December 1, 2024

I’d wanted to skate Hidden Lake since I got my first pair of Nordic skates. The first winter I drove by to check it out, it was still open water. Too soft, you might say. The second time, it was covered in snow, snowmachine tracks, and ice fishing tents. Too hard. This time, we pulled up to a sweeping plane of smooth, supportive ice adorned with millions of sparkling frost flowers.

Just freaking right!

On December 1, 2024, Ryan Stassel, Daniel Volland and I completed a wild ice skating tour around Hidden Lake, starting and ending at the campground at the southeastern end of the lake. Bryce Coryell and Rebecca Cleveland joined for the beginning of the trip.

After a quick loop running our dogs on the ice, we kenneled them back in our vehicles and headed out to explore. First we poked around a flooded forest near the Hidden Creek outflow before heading up the southern side of the lake. Bryce and Rebecca turned back near the bend in the middle of the lake, and Dan, Ryan and I continued on.

The sky was a lightly dappled expanse of white and gray, while mile after mile of frosty, glittering ice flew by underfoot. Some days on wild ice are spectacles of color, with sunsets reflected in the mirror-like surface of the ice. Today, by contrast, the conditions were subtle and almost meditative.

In many respects, Hidden Lake felt like a mini-Skilak. While its neighbor just to the south is far larger, Hidden Lake had the same dynamic shoreline and big, sprawling feel. We skated past cliffy headlands, coves, and downed trees from the 2019 Swan Lake fire. Eventually, we reached the western end of the lake, where a series of low hills stretched off into the distance, and u-turned back along the north side.

“This is so quintessential,” I said to Dan, half joking. “So quint.”

“Quinty Alaskana,” Dan said.

There was something a little funny about the idea that Nordic skating, which is still a very new sport here, being quintessentially Alaskan. But the term fit like a warm winter glove. Nordic skates allowed us to move quickly, quietly, and efficiently through the winter wilderness in a way that felt incredibly natural. As if people had always skated here and always would.

Near the midpoint of our return journey we broke away from the shore to trace a circle around Explorer Island. As we rounded the southern end of the island we ran into a couple of other skaters, who offered us some tasty and badly-needed snacks. Giving food to strangers in the wilderness: that too is quintessentially Alaskan.

After looping around Explorer Island and its neighbors, we continued along the northeastern edge of the lake, under rocky cliffs painted with orange lichen and past more fire-downed forest. The light became lower and flatter. We got back to the parking lot at exactly the right time.

As we drove back to the highway, we passed a dog mushing team training on the road. The dogs were trotting along dutifully with their tongues lolling, pulling a pickup truck with kennels in the bed. It was a striking combination of two modes of travel, one traditional and one a little newer. Yet it felt sensible and completely normal here, like watching people bike in Amsterdam or take the subway in New York.

Quinty Alaskana, you might say.

Video: Daniel Volland