Life at Latitude 59: On Top of Mt. Alice

There are many wonderful things about living in Seward, Alaska. Besides the astounding natural beauty, there’s the small-town camaraderie, the pride residents have in being one of the few that stay for the winter, and the All-American feel of the old downtown. It’s what I consider an authentic town, meaning it’s cute in an unpolished way. Sometimes the wind blows the smell of the fish processing plant downtown, and other times coal dust from rail cars transporting coal to waiting ships blankets the town. It’s not just a tourist town; it’s industrial, and a little bit gritty. Seward is a 2-hour drive south of Anchorage, which is far enough to feel separate from the big city, but close enough that if you need to head to Anchorage for just a day, you can. Cruise ships stop here, and the touristy Alaska Railroad carts tourists to and from Anchorage. But it’s easy to escape the hordes.

Probably my favorite part about being in Seward is its proximity to phenomenal trails. Within a 15-minute drive is the trailhead to Exit Glacier and the Harding Ice Field, the famous Mt. Marathon (hosting an infamous 4th of July race), and the 15-mile Lost Lake traverse. It’s a rare evening when I don’t run or hike a trail. We Sewardites even get on the trails during the winter.

It’s rainy here, so perfect hiking days can be rare. My husband Lael and I took advantage of one such sunny day last week and climbed up Mt. Alice, the tallest mountain in Seward.

The trail up Alice is not maintained and is a bit of a local secret. There’s no trailhead, just an inconspicuous turn-off. As you start your hike, you’re in a forest of mossy Hemlocks, with blueberries scattered around.

The climb is steep, gaining 3000 feet from sea level to the end of the trail, and you emerge from the forest in an alpine meadow with only half of your climb behind you. From there, you follow a sharp ridge sometimes balancing on the edge of the cliff — or so it seems. Dall sheep wander the hillside and leave their wool in tufts on the rocks.

The trail ends when the meadows do, and you’re left to clamber over boulders and snow patches. You can’t get to the actual top of Alice as it becomes too technical for a mere hike. But you do get quite close; you can see the ridges and cracks in the small glaciers below her face.

We found a tarn hidden amongst the rocks; Lael took a quick swim, and I waded to my waist and eventually dunked my head. It was surprisingly cold for being so small, but tiny snow patches still dripped into the water so I guess it doesn’t get as much sun as it seem to on that bright day.

After the swim, with our shorts wet and bodies cooled off, we descended the mountain. We had blisters and sore thighs, but we also saw about 4 people on the mountain the whole day so it was a worthwhile journey. Even though it’s only August, fall is rapidly approaching and there’s a general feeling of “seize the sunny day” around town. Suddenly, it’s dark at night and you have to turn your car headlights on as early as 10p.m. I know that in the dead of winter I’ll cling to this bright day, because it’s so hard to imagine Alice without snow 8 months out of the year.