Polar Bear Peak: A Climb Just Shy of the Summit

Polar Bear Peak - 07 May 2022

Polar Bear Peak, towering at about 6,614 feet in the Chugach Mountains, had been calling our names for a while. The mountain is famous for a snow patch near its summit shaped like—you guessed it—a polar bear. My friends, Brian and Zach, and I had been itching to tackle a peak that was challenging but not too extreme, and after some good old-fashioned debate, Brian threw out Polar Bear Peak as our next target. It seemed like the perfect mix of adventure and safety (or so we thought).

The Great Bike Plan... or Not

The plan was set: bike six miles from the Eagle River Nature Center, cross Eagle River, and then start our climb. We packed everything we thought we'd need—winter gear, a tent, some climbing equipment for the 200-foot technical section near the top. At 2 PM on May 7th, 2022, we rolled up to the trailhead, ready to unload our gear and hit the trail.

But then, plot twist! The ranger informed us that bikes weren’t allowed on the trail. So much for that genius idea. Instead, we had to resort to our trusty “organic feet paddles” (aka our own two feet). With Brian leading the charge at a pace that made me question our friendship, we set off.

The Ascent: Alder Wrangling and Snowfield Slogging

A couple of hours later, after crossing Eagle River, we began our ascent out of the valley. There was supposedly a trail, but if it existed, it was playing a very good game of hide-and-seek. Instead, we found ourselves bushwhacking through alders, cursing the greenery and occasionally Brian, since this whole thing was his idea.

By the time we finally broke through the treeline, it was 8 PM. The snow ahead looked tempting, but rather than tackle it in the dark, we decided to set up camp and get a fresh start the next day.

Come 5 AM, we were up and ready to go. Despite our lack of skis or snowshoes (which, in hindsight, was a questionable decision), we lucked out with frozen snow that was hard-packed and easy to walk on. Ignoring the tiny voice in my head warning about the sun turning the snow into a slushy mess later, we ascended into the hanging valley below Polar Bear Peak.

To our delight, we stumbled upon a decent skin and boot pack that made the going even easier. A few hours later, we reached the hanging glacier, with the summit finally in sight. The sun was shining, the views were breathtaking, and we were feeling on top of the world—almost literally.

The Final Push... And a Tough Decision

At the glacier, we spotted a group of skiers ahead of us who had just started the technical climb to the summit. We figured they’d have more than enough time to summit and clear the way for us.

After a quick snack (and a necessary nature break), we began our climb.

But as we got closer, the hours ticked by, and we found ourselves on a near-vertical face, just 200 feet from the summit. We sat there, precariously perched, for about two hours waiting for the first group to clear the chute, but alas, they were having some technical difficulties of their own. The sun was sinking lower, and it became clear we wouldn’t have enough time to reach the top and safely make it back before dark.

And so, with heavy hearts and a few choice words, we made the tough call to turn back. The summit would have to wait for another day.

Toboggan Time and Alder Agony

The descent was a breeze compared to the climb—literally. The slope was steep enough for us to slide down on our backsides like human toboggans. We were laughing and sliding, thinking we had it made. But as we hit the valley, the sun had done its work, turning the snow into a heavy, wet mess that swallowed us up with every step.

Zach had suggested we bring snowshoes, but Brian and I, in our infinite wisdom, had laughed off the idea to save weight. We were paying for it now. Every other step plunged us waist-deep into the wet, concrete-like snow, making progress slow and miserable. Zach was not shy about reminding us of our earlier dismissal of snowshoes, while Brian and I tried to lighten the mood with jokes—mostly at our own expense.

And then came the alder gauntlet. That last half-mile stretch of alder-covered terrain between our tent and the valley was a nightmare. What had been a frozen, easy ascent turned into an hours-long battle with soft snow and stubborn alders that grabbed at our legs and refused to let go. Each step felt solid until it wasn’t, and then we’d find ourselves tangled in the branches, cursing the day we decided to climb Polar Bear Peak.

Finally—finally—we reached solid ground again. We were beyond ecstatic, practically dancing as we packed up the tent and made our way back down through the alders, more sliding than walking, before crossing Eagle River once more and heading back to the Nature Center.

Refueling at Wendy's

Sure, we didn’t make it to the summit, but we were still buzzing from the adventure. Sore, soaked, and sporting a few new blisters, we made a beeline for Wendy’s, where we refueled with burgers and fries, already talking about our next big adventure. Maybe we’d even buy packrafts.

Polar Bear Peak may have won this round, but we’ll be back. And next time, we’re bringing the snowshoes.