Finding Flexibility In The Brooks Range

This trip wasn’t supposed to go the way it did, but that’s part of what made it so good.

Long-time readers will know that my partner Luc and I make a point to take a backcountry trip together every summer. This summer was a little bit different – scheduling conflicts and important events kept Luc from being able to attend what would have been the window for the first part of a trip, so I decided that instead of not going or going solo, I’d ask a couple of girlfriends to join me for the first half. Then Luc and our friend Pat would fly in later to meet me for the second half.  

That singular decision ended up setting the theme of what this trip would be full of – flexibility, creative problem solving, and trusting the process.

Plans changing like the weather 

This year, as always, we were trying to thread the needle between the last of the snow and the hatching of the bugs. It’s the sweet spot we always try and hit – but it can also be a pretty big gamble. This year, the wild card factor was snow. When it was time to fly in, the remote airstrip we were hoping to fly into (basically a patch of gravel in the middle of a tundra bench) hadn’t melted out yet. So at what felt like the very last minute, we made the call to fly into our intended adventure endpoint instead, effectively reversing our route. 

This change of plans worked out beautifully for the first hiking portion of the trip! It had implications for the second half with Luc and Pat, changing the river we would end up using to float north. Spoiler alert: it all worked out fine for both portions of the trip, and after an uncertainty that tinged the days approaching drop-off, my friends – Carrot + SJ – and I were simply thrilled to be there to take in the first bits of spring as winter departed the Arctic. 

Light packs + friendly mountains = happy friends

We kicked things off with a three-day loop out of the airstrip based around areas of geological interest that Luc had identified via satellite imagery and marked on the map for us. Because we we thought we’d be doing the trip in reverse, Luc had planned to check these out himself and I knew he’d be jealous we got to see them without him. But we were grateful! Following these pins felt like a little treasure hunt that led us to encounter exciting rock outcrops, glory ridge walking, and waterfalls. 

This short, early loop turned out to be an ideal warm-up – a gradual build into what would become heavier packs and more challenging terrain by the end of the trip. 

We set out for our first half-day of hiking the same day we landed. There was a lot of snow in the mountains! We needed to pick our way through the snowfields as we moved through, quickly picking up on the signals the snow was sending us, learning what colors and textures generally meant more sturdy and able to hold our weight, and which areas to avoid so we didn’t end up in a post-hole slog situation. Even with our best snow-reading skills, there were a couple of those.  

After that first snowy stretch, The Brooks gifted us with such fun and friendly terrain – lined with caribou trails at just the right incline that contoured up the passes. Inside the bends and folds of the mountains we moved up, we would encounter an occasional snowy patch, but were able to make light work of those steeper snow crossings as we worked our way up towards ridgelines, finding fossil treasures along the way. 

The pins Luc dropped us ended up being ideal waypoints for us, but less ideal for the things he would have liked to use them for – like packrafting – which I hoped would soften the reality that he had had to miss out on this first part of the trip. 

One of his pins led us to a small waterfall surrounded by beautiful and small pools. It was so hot (we would find out upon returning home we had been hiking during a heat advisory) and it was such a delight to strip down and bathe and play in the water. Best part – no bugs. We felt like we were really winning the Alaska backcountry game for those couple bug-free days. They are few and far between up here! 

Another of the highlights came at a lunch break the next day. Our merry trio had been discussing cutting a corner on the map to make for a more efficient return to the airstrip, when I decided to wander downriver a bit just to see if I could see anything. I rounded a bend and lo and behold, a stunner of a waterfall! One of those places that, if it existed anywhere near a road, would have a full parking lot and a signboard. Luc had nailed it again, and we could have easily walked past it and never known. 

We spent some time basking in the beauty of the waterfall and then began to follow the river out of the valley and back towards the airstrip. Enter our first mega-fauna encounter of the trip: a sow and her two bear cubs. These three would be the first of 13 bears we saw on this portion of the adventure. It’s always such a gift for a safe encounter with these wild animals – we were able to observe them for a while before they caught our scent and ran up the valley in the opposite direction.

Big packs + bigger rivers

After our three-day loop, we returned to the airstrip to resupply and prepare for the traverse to the second airstrip. This time, no gear or food would be left behind. Our packs felt heavier now, loaded with eight days of food and gear. 

We were heading towards the crux of our trip: the crossing of the Wulik River. Based on past experiences, I had a good idea of how variable this river could be. In my 2019 traverse with Luc & our friend Josh, this same river surged so significantly while we were camped there during a rain event that we had to move our tent multiple times. When we returned last year, we were nervous about crossing, but the water was low and we waded across and barely got our knees wet. 

This year, our group decided we wanted to get to the river and camp there so we would have plenty of time to assess and make a safe plan for a crossing. 

When we arrived, the river was raging. We’d hiked an extra-long day to get to the river, and were definitely not going to attempt a crossing after a big mile day. Snowmelt (and glacial) rivers are often lower in the mornings after the cooler nights, and we were hoping this would work to our advantage. But it was a bit intimidating even so. We set up camp, I stuck a stick to mark the waterline before going to bed as a makeshift gauge, made our instant dinners, and slept hard. 

The next morning, we were greeted with a calmer river and more blue skies. My stick/river gauge showed that the water level had dropped about a foot! Its brown muddy color had shifted to a lighter blue, and it looked a lot more friendly. Phew. 

It was still much too wild to cross where we had camped, so we hiked upstream to a spot I’d scouted on satellite imagery where the river was braided and crossed there without incident. Pro tip – there is often a calmer, flatter section of water at the top of a braided section where the water is deciding which direction to take. These can make for good water crossing spots! 

That moment – of planning, patience, and trusting my judgment – was huge for me. I’ve done a lot of trips with Luc, who’s got incredible water sense and decades of experience, and it’s easy to lean on and trust him. But on this trip, I was the one with the water experience. I got to step into that role, and it felt amazing to use my lived experience and what I've picked up from Luc over the years to get us across safely. 

The rest of the trip continued along smoothly. We spent the days counting bears (13 total on this leg of the trip), climbing ridges, bailing from ridges when an errant thunder storm rolls through, spotting baby bird nests, and basking in the blooming carpet of the tundra that was flowers. 

It was a beautiful and blessed time on the land watching summer settle in. By the time we made it to our endpoint, the mosquitoes had hatched. Our naked sunbathing days were over, but with that came an influx of migratory birds (thanks Merlin app for helping me embrace my birder era). And so many wildflowers. 

Between the girls and the guys

We made it to the second air strip intact and in fair spirits despite the growing presence of newly hatched mosquitoes. This is where I would bid my girlfriends goodbye and say hello to Luc and our friend Pat for the second part of the trip. 

It was such a pleasure to trek with Carrot and SJ. The shift in dynamics was noticeable as they loaded up into the plane after Luc and Pat had transitioned out. In recent years, almost all of my super remote trips have been done with Luc and various male friends. Luc and I travel super well together, adopting a shared rhythm (and shared sleeping bag heat) that is a highlight of our relationship. 

And, it was awesome to switch up the dynamics and take

 on this trip with two other women. We saw things differently, and that shaped the trip in a fun and distinct way. 

One example of this was the chatter and laughter that we leaned into for the grueling parts of the passes. I remember noticing something with Carrot and SJ – every time we were climbing a pass, which is the hardest part and when you're most out of breath, they would somehow end up deep in conversation. And I’d be like, how are you even talking right now? There’s no air!

But then, when I joined in on those conversations during the climbs, I realized the time passed way faster. It actually felt easier – I think a combination of being distracted and of leaning on the social nervous system, which is so cool. 

This next part of the trip would be quieter, but filled with no less joy, and I can’t wait to tell you about it in part two of this blog series… stay tuned! 

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Part of what helped make this trip a success was the fitness training and mental tools I’ve been practicing inside of Summer Strong. If you’re looking for training support for your summer (or winter) adventures, you can join in too!  

Carrot wrote about our trip on her Substack too – you can read that here