Biking the Resurrection Pass Trail: The memories are forever

The odds seemed stacked against my dream ride.

A few weeks ago, a friend and I attempted to get to the Resurrection Pass trail, which runs from Hope to Cooper Landing. Our first attempt to reach the trail was ill-fated because we took a route that didn't turn out to be appropriate for mountain bikes.

Then, I got sick. I spent all last week trying to prevent my lungs from coughing themselves out of my chest. It seemed like my weekend plan to try again for Resurrection wasn't such a great idea.

But I'm only good at sitting on the couch for about five episodes of anything. After that I feel like a worthless human. My only way to feel better? Long and grueling days outside.

So, Resurrection Pass stayed on the calendar, and sure enough early Saturday morning I set out with my bike, hot tea and Kleenex.

Car drops and a shaky start

Even though both of us were excited, my friend and I were a tad out of it that morning. I'd barely interacted with other humans all week. She'd stayed up late the night before and admitted she generally just didn't "do" mornings.

We thought a 9 a.m. departure from Anchorage was ambitious, but after the all-important pit stop for donuts along the way we didn't arrive at Cooper Landing until 11:30 a.m. We dropped a car, and drove back to Devil's Pass in time to start riding at 12:30 p.m.

We did the math and figured if we rode at a 4 mph pace for our 27-mile ride, we'd be done around 7:30 p.m. By sunset.

We'd been on the trail for two minutes when I started thinking about sandwiches, which led me to realize I didn't have mine. "Hey, wait. Where's my food? Did I pack my food?"

We returned to the car and officially started our ride at 12:45 p.m.

Devil’s Pass

The beginning of Devil's Pass rolls and includes a surprising amount of downhill. Yellow birch and aspen leaves radiated color, and we were surrounded by the smell I love — yes, of decay and cranberries. Not everyone's thing. Dramatic mid-autumn light filtered through falling leaves. The bright-blue sky contrasted with the warm reds and golds across the tundra. It was delightful.

Then, the climb began.

Pause: I never understood mountain bikers until about a year ago. I thought they must be crazy, or crazy strong – or both – and either way it was something I'd never get into. I didn't understand how gears work, I guess, that even someone like me can slow-pedal her way to the top of an actual mountain.

But that's what I thought as I went along, up the switchbacks and then the meandering alpine trail, working always upward. I thought, I'm walking, as I pushed down on my pedals. Step by step. My gears are made of magic. With them, I too can be a mountain biker. Who knew?

We made it to the top of Devil's Pass and took the requisite selfie at the sign that told us we'd climbed 2,400 feet. This was after seeing a black bear a little ways in the distance. Our adrenaline was in good working order.

Resurrection

It was surprising, then, after all that buildup to this one trail in particular that the most challenging section came right after we turned onto the main Resurrection Pass trail, heading toward Cooper Landing.

The trail narrowed and in some places rutted. As we started snaking down toward Juneau Lake, I pulled my signature tired move. This is to topple into a ditch, my bike on top of me. I may not be naturally adept at mountain biking or balance, but I am skilled at going completely limp and so my fall was broken by my pliability. I've got that going for me, which is nice.

Sunset seemed to come earlier than we expected. Even though we both had headlamps we were tired enough that neither of us wanted to ride in the dark. We shouted into the woods for all bears to hear as dusk set in. The moon rose sharp and bright against the pink sunset on the mountains. My lungs continued to do their best to launch themselves into the woods, which I suppose was a good bear deterrent too.

By the time we reached the parking lot, half brain dead, we changed into non-muddy, dry clothing. We texted significant others with the announcement we had lived. We high-fived on the asphalt, exultant. We felt so accomplished.

But the truth is for me, while I loved and recommend the trail, the best part of an adventure like this was the shared experience and conversation threaded throughout. It's not just the scenery, it's the swapping of life notes — relationships, shampoo, family, must-reads.

Every place we rode through is embedded in my memory as part of a conversation.

It's a pretty spectacular thing to have a backdrop like Alaska to go explore while spending time with friends. Resurrection Pass didn't disappoint — but next time I'll leave more time.

Alli Harvey lives in Palmer and plays throughout Southcentral Alaska.