Anchorage Cycling Trails

The morning started at Starbucks, which has quietly become one of my favorite offices while traveling. I settled in with a latte and a toasted bagel and spent a couple of hours catching up on blogging, editing photos, and computer work. One thing I really like is that if you're staying in the store, they'll serve your drink in an actual mug and your food on a real plate instead of everything being disposable. Better yet, regular brewed coffee comes with free refills. It's a small thing, but it makes slowing down for a couple of hours a lot more enjoyable.

Once I'd finished my work, I drove downtown and parked on 6th Street between L and K Streets. Since the Fourth of July holiday was being observed, street parking was free all day. I couldn't help but laugh when I watched a couple pull into a nearby parking lot and pay two dollars an hour while I was parked about thirty feet away for nothing. I even mentioned that the street parking was free, but I guess sometimes people feel better paying for it.

Coastal Trail

My bike ride began just a few blocks downhill on Anchorage's Coastal Trail. Before long I found myself stopping to watch airplanes taking off from the airport. It's one of those places where the city, the ocean, and aviation all seem to blend together. Every few minutes another jet would roar overhead while cyclists, runners, and walkers continued along the trail below.

I rode the Coastal Trail all the way toward the western end. The final climb is much steeper than it looks on the map. By the time I reached it, I was definitely feeling it. The trail was crowded with people climbing the same hill, which meant there wasn't much room to weave around anyone. Sometimes the slowest part of a bike ride isn't your legs—it's waiting for openings between people walking three abreast.

At the top, a local woman was chatting with a couple who had rented bikes and were about to start their own ride. It reminded me how fortunate Anchorage is to have such an extensive trail system. It's the kind of place where locals and visitors naturally end up sharing the same paths.

On the ride back, I encountered several moose at different locations. The first one was unforgettable. There were probably thirty people gathered around while a moose calmly stood about fifty feet away eating grass. Unfortunately, common sense seemed to disappear. Some people were walking within twenty feet trying to get a better photo. I took a quick picture with my phone from a safe distance, then politely asked if I could get through the crowd. It was amazing to watch. The moose wasn't bothering anyone, but people seemed determined to see just how close they could get before discovering why Alaska keeps reminding visitors that wildlife is, in fact, wild.

I made a stop at Earthquake Park, where I spent some time reading the interpretive signs. The mosquitoes were enthusiastic, but the history was worth enduring them. One of the plaques explains how dramatically the landscape changed during the 1964 earthquake. A man standing nearby pointed toward an area and said, "This used to be level." According to him, that section dropped about thirty-eight feet, while another area nearby was thrust upward roughly twelve feet. Whether you've seen the numbers before or not, it doesn't really sink in until you're standing there.

The bike trail actually follows the terrain as it rises and falls through those ripples left behind by the earthquake. Instead of a flat landscape, the ground rolls up and down beneath dense birch trees and thick green vegetation. It's one of those places where geology isn't just something you read about. You can ride right across it.

From there I continued to Point Woronzof, another beautiful stretch of the trail system. The trail is beautifully maintained, with wonderful views and the airport just beyond. Anchorage has somehow managed to weave nature, recreation, and a major international airport together in a way that feels completely natural.

Eventually I reached Westchester Lagoon, where I stopped for a few photographs. While standing on one of the bridges, a man with a dog stopped directly in front of me. Suddenly a fishing rod appeared inches from my face. A young kid was climbing out of the water, pulling himself over the bridge railing with his fishing pole. The dog wasn't expecting that either. It bolted, yanking its owner forward, who barely caught himself before taking an unexpected swim. Everyone recovered, nobody went into the water, and I continued on my way wondering if that bridge always provided that much entertainment.

By now I had started noticing signs pointing toward Chester Creek Trail. Instead of heading back, I decided to see where they led. That's when I realized Anchorage's trail network is far larger than I had imagined. One trail connected to another, which connected to another, and suddenly the city opened up in ways I hadn't expected.

I passed the Westchester Disc Golf Course, where people were practicing throws across open fields while another couple packed up their collection of brightly colored discs. A little farther along, I rode through Valley of the Moon Park, a playground and picnic area with large orangutan statues and a massive carved rock that looked like part of the play area. Nearby, a young man and woman wearing boxing gloves were sparring while a camera recorded the session. He appeared to be coaching her through combinations. I stopped for a minute to watch before they wrapped things up.

As the trail continued, signs pointed toward neighborhood streets I had already driven several times, and eventually I passed the Ford dealership that had become a familiar landmark during my stay in Anchorage. Soon the trail entered a quiet birch forest. Wood chips lined the edges of the pavement, and the trail was shared by walkers, runners, cyclists, people in motorized wheelchairs, and families enjoying picnics. It was impressive how many different people were using the trail system on a holiday afternoon.

I eventually reached the bridge at Hillstrand Pond and stopped for another photo. A woman walking by smiled and said, "What a beautiful day." I agreed. Apparently our conversation disturbed the cyclist sleeping on a nearby bench because he suddenly sat upright and looked around, trying to figure out what he'd missed.

The trail climbed another steep hill before crossing over the highway and arriving at Goose Lake. A couple sat on a tandem bicycle watching another pair paddle back toward shore in a small inflatable boat. Then I noticed a woman standing out in the lake. She looked absolutely freezing. My first thought was that she must be practicing some kind of Wim Hof cold-water breathing exercise. A second later I noticed the large "Thin Ice" warning sign still standing nearby. That seemed oddly appropriate.

I circled Goose Lake, passed the University of Alaska Anchorage campus, and eventually started making my way back toward downtown. There were still plenty of side trails I hadn't explored, but they'll have to wait for another visit. Anchorage's trail system is extensive enough that you could spend several days riding different routes without repeating yourself.

On the return trip I stopped for a few more photographs. One feature I really appreciated was the number of tunnels built beneath roads and highways. Instead of constantly stopping for traffic, the trails simply slip underneath the busy streets, making the ride surprisingly peaceful.

The final climb back toward downtown was the toughest of the day. I dropped into my lowest gear, stood on the pedals, and slowly worked my way to the top. Four vehicles lined up patiently behind me while I crawled uphill at what probably qualified as walking speed. Nobody honked. Nobody tried squeezing past. They simply waited until I reached the top. It's another one of those little things that leaves a good impression of a place.

By the time I rolled back to the van, it had been an outstanding afternoon. I had covered far more ground than I expected, discovered an incredible trail network, watched airplanes, encountered moose, learned more about one of the largest earthquakes ever recorded, and found myself constantly surprised by what was around the next bend.

Back at the campsite, I cleaned up with a shower, made dinner, and relaxed for the evening. It had been one of those days that didn't revolve around a famous attraction or scheduled tour. It was simply a day spent exploring Anchorage at bicycle speed, and it turned out to be one of my favorite days in the city.