Ewe Peak & Concerto Peak Ski - 5.6.2023

For years I've heard whispers of the giant couloir on the north side of Concerto. Tucked into no-man's land in the east fork of Ship Creek, I'd generally thought it too far away to merit attention.

But, the skiing around Ship Creek was great this year, and after a sneaking a peek of Ewe from Koktoya last weekend I was finally hungry. Leaving the Harp parking lot early on a spring day, we cruised up a mostly supportable crust towards the giants of the South Fork of Eagle River.


The ptarmigan were loudly celebrating the arrival of spring as we slid past the dwarf willows of the U-shaped valley, across Eagle Lake, and into the deep gorge between Eagle and Cantata peaks. After a few hours and a few more blisters, we were gaining elevation and onto the Flute Glacier.

On the Flute we found cold snow which immediately adhered to our skins like a heavy layer cake.


With scraping, cursing, and time, our skins adjusted from spring back to winter and we transitioned from hip-flexor wrecking glopping back to smooth sliding. A storm was hanging over the head of the Flute, enshrining the glacier in snow and wind, and making the mountains seem bigger and otherworldly.

Hanging Valley Skiing - 2.7.2016

Note: updated below the original post to include a new line for us on 2.12.2022 and again with a fun Eagle Lake loop on 2.7.2023.

Eagle River is a land of huge peaks, deep couloirs, and a temperamental snowpack.

Brady and Sarah entering the upper basin.

Approaches are often long, access is tenuous, and snowpack information is limited.
The views are one of many reasons to go.

Recently I've heard report after report of good conditions in Hanging Valley. Brunton, Zack and Khalial, and Erin and Abe have all been back there lately. Plus, the approach and access are uncharacteristically easy for ER.

Sarah taking it all in from the top of the first run. Harp in front of Foraker and Denali.

Eagle Lake Chutes - 4.23.2022

The Eagle Lake chutes first came into my consciousness on a cold and deep day of wallowing in Hanging Valley with Brady and Sarah in 2016. Swimming upwards through neck deep snow to claw over a vertical cornice brought us to the small nest at the top of a slanting couloir. On that dark and monochromatic mid-winter day we looked across the South Fork at the impossibly skinny hallways cut into the knob above Eagle Lake:


In a donut hole of snow surrounded by larger peaks, the aprons were a scoured mix of thin windboard and scree. The chutes seemed sized for snowblades more than skis. Since then, those elevator shafts have continued to elude me while I'm occasionally reminded by a peek while packrafting South Fork, skiing Calliope, or after work runs on the likes of Cantata, Hurdy Gurdy, and Triangle.

This February, while shivering in the wind at the top of that same diagonal Hanging Valley couloir with Dane, Nyssa, Tom, and Erin, those lines resurfaced in my frontal lobe.


With a fat snowpack in the Eagle River and Anchorage zones, it was easier to imagine jump turning down the lean corridors.

Temptation Ski - 2.16.2020

Note: updated below the original post to include an evening summit lap on the south face in April 2022.

After a really satisfying Saturday slog on Tanaina, all I wanted was more. So, by 7:30 the next morning we were headed to Hiland Road and Temptation.

Admittedly, Temptation would be easier from the Artic Valley Road. However, that seemed like a waste of the 9 hours of daylight we had to work with. Best to add several thousand vertical feet and a few miles. By the time we were done with the first unnecessary climb to Rendezvous Ridge, the Tordrillos were glowing across the inlet in morning light.


Meanwhile, Temptation's couloirs remained shaded by their deep rock walls.


No one would call the snowpack of the Front Range stable, and safely skiing towards Ship Creek was a process. So was skinning downhill thru the final section of alder gymnastics and beaver ponds. To add insult to bushwhacking injury, we both iced our skins on the soggy ponds. I couldn't help wondering what was wrong with us as we scrapped our skis in the zero degree temps. Ripping laps at Alyeska would have been far easier.

North BowlSki - 12.5.2020

Its pour raining in Anchorage. Actually. No. Its pouring rain SIDEWAYS in Anchorage. This isn't all bad - we're getting to test our new window - its not leaking...yet. And, while this gray, drippy, and dreary weather makes people want to jam their heads into the blankets and emerge March, it makes me a neurotic mess questioning the meaning of life. Great for getting projects done. Until I run out of projects. Then the quality of the projects go downhill, case in point: our mailbox.

 
Nyssa says I'm scary when I'm bored, so hopefully a little blogging will keep me from taking the chainsaw to the house in favor of reminiscing about a colder (and less gray) day last month:

Pulling into the dark South Fork parking lot it was 3 degrees, that's 35 degrees colder than it is now. There were lots of familiar faces in the lot and it was fun catching up with Jessie and Peter on the skin track. When they stopped to put on their ski crampons at Hunter Pass my initial reaction was: "I don't need those!" Then they went zipping past across the tilted frozen tundra. 

The goal had been to ski in the sun, but the sunny slopes were wind scoured and looked very spikey. So, the decision was made to drop into the deep freeze of North Bowl. Good, sun is too pleasant anyways.

Photo Erin Larson

The bowl skied OK, and got better lower down, but we hadn't given up on the sun, and decided to skin towards a a couple promising gullies in the sun. Starting to skin it quickly became apparent that we were back to a thin and spikey aspect, but being stubborn masochists we kept dragging our skins up the icy and rocky skin track. This is likely the same stubborn masochistic habit that had me pass on the easier and better paying degree in Construction Management.

Getting into the gullies was a challenge as we lurched over the thinly covered rocks. The snow in the gully wasn't too bad, though not good enough to waste another run on. Below us the foggy inversion of the Anchorage bowl was coming into the light:

Bear Crack Ski - 3.9.2020

The first time we tried the Bear Crack we were racing increasing winds. As we closed in on the top, the winds ramped up, and a natural washed over us. Seconds later a bigger one took Nyssa's ski pole for a 500 ft ride. It wasn't the day to be in an incised terrain trap, and we bailed.

On a calmer day a week later, Jordan and I went back for redemption.

As we left the little parking lot next to the lake, large fluffy flakes were drifting down around us, and skinning into the birch forest felt like going through the wardrobe to Narnia.


At the campground we turned left and waded thru devils club and alders towards the base of the line. Below treeline couloirs are rare in these parts, and seeing full grown cottonwoods inside the lower line was confusing. 30 minutes from the parking lot, we were out of the shrubs, prickly things, and trees.

East Killiak Peak Ski - 3.26.2019

After an extended period of stormy weather, we were looking for a "moderate" objective to get our noses into the snowpack. After some back and forth about what moderate means, we settled on East Killiak. Like so many other memories, the day started on Prudhoe Bay Road.

We hiked up the access trail, switched to skins, and were soon following the familiar route up the Ram Glacier. On the way, we passed under the sharkey north face of Cumulus and the stacked massif of Raina:


Under the huge amphitheater at the top of the glacier we curved left to Bombardment Pass. Hard to think of other lines that pair as nicely as Korohusk's dogleg and pinner.


The descent from Bombardment Pass is straightforward, but we managed a confused route down loose moraine covered in a dusting of snow and seeps of water ice. Tumbling down scree makes for stronger memories. Peters Peak:

Cumulus Mountain Ski - 4.2.2019

This isn't really a story about skiing Cumulus, its about years of memories of exploring, laughs, and epics in Ram Valley, Falling Water, and Peter's Creek.

The day started with us hiking out of the parking lot in our running shoes. The warm March sun had melted most of the sun from the trail.


The dry trail reminded me of the first time we skied Korohusk five years ago. That day started by jackknifing Tarah's car while Jake and his pack of dogs barked at us from the driveway. Then we followed wolverine tracks up the Ram rock glacier until the dogleg coolie came into view - I couldn't believe it - here's a picture of Cody, Tarah and Max from that day:


Now back to the present - after passing above Cam's cabin we traded running shoes for skis and started skinning up the valley. We had a great day with Cam and company earlier this year linking up the dream line on Pleasant with the Y on Peking.

As soon as we started skinning we started running into the tracks of a momma bear,

Calliope Mountain Ski - 5.12.2019

Calliope is different than many ski mountaineering objectives of the western Chugach. Unlike the deeply incised couloirs that depend on flushing avalanches cycles for stability, its huge hanging face has nowhere to hide and the potential to harbor persistent weak layers. It requires near absolute confidence in stability. So, after a couple weeks of working into bigger terrain with good results it was time to give it a go.

The walk to the Eagle Lake took a bit over an hour and a half; there we turned right and followed the old medial moraine towards Symphony Lake.


Symphony welcomed us with isothermal snow drifts and beaver ponds. Another mile of wading through various forms of muck was plenty and we were both ready to switch to skinning.


I'd never been past Symphony Lake and loved imagining pesky goblins peering around the jumbled spires of the Cantata ridge and the ice bulges of Triangle.

Raina Peak Ski - 5.5.2018

Updated 3.7.2019 to include another great day in Ram Valley. 

For weeks the weather has been stuck on repeat as the conveyor belt of southwest flow plows storm after storm into our mountains. Last weekend it finally looked like we'd get a break in the weather. The catch was finding a zone that hadn't been overloaded by the recent snowfall, wasn't still snowing, and had options protected from the wind. We decided that spot was Falling Water where we could skin higher and higher until reaching the balance between dust on crust and fat storm slab. On Saturday morning, entering the upper amphitheater, we'd struck the jackpot. 


Still cautious about wind loading up high, we started with the tightest and most protected couloir that disappeared out of sight above us:


At the top of the apron, we loaded our skis on our backs and booted into the protected walls. The spring powder was cold, deep, and consistent. Kate wondered what witchcraft we'd used to conjure up such magical snow. I prefer to think of it as Jedi mind tricks.

Mount Pleasant Ski - 3.12.2016

Updated 3.6.2019 to include another great day in Peters Creek. 

I picked Ethan up at the airport on Friday night at 10, by 7 the next morning we were headed for Eagle River. Getting the Eagle River giants is hard: snowpack information is limited, days are big, consequences are high, and you are dealing with a dryer, cooler and hence, less stable snowpack than many of our go-to areas.


But, we'd been working our way into the zones over the last month, and with the help of the Anchorage Avalanche Center, Alex and I were optimistic about deep stability. Plus, there was a nice refresh of snow from the previous week.

Snacktime on the glacier. 

Nearing the head of the valley we left the lobes of intertwined rock and ice and started up the long south gully of Pleasant. Here's Alex forgetting that other people might like to do switchbacks instead of going straight up. However, straight is more efficient.

Peeking Mountain Skiing - 5.6.2018

Updated 3.6.2019 to include another great day in Peters Creek. 

Sunday morning found us in Andrew's dark living room sipping coffee and negotiating ski plans for the day. I wanted to return to the dry powder we'd found in Falling Water the day before; Alex wanted something bigger and badder in the Front Range, and Andrew wanted a "moderate" day. A couple hours and one false start at the Basher Trailhead later, and we were changing from running shoes to ski boots at the entrance to Falling Water. Hidden by a curtain of falling snow is Eagle Peak - what a classy line:


We'd seen Seth's truck at the trailhead and ran to catch them. They too were headed for the X Couloir, so we joined forces and zipped up the booter together. Behind Seth and Kate are the Raina couloirs that we had skied on the previous day.


None of us were entirely sure how wind loaded the entrance would be, but protected under the rock buttress it seemed to have escaped the wind. Kate and Ben dropped first between the incised walls, quickly disappearing around the dogleg.

Korohusk Skiing - 4.8.2017

Updated 1.29.2019 to include another great day on Korohusk.

The first time we skied Korohusk, Carpathian had been the day before. Then, to start the day, we sent Tarah and Max's Subaru backwards and sideways down Mariah Drive and into a ditch. When Tarah got out she promptly ended up on the ice under her car. When I got out I ended up on my face in the ditch 100 meters below the car.

I was hoping things would be equally exciting this time around. Fortunately, last week I managed to contract the plague, so things were looking up for an adventure! Apparently there was widespread collapsing as we skinned up the valley, but I did not notice such minor details thru the haze of sinus headaches and snot rockets. Arriving at the head of the valley the snow deepened and signs of instability decreased.

Photo: Zack Fields

We started with the Korohusk's pinner couloir. Its an unusual one, the right wall is really just a large flake, which disappears at points. Maybe Alex is covering his face to avoid peering off the edge?


I spent most of the climb raving about how much I loved my Verts and how I couldn't imagine anyone climbing anything without them. Tony does not have Verts, I bet he loved the constant reminder of how much harder his day was.

Photo: Zack Fields

Mount Rumble Ski - 5.5.2017

Skiing Rumble is following the footsteps of Alaskan skiing giants: Okonek, Stock, Thrasher, Brunton, Shlosar, to name a few. Its been skied by a variety of routes and lengths of time. Each based on a preference for slogging, comfort, or sheer brute strength. Last Friday, after getting a favorable report (thanks Scott and Peter), Alex, Andy, and I were ready to give it a go.

As we've waited for a weather, stability, and schedule window, we've tossed around ideas of reasonable ways to ski Rumble. We settled on entering Peters Creek via the X Couloir, then egressing via Raina. With a low snow year we stayed in our running shoes until we were on the Falling Water rock glacier. Across the way were lots of good memories of linkups on Raina. The fat chute connects nicely with Mount Pleasant, the X, and, well, Rumble.


At 9:30 we dropped into the X. Andy skiing towards moraine flow lobes in the valley below:


Somehow I had forgotten just how aesthetic the X is. Perhaps the good memories was drowned out by our previous epic here.

Eagle Peak Ski - 3.14.2016

by Ethan Vimont. 

7 PM the night before.... I sit silently, staring blankly at a cup of water feeling very tired, and feeling proud for struggling up 17,000 feet in the last two days. I also find myself ready for a nice break the next day. I begin imagining sleeping in when Mike's very alert and not tired voice breaks in with something like: "Yowza! (this may not be an exact quote) it looks like our weather window is just about up. If we want to ski something big this week, tomorrow it is! You ready for Eagle Peak?! Boing, boing, pant, pant, vvvrrrrrrrrrrrr...." (Mike occasionally vibrates when he gets excited). Then he does a few standing backflips in his kitchen to demonstrate how excited he is for another huge day.

"Ummm... Okay." I figured asking any details in my exhausted state might talk me out of doing something silly and fun, so I decide to wait to ask those until I'd had some dinner.

After I had given my body some calories Mike informed me that Eagle Peak would involve a few mile approach, a thousand feet of bushwhacking, and a total climb of 7,000 feet. Good thing I waited to ask, but I had committed, and as any good politician will tell you once you make up your mind, you mustn't change it.

It did not disappoint, and 20 hours later we got this:

Mike and Brady just having a laugh at how much good suffering the climb had been.

Mike may be holding me up in this picture. Photo: Brady Deal

But, first we actually had to climb it. Mike had easily convinced Brady to come along. Early in the morning we headed up Eagle Valley, and began a pleasant walk along the trail which was literally a sheet of ice. We quickly reached the river, and found a handy ice bridge to skip across.

Photo: Brady Deal

Crow Pass - 6.22.2014

Whit and Kelly are always coming up with great adventure ideas, but for whatever reason I keep getting thwarted on joining them. So, when they suggested a Crow Pass backpack, I couldn't wait to join. The weather wasn't perfect, so a weekend backpack ended up being a wonderful 35 km day hike.

Looking back down towards the Crow Pass trailhead, fun ski terrain back there.


A couple cool water falls just before the turn to the Jewel Glacier.

Photo: Kelly Bergkessel

Just past the turn off to the Jewel; one happy, soon to be very sore old pup.

Korohusk Ski - 3.30.2014

Many great zones are guarded by gaping crevasses, rushing rivers, huge avalanche paths, alder hells, or long approaches. This particular valley is guarded by a different kind of beast: angry, gun toting landowners.

Fortunately, Tarah is friends with everyone, so we were soon into our valley of choice.


Not to say it wasn't also guarded by a long approach. After skiing Carpathian the previous day, it was nice to just sit in the back, feel the burn, and let the miles slide by. The bigger peaks starting to come into view:


Quite a long approach.