Here is our story, to add to the "How I Almost Destroyed My Vanagon Last 
Weekend" volume:

We drove into the Alaska Range and up the pipeline service road that 
approaches the Gulkana Glacier.  It's about 60 miles south of Delta 
Junction on the Richardson Highway, just north of Summit Lake, behind the 
Richardson Monument.  I recommend it to anyone with decent ground 
clearance on their vehicle, as the road is dry and passable even 
as it degrades into a dozer swath through the cobbles of the wide stream 
bed.  It is an easy hike to the glacier and beyond, including a 
swinging bridge across College Creek and a two-man cable tram across the 
headwaters of the Gulkana River.  Plenty of geology to appreciate in the 
hills above the valley.

But there is still some snow in patches along the road at this time of 
year, and as we approached the first drift, there was a Suburban towing 4 
snow machines backing out (I think they call them "snowmobiles" in the 
lower 48).  "This is the end of the road, unless you have a snow machine!  
Heh heh!", they called as they went by.  I accepted their challenge, and 
locked the rear differential of my '87 Syncro GL.  We floated over the 
first drift without a problem.  The snow was solid beneath a few inches 
of slush in the 60 degree heat.  The Suburban disappeared toward the 
highway, and we went another hundred yards or so when WHOOMP!  The 
passenger side went through the snow and ice and into the creek.  She was 
listing pretty severly, at least 18 inches lower on that side.  The water 
was less than a foot deep, fortunately.  So the van was hemmed in back 
and front by the remaining ice over the creek.  I had strayed off the 
path by about two feet, and it looked pretty bad.  

We herded the dogs out the driver's door, and took inventory.  My SO 
agreed that we were going to camp near here anyway, so there was no rush 
to get it out (I think I'll keep her).  But it was not going to be very 
comfortable sleeping at that angle.  We had two ice axes and an entrenching 
tool at our disposal, and set to work on the ice.  The blister over the 
creek was easy to stomp through, so we made some space on either end of 
the van.  We chopped a trench around and between the wheels on the 
high side, and rolled it off the remaining pedestals to get some more 
weight on that side.  Backing out didn't work, as the rear end tended to 
slip further into the creek, or send rooster tails of silty water all 
over my passengers turned spectators.  So we continued to make the hole bigger, 
until I could get the entire van into the creek.  A few more swings of 
the axes created a ramp of sorts up the ice bank.  But I think it was the 
desire to quit messing around and get on the trail that gave me the 
confidence to back it up as far as I could, cram it into low gear, and 
punch it.  The front end slipped briefly on the ice and threatened to 
skip sideways back into the creek, but the rear wheels grabbed at just 
the right time, and pushed the front end up onto the bank.  In an instant 
the mantra MAINTAIN MOMENTUM rang in my head, and foot to the floor, the 
rear jumped out as well.  

Further motivated, we reloaded the van and plowed through a few more 
drifts to find the campsite we wanted.  The only damage I found was an 
extension of the crack through the front bumper endcap, but I figure that 
is what they are for.  My new front end body work (due to the 
unmanned encounter with a tree a while back) is fine, including the 
grille with the extra large VW medallion.  The rest of the weekend was less 
suspenseful, but still a beautiful escape from Faribanks for three days.  The 
dogs flushed a pair of moose and a  group of five  or six 
caribou as we hiked up to the Hoodoos the next day, but were outrun in no 
time.  We saw grizzly tracks on the way down, but not the owner.  I'll 
post the pictures of the event and extraction someday.  When we drove by 
the chasm on the way out on Monday, it reminded me of a wolf-moose winter 
battlefield: a center area of dirty compacted snow and ice, with a 
perimeter of churned-up slush and footprints.  I wonder how the Suburban 
would have done in the same situation...

Chris Wyatt
'87 Syncro GL
Fairbanks, Alaska