The Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic is an adventure challenge that espouses purity of style and zero impact. Started in 1982 as a 150-mile (240 km) wilderness traverse, the Classic has crossed various mountain ranges throughout Alaska with some routes covering nearly 250 miles (400 km). Traditionally, the same route has been used for three years in a row, with each year being a different month (June, July, or August). The organization of the challenge is grass-roots, having no affiliation to any organization or group.
The rules are simple: start to finish with no outside support, requiring that participants carry all food and equipment; human-powered; leave no trace; and rescue is up to the individual to resolve. The most common form of transportation is by foot and packraft, although bicycles, skis, and paragliders have been used by intrepid participants.
After years of eyeing the Classic, I finally decided to participate in 2023. This report is mainly a photo and video report.
The 2022-2024 course
The 2022-2024 course starts at the Little Tok River end ends in McCarthy. The ~190mi (310km) route crosses the Wrangell–St. Elias National Park, although there is no prescribed route between the start and the finish. Participants sometimes take wildly different routes. Choosing your own route is part of the Classic.
The Alaska Mountain Wilderness Challenge (AMWC) 2023. Nothing too crazy.
The movie
Pre-race dinner
Pizza and scary stories.
I was convinced that I needed a dry suit.
At the start
My setup at the start in the “gravel pit.”
Waiting for the night that never falls.
I slept a solid 12h.
Everybody was busy packing and doing last minute prep in the morning.
9:40am…we were all eager to finally get going.
Everything in between
At the finish
7 participants were still out there when I finished.
On Sat, Jul 22, 2023, I started (see announcement) for an unsupported attempt of the 360 mile (580 km) Bigfoot Trail. That didn’t go well. I failed rather miserably and regrettably. This was supposed to be a dress rehearsal and confidence booster for the next big(er) thing. It wasn’t. I failed because of underestimating the trail, the heat, the pack weight, and overestimating my capabilities. You can call it poor planning. I blame my spreadsheets. In any case, it was yet another humbling learning experience.
I failed to complete an unsupported Bigfoot trail FKT.
The Bigfoot Trail route. Source: WP. License: CC BY-SA 4.0.
Day 1
It was clear to me from the beginning and from the (limited) recon that the Bigfoot Trail is not the PCT. Instead, it is a “[…] route description as a suggested way to travel, by foot, through the Klamath Mountains. The route is comprised of existing hiking trails and vehicle roads on public lands as a legal rights-of-way.”
Driving to the start was already quite the adventure. I left the trailhead at 4am sharp with a pack that weighed more than 40lbs. Needless to say that the going was painfully slow. I kept moving and figured every step would be a step in the right direction.
There was more water on day one than I had expected. However, the heat was really getting to me and affected my speed greatly. I cranked out 37mi, which was a real struggle, given the heavy pack, the trail conditions, and the heat. 37mi was just barely over my worst case spreadsheet scenario. But alas, things would only get worse.
The morning hours were nice and cool, yet, within a few hours of sunrise, the temperature was frequently well over 100F, especially in exposed areas or burnt forests. A lot of road was waiting for me on day 2 and 3. I was unable to make it to Hayfork and called it a day a few miles before town. Once again, I had just done about 36mi, barely the worst case scenario, for which I did not have enough food.
Day 3
Day 3 started with a cute fox following me and screaming several times. This was the first time I had heard a fox scream. The scream is not as bone-chilling as a cougar scream.
Otherwise the day turned out to be a terrible road day. I did 39mi on roads, mostly paved. That completely ruined my feet and mind. I guess roads are the curse of most long-distance trails. To connect wildernesses and other fabulous areas, you often have to deal with gravel or paved roads that connect these areas. It’s the price of admission, so to speak.
Road. Paved.
Feet. Blistered.
Canyon Creek was very lovely, despite the paved road, the heat, and all the private properties. Lots of great swimming holes.
The heat required regular breaks and naps when shade was available.
Day 4
On day 4 I fell well behind my target pace. Traversing the Trinity Alps Wilderness was amazing, yet very slow and demanding. While the major arteries in the wilderness were golden, most of the trails I was on were not maintained. There was significant bushwhacking and hopping over downed trees involved.
By the Stuart Fork crossing, the most difficult crossing of the entire Bigfoot Trail, I met two forest service rangers. They warned me that I may not be able to cross over to Caribou Lake on what they called the “caribou scramble” and “suicide pass.” They emphasized that those names existed for a reason and asked whether I had microspikes. I did not. The rangers also suggested I take a zero day at the bottom of the ridge and tackle the challenging climb in the morning, when the heat would be less brutal. Right, a zero day with limited food supplies.
Well, I was going to be there just after lunch, in the middle of day, when the heat and the exposure would be brutal. I can confirm it was. The views were great, however.
I was hoping to make it to the Caribou Lake trailhead that day, but that seemed increasingly unlikely as the day went on. The only reasonable campsite on the way down into the valley was taken by two guys. They wished me luck and said that the next flat spot would be at least 5mi away. I decided to hammer that out. It was midnight when I reached the Big Flat campground at the trailhead.
At the campground, two guys were still entertaining a huge fire while drinking beer. We chatted about Michael Kaufmann’s book for a bit. They failed to offer me a beer, which I would have had to refuse anyway since I was going unsupported.
I set up my camp quickly, but was unable to sleep. Instead, I spent almost an hour over maps and pace tables to see what was still possible at this (late) point in time. It was becoming increasingly clear that I would neither have enough food nor time to complete the trail in an unsupported fashion. I estimated that I would probably need at least 2 days more than my worst-case scenario predicted.
However, there was no way that I could add two more days beyond what I had already planned because of work commitments.
I finally fell asleep and decided to get breakfast at the Mountain Meadow Resort in the morning to load up on some dearly needed calories. Needless to say that the attempt would now be self-supported instead of unsupported. Because of the heat, I had been unable to eat properly and, in addition, it was obvious that I simply didn’t have packed enough calories for the pack weight and pace I had.
So…basically, I was in trouble. I finally fell asleep to the sound of tiny frogs jumping on my tarp, sleeping bag, and face. It was not a relaxing night.
Example of a perfectly maintained trail.
Making my way toward the Sawtooth Ridge Trail.
The trail goes UP. A lot.
Emerald and Sapphire lakes in the background.
Almost at the top of the ridge…
Still lots of snow on the north side of the ridge. Caribou Lake was beautiful.
Fabulous granite everywhere.
Making my way down to Caribou Lake trailhead.
On the long downhill through burnt forests to the Caribou Lake trailhead.
Day 5
After a decent breakfast I felt slightly more energized, yet my legs still felt like rubber and my pack was only slowly getting lighter.
I climbed the 7,822ft high Packer’s Peak, the high point of the Bigfoot trail. Sadly, there wasn’t much of a trail because the forest on and around the peak is essentially all burnt. Still, many remains of gold mines could be seen. The climb took me longer than I wanted it to be. So did the descent, and the next climb. The ground was soft ash, the trail surface was mostly gone, and the heat was once again rather brutal.
Just after Rush Creek Lake I unexpectedly met a big Bigfoot trail maintenance crew. We chatted for a while. That was a great energy boost and left me hopeful that perhaps there would still be a way to complete the trail within the time and food constraints I had. They cheered me on as I left in the literal and proverbial dust.
I made it to the Pass Trail Creek campground and called it a day. I had fallen even more behind my worst case scenario. At that point, I had basically given up and decided that this unsupported FKT attempt was cursed.
Great views from the summit of Packer’s Peak (7,822ft). Lassen Peak in the background to the right.
More burnt forests…
…with brush that has grown back. What you don’t see is the soft and ashy surface that makes moving extra exhausting.
Making my way through the literal dust.
Day 6
This happened to be my (65th) birthday. When I reached the beautiful Russian Lake in the Russian Wilderness, I decided that I would spend the day there, lying in the sun, calling it quits, while waiting for my bailout ride. I did laundry, swam, tanned, got sunburnt, drank Pedialyte, and ate delicious cold-soaked Ziploc meals. I did not have a cake.
Day 7
The next morning I hiked out 10mi to the Idlewild campground where Ursina picked me up. She had driven through the entire night.
