Spencer Glacier Whistle Stop Train | Riding the Historic Alaska Railroad [S1-E14]

Have you ever wondered what it's like to ride the Alaska Railroad into the wilds of the last frontier? Come with us as we board the Glacier Discovery Train, venturing through jaw-dropping landscapes to reach a place with no town, no station, just a single pathway to a true wonder of nature. Along the way, we brush shoulders with a fascinating page of Alaskan history. Jump aboard with us for an adventure where nature, history, and discovery unite. Our day starts with an absolutely epic drive across the Kenai Peninsula. In these parts, bright and sunny days don't come around so often, so this is fantastic. We are driving from Seward to the intriguing little town of Whittier, gateway to Prince William Sound. It's mid-July and south-central Alaska is bursting with life. Lush and green, this is summer at its most vibrant, a land kissed by almost endless daylight. We are driving through the Kenai Mountains, barely holding on to the last remnants of winter's snowfall. Before long, we drop down into the Turnagain Arm and get a straight-on view of our destination. Those mountains dead ahead, that's where we're going, but there are no roads to get there. Soon, we make a right turn to enter Portage Valley and drive headlong into a place where glacier-encrusted mountains tower high on both sides. Portage Valley is a 14-mile isthmus connecting the Kenai Peninsula to mainland Alaska, and it is home to some crucial threads of world history. Quite suddenly, we bump up against one of Alaska's most fascinating sites of living history, and like everyone else on the highway, we can go no further. So let's rewind. It's the early 1940s and the pressure of World War II is leading to a flurry of military developments in Alaska. In order to supply its growing mainland bases, the military needs to find the perfect spot to develop a discreet, deep water port. It needs to be close to the existing railroad system, and ideally it should be protected by formidable topography and nearly constant cloud cover. This spot at the top of Passage Canal is chosen. It's perfect, and it will only require building a 14-mile railroad spur through the Portage Valley isthmus. The clincher is that that spur will have to punch not only through a one-mile slice of baggage peak, but also through the very heart of Maynard Mountain. The project is an engineering feat of its time. 2.5 miles of single track piercing through Maynard Mountain, completed in less than two years. By 1943, this short railroad spur and its ingenious tunnel become Alaska's primary supply link during the war. 80 years later, here we are, ready to pass through that very tunnel. It's still a single lane shared by both car and train travel, so it's all timed, everyone waiting their turn. We wait for ours, though the views make this wait anything but boring. Finally, it's our convoy's turn. These portal buildings are engineered to withstand the shock of avalanches, and the A-frame is designed to split snowslide. We are lucky to even be here. It wasn't until the year 2000 that the tunnel was opened to vehicle passage. We emerge on the other side to see Whittier for the first time. Whittier, Alaska is a fascinating place. There is so much to unpack here. We hope we can return to really dig deep. For now, we take note of its present. It is a vibrant port town, an important stop on the Alaska Marine Highway system, and popular among cruise lines. We also take note of its past. After World War II, the Cold War provided enough incentive to maintain a military presence here in Whittier. So in the 1950s, two buildings were built as a self-contained military base, housing troops, their families, and everything a community might need, from jail to a movie theater, church, school, library, bakery, radio station, barber shop, and tunnels to connect it all. Whittier came to be known as the town under one roof. The Buckner building fell into disrepair in the late 1960s, but it's still here, a ghostly reminder of a time gone by. And the Hodge building, now called Begich Towers, is still operational. To this day, around 85% of Whittier's population lives under this single roof, complete with the post office, general store, church, laundromat, and police department. Well, we have a train to catch right here from the end of this historic railroad spur. We can't believe we are blessed with such beautiful weather. I mean, this location was chosen as a secret military port because of its notoriously cloudy weather, so we are counting our lucky stars. We are so ready for this train feat of engineering. It is officially the longest highway tunnel in North America, and the first designed to withstand 150 mile per hour winds and temperatures of 40 degrees below zero. It uses jet fans for ventilation, has safe houses every 1600 feet, pullouts for broken down vehicles, and 10 miles of drainage pipes. So this is where we're headed. We are taking the railroad spur from Whittier through Portage Valley until we tee off with the main railroad line at the top of the Turnagain Arm. Then we will turn left and head straight into the Kenai Mountains. These tracks head all the way to Seward, but we will be getting off at the Spencer Glacier Whistle Stop. This is the beauty of train travel in Alaska. Sometimes you're next to the highway, but a lot of the time it's just you, the tracks, and the wilds of the last frontier. There's really nothing quite like it. As we approach our left turn, we find ourselves entering a region of wetlands. Three waterways empty into the upper Turnagain Arm, forming a marshy delta well known for moose sightings and bird watching. Remember in episode 9 how we learned about the ghost forests of the upper Turnagain Arm? Well, here are more remnants of that fateful day in 1964 when the land dropped suddenly, drowning the trees in salt water. For a while, only salt-tolerant vegetation could grow here, but eventually uplift and sedimentation restored the land to pre-earthquake levels, and since the 1980s, grasses and willows have taken root. We are now traveling headlong into the Placer River Valley. The Placer River braids along to our right, numerous tributaries flowing into it along the way. Carpathian Peak rains in the distance. We can just make out Skookum Glacier flowing out from its base. We have now fully parted ways with the highway system. It won't be another 30 miles or so before this train sees another public road or even another town. Before we know it, we are onboarding at the Spencer Glacier Whistle Stop. Most trains around the world drop you off in some sort of settlement. Well, here in Alaska, they also drop you off at hiking trails. The Spencer Glacier Trail starts here at the Whistle Stop, and it's only a short 1.2 mile walk to our destination. A few minutes in, a side trail branches off, crossing the river via a beautifully constructed footbridge. Down below, the cloudy, silty waters of Placer River tell us that we're not far off from this waterway's birthplace. If this were a snow-fed mountain river, it would be much clearer. If this murkiness were caused from flooding, it would be brownish in color. Instead, it's a light milky gray, almost blue. This tells us that this river was born from a glacier. We just took the train to the Spencer Glacier Whistle Stop, and now we are doing this 1.3 mile, very easy hike up to the glacier and the lake. We've seen pictures of this, and if it's anything like the pictures, we're excited to be here. As we approach the viewpoint, we notice the tops of enormous icy structures peeking over the shrubs, almost like the roofs of two-story houses. But of course, these houses are made of ice. Welcome to Spencer Glacier. This is one of those glaciers that is so massive and so clearly defined that it jumps out even on satellite imagery. Stretching nearly a mile across, it flows from high up in the mountains to its ending here at Spencer Glacier Lake. According to the Dictionary of Alaska Place Names, it was named in 1909 by the USGS in honor of a Mr. Spencer, paymaster for the Alaska Railroad. In 1906, he tragically fell into a Another reminder that it is important to have a healthy respect for glaciers and the raw power that they possess. In episode 12, we learned that glaciers reaching the sea are called tidewater glaciers. Alternatively, glaciers that terminate in bodies of freshwater, like this one, are called freshwater glaciers. Just like their tidewater cousins, the terminus of a freshwater glacier is strikingly beautiful, yet profoundly dangerous. It forms a towering wall that frequently calves, sending colossal blocks of ice into the lake. And of course, we call them icebergs. Here at Spencer Lake, kayakers and rafters often venture out to paddle among those icy behemoths, scattered like frozen sculptures across the lake. In fact, let's take a moment excursion to Spencer Glacier. The only thing we wish is that we had a little more time there. The train schedule only allows for three hours between drop-off and pickup. And of course, that time flies. Some people do spend multiple days out there. There are campsites and one public-use cabin in the area. Some people even float their way back on the Placer River. Oh, yeah. He's gonna stay awake. And he's gotta find a moose. Say hi to the camera. Hello, camera. Hello, YouTube. Say hi. Hi to the camera. Remember that one-mile slice of baggage peak that the railroad spur had to cut through? Here it is. It really is incredible what human beings can do altogether when we put our minds to it. This adventure marks the end of our time in the Kenai Peninsula for a while. Tomorrow, we head way up north to hopefully catch a glimpse of that great Alaskan icon, Denali. But of course, for that, you'll have to wait until next time on Art We There Yet. Hey, guys. If you enjoyed this video, be sure to give us a like. Subscribe to our channel. Send us a comment below. And for exclusive content and a behind-the-scenes view of the Art We There Yet journey, join us on Patreon. See you over on Patreon.