Glacial Pace: A Bikerafting Overnighter

Well, it finally happened: I succumbed to two years of intense peer pressure from my Alaskan bikepacking crew and saved up for a packraft. A couple of months into packraft ownership, I have a few trips under my belt combining my two new favorite pastimes: rafting and bikepacking. Their powers combined equal the magical activity known as bikerafting. This is the trip report from my very first bikerafting mission a few weeks ago.

Every winter in Alaska, folks with fat tire bikes make a point to ride the Knik Glacier trail. The out-and-back trail is about ten miles each way and meanders along the Knik River on snowy gravel with several small creek crossings. The trail takes you out to a big frozen lake and a glacier that splinters as it collides with the lake. In winter, Knik is full of National Geographic-worthy, bright-blue ice sculptures that riders can tour around.

I had heard talk of a trail on the OTHER side of the river that was for motor vehicle use, and a popular summer destination for four-wheelers. Several people had suggested to me that it might be possible to ride out on the 23-ish mile four-wheel track to the glacier and raft back on the Knik River — the slow, lazy float would be perfect for wielding a new packraft with a bike strapped on the front.

I called the rangers in the area to get a report on trail conditions, and they told me it was finally snow-free but there were several mud pits and bigger creek crossings. I texted my friend Kelly Yanoshek, who is a super strong rider with a chill mentality, is quick to laugh even in the occurrence of unplanned shenanigans, and conveniently didn’t mind too much that I hadn’t really “planned out” the EXACT route…

We packed our bikes and rafts and hit the road. Kelly and I both have Alpacka Rafts, and I chose to ride my titanium Salsa Timberjack. Kelly’s steed of choice for this mission was the carbon Salsa Mukluk. We arrived at the parking lot, packed the rafts and our camping supplies onto our boats, and hit the promised mud pits. I ended up using a backpack to fit my lighter gear, since bikerafting requires several light but bulky items that normal bikepacking does not: four-piece paddle, dry suit in case you fall into Alaskan glacier water, and a personal flotation device (PFD). Kelly chose to wear her PFD for the ride and strap more to her bike, so she did not have to wear a backpack.

For the first couple of miles, we had to pull over occasionally to let motorized vehicles pass, but folks were very friendly. After about 5-ish miles, we came to a larger creek crossing that was so deep Kelly ended up putting on her dry suit to walk across, while I made the questionable decision to remove my pants and wade across in my undies in front of about 20 dudes partying on dirt bikes and four wheelers. Next time, I vowed to stash my dry suit in a more accessible location. Folks were helpful and cool, however, and they even pointed us in the direction of the shallower crossing, which was nice.

We made it across and rode on sand dunes and gravel roads for the next few hours in absolutely perfect weather on a kind of choose-your-own-adventure route. The trail often split into several options, but no matter which way you went, you’d eventually end up at the glacier. Except once, when we followed a two-track for a half-hour and ended up hike-a-biking through a field that dead-ended in an orange mud pit.

We made it to the glacier, and after a couple more creek crossings I set up my tarp-style Six Moon Designs tent right up against the glacial lake. We blew up the packrafts and explored amongst the tinkling icebergs, which were slowly rotating in the sun. Eventually, we ended up putting our feet up to float around in silence, listening to the ice.

Night finally fell around 11:30 pm, and we lit a driftwood fire. Kelly went to bed, and I stayed up for another few minutes to babysit the fire. I turned my head to look at the hot-pink alpenglow over the Knik Glacier and shouted for Kelly to come out of the tent immediately. Assuming I was being mauled by a bear, Kelly whipped open the tent flap to come to my rescue. But I reassured her and let her know it was because a gigantic full moon had started to rise right over the mountains and glacier directly behind the tent! We spent an hour watching the moon come up and the stars come out over a Nalgene full of red box wine, then I put out the fire and we slept.

The next morning, we packed the bikes for a short ride to the start of the Knik River. On the shore of the lake where the river begins, we took our bikes apart and strapped the frames to the front of our boats. We both removed the bottom pedal and strapped the bikes as far forward as we could to make room for paddling. Then we stacked both wheels and strapped them on top of the frames. We unzipped our cargo zippers, which are built into the rafts, so we could stow our packs inside. We inflated the rafts, chose a playlist for the waterproof speaker, and we were off!

We spent the rest of the day floating slowly down an ice-blue glacial river and getting buzzed by tiny airplanes as they played along the river above us en route to the glacier. We floated about 23 miles in the sun, again with perfect weather. The wind picked up a tiny bit right at the end, but we made it to the spot we thought would be the closest take-out to the trail and transitioned back into bike mode. We rode the muddy trail back to the car, where we had a small camp mug each of margarita waiting for us. It was the perfect first bikerafting mission, and it definitely floated my boat.

Words by Pepper Cook — find her on Instagram at @bookbikebrew

Photos by Pepper Cook & Kelly Yanoshek. You can follow Kelly’s incredible mountaineering adventures on Instagram at @yanoventure