Mud Bay Hike
My days in Haines typically began with a morning bike ride through town, sometimes looking for a spot to drink my thermos of coffee, other times looking to explore a new neighborhood.
Haines isn’t a large place, but there are a collection of distinct neighborhoods, an old military fort, funky fair grounds left over film set from some movie with a young Ethan Hawk, the harbor, and the main road with shops and eateries. I thoroughly enjoyed my casual morning rides admiring people’s homes and gardens, looking in store fronts and if I was lucky watching fisherman unload their catch at the harbor. Perhaps it's that anthropology degree of mine, but I find everyday happenings endlessly fascinating, and so far Alaska was unique.
After a few days of exploring town, Julie suggested Mud Bay for my next morning bike ride. Heeding her advice I biked up and over a very large hill to get to Mud Bay Road. This road delivered me to the beginning of what would become my favorite walk in Haines.
As a runner, I was keen to find a solid trail to run. For the moment I was running along the main road into town and back, but concrete never feels as good as trail. However, due to unusual bear activity in town running was discouraged in the forests, especially since I was still developing my bear calls. I have a very small, high voice that tends to disappear entirely with any attempt to project.
This section of this trail that traces along the water, where the Chilkat Inlet transitions into the Chilkat River, became my running route for the general openness, few trees, beach and people walking their dogs meant meeting a bear was less likely.
Something I found particularly magical was that no two walks at Mud Bay were the same. The sky was always different, the tide always different, the clouds, the mountains, the light. For someone who lives quite nomadically, motivated by a sense of adventure and also a fear of stagnancy, there is a lesson here. Simply put, to spend time in one place is to know that place more deeply, the grass is greenest where you water it. This might be obvious to some, but this is the opposite to most styles of travel where you are always passing through.
For example, when Julie and I would walk in the forest behind her home she would tell me all about the trees. She introduced me to several of the “Granddaddies” as she called them, massive pines that had survived logging in the first half of the 1900s and remained standing incredibly tall. She knew all the trees that had fallen down during the winter just passed, recalling and retelling of a few storms that could have been responsible.
When I began traveling I was very much of a transient mindset, wanting to see as much as possible. And now, while I continue to travel it has evolved into an entirely different experience. I am not interested in visiting a place for a few days, I want to live somewhere. To meet people and hear their stories, to experience a place in every type of weather, to know the culture and details of a place not just the main attraction. And some day soon, I think my nomadic days will come to an end.
When the tide is very low, this incredible volcanic clay is revealed. Hidden under a thin layer of grey brown mud, I was completely captivated by this clay’s texture, coolness, and most of all it’s incredible color, so rich and somewhat appetizing. I almost wanted to taste it. I never did but I think my animal-self could sense the mineral density of this ancient gift from glacier water high up in the mountains, collecting sediment as it flowed towards sea level.
On this day, I stood at the water’s edge and for sometime watched the tide coming back in. The sand that had been exposed at low tide was patterned with subtle peaks and troughs. As the tide moved higher and higher, the water’s edge snaked through these troughs first until enough volume covered the peaks.
If I stood at the edge it would be only half a minute before I would need to step back, otherwise the water would have come over the edge of my Chacos.
Walking, biking, running, I always seemed to end up here. On calm days we came here to launch paddle boards to visit Pyramid Island, a small sea bird paradise in between Mud Bay and “The Wild Side” across the water. Julie came here to parasail and I to watch her. I came here on the full moon to watch it trace across the sky, and for sunset. I became a frequent visitor of this spot.
This trail is marked on the map above.
It begins at Kaskulu Point, at the end of Sawmill Road, and then traces along the water, through a forest and then the trail turns into River Road. When River Road meets Mud Bay Road, the trail leads away from the main road towards the water and a path leads all the way down the shore to the little blue star across from Pyramid Island.