Sheep Glacier Skiing

Original post is from April 2016. Updated below to include a very different day of skiing in February 2026.

 Its 6:30 on Saturday morning and rain is pattering down on the roof above my bed. We're supposed to be flying into the High Talkeetnas this morning - its hard to believe it will happen with the rain. A call to Last Frontier Air Ventures reveals that its actually "blue" up north and go time.

In Palmer we scramble to jam our glorified car-camping gear into the helicopter and do a safety briefing. We notice that the finger the pilot repeatedly uses to point at the rotor doesn't have its tip. After a liability waver that looks more like a volunteer signup for a trail crew party we're off the ground and above the snowless Matanuska Valley. At Granite Creek Patrick turns north into the mountains. Popping over the first ridge, there's mountain...


...after snowy mountain.


A few minutes later, the Sheep Glacier comes into view: its big, smooth, and ringed by glaciated peaks and granite spires quintessential to the Talkeetna Mountains.

Sheep Mountain Ridge Hike

We've seen countless unbelievable photos of what seems like everyone in southcentral AK exploring the surreal painted rocks of the Sheep Mountain Traverse. I've always wanted to go, but somehow time just flows by. Summers are so busy, and there's so much to see - what a great problem to have. Finally, on a hot and sunny day in late June of 2024, Nyssa and I joined the pilgrimage to the crumbling colors of the Glenn Highway.

By nine we're lifting off the ground into a beautiful morning above Merrill Field. We climb over the western edge of the Chugach then cruise northeast across the Knik River Valley before reentering the mountains around the glaciated peaks of Friday Creek. We follow the creek up-valley then the little plane is dwarfed by the behemoth of Skybuster as we start to glide towards the Sheep Mountain Strip. We do a low pass before landing, tie down, then jog onto the ATV trails that depart from the lodge.

The trails are nice and smooth, and quickly bring us across the cobbles of Glacier Fan Creek and to the Gunsight Mountain Trail on the southern flank of the peak. 


The steep solar aspect feels like its perpendicular to the summer sun and cooks us as we hike up the trail. We're relieved when we reach the cooler air of the tundra benches a couple thousand feet above the road. From the grassy slopes, we look across the Matanuska Valley towards where the South Fork's headwaters spill from the toe of the Powell Glacier.


An acceptable path weaves thru the talus and to the summit of Gunsight. On top of the peak, we lunch on PB&J sandwiches and stare east thru the haze to the glaciated monsters of the Wrangell Mountains and south to the Chugach which are just out of reach.

Lynx Peak Ski - 1.11.2020

Note: updated below the original post to include the north face of Lynx plus Three Bell Spire on 4.1.2023.

As we climbed out of the Webfoot couloir in the fading afternoon light a few weeks ago the Reed Lakes Valley was painted purple, pink, and gold by winter light. Looking at Montana Peak, I smiled back on the ridiculous day we had there a couple years ago, and drooled over the southwest face of Lynx Peak.


The image of Lynx was still burned in my retinas on the following Friday, so Zack, Nyssa, and Eric agreed to forgo easy powder skiing in favor of a long cold approach for variable wind-affect.

The Pinnacle was getting the first soft light of the morning as we turned away from Archangel and towards Reed Lakes. Its amazing to think that snow sticks to the other side of that vertical block. At least sort of.


Done with the approach to the approach, we wound up through the boulder fields of the valley as the arctic air carried by the north winds bit into our faces. Looking behind me, Nyssa looked more like an icicle than a human.

Behind Eric is Higher Spire which Alex, Alec, and I skied a few years ago - it links up nicely with several other nice lines behind the Snowbird.

Three Bell Spire Ski - 4.1.2023

Three Bell Spire first came into my consciousness many years ago on the Bomber Traverse as we skied down the Penny Royal Glacier and stared up at the beautiful blue jewels of ice crowning the spire. As is often the way with these obscure objectives, years slipped past waiting for conditions, stability, interest, schedules, and the cosmos to align.

This spring, Three Bell finally emerged out of the depths of the gray matter and into my consciousness. On a beautiful April day, Nyssa, Erin, Tom, Carolyn, Scott, and I loaded onto one widetrack snowmobile and lurched out of the Goldmint parking lot.


Somehow we managed not to dislocate any shoulders, get the sled stuck, or catch it on fire, and soon were parked at the motorized boundary at the bottom of the Reed Lakes trail. Six people on one sled is certainly a proud highlight of my ski career, though now my goal is at eight people.

In the warm sun of the spring morning we skinned away from the sled and towards Lynx Peak.


As we rounded the corner and stepped onto the top lake, Lynx Peak rose above us at the head of the valley. I remembered the last time Nyssa, Zack, Eric, and I were here on a particularly chilly January day. It was -10 °F and windy, covered in icy-cold frost, they looked like snow ghosts; I probably did too.

Fairangel Valley Skiing - 4.27.2014

Note: updated below the original post to include a glorious Fair Five linkup on 4.2.2023.

By late April the high pressure that had been hanging over Southcentral for a month briefly broke down, but the warmth didn't. This left us with a predicament, how to get above the rain line? We needed something high and north facing, so we picked the highest Archangel of them all: Fairangel Valley. Perched at the top of Archangel Valley, it hides five perfect couliors: the Fair Five.

We planned to skin past the Pinnacle to Dogsled Pass, then drop into Fairangel. Looking back at the Lost Couloir:


Hard to say if that's a rain crust or just a sun crust, better keep going.


Closing in on Dogsled Pass, vaguely soft snow starting to appear.

Rae Wallace Skiing - 3.18.2016

Updated below on 3.17.2020 and again on 12.22.2021 to include more memorable days on this Hatcher classic.

Friday was Ethan's last day in town, so we wanted to take him somewhere fun. We'd done a lot of great adventuring, and as such were leaning towards a higher ski to bushwhack ratio. Maybe even something without dirt on the approach!

Cody watches Alex wrap up his warm up run.

Though we often ski Rae Wallace on our way thru to Archangel, I've never just spent a day lapping its steep and rocky chutes and spines, but I've always wanted to.

Mary

Alex and I spent Thursday chewing on weather forecasts and avalanche data as we decided between another Eagle River adventure and Hatcher. As soon as I dropped into the sheltered north facing terrain I was happy with our decision. Alex was too:

Guest Slog Blog - Alaska Mountain Wilderness Classic 2021

Cantwell to Sheep Mountain Lodge (160 miles)

by Dmitry Surnin

Start of the "Awesome Valley" 
It’s around 4:30am and I open my eyes to what appears to be hundreds of mosquitos bunched up at the tip of the tent. Buzzing, desperately trying to get out, “are they all full and just wanna dip out?” Charlie wakes up next to me and mentions this is the worst he’s ever felt. The mosquitoes aren’t biting I thought, but the only thing that stung were my feet - I could barely move them without feeling pain. It’s the morning of our fourth day in the Kosina River Valley and we have been covering some ground since this challenge took off roughly 75 miles ago. I painfully crawl out of the shelter to see what the weather is doing, and immediately feel vertigo. I want to vomit. I’m on my knees, and elbows... just waiting to pop. The sickness passes and I begin to look around, it is absolutely beautiful - the morning fog has rolled into the valley overnight and it seemed like we’ll finally have an overcast day. I personally don’t do very well in the heat and the last three days have been insanely hot and bluebird. Today was going to be our most vertical but also our most scenic day. As good as I knew today had the potential to be, my mental and physical state at that moment was depleted. Charlie is packed up and brings up another point of his physical wellbeing, joking that he feels like he has COVID. We already had our low point the day prior at Fog Lakes when we ran out of water, but this was different. This time, we truly felt the repercussions of pushing our bodies. We slowly march towards the end of the valley to begin our climb into the alpine where we’ll experience a complete 180, the summit of our trip so to speak. Covering roughly 7,000 feet of vert and hiking 21-something miles through the most scenic and familiar-to-us terrain. Nearing the end of Kosina River Valley

Packrafting Shangri-La - July 2021

The 4th of July weekend found us driving north after work on Friday night with the goal of day tripping the classics of Broad Pass. We camped along the East Fork of the Chulitna while clouds of mosquitos feasted on us then on Saturday morning hiked into the woods from the north bank of Honolulu Creek.

For four miles we waded thru waist deep grass, crawled under Jurassic ferns, and surfed alders to the brush line. The surprisingly legit bushwhacking slowed our progress as we worked towards the alpine. 


Reaching the tundra, visibility, and easy travel of the valley, we cruised towards the pass that would bring us to the headwaters of Honolulu Creek.


There was still ice on the lake as we crossed the pass and started the descent towards Honolulu Creek.

Honolulu Creek packraft - 7.21.2018

Updated below to include another trip to Southcentral Alaska's Shangri-La of packrafting at Broad Pass over the 4th of July weekend 2021.

After a prolonged negotiation with Leah, we agreed to an alpine-start at Fire Island at 8:55 on Saturday morning. By 9:30 we were on the road with cookies, scones, and coffee for fuel. We stopped by the Honolulu Creek bridge to check on water levels, chatted up a vanload of curious Indian tourists, hydrated on Bud Light Lime, and by 1:30 were hiking out of the Hurricane Gulch parking lot. After Aniakchak, it felt weird to be walking on a trail made by wheels instead of one made by the terrifyingly large brown bear paws of the Alaska Peninsula. The climb went by quickly and was broken up by a friendly family of rednecks on a six-wheeler followed by a long break under the cloudless skies. It was hard to feel hurried with nearly infinite daylight and perfect weather.

Souvenir Peak Skiing - 3.17.2018

Note: Updated to include a frigid March day in Lone Tree Gulch.

Guarded by its twin vertical summits, the west bowl of Souvenir has been an obsession this season. With a foot of fresh and a break between storm systems, we set out last Saturday from Gold Mint to check it out. Rounding the corner of the valley, the Mint peaks came into view:


At the corner, we left the Mint Valley and skinned into the hanging valley below Souvenir. Thanks to Josh for the artwork. Meow meow!

Photo: Josh Gray

The valley floor is filled by mounded moraines from a glacier long gone, while the walls are carved by that same glacier.

Skiing the Pinnacle - 1.4.2020

Note: Updated to include an optimized Pinnacle linkup.

When I was a young grasshopper in Colorado I drooled over the exploits of Alaskans like Peter Knape, Billy Finley, and Joe Stock. Peter's writing had me dreaming of Turnagain spines in alpenglow. From Billy I was fantasizing about exploring the Chugach. And one of Joe's posts stood out: the Pinnacle.

Since first reading about the Pinnacle, I've been waiting for the right weather, snowpack, partners, and schedules. On Saturday, after seven years, the stars aligned to ski all four sides of the massif.

The morning light was starting to kiss Independence Mine as we approached the Pinnacle. Under the southwest Pinnacle chute we turned right, threw our skis on our packs, and headed up.


Per usual, the southwest chute was a mix of powder, windboard, and breakable crust. As we booted past the col the snow deepened and the pitch ramped up to the summit cone. I began to have visions of peeling backwards off the face and felt like I was going slab climbing not skiing. I made a pact not to become an alpinist. After the 30 minutes of alternating between using our hands as shovels and as snow pickets the slope began to back off.


I'd never been on top of the Pinnacle before and was surprised by how big the summit was. I think Zack was stoked about it too.

Delia Peak Skiing - 4.1.2018

Note: Updated to include a sunny weekend in Two Mile Creek.

2018 was a Hatcher year. It was stable, deep, and soft, and we had a great time exploring new zones, revisiting old ones, and linking up favorites. With a fat snowpack down low, the Mint Valley alder jungle was buried, and we focused on Arcose Ridge. After years of staring at Delia Peak from Rae Wallace, Sidney Creek, and, well, everywhere else it was time to check it off.

As we climbed out of the cold inversion of the valley bottom and into the sunshine of the basin Alex, Charlie, Josh, and Zack raced for the chance to break trail.


The peloton of skinny fast dudes quickly had us on top of Arcose Ridge from where we looked behind us into the heart of the Mint Valley. We'd ski Montana Peak a week later. I'm dreaming about another window to get more of those.


We followed the wide ridge east to the summit of Delia. At the high point we could look straight at the twin peaks of Souvenir and the west bowl they guard. I remembered lying on Souvenir's overhung summit, looking 500 feet straight down, and feeling the tickle in my grundel.

Peak 5100 Skiing - 3.22.2020

Note: Updated to include a sunny weekend in Two Mile Creek.

Some of the best days of backcountry skiing are the those spent easily linking valleys and peaks - climbing one valley wall then effortlessly skiing deeper. One March day in the Mint Valley was just that as we connected lap after lap around Delia Creek and Peak 5100.

In the cold of the clear early morning we skinned out of the dark parking lot and into the hanging valley north of Delia Creek. We followed our skintrack from a few days before which was barely visible under a thick blanket of new snow. 

Photo: Brandon Schmidt

We wrapped upwards around the back of the valley and into the sun. At the top we soaked up the warm spring light and views of the big peaks rising from the Little Su, then transitioned to descend back into the shade.

Photo: Brandon Schmidt

When Brandon and his skis slid over the dark edge we knew it was going to be a good day. There was no sign of a surface slab as the faceted pow sloughed lighted away from his turns. 

Valley of Sin Skiing - April 2012

Note: Updated to include another indulgent double dip in the Valley of Sin.

After an exciting tour checking out Hatcher Pass on the previous day, our friends Danny and Emma joined us for another day at Hatcher. This time we decided to head to the valley to the southeast of where we had skied the day before. We followed an existing skin track up a face that must have already had at least 200 sets of tracks down it.


More rad views, never made it back to this zone, but it will happen someday!


Hatcher Pass is one of those zones where all of the terrain clearly visible from the parking lot gets hammered by skiers, while the bigger terrain barely gets touched. Nick drops into our first run (just out of sight of the parking lot, of course):

Chickaloon River Packraft - September 2020

Saturday started as a beautiful, crisp, and clear fall day waiting for Mike Meekin at his airstrip above the Matanuska Valley. Around noon he was back and chatting our ears off as we loaded our backpacks into his 185 for the flight to the pass between the Chickaloon and Talkeetna drainages.

The ground fell away as we lifted off and banked north. Covered in the burnt colors of fall, the Talkeetna Mountains rose around us.

We flew past the jagged monolith of Mount Monarch covered in a white blanket by snow showers the night before.

After Monarch we crossed the colorful landscape of Chitna Pass, and then were over the Chickaloon River and looking towards its namesake glacier. Years ago we tried to go skiing up there. The terrain is great, the snowpack can be less so.

Delia Creek Skiing - 3.4.2018

Updated 3.17.2020 to include another great day.

Despite years of drooling over its faces, bowls, and couloirs guarded by tilted conglomerate walls, I've never skied Arcose Ridge before. With a fat snowpack at Hatcher I was out of excuses about alders, so on a beautiful Sunday we parked in the Gold Mint parking lot to check out Delia Creek.

Ahead of us, the west face of Souvenir and its twin summits were still in the morning shade. I'd really like to ski that one.


Working to stay away from major terrain traps, we contoured east thru the hanging valley, and then onto the ridge above Delia Creek. Behind our skinner is Goodhope Creek and the Snowbird Mine Valley. Goodhope is stacked with couloirs, bowls, and pillows, but is a bit tricky to hit right due to its solar aspect.


It was hard to leave the warmth of the spring sun and drop into the cold shade of Delia Creek. Well, it wasn't that hard.

Castle Mountain Ski - 3.11.2015

Updated 1.29.2019 to include another great day in Chickaloon.

"Are those the Northern Lights?"

"I think so."

It was 6:30 AM, -6 degrees, and Meg and I were running hill sprints to start out the day.

"Your legs are going to be barking!"

The day's goal.

A couple hours later I found myself pacing around my house. Where to ski? How much would it make my legs bark? I really didn't want to deal with my sled which is exactly why I wasn't making a decision.

Approaching the couloir entrance.

The impetus to move was a message from Tarah confirming the existence of the Chickaloon zone. I called Alex: "I'm running late, how about Chickaloon? Also, I still need to load up my sled, so its gonna be even later." Alex was running late too, so no problem.