We set off on our Alaskan adventure early one Saturday morning in June, aiming to visit the eight national parks scattered across the largest state in America.

Our adventure began with three days in Gustavus and Glacier Bay National Park. Next, we flew to Anchorage, where we picked up a car to drive to Seward and Kenai Fjords National Park. Now, as we enter our second week in Alaska, we're heading to McCarthy for two days of hiking and river rafting in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.

This diary-style travelogue—a 7-part blog series—shares all the adventures from our trip of a lifetime. Join us as we recap the unforgettable journey… 21 days, 8 national parks, and 1 Great Alaskan Road Trip!

(#1) Alaska Road Trip Diaries: Goodbye Service, Hello Adventure in Glacier Bay
(#2) Alaska Road Trip Diaries: Dog Sledding, Ice Climbing, & Sea Kayaking in Kenai Fjords
(#3) Alaska Road Trip Diaries: Exploring America’s Largest National Park
(#4-5) Alaska Road Trip Diaries: ‘Alone’ in Gates of the Arctic & Kobuk Valley
(#6) Alaska Road Trip Diaries: Camping with Bears in Katmai Nat’l Park
(#7) Alaska Road Trip Diaries: Bus Tours, Scenic Hikes, and Denali's 30% Club
(#8) Alaska Road Trip Diaries: Stunning Coastal Scenery and Bears in Lake Clark Nat’l Park

Planning your own Alaskan adventure? Get our complete itinerary and Alaska Travel Guide here!

Day 9: Root Glacier Hike & Blue Pool Jump

Our alarms ring later than most mornings since we’ve been in Alaska. It’s about 7:30am, and we’ve slept great. We get dressed, pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, and take turns walking outside to use the outhouse out back. (Of course, only after pausing about ten steps away to announce your arrival… Remember this is a shared outhouse and, in case I forgot to mention this last time, it has NO DOOR, just a screen protector to keep out the bugs 😅)

There’s no cell coverage nor WiFi in our cabin, so we’re ready for the day fairly quickly. (Jon’s a trooper with the lack of service, considering it is free agency season for the National Basketball Association (NBA) and his favorite time of the year to be on Twitter—specifically ‘NBA Twitter!’—for basketball news and drama!)

We walk about 15 minutes to the “Bus Stop” outside of Blackburn Cabins and wait to get picked up.

It’s BUGGY here. Buggy buggy. As in, dozens of mosquitos on your person at all times. In your hair. On your shirt. Biting through your pants. We’re thankful for a heads up this would be the case, and put on our hats and bug nets while waiting.

We get picked up by a town shuttle bus and continue following the rocky road a few miles into the town of Kennicott, where we find an old mining town and a small national park visitor center. From here, we’ll have access to the popular Root Glacier in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.

Our guide’s office is also in Kennicott, so we walk inside to check in. You don’t need a guide to hike Root Glacier, but it’s helpful to have a guide, or at least some local knowledge, and crampons for your boots if you want to get on the ice. As we’re checking in, we notice there are a few tours going out to Root Glacier today, including the full-day hike we’re on, a half-day hike, and an ice-climbing expedition.

Jonathan and I exchange a look.

“Soooo,” he begins to inquire casually, “We found out yesterday that my wife’s toenail is infected, and she can’t put much pressure on it. Is there any chance we could switch to the half-day glacier hike instead of the full-day tour?”

Their policy says no cancellations within 48 hours, so we’re prepared to make it work, but we’re stoked when told we can move to the half-day tour and even receive a partial refund for doing so. We’ll still get to hike on the glacier, just will have less time to explore and therefore get back a few hours earlier. It might not sound like a lot, but with how full our itinerary has been so far, getting back in the afternoon versus evening sounds amazing.

We meet our new guide and get fitted for crampons, then our group of 10 start in the direction of Root Glacier. It’s about a 1.5-mile one-way hike through town and along the Root Glacier Trail before we get to a set of switchbacks that’ll take us down the mountain and to the entrance of the glacier.

We sample a few foraged flowers along the way. (I forgot to mention we also did this during our kayak trip in Kenai Fjords National Park. While kayaking, we sampled something that was supposed to taste like a dill pickle. It did not. This time, we sampled a flower that was supposed to taste like a garnish on a salad. It was a flower, so it basically did.)

It’s a gorgeous, sunny day with blue skies and spectacular views in every direction! Wrangell-St. Elias National Park is the largest national park in the United States, and the vastness of the landscape mirrors its claim to fame. It’s grand.

How large is Wrangell-St. Elias National Park? It’s about the size of Vermont and New Hampshire. Of the approximately 7,000 glaciers in Alaska, almost half (roughly 3200) are in this park alone. And today, we’re on our way to walk the most accessible one of all: Root Glacier.

(Fun Aside: This is also a dog-friendly glacier! Although Lincoln is home living the good life with her Grandma, it’s fun to see lots of other dogs out and about this 4th of July weekend. Many of them are off-leash and loving life because Kennicott is a super dog-friendly town.)

The switchbacks toward the glacier's entrance are steep, but our group takes it slow. Soon enough, we’re sitting on large rocks at the bottom, lacing the crampons we carried onto our boots.

We’re crampon pros now, thanks to our ice-climbing adventure on Exit Glacier last week, so we feel great walking onto Root Glacier for the first time. The sun creates a totally different glacier experience, both in visibility, as we explore the texture and divots along the surface of the ice, and in temperature. It’s warm, and we’re actually shedding layers, as opposed to putting multiple on last week.

We get to one particularly scenic area, and Jonathan comments it looks like “The Wave” of Glaciers, in reference to the wave-like hills in front of us. It reminds us of The Wave in Arizona but with no lottery needed to get here… just a looooong 60-mile drive down McCarthy Road, a walk over a footbridge, and a shuttle bus into town, ha!

At the midway point of our hike, we stop for lunch by a beautiful blue glacier pool. As we’re taking pictures and feeling the cold water with our fingers, our guide asks, “Do you want to jump in?”

Most of us laugh, assuming she’s joking, and take a seat to eat lunch. But Jonathan’s wheels are turning. He asks whether people actually jump in. And apparently, they do. Somewhat often. Even more, our guide has all the necessary equipment should he want to. (Like, a rope to make sure he can get out and a pad to use for getting in and out so he doesn’t cut his knees or hands on the sharp glacier ice.)

Jonathan and I are now eating our packed lunches too, but he’s still debating internally. He’s never done a “polar plunge” or similar before, but today feels as good as any day to do so. After all, we’re in Alaska, on a beautiful glacier in the biggest and one of the most remote national parks in the United States, with the sun shining, a clear sky, and additional warm layers in his bag.

Jonathan looks at me, clearly wanting to jump, and I say, “Well… I do have a towel!”

This seems to seal the deal. Jonathan informs the guide he’s doing the blue pool jump!!! 😮😮

In no time, we’re walking to the edge of the small pool. Our guide sets up a pad with a rope so Jonathan can safely enter and exit the icy water, and Jonathan undresses to just his shorts. There’s an audience now. Our group, plus another group, are standing around to cheer him on.

We count backward from three, and then… he jumps!!! Into a beautiful blue pool of icy cold water on Root Glacier in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park!

The water’s freezing (expectedly so), and you can tell it literally takes his breath away on impact. He plunges under the surface of the water, which is dozens of feet deep - you can’t see the bottom, before resurfacing with the safety rope still in hand.

We erupt in cheers! And continue cheering as Jonathan climbs out with help from our guide and signals to me for the towel. “Cold,” he says, “but refreshing.”

Jonathan’s the only one to jump so far this morning, but by the time we get off the glacier and back up the steep switchbacks, we’re all wishing for a dip in refreshingly cold water. It’s not just sunny today; it’s hot. It’s a hot weekend day and, apparently, the busiest it’s been all season. We’d heard McCarthy was a great place to celebrate the fourth in Alaska, but even our guides are surprised by how many large groups and parties are here.

We wait in multiple traffic jams as we follow the path back to the top.

After continuing the trail all the way back to Kennicott, we hand in our crampons, and Jonathan gets something in return. It’s an authenticated certificate of achievement for his blue pool jump! It reads… “This certificate is proudly presented to Jonathan Welch. For an outstanding example of will, bravery, and thermoregulation, we at St. Elias Alpine Guides hereby award you this Certificate of an authenticated Blue Pool Jump. The above certified jumper did indeed sturdily immerse themselves in a frigid and invigorating, ice-cold glacier pool. We do solemnly acknowledge this act of undoubted courage and vitality and hold their spirit of adventure in the highest regard.”

As his head grows by three well-deserved sizes, Jonathan then gets to sign his name to a small board of Blue Pool Jumpers and forever cement his legacy on Root Glacier in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.

We walk around town to celebrate, grab ciders and tour the small Kennicott visitor center, then finally board a shuttle bus back to Blackburn Cabins.

My toe can handle precisely zero more steps, so I heat some water by kettle to soak (there’s no hot water or microwave) while Jon walks into town for dinner. We enjoy a much-needed slow and quiet night in.

Tomorrow, we’re doing something I have wanted to do for a VERY long time!!!

Day 10: River Rafting, Drive to Fairbanks

There have been quite a few “what is this life?” kind of thoughts while here in McCarthy.

Last night, while sleeping with the windows open because there’s no AC and it was a hot 80-degree day, we were kept awake by neighbors partying next door. The very same neighbors we’d pass on the way to the shared outhouse, the one with just a screen for a door.

We’re in a small town, without cell service or a car easily accessible. (Our car’s still down the road and over the footbridge in a parking lot at “Base Camp”.) There are bugs everywhere. We’ve got a dozen bites and counting. And now, we’re packing our things to check out before our final adventure in Wrangell-St. Elias and that includes packing out our trash. (Because the closest landfill is 130 miles away, and packing out trash is a huge help to the town.)

Sure, we’re embracing it all as we navigate our Great Alaskan Road Trip, but it’s not a stretch to say we’re far outside our comfort zone. Personally, I feel so outside my comfort zone that I sort of feel like one of those TV characters humorously wondering how the paths in her life have led her here.

But there’s not a lot of time to reflect this morning because we’re getting picked up early to drive back to the McCarthy Footbridge so we can walk across, collect our car, and drive 1/4 of a mile up the road for today’s adventure.

And today’s adventure is one I’m VERY excited about!!!!

It’s barely 7am but we pass group after group on our way to the footbridge, all still seemingly celebrating from the night before. Passing one of these groups, our local host says, “You come here for either wholesome fun or to kill your liver 🍻 … Or sometimes both!”

We collect our car from Base Camp and drive a short way up McCarthy Road to get checked in. The excitement’s building. We’re about to do something I have wanted to do for a long time.

We’re going river rafting!!!!!!!!!!

Once we get our dry suits on, our guide leads us to the water and our boat for the day. It’s just us and our guide in a small boat, which is simultaneously scary (it’s all on you!) and thrilling (you get to experience every bump, jump, and wave!).

We paddle around a lake at the base of Kennicott River for about an hour to enjoy the view and get comfortable with the basics of rafting. We learn how to paddle together and follow the various commands we’ll use to navigate the rapids. Then, we met up with other rafters that’ll be in boats in front and behind ours to do a safety talk while standing atop a big iceberg.

After our guide’s routine kick-off backflip into the icy water, it’s GO TIME.

I have wanted to raft for SO. LONG. and I’m stoked to be on the water with a guide who normally does overnight rafting trips. He clearly feels very comfortable on the water and has such a relaxed demeanor for this half-day trip that we feel just excited, not nervous. (Okay, maybe we’re feeling a small amount of nerves. Jumping in the water voluntarily is one thing, but falling in the water after getting bucked off the boat would be another!)

As we’re finally paddling toward the first rapid, our guide asks, “On a scale of 1 to 10… 1 being I’m taking my Grandma rafting and 10 being I’m out with the buddies to have a good time… Where do you want your experience to be today?”

The pages and pages of paperwork requiring us to sign our lives away before getting on this raft flash through my mind. This rafting excursion came with more disclaimers than ice climbing, flightseeing, and sea kayaking combined. “Let’s start with a 7 and leave the option on the table to increase from there.” (We’re adventurous, but we’re not reckless. Let’s make sure we like rafting first, right?)

Turns out, we L.O.V.E it. Both of us. We raft for about 4 miles, starting with two Class 3 rapids before finishing with a few Class 2s. We’re having SO. MUCH. FUN, and every time our guide gives us the opportunity to take things up a notch by paddling directly for a bump, drop, or whirlpool, we joyfully accept.

(When talking about the class of a rapid, here’s what one of the guides shared with us. Think of Class 2 rapids like you’re encountering a deer. You’ll probably be fine, even if you don’t know what you’re doing. Think of Class 3 rapids like encountering a black bear. Know what you’re doing, and you’ll probably be fine.)

Our feet are freezing from soaking in puddles of water at the base of the raft, but we don’t care. This is the best rollercoaster of our lives (one that does not come with motion sickness for adults). And there’s nothing like the feeling of hovering mid-air after the boat makes contact with a rapid at just the right angle and speed. Even if I almost buck Jonathan out of the boat with a slight overcorrection during one particularly big bump… whoops!!!

Turns out rafting is pretty intuitive. When the rapid tries to push the boat right, you shift your weight left. When the rapid bucks the boat, you engage your foot holds and your core for better body control.

The water sprays us as we land on the water again and again, and as we level out for a final time, I turn around to face our guide with a huge grin. “Let’s go for a 10 on our next rapid!!”

“We’re done,” our guide replies with a returning smile. “That’s it for today.” Pointing to the shores on the right, he continues, “We hop out right up here. But you guys should really consider an overnight rafting trip sometime because I think you’d love it.”

Our first experience with river rafting is phenomenal, and while it ends at the perfect time for our drive still ahead, we clearly could keep going. But alas, we’re at our exit location and begrudgingly board a bus back to the office to pick up our car. McCarthy’s remoteness might be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for us 😅 but we’ll certainly be back on the rapids one day!!!

A few hours later, we’re breathing a sigh of relief as we turn off McCarthy Road and back onto the highway.

We’ve survived McCarthy Road and are done with challenging Alaskan drives… or so we think, dun dun dun. We get back to the Wrangell-St. Elias Visitor Center about 10 minutes to 5pm, which also happens to be 10 minutes to close. As in, they’re about to lock the gates for the night. Unfortunately, we can’t go inside to tour the visitor center as we hoped, so we quickly use the restroom (with running water!) and dump our trash before continuing. We stop for gas, make peanut butter & jelly sandwiches for a snack, and keep driving to Fairbanks with our audio novel playing on Hoopla.

Our drive is less dramatic in landscape than the drive to Seward or Wrangell, but it’s beautiful in a different way. There are still gorgeous mountain views to enjoy, but overall, it’s much flatter land, lined with thousands of skinny spruce trees.

We see a hawk, a rainbow during a sun shower, a moose grazing on the side of the road, and even a moose hanging out smack dab in the middle of the road. We’re able to pull safely to the side for our first moose sightings in Alaska and take a few pictures.

Around 9:30pm, we make it to Fairbanks, and I cannot emphasize enough how happy we are to be here for the night. We have a PRIVATE toilet that’s INSIDE our unit, and it feels as luxurious as it sounds. We take our time getting ready for bed, enjoying all the modern amenities we can.

Day 11: Dalton Highway to Coldfoot

Finally, we have a slow morning for laundry, showers, and a little bit of rest.

The only thing on our agenda today is a 6-hour drive to Coldfoot, Alaska. Then, we’ll check into a campground (that’s first come, first serve, so fingers crossed for plenty of spots 🤞) and get to sleep early for a day of flightseeing the next two national parks on our list: Kobuk Valley and Gates of the Arctic National Parks.

It’s an uneventful morning doing laundry and getting organized, then we’re back in the car and on our way north. We’re feeling pretty good about today, listening to music on the radio while we drive, and then we pass a large billboard on the left-hand side of the road.

It’s got a stop sign 🛑 in its upper left-hand corner, and it reads, “Driving the Dalton Highway? Stop here for important safety information.”

Dalton Highway is the only road to Coldfoot, so we pull over to keep reading.

“The Dalton Highway stretches 414 miles across northern Alaska from Livengood to Deadhorse. Though considered to be the trip of a lifetime, it involves real risks and challenges. Being properly prepared is of upmost importance!”

The sign goes on to share there are three gas stations over the next 400+ miles, at Miles 56, 175, and 414. There’s no cell phone service outside of Fairbanks (where we just left), Coldfoot (where we’re headed), and Deadhorse (which is the very end of Dalton Highway and not on our itinerary for this trip).

There are no medical facilities, no grocery stores, and no banks along the way. Big trucks have the right of way, headlights should always be on, and it’s helpful to slow down when passing vehicles to avoid flying gravel.

We were hoping our questionable road excursions ended when we turned off McCarthy Road yesterday, but it looks like we’re in for another interesting day ahead. (You know how some places just don’t give you a full picture of what to expect until you arrive? That’s Alaska. No matter how much you plan, you won’t 100% know what you’re in for until you’re here. But promise, that’s part of the fun!!!)

There’s no turning back, and we’re actually feeling pretty okay since we’ve already conquered McCarthy Road, so we get back on the highway with a full tank of gas and send a quick text to our families. “Will probably lose cell service soon. Getting on Dalton Highway. Staying in Marion Creek Campground in Coldfoot tonight, then flightseeing tomorrow. Will update when we can.”

And with that… we’re off!

Dalton Highway is definitely in better condition than McCarthy Road, but it’s much, much longer and even more remote. We oscillate from gravel roads to paved roads and enjoy the scenery, although it’s less imposing than what we’ve seen so far. This area of Alaska has a more subtle beauty.

I guess this works out well because you have a loooooooooong time to take it all in and find the charm. Dalton Highway is one heck of a road. What we expect to take 4 hours actually takes about 6.5 just to cover the 175 miles to Coldfoot.

This is one of the most remote roads we’ve ever been on, and particularly once you enter the Arctic Circle, you feel how removed you are.

It’s wildly unnerving, and both Jon and I began to feel on edge with about 60 miles to go. It’s similar to when you’re looking at the stars and feeling acutely aware of how small you are. But up here, in the Arctic of Alaska, there’s this additional sense of isolation, knowing you’re further north than 96% of the Earth.

You’re far from cities. Far from service areas. There aren’t many cars or people. You’re just a visitor passing through wild terrain. Northern Alaska is vast and big, and that bigness can be felt even just driving through a small portion of Dalton Highway.

It’s overwhelming and unsettling, yet also magnificent. As much as the remoteness feels isolating, it also feels peaceful. There’s no traffic. Very few cars. No stop signs or traffic lights. Just endless vistas, pleasant solitude, and occasional wildlife spottings.

Just a few miles from Coldfoot, Jonathan spots a moose in Grayling Lake, and we pull off the road to watch as she eats, cools off, and escapes the bugs in the water.

Once arriving at Coldfoot, we stop at the Arctic Interagency Visitor Center. (Side note: This visitor center is amazing, and we HIGHLY recommend stopping to look at the displays and watch a movie about the area. Plus. some days at 8pm, they offer free ranger talks, which are also great!)

Then we drive just a few miles further on Dalton Highway to Marion Creek Campground. We arrive around 730pm, pick an open spot and pay our campsite reservation, then set up our tent. It goes pretty well, considering we haven’t set up a tent since our 2015 Pacific Northwest Road Trip. (We mostly car camp… but also have amazing pro camper friends who help us out ;))

Without access to a hammer, we use a few rocks to set the stakes, and it works just fine. We get the rain flap set up just in time for a quick sun shower, which is actually a great test for the few nights we’ll be camping around Katmai later on this trip. We’re tired and a little cranky, but the sunshower leaves us a pleasant surprise, and a rainbow appears over the campground.

It’s a pretty rough first night of camping in Coldfoot. We’re missing the luxuries of running water and comfortable mattresses and feeling beat up from 10 full days of activity with no slowing down in sight. But mostly… we’re COLD. Very, very cold. (And while mosquitoes aren’t bad in our tent, they’re terrible otherwise. 12/10 recommend a bug net to go over a hat. It’s a MUST.)

The temps drop to the low 40s, and we feel every bit of that sleeping on the ground. So it’s probably not a surprise to say we don’t get great sleep (or much at all) this first night in Coldfoot, but we do get to enjoy the midnight sun of the Arctic. At 12am, 2am, 4am… the sun was up just like we were, ha!

We do our best to take things one day at a time and remember the epic adventure we’re on. Tomorrow, we get to explore our next two national parks. And we’ll enjoy our very own version of the TV show “Alone” as we get dropped off solo in one of the most remote national parks in the United States. Stay tuned…

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