Walking on a Glacier

On August 12, 2017, our cruise ship pulled into port at Juneau, Alaska. The air was cold and crisp. Both my husband and I were excited and a little scared about our next adventure. We were going to tour in a helicopter, then land on the Mendenhall Glacier and walk on ice. To tell you the truth, I had never written “walking on a glacier” as one of my bucket-list-must-do-items, but once I got into the thrill of the activity, I was ready to try this new challenge. We were driven to the Juneau airport. One amazing fact that I didn’t know about Juneau is that it is landlocked. There are no roads leading into or out of Juneau. The only way to get in and out is by boat or air. The large glaciers and the mountainous forests keep the city landlocked and unable to expand.

We were given a pair of snow boots, ski pants, a ski jacket, and helmet to wear. We were handed a pair of ice axes, a small backpack for our equipment, and a trekking pole; a fancy word for a walking stick with a metal point that pokes the ice to determine depth.

They escorted us to the helicopter. I was seated by weight in the front seat of the helicopter. I love helicopter flights. I’ve hovered over spewing volcanic lava, rugged porous sandstone coastlines, and on this flight, we glided over the most magnificent glacier in Alaska. The view was splendid, filled with mountains of massive snow drifts, remarkable ice sculptures changing with each turn of the blades. I was awestruck looking into the deep blue water that flowed beneath the virtual winter wonderland below. I was overwhelmed by the majesty and power of this glacier. Everywhere I looked it was a breathtaking view with swirls of snow and ice blocks that kept changing shapes as we flew by.

As the helicopter landed on the ice, anxiety grabbed my heart. We disembarked and cautiously shuffled our feet across the crunchy slippery ice to the guide’s orange tent staked in the ice to keep it from blowing away. The ice was filled with a kaleidoscope of all shapes and sizes. It was also scary as we shuffled one foot at a time, holding hands, slowing making our way toward the tent 25 feet away. At the tent we were given Crampons to fit onto our boots. They reminded me of the vintage metal adjustable skates I skated on during my childhood. Once we put on the crampons, three metal prongs extended forward and angled down from the toe of our boots. They were our brakes and the ice cutters for our feet. They would secure our footing in the slippery and hard-to-get-traction ice.

The guides taught us a few strategies for glacier walking, and off we marched behind our guides to explore this magical world. We were just learning how to coordinate all of our equipment, crampons and trekking poles, when my husband commented, “You know that blue color underneath the ice is deep rushing water? If the ice breaks it will sweep us away?” “Thanks, honey!” I muttered… I really didn’t want to think about being sucked into a swirling, bottomless blue lake with freezing temperatures.… I suggested we focus on walking in the same footprints as our guides. They seemed to know which sections of the ice were safe to hike on.

We spent an hour learning to use our tools while we diligently stayed together exploring the changing textures of the glacier. We traipsed through mushy, crunchy, slick, and smooth ice. We saw changes in the depth of the blue water under the ice. We walked on white powdery snow.

The guides told us that we were going to climb up an ice wall. I thought they were talking about us climbing an ice wall like one of those rock climbing walls in a gym. We practiced walking up and down the hills using our trekking pole and crampons. I needed a little extra help from our guides to walk sideways up the hills so I would be prepared to climb this mysterious ice wall.

One of the men in our group was a daredevil. He was having a great time jumping from extra high mounds of snow and wandering off to find the newest ramp he could conquer. He reminded me of a little boy in

Photos courtesy of Dr. Deena Stacer

By Dr. Deena Stacer

a classroom who was always being asked by the teacher to stop being so adventurous and come back to his seat. The guide politely requested he stay with the group and stop exploring on his own. I laughed at the scenario. I liked this guy. Watching him was intriguing because he

wasn’t afraid of the ice, he was totally engrossed in the experience.

Trekking all over the ice was an amazing adventure. It didn’t feel that cold, partially because of our clothing, and partially because I was feeling an incredible exhilaration inside, trying to capture every moment with all my senses. This was truly a once-in-alifetime-event. I thought that the biggest risk wasn’t jumping off a snowdrift. It was getting too close to the edge of one of several gargantuan crevasses flowing with tons of icy cold rushing blue water, which disappeared into the center of the ice. One false

step on the ice and it would be goodbye forever. I stayed 8 feet from these edges.

We were told that the glacier is melting every day, and, in a few years, there would be no ice trekking or climbing mammoth glaciers in Alaska. I wasn’t sure if this was just a promotion by the tour company or if it was a fact. I just knew that I felt so alive at the moment, and either way, I wanted to make the most of this delightful moment.

We were given more time to practice using our ice axes and crampons, walking through frozen water above the surface and exploring the length of the sections we could walk on. It was finally time to climb the mysterious vertical ice wall and our guided pointed out the wall. It stunned me. It was over 30 feet high! They told us that we were going to climb to the top of the rim. For a moment I questioned whether I could do it. I looked at the daredevil and suggested he be the first one to try, since he was not afraid of jumping from snow mounds several feet tall. I wanted to see how scary it was for him to climb this giant wall of frozen water. He gladly stepped forward.

The guides attached a rope around his waist, while the other end was secured over the top of the ice wall. Then the guide took that end to create a pulley system. I watched the daredevil scramble up the ice wall without straining. He made it look so easy. He gave me confidence that I could do it too.

My husband was ready to climb next, but his boots needed tightening around his ankles. When he bent down to tighten his laces, I immediately volunteered to go. I was excited and curious. I wandered if I could get to the top of the ice as easily as the daredevil? I donned the rope. I started climbing the ice. I raised my right foot about 12 inches off the ground and swung my boot with crampons straight into the ice; I succeeded. I had made my first rung of the ladder in the ice. Now stretching my right arm above my head and to the right, I swung my ice axe and slammed it into the ice. I hit the ice and the axe’s blade sunk into the ice. I smiled. This was cool. I pulled my left foot up to a higher position than my right foot and kicked my boot hard into the icy wall. My crampon grabbed the ice, and I was off the ground. I then swung my left arm above my head with my pickaxe and it grabbed a spot in the ice. I had succeeded at getting all four limbs into position to climb to the top. Then I started again with my right foot, slamming my crampon into the ice a few feet above my last position, then my right arm getting my blade into the ice a little higher than my last, and each move I made created a rhythm, right foot, right arm, left foot, left arm, axe in ice, crampon in ice. I was moving up the ice easily and steadily. Sometimes, I had to kick my foot into the ice a couple of times to get my crampon to grab that strong toehold. Sometimes I had to swing my pick a few times to get the blade to sink into the ice. I was having fun. It was exhilarating! I was surprised that I was climbing the ice so easily with just an hour of training. I worked my way up the ice to about 15 feet from the top with this consistent pattern of movement.

My husband’s boots were now tightened, and he looked around for me. He suddenly realized that I was half-way up the ice wall, and he hadn’t even seen me do it. He grabbed his phone, taking video of my climb. He was shouting to me, “Wow, Deena!” “Look at her go!” “That’s my wife!” I was chuckling at him since I was having such a

great time. He wanted everyone else to see me.

About this time the ice suddenly changed. It became slippery, looking like an ice cube that melted, then froze again. The ice was shinny and slick. I had to swing with more force to get the blade of my axe to dent and grab the ice. I was now moving at a snail’s pace. Each move up the wall took more energy, more effort, and more concentration. I had to kick my boot into the ice several times to get my crampons to catch hold. My arms were a little shaky because of the extra force I was exerting. My limbs began to feel heavier to lift. Each step up took more swings, more kicks, and more effort. I knew that the rope was around my waist and I wasn’t worried about falling, but I was using more and more physical effort. Even though it was harder to climb, I was falling in love with this journey up the ice wall.

As I worked my way up, my mind exploded with possibilities of all the opportunities I could still do in my life. I was thinking about other experiences in my life that I had not yet tried. I didn’t even know whether they existed. I had never considered all life’s magnificent experiences I could conquer. What about experiences that I had decided were too hard for me to do? I could go for those too! During the hardest moments on the ice, I was filled with deeper confidence and wild enthusiasm! I realized that I had not been thinking big enough, deep enough, or wide enough about my life! It wasn’t just the physical challenges I was thinking about. If I could climb a 30-foot ice wall, I could certainly create a nobler, worthier, and more exhilarating life, even if it took more concentration, preparation and working harder than I had ever worked before.

I was finally 12 inches from the top of the rim and my husband shouted to me, “Deena, what do you have to say for yourself?” I turned to him, hanging by one axe blade and one crampon in the ice and the rope, and I sang a few bars of the Sound of Music song, “The hills are alive with the sound of music!” Jeff was ecstatic! I had climbed a 30-foot ice wall on the Mendenhall Glacier, something I’d never even dreamed about before that day.

As I backed my way down the ice, using the rope as a pulley, I knew that this was one of the best moments in my life. It was different than bringing a child into the world. In a few moments of life on the ice, I had become a better person. I had done something very few people in the world will ever do. And I felt such wonder and joy inside. It was pure bliss!

The glacier had been awe-inspiring and intimidating. It could have been dangerous if I had been careless or untrained. Instead, I felt privileged, special, and powerful. I had proven to myself I could face a giant and steadily reach the top of a slippery-icy 30-foot glacial wall all by myself!

When I hit the ground, all I wanted to do was to climb that wall again. The guide told me we had run out of time and we needed to head back to the helicopter. I was disappointed because I wanted to take advantage of these moments on the glacier. I wanted to lock in this memorable experience forever in my mind!

Everyone on Facebook saw the video of me singing at the top of the ice wall. They told me how brave I was; how they could never do that. But I realized that I wasn’t as courageous as they believed, instead I had just practiced taking one baby step at a time until I was at the top of 30-foot icy giant.

I believe bravery is a matter of perception and experience. I didn’t feel as brave as my friends believed I was; however, I was the one who had walked on a glacier and lived to share it!

I decided that my next adventure was going to be walking on fire. How many people can say, “I’ve walked on fire and ice!!”