The Novarupta eruption of 1912 was so violently absurd that it buried an entire valley under 700 feet of ash in less than 60 hours. Now that same moonscape—the Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes—sits in Katmai National Park, Alaska, looking like Mars decided to vacation on Earth.
Getting There Involves More Planning Than Your Average Road Trip
You can’t just drive to this place. There are no roads. Zero. The only way in is flying from Anchorage to King Salmon (about 290 miles southwest), then hopping a floatplane to Brooks Camp inside Katmai. It’ll cost you around $700-900 for the flight alone, and that’s before you factor in park permits, gear, and the gnawing realization that grizzly bears outnumber tourists here roughly 2,200 to maybe a few hundred on busy days.
Most visitors never see the valley at all—they come for the bears fishing at Brooks Falls and call it a day.
The Actual Valley Tour Requires Either Stamina or a Tour Bus
Once you’re at Brooks Camp, you have two options: sign up for the park’s bus tour (runs June through September, costs about $89) or backpack the 23-mile round trip on the Valley Road. The bus takes roughly six hours total, including a stop at the overlook where you can stare at this geological crime scene in person. Walking it? That’s a multi-day commitment with river crossings, unpredictable weather, and the constant awareness that you’re in prime bear country without cell service.
Here’s the thing: those “ten thousand smokes” aren’t smoking anymore.
When Robert Griggs led the first expedition here in 1916, countless fumaroles were venting steam through the ash—hence the dramatic name. By the 1960s, most had gone quiet as the ash cooled. What remains is a 40-square-mile expanse of pumice and volcanic debree that looks disturbingly lifeless, punctuated by the braided channels of the Ukak River cutting through like surgical scars.
Timing Your Visit Means Wrestling With Alaska’s Moods
Summer (June-September) is the only realistic window unless you’re an extreme winter camper with a death wish. Even then, Katmai’s weather is legendarily fickle—sunshine can pivot to sleet in 20 minutes. Temperatures hover between 50-65°F, but wind chill near the valley makes it feel colder. The park service strongly recommends layers, rain gear, and accepting that you will get wet.
And muddy. So muddy.
What You’re Actually Looking At When You Get There Finally
The overlook sits at about 2,000 feet elevation, giving you a panoramic view of desolation. The ash flows created a landscape so hostile that even 110 years later, vegetation has barely colonized the valley floor. You can see where pyroclastic flows raced downhill at speeds exceeding 100 mph, incinerating everything. The eruption ejected roughly 7 cubic miles of magma—30 times more than Mount St. Helens in 1980.
Turns out, one of the largest volcanic events of the 20th century happened in a place so remote that nobody even realized Novarupta was the culprit until later; they initially blamed nearby Mount Katmai, whose summit collapsed during the eruption.
Wait—maybe that’s the real story here. Not just visiting a bizarre volcanic wasteland, but confronting how thoroughly nature can rewrite landscapes when humans aren’t paying attention. The valley doesn’t care if you make the trek. It just sits there, oxidizing slowly, a monument to the Earth’s capacity for sudden, spectacular violence.
Bring binoculars, sturdy boots, and reasonable expectations about comfort.
