Peak 3 - 3.6.2014

The story of skiing Peak 3, an Anchorage evening classic, isn't really a story of skiing, its a story of the last year.

It all started almost exactly a year ago when I arrived in Anchorage. I'd just quit my job in Colorado and heading north unemployed and filled with excitement. The minute I got into town last March, my good friend LP and I headed out for a sunset ski of Peak 3. It looked about the same then as it does now.


That time around I didn't forget my skins, like I did this time. Boot packing sure was a lot more work than skinning. But just like last time, I was fresh off leaving a job. In fact, when LP started skinning I was still sitting in Anchorage tolerating an unannounced exit interview. Sure glad I caught up with her though:


I was just as glad to see Malcolm. Malcolm had a great story about the pirouette he once did in his truck on the skating rink that is the top of the road to Peak 3.


A similar slippery experience happened to me on the way to Peak 3 last week. It shouldn't have happened, but I was in Cordova last summer when my tires died, or at least that's my excuse. The shop in Cordova found a "great deal": a set of tires for $850. That wasn't going to happen. Of course, I tried to order them from Amazon Prime while I spent the summer on a boat in the Prince William Sound. Obviously they never arrived. So, in August I found myself driving off the ferry in Whittier on my doughnut with all my possessions on top of or behind it. And, since studded tires are illegal in Anchorage in August I ended up with a set of new studless tires to start off my first winter in Anchorage. All of which was coming back to me rather quickly as I was sliding even more quickly backwards down the ice rink I had confused as a road.

All of this was completely, undeniably, and totally my fault. Malcolm remembering the finer points of freestyle truck driving:


But, at the end of the day, its all those funky, sketchy, and often downright idiotic moments that make life so special, and that we remember so vividly.

Harp - 2.25.2014

Well...I've decided to quit my job. Unfortunately, this does not leave me funemployed as I have foolishly taken another job. But, it does mean that, well, I'm feeling less pressure at work.

Due to this new-found lack of consequences, I decided to leave work early last Wednesday to go for an evening ski with another delinquent coworker. Beta from a client of our other delinquent teammate was good snow up Hiland Road, we figured it would only be appropriate to confirm.

Out of the alders and into the sun:


That looks like a good post-office lap:


Getting there, come on boys, we have work to do, and its not in the office!


Great sunset views from the top - looking deep into the Chugach:


Ram and Falling Water Valleys, I believe.


I think I see my office, I wonder who is still there...


Delinquent #2 dropping in right as the sun sets:


Into the dusk:


Greg finding good snow in the post sunset glow:


Still deep:


And miles to go before I sleep...

Falls Creek - 2.22.2014

The nice thing about Anchorage is that when it comes to skiing (or any kind of playing), you have options. We knew it would be cloudy at Turnagain, Hatcher has been variable, and Alyeska is rather skied out and thin.

We wanted somewhere that would be stable and would provide contrast against the gray light. This fall, my good friend Nick and I had a most excellent and dark bushwhacking adventure up Falls Creek. I remembered the awesome lines we'd seen up there before the sun set and the alders attacked us.

With that in mind, we headed for Falls Creek this morning. Starting at sea level meant starting the day with thin, and dare I say, technical skinning. But, the ascent through the peaceful forest was really wonderful and before long we were into more open country. Looking south towards Resurrection Pass, which Toni and I rode this fall:


The Falls Creek knob starting to come into view:


Skinning under the rock massif of the Falls Creek Knob brought a great sense of grandeur and scale, coming around the corner and looking up into the couloir was even more exciting. Once in the couloir, we threw our skis on our backs and started up the stairway to heaven.


Deep going up means deep going down!


Topping out:


The 270 degree views from the top gave us a chance to scout our next line. Indianhouse West Couloir, still a bit thin - we'll be back for it:


Indianhouse East Couloir


Don't know this one's name, but I know I want to ski it!


With no safe spots through the extent of the couloir, we elected to ski it top to bottom. I went first, pausing to let my slough pass me as I went. Max coming into view:


Rachel finding a deep spot:


Malcolm claims this was a "quad burner", sure doesn't look like he felt it:


After a great first run we couldn't wait to head around the corner to Indianhouse East.


Up, up, up!


Protected powder and rocks walls.


Almost there...


10 meters below the top, the snow suddenly changed drastically. The armoring raincrust under the new snow quickly deteriorated and the snow became pillowy and windloaded. It was time to call it and head down. Not a bad place to stop:


Good views too, the North Suicide:


More views - the backside of the Falls Creek Knob where we had been hours before. Plenty of fun looking lines there.


Malcolm dropped into the steep untouched powder first:


Looking so small down there:


Tara making it look easy:


From the bottom of the couloir, we worked our way through the upper basin before starting the harrowing descent through the trees and back to the water.

Its not every day you get to ski steep powder between huge rock walls, not to mention not see another soul. What a day, this is up there with some of my favorites!

Seattle Ridge - 2.9.2014

Saturday wasn't the only good day last weekend, Sunday was also rad. After a quiet day on Tin Can while an unsuspecting Anchorage slept, we knew we'd have to get a bit more creative to find untracked turns and solitude on Sunday.

We decided to take advantage of the unusual snowmobile closure on Seattle Ridge and check it out. But, about 20 parties in front of us had the same idea. That being said, starting the day by skinning in the sun felt great.


Fortunately for us, nineteen of the twenty groups in front of us decided to ski back towards the road as we dropped west towards Seattle Creek.

Standing on top of our first line we knew that, just like the day before, the storm snow was sitting on a slick layer of well developed surface facets. The question was, just how fast would the storm snow slide. I dropped first, watching cracks instantly propagate around my skis. I kept moving, knowing that I needed to get in front of the sliding snow, but the slide kept bunching up and cracking below me. Before long I popped out in front of it, but not before wasting half my run going straight.


Aliza found more stable snow:


So did Alex:


Standing in the cold shade at the bottom, we were all happy to head back for the sun on the ridge. Back on top, the crew taking in the view of Eddies and Wolverine:


We weren't in the mood to spend the rest of the day wasting our hard earned vertical out-running slides, so we tried a different aspect and pitch. Andy:


Aliza popping out of the Seattle Creek drainage and back into the sun.


Again, the ridge brought incredible views. The Kenai Peninsula's highest peak, Carpathian, dwarfing the rowdy spine wall of Eddies.


After two uptracks out of the cold and shady Seattle Creek drainage we were ready for some sun.


Andy:


Too good to not do again.


And one last, beautiful, sunbathed run to the car:


Things are still a bit thin down low, especially on solar aspects...

But, with the proper tossing technique, even steep frozen dirt is easy to navigate. Take notes.


And, of course, a day on Turnagain isn't complete without a perfect view up the Twenty Mile, complete with the infamous Spine Cell zone.


I'm so glad winter is back, lets hope it stays around!