The first steps off the trailhead feel like stepping into a living classroom. Hemlock needles whisper overhead, and the air holds the cold, clean tang of snowmelt that still lingers in the gullies. A naturalist leads the group at an easy pace, pointing out the textured bark of giant spruce and the papery sheets of birch while berries wink from low branches. Moose tracks scar the mud in spring; ravens glance down from wind-swept ridgelines. For two hours you move through a mixed boreal-coastal forest that changes with every bend — from dense, shade-draped stands to a sun-baked alpine bowl with broad views of the Turnagain Arm.