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My comfort zone is the width of my boots. Which isn't too comforting, since I'm walking on a knife-edge of snow on Flower Mountain, a 1,824-metre peak in Alaska. To my left, a 60-degree slope drops half a kilometre. To my right, rocky cliffs plummet to a glacier below.

Guide Wes Light leads my three-man rope team. I kick-step into his tracks, jabbing in my ice axe for support - until he begins descending the snow slope. "Probably best to go around this," the wiry 26-year-old calls out. A tunnel has eroded the ridge. The snow bridge above won't hold us.

But a one-metre ramp of glistening ice also covers the ridge. And we're climbing without crampons. I begin to baby-step along the frozen crest. It feels like I'm walking along the top of the world with as much traction as sneakers on a skating rink.

I've arrived in this precarious position thanks to a yearning for the wilder side of Alaska. I've seen the state from a cruise ship, but this time - like a growing number of the 1.7 million tourists who visit each year - I wanted an adventure. I wanted to go up into the mountains. I signed up for a seven-day crash course in mountaineering in mid-August.

While it may seem strange to spend the summer camping on a glacier, scrambling over ice and snow, it's the best time of the year for mountaineering. Unlike skiers, who retire to heated lodges after a day on the slopes, mountaineers spend their time on, well, mountains, retreating to tents to cook and sleep. Long days and warm sun make this enjoyable.

My course - run by Alaska Mountain Guides & Climbing School - began six days earlier in the town of Haines (pop. 2,400).

The first lesson was knot-tying, so our group of five climbers practised making prusiks, a type of hitch knot used for ascending ropes, a skill you'd need if you were to fall into a crevasse. Hanging from the wooden rafters of our training loft, I ratcheted myself up and down the rope, hoping I would never need to do this for real.

But real, whatever that would turn out to be, was upon us. Carabiners, tents, ice axes and a week's worth of camp food were divvied up, and the group was soon bouncing in a 4x4 up a steep logging road. As we drove, we passed ripe salmonberry bushes and mounds of fresh bear scat.

It wasn't a long drive. One of the benefits of climbing in Alaska is that you don't have to go far to be in the mountains. Because of the latitude, at 1,000 metres you are above the tree line, compared with about 2,000 metres in the Rockies. And our destination would be Flower Mountain, a two-hour drive from Haines, in the Chilkat Range.

"Flower Mountain is a really good classroom," explained Light, who has been guiding for the same outfitter for four years and has a raccoon's tan to prove it. "It has a good mix of rock and snow and ice to work with and is the kind of place people can get their feet wet."

After pitching tents amid dense clouds on a spongy plateau of tundra and tarns, the group hiked up a steep snow slope beside the campsite for a lesson in self-arrest, rehearsing each of the ways one can fall on steep ice and snow: sliding downhill on your bum, backward with your head up and - the most unnerving - backward with your head down the slope.

Each time I fell down, digging in the pick of my ice axe caused me to swing around violently from the momentum. But even bruised from bouncing over large chunks of ice, when I thought of the scene in the movie Touching the Void in which a climber falls into a chasm, I kept on going.

The next day, we broke camp and climbed in rope teams up onto the Sapphire Glacier. We started in a whiteout, but the weather cleared as we built a base camp of yellow domed tents on the crusty summer snow under Flower Mountain's saw-toothed peaks. The guides made a communal tent - with snow benches, a snow table and tarp roof. When finished, Light declared, "This is mountaineering," and I began to settle into my home for the week.

Located at the top of Alaska's panhandle, Haines lies about 800 kilometres below the Arctic Circle, so we did not get midnight sun. But with dusk well past 10 p.m. around the solstice, the twilight can be bright enough for midnight reading. A sunny day on the slopes, meanwhile, will tan you better than a day at the beach back home. Despite using SPF 45, most of the group were well bronzed after the first few days.

Even so, for the next several days, constantly changing weather set our course schedule. When clouds moved in and the visibility dropped, we worked on "protection": anchoring systems for attaching ropes to ice, rock and snow. The group also practised walking in crampons over aquamarine ice on the glacier above base camp. And under blue skies, we made forays onto the surrounding rock and snow slopes.

We began to move well in rope teams, keeping just the right amount of tension without pushing or pulling our climbing partners, calling out commands such as "anchor" and "climbing" with military enthusiasm as we set protection and moved forward. The process and the gear started to make sense. And on the last day, there was the climb along the summit ridge to the satellite peak of Flower Mountain.

Baby-stepping along the icy ledge, I slip. My heart races, but I have confidence in my rope team and regain my balance. I'm soon past the ice, and back on the softer snow of the ridge, kick-stepping in Light's tracks, I yell encouragement to others who are advancing. As they scramble up the steep summit slope of loose, rotten rock, boulders careen into space. It sounds like they're walking over piles of broken dinner plates.

I look up, though, and see Light, sitting on the summit, smiling as he belays me forward. When I arrive at the peak, he reaches his hand out for a shake. The sun is high and warm.

I relax and take in the view: the Chilkat mountains, the Fairweather Range to the west, the Takinsha mountains to the south - a limitless expanse of rock, snow and adventure.

Pack your bags

GETTING THERE

Most travellers fly to Juneau, the state capital. From there, Haines can be reached by ferry (http://www.dot.state.ak.us) or by plane. The 35-minute flight up the Lynn Canal on Wings of Alaska (http://www.wingsofalaska.com) is particularly scenic.

WHERE TO STAY

Hotel Halsingland 1-800-542-6363; http://www.hotelhalsingland.com. This Victorian hotel is close to guiding outfitters in Haines. Rooms start at $109 (U.S.) a night.

Captain's Choice Motel 1-800-478-2345; http://www.capchoice.com. Rooms and breakfast starting from $123 (U.S.) a night, double occupancy.

WHAT TO DO

Alaska Mountain Guides 1-800-766-3396; http://www.alaskamountainguides.com. Courses run from two to 12 days. The seven-day Expedition Primer costs $1,260 (U.S.) and includes all equipment and meals. Courses run from April to September. No previous experience is required, though participants should be in good physical condition.

Chilkat Guides 888-292-7789; www.raftalaska.com/chilkat-river-rafting.html. This outfitter offers a gentle half-day river-rafting trip through the Chilkat Eagle Reserve. Prices start at $89 (U.S.).

MORE INFORMATION

Haines Visitor Bureau

http://www.haines.ak.us