I’m pretty lucky to have a solid setup of both backpacking and ultralight bikepacking gear. It’s really the same gear—the only difference is how you pack it and carry it. But this time, I had my heart set on getting deep into the wilderness and backcountry via foot , with one goal in mind…to check out the beautiful Polychrome Glacier.
To make it happen, I had to stop by the ranger station in the park, get a permit, and lay out exactly where I planned to camp. From there, I booked a shuttle out to the East Fork of the Toklat. It was about an hour and a half, maybe two hours, deep into the park before they dropped me off…completely alone, nobody else around.
With all the logistics during the day, I didn’t actually get started until around 7 p.m. But honestly, that just added to the feeling of stepping into something wild and unknown…exactly what I came for.
There are hardly any trails in Denali National Park, so most of what you explore is completely off-trail…a true choose-your-own-adventure. For this stretch, it was a fairly easy hike down the Toklat drainage—wide open terrain, long sightlines, and plenty of space if I happened to run into a bear.
And yeah…that was very much on my mind. This is active bear country, and even within the past week, there had been reports of tourists being charged by a grizzly in the area. So I stayed on high alert.
I started making my way down the basin alone, senses dialed in, fully aware of every sound, every movement. Out there, it feels like anything can happen…and you have to be ready for whatever Alaska decides to throw your way.
Right off the bat, I was treated to some wildlife—one of my favorites, the Arctic ground squirrel. It’s kind of like a groundhog, but with some phenomenal adaptations for life in the Arctic.
These little guys burrow down and hibernate through the winter, but what makes them truly incredible is how far they can push the limits of survival. Their body temperature can drop to around 27 degrees…that’s about 5 degrees below freezing. Through some wild molecular adaptations that basically turn their bodies into a kind of natural supercoolant, along with occasional shivers to keep things in check, they somehow make it through. At their lowest point, their heart rate can slow to just one beat per minute.
It’s one of those moments out there where you stop and realize just how tough—and how perfectly adapted—life in Alaska really is
It’s late July, and I was treated to an abundance of dwarf fireweed. It was popping up everywhere, adding color to the landscape…and it’s actually edible, a solid source of vitamin C.
Before long, I had an onlooker. A caribou was watching me from a distance—just standing there, calm and curious. Look at that gorgeous rack. What’s wild is that both male and female caribou grow antlers.
As I continued down the Toklat Basin, the views opened up into something sweeping and spectacular. My senses were still dialed in—sharper than normal. Everything felt heightened.
My eyes were picking up more detail, my ears catching every sound. It almost felt like a superpower as I moved through these valleys.
Eventually, I set up camp in the basin. I was tired—it had been a long day. I pitched my tent, then moved well over 100 yards away to eat and stash my food protected in a mandatory bear proof container. Out here, nothing with a scent stays near your sleeping area.
On my way back to the tent, I noticed it…bear scat. Probably a day or two old. Well, there it is. Bears are nearby. But I was exhausted, and I decided to stay put.
Luckily, I slept great. No problems.
The next morning, I headed out to grab my bear can—and it turns out I had a guardian. Another caribou was standing watch over it.
I gave a quiet thanks for the “protection,” but I needed my food back. After some hooting, hollering, and clacking my hiking poles together, it finally got up and wandered off.
After another full day of hiking—through tough river basin crossings and off-trail tundra—I finally made it within eyesight of the Polychrome Glacier
The Polychrome Glacier is actually a series of five glaciers tucked into the Polychrome Mountains… “polychrome” meaning many colors. I like to think of it as swirled coffee and creamer… but in reality, it’s a slow moving mix of rock and ice.
With the glacier in view, I set up my tent and settled in for the evening. The weather started to turn… clouds rolled in, the drizzle came first, then steady rain. The temperature dropped into the low 40s, and yeah… it got cold.
Still, I wanted a closer look.
I hiked deeper into the valley and made my way right up to the toe of the glacier. It was beautiful… rugged, raw, and every bit as mesmerizing as any glacier I’ve seen. Just different. I didn’t stay long though… I was tired, cold, and dinner was calling.
Back at camp, I wandered about a hundred yards out to cook, same routine as always. But this time, the sky opened up. Cold, sloppy rain poured down, and I found myself hunched under a bush, shoveling down a freeze dried meal as fast as I could… just dreaming about my warm, dry tent sitting up the valley.
That moment stuck with me more than anything else from the trip.
The next morning… I woke up.
And I had made it.
Ten solid hours of sleep… something about that soft tundra and a decent air pad just hits right if you can find a level spot. But overnight, the weather danced right along the freezing line… rain, snow, back and forth.
When I stepped outside, I stopped cold.
Fresh snow blanketed the glacier and the surrounding Polychrome peaks. Completely transformed… quiet, white, surreal.
Shivering, I packed up quick and made my way back down the valley. It was still cold and soaked, but I moved fast took zero breaks and reached the park road without much trouble. One of the best parts of Denali National Park… just flag down a camper bus, hop on, and ride it out.
Ah… what a relief.
I can finally let myself relax.
I’ve made it to the East Toklat Basin stop, just before the Pretty Rocks Landslide, and for the first time all day, I feel that weight lift off my shoulders.
There’s a small structure here too… a warming hut used by park rangers in the winter, when this whole landscape transforms and they patrol the park by dog sled. Hard to imagine standing here now, soaked and muddy, that in a few months this same place will be buried in snow and traveled by sled teams.
Boots off… pack down… just breathing it all in.
There’s something about reaching a road after being out there that shifts everything. The wild is still right in front of you… but you know you’re on your way back.
Now all that’s left to do is flag down the bus, toss my gear underneath, and take that slow ride back through Denali National Park.
Home is waiting.
And when I rolled into camp, I was greeted by something else entirely… a perfect rainbow stretching across the sky.
Did I mention Alaska has the best rainbows?
This one looked like it was rising straight out of my trailer… the place I call home.
journeyvision 