Climbing Lazy Mountain with a daughter's boost

After shopping at either Palmer Fred Meyer or Carrs/Safeway, while still in the parking lot, I sometimes look to the east and check out the weather conditions at the top of Lazy Mountain. It gives me a thrill to recall sitting at the top, thanks to my daughter Erin's help. It was a dream that I'd given up on, so the accomplishment was extra special. I'd told her that because of approaching the big 70, I was evaluating my life and thinking about dreams I would have to let go and consider priorities for my remaining years...however many that might be.

Erin lives in Colorado and was planning a trip to Palmer July 2025. One day she called to talk about details regarding her visit. She said her daughter, Amelia, would not accompany her on this trip, and then surprised me by asking me if I was interested in trying to climb Lazy Mountain. The previous summer, the three of us hiked a mountain trail out of Whittier, with Amelia sprinting far ahead, me slowly bringing up the rear, and Erin having a hard time keeping track of either of us in bear country. After only a few seconds of consideration, I wholeheartedly said yes. Then I started asking questions... She said we could hike whatever pace was best for me and that we could quit and turn around at any point.

Since I'd climbed Mount Marathon, I asked how she thought Lazy Mountain compared to Mount Marathon. She had climbed Lazy Mountain with her family during our summer filled with wildfire smoke and thought it might be a little harder, or at least a longer distance. Although I was born in Seward, I did not climb Mount Marathon until July 1990. That enjoyable day included my family of four, my brother, my dad, and long-time family friends, Charles and Jimmie King. Once my family moved to Palmer in 1984, I often thought about climbing Lazy Mountain. But I gave up that dream after major health issues in the fall of 1990 and then again in the fall of 2008. Erin offered me an opportunity I couldn't resist!

Of the seven days she was to be in Alaska, we chose the day with the best weather-temperature in the 60s and cloudy, but no rain. We got to the trailhead about 9 am. After discussion, I said it would be better for me to go up the switchback trail, rather than the shorter steeper trail. We each wore several layers and it wasn't long before I had removed everything except my tank top. I'd bought a set of carbon fiber trekking poles in anticipation of the hike and used one as we climbed. We stopped periodically to take photos of the view and the lovely variety of blue wildflowers, talk about the smell of the vegetation, and drink water.

Erin told me there would be a picnic table after we got off the switchback trail, where we could rest and eat. When we got to the picnic table I was disappointed to find it full of people, but when I asked for a few inches of room someone graciously scooted over. While resting in silence, I learned the table was full of three sets of people that didn't know each other-two from out of state, one being New Hampshire.

Having had no time to "train" for this hike, I really had no idea if I was capable of making it to the top. It wasn't until we stopped at the second picnic table about 2 p.m. (from which we could actually see the top) that I felt we might be successful. We had been going slow and steady, and at that time, I still felt pretty good. Tired, but not exhausted, and nothing hurt. Knowing that I would never get this way again, that no parts of my body hurt, and figuring that going down would be faster than going up....I told her I wanted to continue. We reached the top about 2:30 p.m. and I immediately sat down among the rocks. The steep dropoffs on either side of the ridge unnerved me. I remember Mount Marathon being flat enough on top to walk around.

We only stayed on top about 20 minutes. We took photos, had something to eat and drink, and tried to call our friends the Kings, but had no cell signal. We were just below the cloud layer. As soon as we started down, I knew I needed the second trek pole for balance. Even then, in the steepest spots, I relied on Erin, following her footsteps, guiding me off trail a little where the tundra had much better traction. For safety, I found myself coming down sideways...even during parts of the switchback trail.

The more time elapsed, the slower I got, since each footstep now brought a certain amount of pain. Erin was in front (supposedly to stop me from going too far if I slid) and continued to encourage me. She reminded me of her promise that we were going for ice cream to celebrate this accomplishment. The sun came out. I was so hot and had no more layers to remove. In fact, I was getting quite miserable and with a glimpse of the lovely view, I could see we still had a long way to go. She started telling me random things about her life...just to distract me from the pain.

Each downward step (after I placed the tips of the trekking poles in a secure position) I placed my weight on the poles and could no longer squelch my groans of pain in my thighs, my knees, and my calves. The last 2.5 hours were a test of endurance, and I found myself muttering the words "what a foolish decision" more than once. I was so relieved to get off the mountain about 7:30 pm. It may look like a lazy mountain, but it certainly wasn't an easy climb, at least not for me.

The ice cream at Big Dipper was absolutely delicious, but the walk from the car into and out from the store was not fun. Once home, I took a shower and went to bed with bags of frozen peas on my knees. In fact, I could hardly walk for the next two days. Two more days, and only my calves ached. The day after that, I finally felt normal again and was thankful that apparently, I would not have any permanent ramifications from overdoing. Erin told me that it would be like childbirth. After time, I would not remember all the pain, just that we made it to the top. A week later, I was glad we did it, but also knew I would never attempt it again. In fact, if I knew coming down would be so hard, I probably wouldn't have pushed to go to the top.

Back in 1990 when Dad climbed Mount Marathon with us, using a walking stick he made himself, I took for granted his physical fitness. At age 76, there was no mention of pain and he didn't hike at a slower pace than the rest of us. But then, Dad was a big game guide for Dall sheep in the Wrangell Mountains into his 70s. I know better than to compare myself to him.

I have since talked to a few other women my age who have a long history of climbing Lazy Mountain. As I gaze up at the summit from grocery store parking lots, I'm so thankful that my daughter had the patience to help me accomplish a bucket list wish.

Maraley McMichael is a lifelong Alaskan now residing in Palmer. Email her at maraleymcmichael@gmail.com.