after a long hike.

a song to set the scene // walk on the wild side by lou reed

There’s no better feeling than sliding into a pair of sandals after a long hike.

Or peeling your dusty wet socks off, revealing the ridiculous tan lines now on your calves.

There’s no better feeling than taking off your sweaty sticky clothes and slipping into something clean after a long hike.

Or taking a wipe and going over your body, removing dirt, twigs, and whatever else you collected in your fingertips on the way down.

There’s no better feeling than sitting, finally, in your car with an ice cold Hydroflask full of water after a long hike.

Or getting a chicken bacon ranch crepe and savoring the carbonation from a refreshing soda.

There’s truly no better feeling though, than climbing Matanuska Peak, the highest mountain in South Central Alaska with an official trail. Boasting near 6000 feet of elevation, this 10 mile out and back hike, labeled as “strenuous” and “difficult” sounded just like the type of hike two gals from the Peninsula wanted to experience.

So, at an early start of 5:30am, me and my friend hit the road and drove to Palmer.

Three and a half hours later, we arrived at the trailhead, an unassuming path that led into a canopy of trees.

After a secure tying of our Salomon sneakers, we clipped the waist straps on our backpacks and set off into the woods.

It was a quiet trail, and one shrouded with fog.

The first group we encountered were a couple of runners. Standing off to the side to allow them to pass, my friend told me that they were the top finishers of Mount Marathon, the famous 4th of July race up Seward’s intimidating peak.

Okay. So that’s the kind of mountain we’re climbing.

The first 4 miles, though filled with generous and lengthly inclines, were the “easiest.”As the fog was thick, we had no idea where we were going, nor what it looked like off in the distance.

We were going in blind.

Keeping pace with my friend as best I could, we chatted when the trail became flat, then fell quiet when things got steep, our heavy breathing being the only sound accompanying us.

At about mile 4, I finally learned why this hike was considered challenging.

The words “strenuous” and “difficult” finally made sense to me.

The last mile, located at 5000+ feet of elevation, kicked my ass.

And that’s putting it lightly.

Hiking parallel to the ground, the last mile was grueling, exhausting, and incredibly demanding on my body.

Steep, lengthly, and full of rocks that required careful footing and a wee bit of climbing, the formidable summit seemed unreachable to me.

It was as if every step, every pant coming out of my mouth, wasn’t bringing me closer.

But I kept on climbing.

One foot in front of the other.

Follow my friend.

Holy shi*.

Look down at where I hiked from.

Holy shi*.

You can do this.

Grab this rock, scramble over that one.

Holy shi*.

One foot in front of the other.

Gah I have to be getting close.

Heavy breathing, grumbling tummy, blisters on my heels, legs are about to give out.

Holy shi*.

One foot in front of the other until finally finally, I reach the very top.

Oh. My. Stars.

What a view.

Standing at what felt like the top of the world, body wracked with fatigue, I looked down at the majesty of what we went through to get here and gave myself a pat on the back.

It was astonishing.

And completely clear and sunny at the top! Not a whisper of wind.

We made it.

Though coming down was by far more arduous than coming up, I pushed through the heat, the altitude, the low blood sugar, the sore pain in my poor knees, and continued to take it one step at a time.

Until finally, we made it safely back to the bottom.

Sure, sliding into my sandals felt like heaven, and sitting in the car with my ice cold Hydroflask felt like a dream come true, but the best feeling was knowing that we made it.

Good company and good scenery truly make for a good time.

You know what they say:

Welcome to Alaska. Now take a hike.