Chena Dome Trail

"I miss Jack," said Sam.  

"So do I," responded Gretchen.

"Lets go home!"

After six spectacular days backpacking around Denali National Park, we decided to return home and kidnap Jack for a local hike.  I had broken our Denali trip into three phases, the first two phases, though rainy the last two days, were so spectacular that we decided not to conclude with the final phase, but save the grand finale for another trip (this was 5 days packrafting to Bus 142 via the Toklat River then return via the Wyoming Hills and through the East Fork Toklat drainage).  

It took a couple hours of Fairbanks sunshine to dry out our soggy gear, then we packed back up, grabbed two days of food, and headed for the Chena hills.  Around mile 50 of Chena Hot Springs Road the Chena Dome Trail begins and ends from two separate parking lots.  We started from the Upper Chena Dome parking lot, and finished at the Lower Chena Dome parking lot.  They are only 1.5 miles apart, and walking the road is almost easier then stressing about a shuttle.  The trail, a thirty mile C-shaped "loop," is sure to be a classic.

When we left the parking lot thursday morning, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, it was bound to be a spectacular hike.  The trail switchbacks through gorgeous birch forests for about a mile, then crosses into various degrees of burned out forest fire for another two miles before breaking above tree line.

Always capturing my eye, Fireweed

These trees were knotty

Around mile 2.5 we lost the trail.  Several hundred feet below a bluff at tree line, the trail became indistinguishable from the rest of the forest.  We ended up bushwhacking for about twenty minutes walking strait up hill, wandering through a forest in various stages of post forest fire regrowth.

For about twenty five miles the trail rises and falls along a series of ridges.  With an elevation gain of almost 15,000 feet, it seemed nearly every "mini" dome along the ridge climbed at least 700 feet.  The walking was easy once along a ridge line, but strenuous constantly gaining and loosing elevation.   Once out of the safety of thick trees the wind picked up.  Clouds began to darken and move in quickly from the north.  It seemed as if the storm was chasing us around the ridge line.

Another climb

At mile 8.5 the hillside is scattered with ruins from a 1950's military airplane crash.  Some parts, like the fuselage, and one engine, are obvious.  Other pieces seem to have timelessly become part of the landscape.  Gadgets and gizmos of avionic origin are scattered all over the tundra.  We took only pictures, touched nothing, thinking about how many souls might have been lost in the crash, and wondering what sort of weather conditions brought this plane down.

Finally, Chena Dome was insight, 4421 feet

The summit of Chena Dome is anticlimactic.  After spending hours hiking along the wandering ridge, the summit just seems to be another ridge.  It is obviously higher then the rest, but adorned with a communications station makes for unnatural objects in the foreground.  After snapping two shots, we became wary of the ever present storm, and continued onward.  Our goal, a trail shelter at mile 17.

The shelter is rustic at best, but a welcome sight in the midst of foul weather.  We cherished not having to set up our tent and cook in the rain.  Inside, there was a wood stove, bench to sleep one, and plenty of floor space for three more people.  We found several holes in the floor and wall that appeared to be chewed through.  We also found lots of trash left behind from previous occupants.  I ended up carrying out a large bag of trash, and Jack volunteered to carry more trash in his doggy-backpack.

I made one large mistake on this overnight backpacking trip- we didn't bring enough water.  I typically carry two liters, and a purifier.  I think I drink more water then the average hiker, but opt for more frequent stops to fill up and purify, instead of just carrying more liters.  In most places in Alaska, you can get way with this method.  Being fairly new to hiking in this part of the state, I expected more springs or water sources on or near the ridge, there were none.  The trail description found on the state park website lists several places to get water.  This is probably the case for early season hiking right after snowmelt, but not by the end of July.  There were no places once on the ridge to get water, none.  Around the summit of Chena Dome I suggested we start conserving water, saving at least one bottle to cook dinner and breakfast with, then "nurse" our other bottles along with small infrequent sips.  At the shelter I was surprised and excited to see a rain water collection system.  Jack was also very happy.  He seemed quite exhausted carrying his little pack up and over all the climbs.  He brought his own one liter water bottle and drank that within the first couple miles.  Upon arriving to the shelter Jack saw the rain barrel at the same time as me, he promptly parked himself alongside the barrel, and attempted to drink it dry.  Luckily a few minutes later there was plenty of water left for Gretchen and I.

In near perfect timing, just after settling inside the shelter the heavens opened up.  Wind shook and rattled the tiny shelter as rain droplets became weapons pelting its sides.  Throughout the night the storm grew and blew through in various stages.  I built a fire using some dry wood found in the shelter. The fire only briefly warmed the uninsulated shelter, the real enduring warmth came when we climbed into sleeping bags on the floor for the night.  The next morning the storm continued.  Thankfully, we packed our bags in the dry security of the shelter after making breakfast.  It was obvious we would be hiking in wind and rain as long as we were upon the exposed ridges.

The thirteen miles from the shelter to the parking lot tested our abilities to navigate through inhospitable conditions.  Visibility was at best 75-100 feet ahead of us at any one time, often it was worse.  The trail is littered with large rock cairns, which during inclement weather don't seem close enough for easy navigating.  We checked our map and trail description often.  Our usual pace of 20-30 minute miles became 45 minute miles, and sometimes slower.  We never actually lost the trail, nor did we really end up hiking any extra distance due to the weather, but we did spend a lot of extra time moving at a pace comparable to crawling while searching through the fog for those precious trail markers.  The trail had various places where false ridges dropped into the fog, making terrain association decision making essential to successful navigation.  It seemed intuitive to me the trail went in a certain direction.  Though at first sight, it appeared no different from other directions.  Taking a navigational leap of faith, it always seemed to workout in our favor.  After seven hours we made it back to the protection of thick birch stands at tree line, and a well defined trail all the way to the parking lot.

In good weather I would love to hike this route in one day.  It would be a push, but really fun to trail run.  The risk is the exposure when foul weather moves in.  I don't care to hike this trail again under such stormy foggy conditions, but its Alaska, so you don't always get that choice...

Final Note: Chena Hot Springs is about six miles down the road, after hiking thirty miles soaking in to warm water is a great way to sooth weary legs and tired shoulders.