Sea to Sky: Hiking from Turnagain Arm to the top of Flattop Mountain
An old reporter’s trick for finding stories is to take a different way to work. It works. It’s a useful tool because it gets you to see familiar things from a new perspective. It shakes things up.
It was in the spirit of shaking things up that I convinced myself it would be a good idea to try and hike from the ocean to the top of Flattop Peak in the Chugach Mountains. This is not a normal route to take up the 3,500-foot tabletop-shaped vista. Though it’s considered Anchorage’s most climbed peak (and probably Alaska’s), most people start their hikes from trailheads located at around 2,000 feet above sea level. But I wanted to see how easy it would be to hike there from the Pacific Ocean, which is just a few miles from the Front Range peaks that backdrop the city.
What seemed like a silly idea at first turned into both an adventure and a learning experience that taught me more about Anchorage than I expected.
My journey began in one of the quietest parts of the city. Carr-Gottstein Park is a hidden gem that’s kept that way on purpose. Located on Discovery Bay Drive in one of Anchorage’s more exclusive neighborhoods (don’t @ me, there are houses with freaking columns), the park is easy to miss if you don’t know it’s there. There’s no parking or picnic tables, almost no signage and only a narrow path leading through the middle of a 20-yard-wide strip of grass leading toward the sea.
I found myself in this curious corner of the city in a quixotic quest to find the nearest ocean access to Flattop Peak. I’d always been intrigued with the idea of hiking from the sea to the peak but never quite knew how you’d do that. Looking at a map of Anchorage, it appeared there were three parks in the southwest corner of the city that had potential: Carr-Gottstein, Johns and Oceanview Bluff.
I liked these locations because they appeared to provide nearly straight shots to the Glen Alps parking area, where most conventional hikes up Flattop begin. I figured if I could find an oceanside location that would give me an easy approach up either O’Malley or Huffman Drive I could make the trip in about 10 miles.
After walking about a quarter-mile into Carr-Gottstein Park I found myself wide-eyed as I surveyed an improbably empty field perched atop a bluff overlooking the muddy Turnagain Arm flats and the Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Sanctuary. It’s a gorgeous location and kept intentionally quiet as a critical bird habitat. Though it’s not technically illegal to do so, there are signs warning people against walking on the flats during spring and summer, which are critical times for the birds that call the flats home during this time of year.
Worse, the park is actually nowhere near the ocean. At the point it overlooks the flats, the bluff appeared to be a good mile from any water and the dry driftwood made me think the water rarely if ever gets high enough to reach the bluff.
My next attempt to find an ocean starting point took me to what is surely the most poorly named park in the state of Alaska. Oceanview Bluff Park (or Oceanview Park, which is equally stupid) has exactly one view of the ocean — and then only if you really squint.
Instead of ocean views, the park has a really cool playground, some nice grassy areas and a trail that leads through the woods before abruptly coming to an end at a set of train tracks. It’s actually kind of a dangerous place for kids, so if you do check it out be mindful of the tracks (more on that later).
Anyway, strike two.
My next visit was to Johns Park, which like its other seaside cousins turned out to be quite far from the actual Pacific Ocean. Located off Bree Avenue, Johns is another neighborhood park with limited parking and an understated feel.
One thing I noticed about all of these public areas is they all seem to be doing their very best to keep a low profile. They’re very clearly neighborhood parks used by the people living in the area. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s worth noting how little used these parks are considering they’re maintained by the municipality and used almost exclusively by the city’s wealthiest residents.
Johns is a charming little park that features playground equipment, a small exercise area and trails that run through the neighborhood and alongside tiny Furrow Creek. The trails are beautiful and with a little poking around you can make your way to the Coastal Wildlife Refuge — but not much further.
Though it’s a coastal city, much of Anchorage is cut off from nearby Turnagain Arm by both natural and man-made features. The railroad tracks run from Ship Creek to Potter and onto Portage (and beyond) in a corridor that divides much of South Anchorage from the sea. Beyond that, the tidal marshes from Point Woronzof south to Potter are wide and muddy, with the actual ocean often several miles away from any shoreline depending on the tide.
There are some places to access the ocean itself. The Tony Knowles Coastal Trail runs from downtown through Westchester Lagoon and onto Kincaid Park and although it’s not entirely on the coast, it does straddle the ocean. There’s also the small boat harbor at Ship Creek, as well as the sandy beaches that extend from Kincaid Park near the Jodphur Trailhead.
But Flattop is further south of the city, meaning any of these places would leave me with a 15-mile hike to the base of Flattop.
I continued driving south considering my options. The Rabbit Creek area might work if there wasn’t a gun range there. There’s a church just north of there, but that’s private property.
What about Potter?
Looking at Google earth I realized the Potter Creek trailhead might actually work. Located just inside the Chugach State Park boundary, the site is adjacent to the tidal areas of Turnagain Arm and although the parking area is on the wrong side of the railroad tracks, there’s a railroad bridge beneath which someone can cross without going across the tracks.
Even better, it’s about as close to Flattop as you can get — according to Google, just 8.8 miles from the trailhead — perfect for an overweight hiker hoping for a trek that wouldn’t result in a helicopter or ambulance ride. I walked down to the bridge and under it and found myself standing on the mud flats of Turnagain Arm. It was low tide, but I knew that in the morning the water would be all the way up the rocks at the base of the tracks.
I set my alarm.
The next morning was bright and cool. After grabbing an obligatory breakfast biscuit and some coffee, I arrived at the Potter Creek trailhead at around 7:30 a.m. and walked about 100 yards to the parking area adjacent to the Chugach State Parks headquarters. The tide was so high the water was backing up beneath the bridge, so I decided to break the rules and went over the tracks.
This may or may not have been trespassing — it’s kind of a gray area? The area is inside Chugach State Park and from Potter there are no signs saying you can’t cross over the tracks and walk into the ocean. But there’s also a sign nearby saying the tracks are off-limits by order of the Chief Special Agent of the Alaska Railroad Corporation. He wasn’t around when I visited, however, and the sign didn’t say why he had authority in the park. So I looked both ways and ran across the tracks and onto the seawall.
I put my toes in the waves and started my watch before retracing my steps over the tracks and jogging back to the Seward Highway. Traffic was light and I crossed from there to the other side and jogged about 100 yards to the intersection with Potter Valley Road.
After that it was pretty smooth sailing. I jogged about a mile on the ruler-flat Old Seward Highway before starting uphill. The sun was relentless, but I’d applied about a quarter-inch of sunscreen to my shiny white forehead and it seemed to be holding up okay.
The route I’d decided on took me on a series of switchbacks and turns into Paradise Valley, a mix of modest older log homes and newer, bigger junior mansions. Traveling on a mix of gravel and paved roads, I emerged onto Golden View Drive, which led me to Rabbit Creek Road. From there it was onto DeArmoun Road, which turns into Upper Canyon Road and leads to the “Sunnyside” Flattop Trail.
The trip was surprisingly pleasant and the grade more than manageable. I jogged the flats and downhills and walked the uphills, arriving at the conventional trailhead in about 2 hours and 15 minutes. From Potter to that point the hike was about 8.8 miles with an elevation gain of approximately 2,000 feet.
I booked it for the summit hoping to make it in less than three hours and was stoked to reach the flagpole in 2:59. The breeze felt amazing at the top and I watched a paraglider take off from the summit before turning around and heading back to the trailhead.
For gear I went light, carrying only a Camelback filled with 3 liters of water, some trail mix and beef jerky. I ended up being good on both water and food, though I did kind of get “bonky” midway up the final climb. A quick snack and the queasy feeling went away. I also brought bear spray and some extra sunscreen, along with my phone.
The views were gorgeous once I got above the treeline, but I didn’t see much wildlife aside from a couple extremely wary hares.
I caught a ride back to my truck from the main trailhead. Running back down to Potter is definitely doable, but I was already more than three hours deep into the hike and figured another 8 miles of downhill running wasn’t going to add anything to my day other than soreness.
According to my GPS, the trip to the summit from the sea was a total of 10.54 miles with an elevation gain of 3,704 feet and took me 2:59:30. A strong mountain runner could probably do it in under 90 minutes, although I don’t think it’s a route that’s commonly done.
I’ve probably climbed Flattop nearly 100 times in my life, but before today I’d never actually climbed the entire thing. I’m glad I did. In addition to unlocking a new personal achievement the adventure gave me some new perspectives on the city and mountains I love.
And it’s already got me thinking about my next adventure…
Matt Tunseth is a freelance writer and photographer from Anchorage, Alaska. To purchase this or other stories for reprint, contact him at matthew.tunseth@gmail.com
