Hatcher Pass, Alaska is an incredible place. As I wrote in an earlier post about my first visit last summer, this rugged mountain area only a short drive from Anchorage is about as close to my picture of paradise as I’ve ever been. This latest trip was no different.
After enjoying a leisurely Saturday morning, my friend Letty and I packed the dogs and all of our gear into the back of her Subaru and headed north out of Anchorage. I’ve 
decided that “North” is generally a good bearing to follow: studies show that many of the world’s happiest places are located in some of the coldest, most northern climates. Who would have guessed? Me, that’s who! Life is just better when you’re surrounded by towering peaks and very few people. And, perhaps out of necessity, those few people who do choose to live there seem to get along surprisingly well—probably because they’re too focused on things like surviving the long winters to care about the trivial matters that distract us from what really matters in life. Anyways, back to our trip.
For months, we’d been talking about staying at the majestic Hatcher Pass Lodge, which is nestled high in the Talkeetna Mountains yet easily accessible by car. Because I recently injured myself during my marathon training, our timing was perfect. The sky was clear and impeccably blue as we left the city of Palmer and wound our way up into the mountains. When we turned the final corner, we found a group of tiny red cabins perched at the base of a wide alpine bowl. 
Backcountry ski tracks snaked down the slopes of the surrounding peaks, and we could hear the occasional whooping and hollering of those lucky individuals high above us, enjoying the best that Alaska’s recreational playground has to offer.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was in heaven. I don’t know what it is about mountain huts, but they bring me more joy than pretty much anything else I can think of. We walked around and peered inside several different cabins before finally settling on two tiny little huts tucked away behind the main lodge area.
It turns out the cabin we’d initially reserved was given away to someone else, a testament to the the laid-back attitude of the place. We learned from talking to the staff that the owner, a quirky old fellow with a dry sense of humor, actually homesteaded the entire valley and still lives upstairs in the main lodge. He’s living his dream (and mine, for that matter).
After settling in, we decided to head up the mountain for a quick sunset-snowshoe. The alpenglow made for a breathtaking scene, and we would have lingered much longer if it hadn’t been for the cold, which came after us with a vengeance as soon as the sun disappeared behind the frozen peaks.
We hurried back to our cozy cabin and had a few drinks while we waited for the rest of our pack to arrive. It was well after dark by the time Nathan and Aaron finally burst through the door, and we spent the rest of the night playing a competitive game of Settlers of Catan. And even though I lost, by a long shot, it was still my favorite kind of night.
The next morning, a fleeting sunrise gave way to another day of bluebird skies. We enjoyed a late breakfast at the main lodge then headed up the massive hill above the lodge for some serious sledding. With a slope of that size, it’s certainly not just for kids!
After a few thrilling rides, we put on our skis and snowshoes and made the trek up to the end of the valley.
It was late afternoon by the time we reached the mine. We spent some time poking around the rustic red-trimmed structures, set against that stunning alpine backdrop. I just hope those miners had the energy at the end of their long, back-breaking work days to sit back and take it all in.
thetraveledtrail 