Clear skies in Whittier are a rare treat. More often than not, it’s the rain that greets you as soon as you pass through the Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel—a 2.5-mile one-lane tunnel that connects Whittier to the rest of the world. I had experienced that just two weeks earlier when I first planned to hike the Portage Pass Trail, only to be met with steady rain and low visibility. Instead of a glacier hike, I settled for the tunnel drive (which is an experience in itself) and a warm bowl of seafood chowder at Swiftwater Café, a local favorite.
The tunnel, built during WWII by the U.S. military, is the longest combined vehicle-rail tunnel in North America. It’s open on a timed schedule (on the half-hour to Whittier, and on the hour back), which always makes the drive feel a little more deliberate and timed with nature.
Fast-forward to June 10. I was driving back from Eagle River after a morning hike to Symphony Lake, feeling energized and grateful for the sunshine that had stayed with me most of the day. The forecast in Whittier looked promising, and with plenty of daylight ahead, I decided to take the detour and give the Portage Pass Trail another shot.
This time, I was in luck. As I exited the tunnel into Whittier, the skies were clear and the sun was still out. The trailhead is just a couple of minutes from the tunnel, and I arrived to find the parking area nearly full, always a good sign.
The hike itself is short (about two miles one way for this out-and-back trail) but don’t let the distance fool you. The first half is a steady climb up a gravel path that leads to the pass at about 800 feet elevation. It’s a good workout, but the views make it more than worth it. Looking back, you can see the Passage Canal below and, if timing is right, a cruise ship making its way through the water.
Once you reach Portage Pass, the landscape shifts. The view opens up to snow-dusted peaks, tumbling waterfalls, and in the distance, the dramatic face of Portage Glacier. The descent from the pass to Portage Lake is more relaxed, winding through alpine meadows and crossing the occasional stream—waterproof shoes recommended.
At the lake’s edge, I took a quiet break to take in the glacier and the surrounding stillness. It felt remote, untouched, and absolutely worth the wait. Then it was time to retrace my steps back up to the pass and down to the car.
What began as a spontaneous detour turned into one of the most peaceful and rewarding hikes of my trip.
