Late Hike On Mt. Prindle

Aug 14, 2026

Two hikers with packs and two dogs, one in a teal dog-pack, move among tall, weathered granite tors on a grassy alpine ridge under a heavy grey overcast sky. The fluted rock pinnacles rise in clusters across the slope, with bare ridgelines falling away behind. — Wandering around the Windchimes

The first weekend in August, we planned on hiking Granite Tors in the Chena River State Recreation Area. We left slightly later than planned, and smoke from a wildfire across the Nenana River near Clear hung in the air. Checking the air quality, it looked questionable where we were going, about 45 miles outside of town.

But when we arrived, the haze was pretty thick. Deciding it wasn’t worth the hike, especially if the air quality could get worse, we headed back into town to find a place that might be a little better.

Looked like our options were the White Mountains National Recreation Area and Denali National Park. But we wanted to bring the dogs, so we settled on the Whites. Neither Cassidy nor Lucie had done the entire Mt. Prindle hike from Nome Creek, so we drove to Nome Creek.

Cassidy and I had been out here with Elliott, and a couple of the recent grads from Team Ascension backpacked out here in June, but turned back at the tors known as the Windchimes because of both the amount of snow and exhaustion.

Since we already lost some time driving out to Granite Tors and back, we didn’t get to the trailhead until almost 2 pm, determined to make the 16+ mile hike.

A hiker in a teal top and rolled shorts wades a shallow, clear creek in sandals, leaning on two trekking poles, a pack on her back and her head down watching her footing. Spruce and green willow line both banks under a soft grey sky. — Lucie crossing Nome Creek

After two creek crossings, we put our shoes on and made our way quickly along the trail. It was drier than earlier in the summer. Mostly.

A hiker with a large teal pack and teal beanie walks away down a narrow dirt path through green brush and low tundra toward a rounded, dark-topped mountain half-lost in heavy grey overcast. Scattered small spruce dot the wet meadow on either side. — Walking the trail along Nome Creek

A cluster of upright tubular flowers, creamy white streaked with deep blue-purple lines, rises on pale green stems from a tangle of grass and low tundra plants. One bloom is torn, and a small insect rests on its rim. — Arctic gentian (*Gentiana algida*) - This is the only place I’ve encountered the plant; I first saw it around the same time last year. I’m currently working on the article for my Alaska Wildflower Guide.

Two hikers with packs and a black-and-white dog walk across a green U-shaped valley floor scattered with pale boulders and threads of shallow water, one hiker smiling toward the camera. Grassy slopes climb to bare, rounded ridges on both sides under a flat grey sky. — Cassidy and Lucie crossing the headwaters of Nome Creek

A single five-petaled flower, pale lavender with fine darker veining and a yellow center ringed by pink-tipped stamens, seen close against blurred green leaves and grass. — Alaska springbeauty (*Claytonia sormentosa*)

The wind hit us as soon as we reached the first ridge of small tors, only giving us short breaks as we wove between the granite rocks.

One thing I really love about this hike is how hidden the objective is. The summit of Mt. Prindle is roughly 8 miles in. It’s a granitic pluton and the tallest peak in the one-million-acre White Mountains National Recreation Area, and the first view you get of it is about mile 6, when you are less than two miles from the summit.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get any sun along the ridge, so the light was pretty flat. The wind kept getting stronger as we hiked, too.

A hiker with a teal pack stands on a tundra ridge raising her middle fingers toward the camera, a green wind jacket wrapped and tied around her head as a hood. A dog pack sits in the foreground, and pale grassy ridges roll away under a bright, cloudy sky. — Cassidy pointing out her makeshift windproof hat she made by wrapping her wind jacket around her head.

A lone hiker crosses a broad, grassy alpine ridge dotted with rock, walking toward the camera with peaks and rubble slopes falling away on both sides under a heavy grey overcast sky. — Lucie hiking across the tundra toward the Windchimes

Two dogs, one in a teal pack and one black-and-white, trot across a pale, lichen-covered rocky summit. Behind them, low rolling ridges topped with small rock tors recede into distance under a big sky of broken white cloud. — Doggos on the tundra. You can see more tor dotted ridges in the distance

The granite towers of the Windchimes dwarf the first set of tors. We found a windless spot to stop and have our 6 pm “lunch” break, still a little over a mile to go, and another 8 miles to return.

A row of weathered granite tors — blocky, fractured pinnacles and fins — rises along the crest of a tundra ridge, the grassy slope tilting up to meet them under a heavy grey overcast sky. — Some of the tors on the ridge

Two hikers with packs and a black-and-white dog follow a faint grassy path winding between towering granite pinnacles and fins, one hiker bent to the trail. A dark peak shows through a gap in the towers under a cloudy sky. — Hiking through the Windchimes

A hiker in a green jacket and black beanie braces between two granite walls, one foot high on each rock and legs stretched nearly to the splits, grinning, with more tors and overcast sky behind. — Cassidy almost getting into the splits in the Windchimes

Cassidy standing in front of one of the largest tors

A cluster of tall, fluted granite columns stands on a rocky tundra ridge, weathered into vertical pillars streaked with dark lichen. A broad rubble-and-tundra slope climbs to a rounded summit at left under a pale grey sky. — Small tors at the end of the Windchimes approaching Mt. Prindle

A tricolor dog — black, white, and tan — lies on a lichen-covered rocky summit facing the camera, forelegs crossed, a steep dark mountainside and pale sky behind. — Rosie posed for a portrait at a rest while we were hiking to the summit

A round bronze USGS benchmark disk set into pale, lichen-blotched granite, stamped U.S. Geological Survey Bench Mark with a triangle at its center and the name Champion and the year 1952. — The benchmark for the summit of Mt. Prindle, named Champion for a nearby creek drainage

The crazy wind continued at the summit. We stopped for a few minutes to take photos and video, but there isn’t much of a way to shelter from the wind up top, so we didn’t stay for long. We turned around at 7:30 pm, so we had made pretty decent time.

A high summit view over row after row of rugged grey-green ridges and deep valleys, a broad tundra basin below and faint blue ranges fading to the horizon under a soft grey sky. Lichen-blotched summit rocks fill the foreground. — View to the southeast from the summit

Two hikers in hooded shells sit facing each other among lichen-covered summit boulders, packs beside them, talking, with layered mountains and a wide grey sky falling away behind. — Break at the summit

A deep, U-shaped valley drops away below the summit, green tundra floor threaded by a braided stream running out toward spruce and distant blue ranges, steep rubble slopes rising on both sides under broken cloud. — View to the east down American Fork Creek

Two hikers with packs and a black-and-white dog pick their way down a broad, lichen-covered rock ridge, one ahead near a drop-off, ranges of dark peaks stretching to the horizon under a grey sky. — Setting off down the mountain

A hiker in a green jacket and two dogs descend a wide tundra-and-rock ridge toward a low saddle, beyond which bare peaks roll away into hazy distance under a broken overcast. — Back down into the windy saddle

A view down a long valley from among ragged granite tors in the foreground, the green valley floor and its thin stream winding between steep ridges toward far blue ranges under a pale sky. — American Fork valley - I want to explore all of these ridges

It always feels like the descent should go faster, but it never does. It’s almost entirely downhill, only a couple of climbs for the return, but it’s tough on the joints and the talus is difficult on my feet.

A hiker with poles and a dark shell picks down a steep jumble of pale, lichen-mottled talus blocks toward the camera, head down watching her footing, under a flat grey sky. — Lucie descending through one of the numerous talus stretches

A tiny lone figure stands partway up an enormous sweep of grey scree and talus that climbs to a rounded rocky summit, the vast slope dwarfing the hiker under an overcast sky. — It’s a lot of talus

A tall split granite pillar stands in the foreground on a tundra ridge, weathered into two leaning columns, with more jagged tors and a pyramid-shaped peak beyond under a soft grey sky. — Hiking back through the Windchimes

A dramatic line of tall, fractured granite tors rises along a grassy ridge crest, the largest a steep fin in the foreground, more spires trailing back toward a rounded peak. The overcast sky carries a faint pink cast of sunset at right. — One last stroll through the chimes as the sun sets with 6.5 miles to go

Adventure dog Astra at the first set of tors

I didn’t take many photos on the return, as we were trying to get back as quickly as possible and it was getting dark. We crossed the creeks and made it back to the car a few minutes before midnight. Cassidy and I were both about 0.2 miles short of 17 miles, so we ran a lap around the campground. It ended up a great hike, especially considering we had no idea that’s what we’d be doing that day.

Full Photo Gallery From The Hike

Field notes from the north

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