12.1.2013 - All Time???

After an absolutely awesome day at Hatcher on Saturday, we couldn't wait to head back north the next day. We pulled into the parking lot just as the midwinter sun was beginning to color the mountains with incredible oranges and purples.


I used to think Colorado was a small world, then I moved to Alaska. The previous day we ran into one of our good friends from Cordova, and familiar faces were parked all around us. Then on Sunday, one of my coworkers parked next to us. Then, of course, on the skin track we passed a group of skiers from Crested Butte. Of course they knew some of our friends from back in CO.

With clear skies, warm temps, and a calm breeze we were happy to be out of the car and climbing into the sun.


We started our day on a sunbathed east face that we drooled over the day before, working our way from one safe zone to the next.


Getting into the groove:


Opening it up lower down:


At the bottom, the low sun which had warmed us the first lap was already hidden behind a ridge. So, we headed back up and towards another zone we had seen from above.


Rachel dropped into our second run first, sending a nice cornice air at the top before dropping back into the shade.


My turn for turns!


With the short day coming to an end way too quickly, we threw our skins back on and headed for one last south facing run.


Rachel topping out while pretending to be unimpressed by the sleeping giants of North America's tallest peaks.


After taking a moment to enjoy the solitude and views of the Alaska Range to the north, the Chugach to the south, and the Talkeetnas all around us, we dropped in.


Until next time sun.


Not done yet!


Hatcher was absolutely incredible last weekend, the coverage is getting close to what its been like in the spring the last two years, we can only pray that it will continue.

As I've sat at my desk this week, studying a river in the area, I'm constantly reminded of the beauty and friendly people all around us. I can't wait for the next day bathed in golden light.

Eldorado - 11.30.2013

Alyeska finally opened this week, so we figured that our passes were a good excuse to avoid touring in the arctic temperatures. However, I forgot that anyone can look good skiing powder on a reverse-camber fat ski, I on the other hand, look and feel like an inbred donkey when I try to ski ice on edgeless park skis. Looking forward to looking good in powder again, we headed towards Hatcher Pass this morning.

Last weekend we skied the lower pitches of Eldorado in flat light that rivaled any of the alpine stupor I've experienced growing up at Loveland Ski Area; I was looking forward to going back with clear skies. But, as we drove north towards Palmer morning the thermometer climbed from -10 to zero, seemingly benign, but I was worried. This pointed towards the valley inversion breaking down, which meant that the winds aloft were pushing towards the surface. Somehow, we pulled into a nearly still parking lot and spent the day watching the channeled gap winds rushing down the Matanuska Valley towards the low pressure over the ocean.

Snow plumes on the lower hills of the Chugach, not much left to blow away up high:

Heading up the skintrack, we slowly left the crowds behind, but had plenty to watch across the way:

We started with a mellow rib back towards the skin track. Alex:


Laying it over lower down:


And then we headed back up for another set of tasty ribs higher up.


Looking north, people and lines everywhere. A lifetime of lines!


Rachel on the bowling ball as the pitch rolls away steeper and steeper below her:


Working her way towards us as she looks for good snow and avoids Alex's sluff:


With another great lap in the books we headed back up for one last lap in the sunshine.


Rachel topping out, behind her the epic face of Ray Wallace Bowl guarded by the long winter shadows:


The funny thing about the low winter light is that the sun appears to rise in the sky as it traverses the horizon and rises above descending ridges. Afternoon sunrise:


Alex getting his vitamin D.


Rachel:


Not a bad way to finish the day!

Manitoba Mountain - 11.17.2013

This winter is not off to a good start, but its not off to a bad start either. "Odd" is the best way to put it. Back in mid-September, East Anchorage saw plummeting temperatures and 15 cm of new snow. The eternal optimist inside of me was convinced: this was an early start to what was going to be an epic winter. We then spent the next month running on dry trails, with weather so warm I often found myself running shirtless in my shorts. Of course, nothing to complain about. Then it started raining; I figured this was another positive - rain would definitely prevent depth hoar formation. Then, last Saturday we drove 2 hours each way following beta that turned out to be significantly shallower than the puddles we drove through on the way. But, we saw a new place, so another successful adventure. Finally, on Sunday, a storm funneling up the Cook Inlet brought 30 cm of snow to Turnagain and well over a meter of snow to the Talkeetnas. I figured we were set, a great start towards bridging the depth hoar at Hatcher. Then it rained at Hatcher. First World problems.

Things were not looking promising for the weekend. I managed to contract some sort of stomach plague on Thursday; while crawling back and forth from the bed to to toilet I had plenty of time to contemplate not only the philly cheesesteak I had regrettably eaten, but also where to go skiing.

The debate continued well into Saturday morning before Owen, Alex, and I finally headed south towards Summit Lake's Manitoba Mountain.

Owen was nice enough to play guide and we were soon through the alders with our goal in sight.


The nice thing about bringing Alex along is that you can guarantee that he will have more energy than you. "I can break trail for awhile" - how about from now on?


Reaching the ridgeline, the north winds, funneling air straight from the arctic, reminded us we were alive, and just how fast it's possible to rip your skins off and get ready to ski.


Stoked or cold? Both?


Back at the bottom of the upper pitch, the shadows were growing longer. So, we headed for the car. Owen making his way down.


Still going, crush the brush!


Hardly a bad view for our last turns.


Back at the car, not a bad view either. If you look closely in the looker's left bowl, you can see many numerous point release avalanches of the storm running on depth hoar.


Sunday dawned even colder, but knowing we would find good snow and solitude, Rachel and I headed back to Manitoba. It blows me away that so much water can flow when its so cold; a month of rain takes a long time to drain out of the ground!


Despite the -15 C temperatures, mother earth still seems to be a bit confused about the season:


Reaching treeline, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the cruel winds from the day before had died down. Rachel knows textured snow means good snow:


Yep, that was goood.


Lets do it again!


Its so fun seeing new views every day, I feel like a kid. Window shopping towards Silvertip:


Milking the apron, just as good the second time around.


Success!


With two laps in the books the winter sun was getting low in the sky, already itching for more, we skied down towards the car.

Jewel Glacier - 10.26.2013

Winter has been slow in arriving here: we still have flowers in our front yard and the forecast has included ridiculous terms like "tropical infusion". So, the snow line has stayed high - well above treeline, which combined with lots of precipitation has limited our chances to get into the alpine. Finally, yesterday was clear and we couldn't wait to head out.

Still not sure about the snow base we'd find, we headed for the Jewel Glacier above Girdwood. As we started the 3 km approach the mountains above us were lit up by the rising sun.


Getting closer to the snow...


Hiking up Crow Creek towards the Jewel Glacier brought the heightened sense of awareness that only comes with visiting a new place - the sensation that so many of us seek, where the world seems so vivid and saturated with color - the feeling of being alive.


Carried on by the crisp morning air and a cool breeze, we were soon jamming our feet into our ski boots and skinning onward.


Man, does the sun feel good or what?


Looking back, quite the pack of people were snaking up the valley behind us, so we decided to start the day by dropping north towards the Raven Glacier and into the darkness. First turns of the year!


Then we headed back up onto the Jewel.


The top of the Jewel brought another round of new and jaw-dropping views. Looking south into the Milk Glacier Valley:


Working our way down the Jewel:


At the bottom, there was really only one logical option: another lap!


This time we decided to climb a bit higher on the headwall above the Jewel. Climbing farther than Rachel, I suddenly found myself on an awesome knife edge ridge. Peering over the edge to the Milk Glacier 1,000 feet below, I worked my way along the slippery snow-covered rock to my drop in.


I looked back to see Rachel on her own airy perch ready to drop in:


Rachel dropped first and I followed her as we yo-yoed our way down the glacier and the snow covered moraine below.


As we dropped lower, milking the last few turns, the snow quickly disappeared, but hey, rain crust does have some value!


Sitting inside writing this, we're back into the warm, wet weather - waiting for the next break in the clouds and that next adventure to a new place.