The day started early, driving down the hill in the dark to my airplane parked at the local airport. My friend Jake and I had a plan: to find the wildest lake across Alaska to skate on. It’s a difficult task because you need two weeks of cold, clear skies to lock up the lakes in ice, and for Alaska, that rarely happens due to what feels like endless storms in the fall. But we were lucky enough to have a high-pressure system move in and set up camp over the south-central region of the state.

By the time I got to the plane, a Cessna 120 built back in 1946, the first sign of light started to appear in the sky. With the plane plugged in to keep the engine warm, I started pulling off the wing and tail covers that help keep frost off the airfoils. Starting up on the first try, we taxied over letters painted on the ground that spelled out BIRCHWOOD, with the skies now turning pink overhead. Taking off and heading south, I passed over Anchorage on the way to a town called Soldotna, the sun began to rise from behind the peaks bordering the city and the skies transitioned to orange. A perfect start to the morning, and a sign for what was to come. 

As I arrived in Soldotna, Jake was waiting for me. Jake, being a much more experienced pilot and owning a super cub (an airplane set up for off-runway/backcountry landings), I hopped in with him. Being one of the best bush pilots in Alaska, he had an idea of where to go and where he “thinks he can land,” and I didn’t question it. From Soldotna, we would cross over the last road before flying over the inlet and heading south down the opposite coastline, slowly getting deeper and deeper into uninhabited territory. After flying past a volcano that towers over the surrounding mountains, we would turn up a valley and start climbing in altitude. We popped above a glacier, so expansive that it disappeared into the horizon. A mountain of rock, that was most likely a nunatak at one point in time, met the toe of the glacier with a set of perfectly frozen ponds at the top overlooking the ice field below.  Jake found the only place he could land—the “smoothest” hundred feet on the glacier below—and made the softest landing he could.

We tied the plane to ice screws set in the glacier, hiked off the ice onto solid ground and started climbing up the mountain looking for the ponds we flew over. Before noon, we ended up at the shore of a beautifully perched alpine lake, with six inches of the clearest ice you would ever see—or not see. Stepping out on the ice, we felt like we were floating as every detail of the floor of the lake was perfectly visible until it turned blue and the sandy bottom disappeared into the depths. With the glacier in the background and mountain tops peeking out of the ice, it was all perfect.

Playing ice hockey for 20 years of my life, nothing beats the sound of your skates cutting through a frozen lake. To get the opportunity to go out in search of a beautiful place to tie up the skates, step out on a frozen lake, and pass a puck around with your friends has always been a dream of mine. I have talked about it for years, hoping to get the perfect weather window. Now what was once a dream would end up being one of those special moments in life—grateful for what you have, the places you’ve been, and where you are. To me, a good adventure brings that insight—a chance to look back on life and find happiness in the moment. This was one of those adventures.

After a few hours of skating around and enjoying the scene, we packed it all up and hiked back to the plane. With smiles on our face and a feeling of contentment, we packed up and took off down the glacier. Staring out the window on the way back, I spent a smooth flight home taking it all in, grateful Alaska still gives me the opportunity to get lost in the wilderness. After picking up my plane in Soldotna, I was back in Birchwood and driving back to the house before dark. Another day in Alaska well spent.