we would actively seek discomfort for pleasure. You can’t just tap and swipe your phone to get it. Actually spending time in nature means leaving your cozy house and stepping outside into the elements. It means walking on an uneven trail. It means unexpectedly running into a wild animal. This goes directly against any basic human survival instinct. As bizarre as it may seem, we all know that we enjoy being in the outdoors among the mountains, rivers, trees and wildlife. And we always feel better after spending time in nature.

Aside for the obviously beautiful scenery, I think the reason that nature is so therapeutic at relieving stress is that it revives a different kind of stress. This is a much more ancient, primal type of stress that is ignited by a heightened sense of survival. Consciously and deliberately leaving a protective technological cocoon tells the brain that it is no longer permitted to be on holiday anymore. The brain must actively engage with the outside environment at all times. No more mindless twitter scrolling. You are forced to be aware of every footstep. You’re constantly scanning your surroundings for signs of danger. You’re in state of stress but it’s a different kind of stress than being disappointed with how many likes you got on your last Instagram post. It’s a good kind of stress.

Disconnecting from the digital world forces us to reconnect with our natural world. And at the end of the day, whether you realize it or not, nature reminds you deep down that whatever doesn’t kill you, doesn’t kill you. And that’s way more gratifying than “Up-Up-Down-Down-…..” ever was.

Day Three: Where the Magic Happens

Me, really tired but smiling ear-to-ear on Day Three of a really difficult backpacking trip in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (July 2021)

I recently renamed my blog “Day Three”. So what the heck does that mean anyway?

I’ll keep this short and sweet because I’m going to dive deeper into the meaning in future posts. Simply put, Day Three refers to the point in any travel journey where you feel fully immersed. In the days (or weeks) leading up to your trip we all feel some stress and anxiety over the planning and packing. There are a million and one things to do before a trip: booking flights, finding lodging, planning routes, etc. Then the travel date comes. And a whole new set of stressors is ignited. Why? Because that first day of traveling means that you are leaving the confines of your home, your little space of familiarity, your comfort zone.

I’ve found through many years of traveling and spending time in remote wilderness that I am never able to fully relax and feel like I’m “in it” unless I spend a certain minimum number of consecutive days in my new environment. That magic number is always three. Without fail, I always feel a transformation on Day Three of my trip. On that third day I wake up with mixed feelings of fatigue and boosted energy. The previous two days of navigating a new place with new people, figuring out where to go and what to do and dealing with any inevitable problems that always threaten those well-oiled travel plans is, well, downright tiring. And if my plans happen to include some sort of physically-demanding exercise like backpacking, then the stress and strain of covering long distances over difficult terrain with heavy weight on my back crush my energy levels even more. So it’s easy to imagine where the physical and mental exhaustion come from but how could the stress of traveling actually give me, or you, more energy?

The boost in energy that I feel, and that you surely will as well, on Day Three arises from the simplicity of a singular focus that eventually develops. We humans have a tendency to seek out comfort. It’s a survival instinct that’s hardwired in our DNA. There’s nothing wrong with that per se. But in this modern age that we live in, we are rarely ever challenged to be uncomfortable. We have so many systems and safeguards built into our daily climate-controlled lives that we simply don’t have to be uncomfortable unless we want to. So? What’s wrong with that? Well, through modern technology we are so used to being comfortable nearly every minute of our lives that our brains try to prevent us from doing anything unfamiliar or uncertain. Being uncomfortable is hard. But being comfortable all the time is numbing. That’s because any routine activity allows the brain to go into autopilot mode. On autopilot you no longer have to think. So your mind starts to drift away from the present moment and focuses on all of the future chores and tasks that need to be done. And the consequence of this is that you often aren’t even able to enjoy whatever you are doing. It’s mundane. It’s easy. It’s boring.

There is no better way to add excitement to your life than to travel. Going somewhere new is exciting because it’s different than anything you know. It takes planning, studying and learning about your new destination. It’s an adventure! But…..there’s a catch. Now think about the first day of any trip. Are you still thinking about all of the things you have to do back home? Of course you are. We all do this. Our jobs, families, friends, chores and any number of things fill our daily to-do lists. And those to-do items that you left unfulfilled are still demanding your immediate attention at the beginning of your travels. Those unfinished, important tasks now can’t be attended to while you are away from home. Your brain just can’t stop thinking about them no matter how hard you try. This causes you to feel anxious. That anxiety quickly turns to stress. And that stress makes you feel uncomfortable.

I don’t know about you but I always can’t wait to get through the first day of a trip. My head just isn’t in it yet. I’m still checking emails and social media (if there is internet service) and I’m still thinking about the things I have to do back home. And the discomfort of not being familiar with my new environment only adds to the stress. But fast forward to Day Three. Now I’m just tired enough and far-removed enough from the comforts of my home that I start to embrace my new surroundings. I’m beginning to feel immersed in my trip. I’ve experienced this over and over and over in my travels. And, as a professional mountain guide for 12 years, I have witnessed this same Day Three-induced euphoric transformation in hundreds of people from all walks of life from all over the world. No matter your age, gender, culture, religion, political affiliation or whether you’re a cat or dog person, this phenomenon seems to be pretty darn universal.

So what’s going on here anyway? What is so special about Day Three of your trip? There’s something liberating about gaining just enough familiarity with a new environment that you no longer feel like a complete stranger in a strange land but you also don’t feel completely at home either. The adventure starts to feel less intimidating and more enjoyable. But it still demands your full attention because you’re still in a new environment. This is the moment that you stop thinking about home and start focusing entirely on your new place. Instead of having a thousand things to do in your normal, daily life at home you now only have one thing to think about. You now only care about how to survive in your new environment and how to have fun doing it. Your life goes from being complex to simple. You’re still uncomfortable, but you are getting more comfortable with being uncomfortable. And that feels good. It’s a load off your shoulders. It just takes a few days to get there. And that’s the catch. The brain is a machine that is constantly processing information 24/7. And through our busy technology-filled daily lives our brains can start to feel overworked through overstimulation. Your brain just needs time to adjust, to relax and to forget every now and again. It needs to reboot. And that rebooting takes a certain amount of time. One day isn’t long enough. Not even two days will do. Three days is the sweet spot.

Day Three is where the magic happens in a trip. It’s the moment where you’ve pushed past the boundaries of your current comfort zone and stop feeling overly worried about the unknown. You stop fretting over all of the many stressors of your normal daily life and and start reveling in the simpler pleasures you experience during your new adventure. You are learning new things, picking up new skills and becoming more confident in your abilities. In turn, you start to feel stronger, you feel more prepared to deal with uncertainty and you ultimately feel a deeper sense of satisfaction with life. I’ve found traveling to be the most reliable way to achieve this. And the further you get from the modern conveniences of urban civilization, i.e. going into a wilderness area, the better and more gratifying the result. So I urge you plan at least one challenging trip each year that is a minimum of three days long. And when you get to that magical Day Three just sit back and smile. Trust me, there’s nothing else you’ll want (or need) to do!

Masks Aren't Just for Pandemics

Brian Sachs eating breakfast while being eaten by a swarm of mosquitos, Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (2020)

Not wearing a mask anymore? Trust me, fully vaccinated or not you will be begging to wear one if you dare backpack in Alaska.

We’ve all become accustomed to wearing a facemask over the past year during the COVID pandemic. As a protective measure to prevent the spread of the virus, masks were quickly mandated for those entering any public space. Businesses, government buildings and public transportation denied entry to anyone refusing to wear one. In fact, grabbing your mask as you left the front door soon became as commonplace as grabbing your keys and wallet.

Although many people viewed masks as little more than an inconvenience, others felt strongly that the requirement to wear one was a impinging on their freedom to make their own choices. Luckily, due to an aggressive vaccination program in the United States, the requirement to wear a mask in public is becoming less common. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), as of late June 2021 over 152 million Americans have been fully vaccinated. This represents nearly half of the US population. So we can now breathe a sigh of relief as we can finally ditch those pesky masks and fill our lungs with fresh air in public again. Not to mention we get to greet one another with a visible smile again!

Starting to see a light at the end of this COVID gauntlet sure does feel good. And not having to choke on my own breath behind a cloth mask anymore feels downright liberating. But nothing feels so freeing as escaping the noise and stressors of daily urban life to get outside for a little dose of nature. Now that travel restrictions are easing more and more every month it’s time to dig out that backpack and hiking boots and immerse yourself in Alaska’s legendary wilderness. You know, that bucket list trip you’ve always dreamed of taking?

I highly recommend visiting Wrangell-St. Elias National Park in southeast Alaska. Although it is America’s largest national park, few people have ever even heard of it. So that means you can avoid the big crowds regularly seen at the more popular parks like Yosemite, Yellowstone and Denali. That means that once the bushplane drops you off in the middle of nowhere, the first thing you will notice as the hum of the plane fades in the distance is the quiet. You will here utter silence, save the random bird chirping, leaves rustling in the wind or creek babbling. All of your senses will heighten as the tension in your shoulders relaxes. I’ll admit, although it can be quite unnerving at first, you will quickly become aware of a really rare experience in our modern times. I promise that you will smile in delight at the realization that you are truly alone. Or are you?

Flipping up the mosquito head net to take bites of food, Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (2020)

Just as you start to settle into your new blissful environment you may just be greeted by the camp host. Or more likely hundreds of little camp hosts. Depending on where you are and the time of year the mosquitos can quite bad. To say that they are legendary in Alaska would be an understatement. After all, mossies aren’t affectionately referred to as the Alaska State Bird for nothing.

I have been guiding and exploring the wilderness of Wrangell-St. Elias for over a decade and have always included a mosquito head net in my backpack. While hiking and moving around they typically aren’t a problem. As soon as you stop, however, they will attack immediately. So the most essential piece of gear that you can bring to ensure a relaxing, enjoyable campsite at the end of a long day is a mesh head net that weighs less than 2 ounces and stuffs down to the size of toddler’s fist.

Because I’m so used to carrying a head net on my Alaska trips I don’t typically give it much thought beyond it being a necessary item to bring like my tent or sleeping bag. But things were different last year. In the summer of 2020 the world had only recently been thrust into a global pandemic. Aside from the risk of becoming ill or dying, we were forced to make sacrifices necessary to prevent the spread and mitigate the damage caused by this virus. One of the simplest and effective strategies was to enforce the wearing of an approved face mask in public spaces. I was certainly happy to do my part by wearing one but breathing into a mask for long periods of time is not enjoyable. It becomes hot and uncomfortable and downright annoying after a while.

So when I could finally go out into a public space for a whole week but not be around any people except for my backpacking client I was elated. We had both been tested and confirmed negative for contracting the virus right before the trip so we could safely enjoy the Alaska wilderness without wearing our masks. Ironically, on the very first day of our 7-day trip the mosquitos were so bad that we eventually had to wear our head nets during the last couple of hours hiking. I can’t remember one other time in all my years of backpacking in the Wrangells that I had to do that! Really? So you mean to tell me I can finally take off my mask but now I need to wear another one?

These were some of the worst mosquito conditions I had ever seen. Anytime we would stop to take a drink of water we our heads were immediately engulfed by a massive swarm of those little bloodsuckers. So that meant we had to quickly lift the head net to take an even quicker gulp of water before too many mosquitos could attack our faces. As we continued toward our camp destination they relentlessly bit our bare arms and even managed to pierce through our clothing. Thwack. Slap. Ouch. Swat. Dammit!!! We repeated this little mantra for a couple of hours. All we knew was that the mosquitos were so vicious that they were maddening.

As we set up camp we realized that we would have to eat dinner as quickly as possible and then retreat to the safety of our tents. The bugs were just too bad to sit outside and enjoy the evening. We were ravenously hungry after 11 hours of hiking with heavy packs over a really steep, rocky mountain pass so we honestly didn’t care. But our hours long battle with trying to drink water through the mosquito cloud meant that eating our dinner without simultaneously becoming dinner was going to be a challenge. I’d like to say that we fought the good fight and enjoyed our meal but that would be a lie. As I recall, we ate so fast that I barely remember eating at all. And not only did I continue to collect more mosquito bites I’m pretty sure I bit into a few as well.

Prepared for mosquitos on the last night of our trip, Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (2020)

We continued to battle the mosquitos for the rest of the week but never were they even close in numbers as that first day. So I still wonder what was it about that day? Why were they so bad then but not any other day? Why were they so bad this year versus any of the other years? I simply don’t know the answers. But there is one thing that I do know. It’s a lesson that I’ve learned over and over in this wild place. Alaska always gives you exactly what you need. I thought that I needed to get away from the madness of the pandemic. I thought that I would find a freedom that was stolen from me and the rest of the world by a tiny virus. But there is no true escape from our hardships. In trying you will only trade one problem for another. In this case, one tiny virus for one tiny mosquito. One mask for another. All you can do is accept the situation and make the most of it.

Thwack! Damn mosquitos.

UPDATE: I wrote this article in the Spring of 2021 just before leaving for Alaska to guide for the summer. And to my surprise, I found that the bugs were much worse than than the previous summer (2020). Summer of 2021 was definitely the worst bug year that I have experienced my 12 year guiding career. Not only were the mosquitoes vicious but the little flies were even worse. Those flies relentlessly tried to enter the eyes, ears and nose. They didn’t bite, they just targeted the most sensitive and vulnerable areas of the face. I’m pleased to say that I really wasn’t even bothered by them. “Whatever”, I thought. After living through a pandemic for over a year I had definitely developed a new sense of gratitude. I was just happy to be in the most beautiful wilderness in the world. Besides, I brought my trusty headnet and it protected me from being eaten alive. What more could I want? Thwack, dammit!

Brian and I marveling at the swarm of mosquitoes and flies behind the protection of our headnets, Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, Alaska (July 2021)

2021 Will Be the Best Year to Visit Alaska

Backpacking in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park (July 2020)

Have you ever dreamed of traveling to Alaska? Is it one of those places that has been on your bucket list your whole life? Well, if the answer is ‘yes’ (and I know it is) then you SHOULD go this summer. Trust me, 2021 is going to be the best year to visit Alaska in our lifetime.

How could I possibly know this? We’ll get that. But first let me ask you another question. What do you see in the photo above?

Roads? Nope

Trails? Nope

Trash? Nope

Crowds? Nope

Influencers? Definitely Not

Alaska consists of mostly true wilderness. In fact, it’s one of the last truly wild places on earth. Sure, it has more wildlife than you’ve ever seen anywhere else. And the mountains and glaciers are breathtakingly beautiful. But I think that it’s what Alaska doesn’t have that makes it truly special. The past year has been incredibly stressful for all of us due to the impacts of the COVID pandemic. So if you’re like me, you’re ready to get outside away from people and simply relax in nature. And there’s no place like Alaska to destress in the outdoors without having to compete with mobs of people.

Ok, now let’s get back to the question, “How could I possibly know that 2021 is going to be the best year to visit Alaska?” Well, I’ve been guiding there for 12 years. I’ve taken hundreds (probably thousands at this point) of people into the remotest of mountains and glaciers in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. My clients have been from everywhere around the world. But this year there will be far fewer visitors compared to a normal year. Sure, tourist numbers will certainly be noticeably higher than last year. But the total tourist count will pale in comparison to any “normal” year, including next year and the following years.

The COVID pandemic has been devastating for so many reasons. But I’ve never been one to dwell on the negative. I try to find the positive in any situation. And one such positive is that the pandemic has created sort of a ‘sweet spot’ so-to-speak for Alaska travel in summer 2021. This year travel restrictions will certainly be fewer and less of a hassle than last year. And with more and more people being vaccinated daily travel will simply be safer. Travel will start to sound more appealing in the coming months. Heck, it already does! We’re certainly not out of the woods yet with the pandemic but more people will likely feel comfortable traveling this year. And I’ll bet you’re one of them.

So I’ll say it again, 2021 is going to be the best year to take that dream vacation to Alaska. Traveling to Alaska will be easier than 2020 for three important reasons:

1) There are already fewer travel restrictions and that is likely to continue to improve throughout the summer.

2) There will be more tourists than last year but certainly far fewer than any normal summer. The biggest reason is that international travel restrictions will likely limit the number of foreign travelers that would typically vacation in Alaska. Fewer visitors means more of that pristine wilderness to yourself.

3) Most, if not all, businesses will be open and running at full capacity. The same could not be said for the summer of 2020. So there will likely be no restrictions on any places that you want to go or activities that you want to experience.

The stress and strain of the COVID pandemic has left many of us feeling stir crazy. There’s no better remedy for stress than getting outside in nature. And there’s no better place to experience nature than Alaska in my humble opinion. It’s called the Last Frontier for a reason. So I urge you to take that dream trip to Alaska this summer. Not only will it be a once-in-a-lifetime (hopefully!) opportunity to visit with fewer tourist numbers, but you will also be helping to kickstart the Alaska travel industry that suffered a severe blow by the pandemic in 2020.

Now go book that Alaska vacation! You won’t regret it.