The Hiiillllss are Aliiive..

If all of the landscape pictures are starting to look the same to you, I'm sorry.  There are nameless snowy peaks and innumerable glassy lakes, it's true, but it's really not a case of the European cathedral syndrome (where if you've seen one, you've seen them all).  For one thing, while cathedrals garner fame by being unique (biggest, most gothic, so-and-so's tomb), I think the mountains and lakes gain strength in numbers.  The fact that there are hundreds of square miles of them is one of the most beautiful and impressive parts.  Another thing you may be missing is the human or wildlife moments that make each place memorable for me.  For example, the lake in the picture above: I camped beside it with five 20-somethings from Anchorage.  They shared their fire and s'mores with me and we laughed long into the night; in the morning, the lakeshore couldn't have been more peaceful... Or there was the hike up Bear Mountain upon which I saw a black bear... Or this hike:

 Nice waterfall, panoramic view at the top, but the climb kicked my ass.  I was glad to be hiking alone so I didn't have to impress anybody and could stop every 20 steps.  Then these two below were taken on the summer solstice!  After downing that cold one by Kenai Lake I hitched into town for a festival, met up with a group of fellow outdoor enthusiasts, and danced to a bluegrass jazz band. 

 

But some places stand out just for what they are and that's the case for my most recent hike near Seward: it'll forever be memorable to me just because it was so... well, let the pictures speak for themselves.  The forecast called for rain, so it was doubtful whether I would make the hike at all-- too high and dangerous in wet conditions.  But the weather defeated all odds and was fantastic. Maybe that fueled my joy-- I felt blessed to be hiking under sunshine, seeing the views; I started early enough to have the trail and summit to myself. The Harding Icefield Trail, voila:

 

Exit Glacier

Marmot Meadows: fields of wildflowers and true to their name--marmots!  I saw two up close as they munched away on the grass.  They are a cousin to the prairie dog, but much fluffier. Very cute--see below--no zoom!

 

 

The greenery didn't last forever, though, and the trail entered the alpine zone, where there's nothing but snow and loose rock and you'd think you were on the final ascent to Mordor.. Below: the emergency shelter.

  Can you spot the row of hikers in the picture below??

Even on the rocky summit: life!

And finally the view that gives the trail its name: the Harding Icefield, an expanse of ice and snow the size of Rhode Island, including 40 glaciers that reach from it like tentacles.

Notice the two hikers on the bottom right.. They say you need to get this view in order to appreciate its size, but I'd argue that it's still impossible to grasp.  From what I've experienced of Alaska's tricks with distances and perceptions, I'd say there would have to be a person (or a bus or a building) out on the ice in order to really say "whoa." Think of it in another dimension as well-- look at the mountains and valley in this picture:

Then imagine the valley filled with ice until only the peak tops were showing and you get this:

Ice 4000 feet thick.