Meares Peninsula Skiing

Updated in 2026 to include more sunny March days on this incredible peninsula of ice ringed by emerald waters.
On a Wednesday night in late March of 2022 I was lounging at home reading the weather, playing with the cats, and wishing I were skiing the next day when I got a text from Dana wondering if I could ski. My initial response was something like: "no thanks, I should be a good little corporate drone and go to work". Then I thought: Wait. WAIT. WWWWWAIT. Why would I put bloodthirsty corporate interests busy lining their own pockets ahead of a beautiful day in our unparalleled mountains with old friends?

The next morning, I called in sick with a bad case of powder fever, and headed for the icy tarmac of Merrill Field curious what we'd find in a rarely visited and unique zone. I found Dana preflighting his PA-12 in the numbing cold air of first light, then squirmed into the backseat of the taildragger. Feeling basically like Top Gun, I felt Dana push the throttle forward and the plane easily lift away from Anchorage.

Looking to be made of little model houses, our city disappeared behind as we climbed east towards endless wilderness. Following Ship Creek into the morning sun, we looked for the wandering tracks of the big brown bears hungry after their long winter night and ready to fill their bellies with a moose breakfast. To our right, the curved couloirs of Temptation grew from the hoar frost of the valley bottom to snake up the north face. As we approached Crow Pass and the maritime zone, the mountains continued to grow around us. To the left was the jagged south face of Organ. Some lucky and determined skiers have skied east from its summit. I'd like to join those ranks. 


There's so much country back here; it was like a giant slideshow as one mountain would slip away to reveal another behind it. As the slide of memories that is Bird Peak's steep and angular north face passed us, it revealed the shaded aquamarine jewel of Magpie.


Next up was the rimed summit of Raggedtop. There is so much to explore in our promised land that obvious options can fall out of mind for years - that's been the case for this Girdwood classic for me. Just visible on the right is the pass that we've used to avoid the avalanche and alder hazards of lower California Creek and access Fishs Breath famous southeast face and less known but equally dramatic north couloir. It would be cool to link up these two iconic peaks in one ski tour.

Prince William Sound Picture Project

I spent the summer of 2013 working on a fishery research vessel in Alaska's Prince William Sound. This was a truly formulative experience that changed me forever and bound the PWS to my soul. Over the years there have been so many beautiful moments that stood out from a larger story or adventure. After a decade hiatus, I've continued updating this post with images from these beautiful moments.

Hunting 2025

All year every year I look forward to deer hunting in the Sound. I'm not really sure why. Maybe because it has some of those same factors I love about backcountry skiing: anticipation, adaption in the moment, understanding the landscape (and the animals), shared experiences, and of course, some excitement. Its also special to me because some of my first memories in AK that I hold so dear were formed here.

So, it's particularly special to have a chance to go out for the opener. Abe hopped in and we flew over the glittering water set with emerald island gemstones to meet Adam on the outside.


We surfed the little rollers coming off the Gulf then hiked up top to hunt.


Early in the season the deer aren't used to hunters and are out doing their thing. Its magical to see them in a world seemingly untouched by people.

Culross Island Ski - May 2022

When I moved to Alaska 2013, I spent the first summer here working as a fishery technician sampling spawning salmon in the Prince William Sound. Coming up for air between rotting fish carcass dissections, I was blown away by the beauty of coastal AK - a place indescribably different than the arid Rocky Mountains where I grew up.

Immediately, I wanted those emerald waters, abundant wildlife, and lush bushwhacking to be part of my life. Moreover, I drooled over dreamy stories of skiing the postage stamp islands that dot the protected waterways of the sound. Between sunk boats, swamped boats, and flaming boats, learning how to make this dream a realty has not been easy for this landlubber.

Photo Dmitry Surnin

Over years of experiences that some would call adventures, others would call misadventures, but everyone would call memorable, we've slowly been taught to be slightly less of liabilities on the water. If nothing else, I've at least learned to always pay for insurance and Sea-Tow.

In early May, with a forecast for calm seas and clear skies, Dmitry and Scott entrusted us with their lives, or at least their weekends, and we buzzed out of Whittier...but only after a pit stop on the beach to saw off a malfunctioning addition to the boat.


There is lots of good ski terrain in this emerald gem, but this weekend our destination was Culross Island. Leaving Whitter, we motored across the jaw-dropping mega-fjord of Port Wells highlighted by glaciers tumbling 10,000 vertical feet to the sea. Turned the corner towards our lumpy island destination, we dropped our shrimp pots on the way to anchoring in Culross Bay.

In the bay there were places that still had five feet of snow at the beach. We looked around to find a dry camp spot tucked into a cove before skinning into the temperate rainforest.

Blackstone Bay Sea Kayak - August 2019

Anthony and Sarah's trip to AK started with six days of crashing thru the brush, swimming across the sloughs, sleeping in the swamps, and crawling along the bear trails of the Kenai Peninsula. It was time for some Type 1 fun, so we headed towards the emerald waters of Whittier and the Prince William Sound.

We left Anchorage early on Thursday morning, checked in with Lazy Otter, and by 10:30 were cruising out Passage Canal in the shiny landing craft. Turning at Decision Point, the giant icefields of Blackstone Bay rose in front of us.


The boat dropped us off at 13 Mile beach, waved goodbye, and disappeared.


On the little black beach we ate an apple, adjusted our footrests, and carried the kayaks into the surf.

Anchorage to Cordova in Pictures

Last week I went on a brief 48 hour trip up to Anchorage for an interview. The flight north to Anchorage was quite cloudy, but we did fly through an amazing break in the clouds right over Turnagain Pass. The interview was interesting... As Rob put it, they are interviewing you, but you are also interviewing them... Moral of the story: I had to see a new place to realize just how awesome the people I worked with in Denver are; and Rachel and I will be spending the summer working on a scientific vessel in the Prince William Sound. After two days spent with the great people of Anchorage I headed back to Cordova on a beautiful bluebird day.

Matanuska-Susitna Valley

Anchorage Front Range:

Pioneer Peak:

Hatcher Pass:

Cordova Down Days

Cordova welcomed me with an incredibly beautiful week of bluebird skies and stable snow. This was promptly followed by a week of precipitation that in Colorado would have been considered a 50 year storm. For reference, last September here brought 87 inches of rain!

Watching the last of the clear weather from our back deck:

It started with 60 cm of snow in 24 hours, followed by 6 days of rain with the freezing level alternating between sea level and almost 1000 meters. After digging out the Subaru, I realized that it works just fine as SubaPlow...

During the breaks in the weather Rachel showed me around. At sunset Rachel, Megan and I walked out to Sheridan Glacier. Apparently there is often amazing ice skating through the calving ice on the frozen terminal lake. Standing on glacier terminus, we could hear the crackling ice moving under us.

As the next front arrived, the snow turned to rain; Rob and I got out for some steep tree skiing on Wolverine Ridge:

After a beautiful walk around town on a calm gray day,

We joined the heli skiers at the ski hill:

From the top of the lift we headed into the Eyak Ridge sidecountry; looking south towards Wolverine Ridge:

This is how the heli skiing guides spend down days:

Sidecountry with a view!

On the lowest tide of the month we walked a mile out on the tide flats of Hartney Bay: 

On Monday high pressure returned, Rachel skiing the Eyak Ridge sidecountry:

The eagles watched us skin back up for another lap:

On Tuesday at 4 AM I was at the ferry terminal headed to Anchorage, planning to meet up with friends and look for gainful employment. After falling asleep on the gently rocking boat, I awoke to glassy water and the incredible views of the Prince William Sound:


Its funny here, the memories of a week of bad weather are instantly erased by the incredible beauty of Alaska.