Crow Pass: October 2013

Previous Octobers have delivered some of the lightest snow of the year.  Previous Octobers have built on the base of late September storms.  Previous Octobers have delivered mid-winter conditions down to the highway. But previous Octobers have also left us high and dry forcing long marches to ski crappy snow on a thin snow pack. October '013 resembles the latter.

 

When I first moved to AK, the Lane Glacier was the place to be for early season skiing. Then the Lane melted back into 2 lobes - The Fast Lane and The Slow Lane. The rapid retreat continued and now both Lanes are gone - there's probably still some ice up there, but it is buried by rubble. The Snowbird is still a great option, but with Archangel Road closed for the winter, the longer approach is enough to deter me.

 

The Jewell Glacier, named after Alaska's favorite singer / songwriter / poet, is another popular option for the impatient skier, but this glacier too is undergoing significant change.  In the 7 years since my first visit, the Jewell has split into 2 lobes.  A September recon / schuss mission revealed a decrepit naked dying glacier.

 

There was a frail, withered body
perhaps not long for this world,
as beautiful and vulnerable
as any of God's creatures

The climbers' right lobe is all but gone - a dim shadow of the mass depicted on the USGS map.  The left lobe still is wide, but the shrund to toe distance continues to shrink. 

 

Last week there was 2 feet of snow in the glacier zone. Clothed, the glacier appears much happier.  A smile grew across my face as I greeted my dying friend - the snow hiding the grim truth.  We embrace warmly and quickly catch up - reliving the good times while forging new memories. Although I want to linger, the moment is fleeting. Life is calling. I promise to visit soon, but there is little substance in that vow. 



  

 

 

Mid October brought wind and rain to the higher elevations of Crow Pass. Last Friday the snow from the Crow Pass trail to the glacier zone had a non-supportable crust (evaporative cooling?) with saturated snow to the ground / ice. The glacier zone had a semi-supportable crust.  Surface conditions varied from "son of a bitch" to "you've got to be fucking kidding me." 

 

Colder temps on Saturday froze things solid. Sunday's crust was very firm but supportable all the way down to the Crow Pass trail but there were spots where you would punch through when least expected. 

 

The last mile of the Crow Pass Road closed on Monday, but according to FB it has since reopened. 

 

 - U.K.

North Bowl: April 9, 2013

Snickers, the porcupine, did not see his shadow thereby dooming us to an early Spring. Well, that prickly bastard could not have been more wrong. Even the State of Alaska has recognized Winter's unusually aggressive push into Spring by extending the date for removing studded tires. 

The weather guessers predicted a huge Saturday though Tuesday snow event. The hype was on, but early storm totals fell short of predictions. A revised guess called for lower totals, but by Tuesday morning the truth exposed: Snickers and the weather guessers have similar accuracy. 

But a ray a hope: even though town was spared the fury of the storm, the mountains got pummeled - far exceeding even the most optimistic guesses.

Gee, I wonder where to go....

Field reports had confirmed the impressive totals and as the sun busted through the clouds on Tuesday afternoon, our destination was set. Hiland is a narrow winding road which makes getting stuck behind a school bus all that more frustrating. There are 2 buses: the 3:15 and the 3:45.  We've got the timing down so we usually hit the window between buses and drive like Bo or Luke Duke right to the trail head. Tuesday we were 5 minutes late and got caught behind the 3:45 bus at the bottom of the road. Shit! Lucky for us, the bus driver pulled over and waved us on. We cranked the Waylon Jennings and accelerated up the snow covered road.

Apparently, we weren't the only ones with powder fever and a rudimentary grasp of how to use the intertubes. Eight climbers were ascending towards the ridge and there were scores of tracks on the North facing slopes above us. Typically, this valley gets wind blasted during storms leaving many of the faces scoured down to tundra. This last storm didn't have the wind and the normally barren faces were tracked out with some deep looking turns. At least the uptrack was in.

The temperature in the parking lot was pleasant and the last of the clouds seemed to be breaking up. It looked like we were in for a nice evening of skiing so I left my long-johns and puffy in the Taco. After about 20 minutes clouds obscurred the sun and a chilly wind kicked up. I donned what little extra gear that was in my pack. Once on the ridge the wind really picked up making the single digit temperatures feel even colder. The wind was ripping, rapidly filling in the skin track and exposing wind board on some sections of the ridge. The blowing snow sand blasted my face and was rapidly sucking warmth from my body. For the second time this month, I coveted the Noodler's skirt. Getting desperate, I improvised a merkin with the bags for my goggles and climbing skins.  Ahh, much better!

It seems as though Snickers and I have similar weather guessing skills.

Fortunately, it was just a short squall. By the time we topped out on the 114th tallest peak in the Chugach State Park, visibility had improved and the winds had laid down.

Despite dozens of tracks visible from the trailhead, there were only 3 in North Bowl. The sun made a brief reemergence so the Noodler dropped in disappearing in a cloud of cold smoke. He quickly settled into his metronome style and attemped to make infinity turns. I wanted to ski more aggressive, but the angle was too low and the snow too deep.  I resigned myself to the tick-tick-tick of the metronome and enjoyed the ride.

A second lap was definitely in order. 


The Ridge Back to the Top

Along the way we met up with a couple of buddies and continued as a team of four. The squall from the first lap was long gone. Our persistance was rewarded with good visibility and light winds, but it still was cold.  We breifly considered another aspect, but elected to stack our tracks from earlier. On both runs, the first two turns were a bit funky, but it quickly changed to the deep fluff. 


The Noodler Stacking

Powder conservation techniques allowed everyone to get a fresh line for the entire descent. Smiles abound! Hoots and holler! It was my deepest Alaska day of the year. We wanted more but domestic obligations called us back to reality. 

Late spring dumps are precious because the promise of powder is fleeting. We may get another storm, we may not. This could well have been the last face shots of the season. I hope there's another monster low out there churning over the Pacific with Anchorage in her sites, but who knows?  Your guess is as good as mine.

 - U.K.

The Out of Service Couloir: April 2, 2012

The Out of Service Couloir goes by many different names mostly to keep people confused as to its true location. It's not really a secret, but invites to the uninitiated are rare. Fortunately, my friends are not very good at keeping secrets. This after work special is close to town and is the perfect option during breakup.

Breakup is the time between winter and tourist season.  Most people write it off, but breakup can deliver the best corn skiing of the year. Daytime highs climb into the 40s and nights drop into the 20s. It is generally the first consistent above freezing temperatures of the year, so the snow that has been piling up around town pools in the day and freezes at night. A slushy, dirty, splash fest in the afternoon, and gnarled frozen mess in the morning. The banks shrink and the standing water drains. First the highways dry out, then the main roads, the side streets, and last the alleys. The process takes about 2 weeks.

But back to the skiing...

This year the snowfall around Anchorage has been above average, but along the Seward Highway between Anchorage and Girdwood snow is well below average. There was never more than a 6" base on this stretch all winter. Every time I drove by the Out of Service, my neck craned trying to determine if there was enough snow to ski it. The top top half would be well filled in, but the bottom half kept me wondering.

It must have kept most of the skiing community wondering because info on the Out of Service was non-existent in our circle. So with a great deal of skepticism, the Noodler and I decided to give it a go.

The bottom 200 vert was mostly frozen creek ice with 2" of rapidly melting slush on top. Footing was tenuous at best and downright scary at worst. We scrambled through open water, ice, slush, rocks, and overgrowth until it began to open up.  At about 400' we were free from the encroaching vegetation and began to boot in earnest. 

The first section of the couloir is in the low 30s and the route is obvious, but that changes at the half way point. At about 1,750' it appears that you are almost at the top.  The shot gets wider and the angle eases.  This is where you take the improbable left. It doesn't look very promising, but if you climb a narrow steep spit of snow you are quickly rewarded with a skier's dream. 

You are suddenly in the high alpine with no vegetation and the Turnagain Arm is in your lap.  The angle increases into the high 30s with steep, jagged, grey-orange walls devoid of vegetation. No more shadows, no more gully, no more wondering why you brought a helmet and whippet.  Or in my case: wondering why you left your helmet and whippet at home.

Booting Above the Crux

The upper couloir has a few false forks, but with some good guessing and some experience, ski time comes at 3,400'. 


Getting Ready to Drop In

On the way up it was obvious that snow conditions were prime. The upper section is in fat and the breakup freeze thaw cycle had worked its magic. We had timed it perfectly!  There was 1-2" of cooked down powder on its way to corn on top of supportable. The turning was sublime. No one skied the upper half since the last snow over a week age, so it was super smooth and bright white. The ideal snow conditions allowed me to take in the incredible view of the cold grey Pacific that was rapidly rushing towards me.

No words, they should have sent a poet.



The Noodler in the Upper Half

Every other time that I've skied the Out of Service Couloir, there has a lump in my throat above the crux. It is often too narrow to side slip. Other times it is 18" of rotten snow on straight rock. Sometimes both. But today there was no lump in the throat - we knew it was wide so we opted to ski it "family style."  

The bottom half has much less snow than 2011 and 2012. There were a few narrow spots, but the low angle allowed the stress-free descent to continue. Eventually the snow gave way to creek ice, water, rocks, and brush. Today the real crux was the last 300'. Our styles are firmly routed in East coast stubbornness which dictate you ski if there is white, no matter how ridiculous. We work our way lower and lower hanging onto to alders and side stepping over rocks and through the open creek. Eventually common sense trumped our heritage and the skis came off.  It wasn't over yet; there were still some harrowing steps, moments of self doubt, slips and saves, and the ever popular alder face whip.  But not even the stinging lashes could not wipe the smirks off our faces as we stumbled out of the brush and onto the rumble strip.

We were psyched to catch the Out of Service in first-rate conditions. Exhaustion and other commitments have prevented a return as of yet. Maybe we'll get it again, maybe not, but knowing that we nailed it will make that bitter pill called Summer easier to swallow.

 - U.K.

Falling Waters: March 30, 2013

I knew that I'd be chasing snow buffalo all day - Na$ty, P9, and the Noodler are all super fast. I wanted to go as light as possible, but the location dictated that I bring some prudent supplies: an extra puffy, a pint of water, a pack of Shot Bloks, and some pop rocks.  Lately, most ski outings have been dictated by the Noodler's schedule. His pick-up and drop-off times are firm to the minute. Today we had 7 hours door to door - not a whole lot of time, but I enjoy the limiting hours. I can hang for a half day, but I loathe to think what would happen if I got on the Noodler 14-hour express.

We were heading to Falling Waters, a drainage above the Eagle River Nature Center. Access typically falls into a grey area because of private property issues, but fortunately a mutual friend has land that abuts the park boundary.

Na$ty and P9 had put the skinner in the day before and had a zone in mind: the 6 North facing chutes on the ridge separating Falling Waters and Ram Valley. The plan was to get 2 laps. I've had 4 or 5 days total skiing in Falling Waters, so I had a pretty good idea what they were talking about.

With the skinner already in, travel was fast and I struggled in 4th place. It was mostly sunny and the powder was still fluffy. Sweat stung my eyes. Fatigue stung my legs. And the gassy nature of the pop-rocks stung my intestines. It was a good thing that I was in 4th because that pop-rock gas had me sounding like a flock of geese.

Predictably, we made awesome time and were soon looking up the 1st of the 6 chutes. Na$ty and P9 led the charge up what they considered to be the mellowest gully. The skinner went in as high as possible before swapping to a booter. The 3 buffalo swapped lead position while I managed to stay somewhat close.

Up the Yellow; Down the Blue

The plan was to use the same uptrack for both laps, so at the ridge we took a left and climbed higher to another chute.

Nearing the Ridge

Getting Ready to Drop

For at least 2 years now, the Noodler has carried an insulated skirt in his pack. After borrowing his wife's for some time, Santa finally got him his own: the Montbell Thermawrap.  Just about everyone has questioned his odd choice of gear, but I am slowly being won over based on the advantages. On the climb you sweat like crazy, but quickly freeze on a windy ridge. Long johns are too hot on the up; no base layer is too cold when just standing around. An insulted skirt solves this problem. Most insulated skirts have full-length zippers making it a pain in the ass to get on and off - especially with skis on. The Thermawrap only has one snap at the waist - super easy to get on and gain almost instantaneous relief from the wind where you need it most. Also one snap does not restrict movement like a full length zipper - important in tight couloirs. The Thermawrap also functions as a lightweight compressible emergency blanket.  Strange as it may seem, this could catch on.

P9 in the Crux

The Noodler and the Thermawrap

The low density powder was shin to knee deep on stiff wind board. The steep walls of the couloir improved visibility and the skiing was excellent. Once on the apron, this shot pulls the skier to the left and out of sight from those waiting on top. So we waited and waited until we were sure we weren't dropping in on someone.  Radios next time!

We quickly retraced the uptrack but opted to drop off the south side of the ridge directly into Ram Valley. The idea was to get better light and take a more direct route to the vehicle. By the time we were ready to drop-in, the light had gone to shit. P9 graciously volunteered to Guinea Pig the route and put some features into the featureless void of white below us. Coverage was much better than expected and the run seemed to go on forever.  Even with P9's tracks, I took it slow and finally made it to the safe zone which was only about 100' from the skinner. 

The route back to road was straight forward with boredom alternating with unexpected excitement. Down gullies, over tundra, around boulders with the occasional alder face whip for good measure. Back at the vehicle, we pulled the beer from a snow bank. Typically the Noodler is so pressed for time that he militantly forces us to chug our post-tour beverage, but our south side short cut had saved precious minutes allowing for some down time. It was a nice change of pace, but I knew the Noodler was thinking we could've gotten another half lap somewhere.

Photos from: Noodler, P9, Na$ty, goggle-earth, and maybe me.

 - U.K.

AK Update: March 23-27, 2013

I had a long weekend starting early Friday afternoon. Plans had been made and schemes had been hatched. Per usually, Mama Natura pulled a fast one, fooling even the most seasoned of weather guessers. Right up until the morning of departure, the weather guessers were confident. But our "ground truth" campaign at Hatcher Pass reveled the horrible truth. The sneak-attack blizzard rendered the road impassable. Visibility ranged from end-of-hood to 50 yards. The wind was gusting and 4' drifts occupied the road right next to bare black top.

The forecast was wrong, the now-cast was wrong, but at 2 PM the updated hind-cast was right on! The storm continued through the weekend into Monday. 2'+ at Hatcher and it was the biggest dump of the year for Anchorage.

By Monday it was winding down, so I made my way South to check out the relative safety of Dog Shit Ridge (aka Tincan). The deep pillowly tree lines are excellent for storm skiing. The trees of Tincan are one of the easier places to manage terrain at Turnagain Pass.  The top 6" of storm snow was reactive on steep rollovers, but the skiing was fantastic: steep and deep with the trees trumping the flat light.

Tuesday was the blue after the storm. Below zero temps greeted the morning commuters. The mountains above Anchorage were the whitest they have been all year. In the Front Range wind is much more important than snowfall when building base. Protected bowls will be 10' deep while faces will only hold snow until the next wind event. The weekend storm brought little wind thus tempting skiers onto the poorly covered faces.

Our ski posse generally gets off work at 3PM thus giving us a huge advantage over the 9-5 crowd. I've come to expect empty trail heads and untracked mountains. Tuesday was no different. The Noodler and J put in the skinner. S was 3rd, and I struggled to keep up. The sirens were calling us to the faces hoping to dash our skis against the rocks, but we resisted. We opted for a great bowl just west of the summit Mountain Harp. Ridge temps were still in the low single digits late into the afternoon, but the powder was sublime and the early evening sun was magical.

Mountain Harp - West Harp Bowl on the left
(April 2011)

By Wednesday, the siren call was too much to resist: Mountain Harp from the top was the objective. The summit gullies have a narrow "good coverage" zone. Rocks would be lurking just below the surface hoping to dash our skis, but the call could not be ignored. That is, unless, you inadvertently left your skins at home. The sirens were quickly drowned out by a string of curse words. 

Team 3PM set the skinner, while I decided to put in a booter rather than mope around. The booting was less painful than expected.  I was well behind, but my goal was "90% Gully."  This shot typically has much better coverage than the summit shots. 

Mountain Harp is best approach via the long curving ridge that starts out heading SE and finishes with a NE push. The ridge is typically wind blasted and booting isn't really all that worse the skinning.  Even if you do remember your skins, expect to boot about 1/3 of the wind swept ridge.

About halfway up the ridge, the winds became quite noticeable. The skinner set by Team 3PM just 20 minutes prior was erased in a few spots. It had obtained the "etch-a-sketch" reset that Romney so desperately needed.  At the 90% Gully, the wind was really ripping and I knew Team 3PM would be dropping in soon. I kept peeking towards the summit while I prepared to ski.

Then it ripped.  It started slowly but quickly accelerated.  The powder cloud was billowing.  It started from a single point but completely entrained all the new snow from both summit gullies. Shit.

I watched closely for signs of skiers as the slide grew, roared, and subsided. I didn't see anyone. I quickly finished my transition so I'd be ready to boot to the summit or traverse into the debris. I was constantly scanning the path and the summit, but I still didn't see anyone. Scenarios raced through my mind.  Are they OK?  Is someone hurt in the rocks near the summit?  Did I miss someone in the slide?

I knew the top of 90% Gully would be as sensitive as the summit gullies. I was still on the wind blasted ridge ready to boot or ski, but I needed a better idea of what was going on in the 90% in case I had to drop in. I approached a dumpster-sized boulder on the ridge that separated the wind scoured from the wind loaded.  While still safely behind the boulder, the wind lip sympathetically let loose and quickly propagated higher up the wind loaded side of the ridge. I half expected that to happen and was glad with the conservative approach. 

The slope below me was now much safer than it was 5 minutes prior, but I still wasn't psyched to ski it.  Finally a skier emerged off the of the summit casually skiing the debris. There was no rush and he was linking good turns and occasionally stopping to examine the snow.  When he got out onto the untouched snow and started wiggling, I knew they were alright. 

I busied myself knocking cornice chunks down the 90% and was gaining more confidence in the gully. I got the attention on Skier #1 who was in the "safer" zone below and I dropped in. The debris was soft and made for good turns, but it is always scary when the tongue of debris ends and you're plowing the virgin snow. I kept my speed up and was ready for a high speed traverse into the shark soup if necessary.  The angled eased and the turns got quite good.



Summit Gullies - Middle
90% Gully - Right

MB was skier 1 and he filled me in on what happen on top. Team 3PM was concerned about the wind and contemplated walking down the ridge. But there were small cornices and slope cuts that could be tested safely. Check out the write-up from one of the Summiters. Click here.

Everyone descended safely to the rendezvous.  There were a lot of sharks lurking off the summit gullies.  MB and B opted for a 2nd lap, but the Noodler, J, and I had to head back to A-Rage.  We enjoyed the low-angle, stress-free turns on the exit. At the car, we dug the 22-ounce beer out of the snowbank, blasted it back, and made plans for tomorrow. 

Incident write-up is from the observations section of the new Anchorage Avalanche Center (AAC)

http://www.anchorageavalanchecenter.org/

 - U.K.



Penguin Peak: March 19

The calender said it was the last day of winter but Mama Natura was not even close to releasing her icy grip. Yes, the sun is higher and the days are longer, but the cold air remains decidedly wintry. This week pre-dawn temps have been in the low single digits due to the high pressure sitting over Anchorage. The longer days and big blue skies have worked wonders in people's attitudes and moods. Our hibernation has ended, but it will still be a long time until the flowers bloom and the trees bud.

Until then, we ski. 

The Noodler wanted to ski Penguin Peak - a 4,000' mountain starting at sea level with incredible views of the Turnagain Arm.  To get to the trailhead, drive South out of Anchorage on the Seward Highway and turn left on Konikson Road in Indian.  Follow Konikson about a ½ mile until you reach the Chugach State Park Trailhead. 

Skin up the snowmachine / ATV trail for 0.7 miles and turn right on the Penguin Peak Trail. 4,000' later and you will be surveying the entire Turnagain Arm. There's some Class IV skinning with stubborn willows constantly goading you into a fight, but the harassment is short-lived.  After about 400 vert, you break out of the willows and into a nice gully.  The approach is not too steep, hardly requiring any switchbacks, but you are definitely climbing up a huge slide path.  The danger comes from high above on the climber's left. 

Eventually, we got above tree line and the views began to dramatically improve.



The Noodler Breaking Trail on Penguin

But as the views improved, the wind increased. There wasn't much snow available for transport, but it was getting cold. The weather station recorded a temperature of 3° F with sustained 20 mph winds which translates to a -20°F wind chill - hardly spring conditions.  The Noodler busted out his down skirt and for the first time ever, I was jealous of his odd choice of apparel.   

The climb tops out at a false summit about ¼ mile from the true summit.  We were getting sand blasted by cold snow.  The true summit was not in the cards today.

The Noodler Getting Blasted Near the False Summit

We transitioned quickly and began the descent.



The Turnagain Arm from Our High Point

The snow wasn't awful.  There was a mini-crust that was easy to blast through. There was some sastrugi, but its wind sculpted features were easy to pick out and avoid.  We were still getting pounded by the frigid wind 1,000' into the descent, but as was dropped over the rollover the wind dissipated and the snow quality improved dramatically.

Undisturbed recycled powder made for A+ turns for the next 2,000'.  Angles in the low 30s and awesome snow allowed for smooth, flowing, boot-deep turns.  Big turns, little turns, fast slow - all effortless. Control for smilers can't be bought, but we did have to rein it in for the bottom 1,000'. 

We opted to stay skiers right to avoid the narrow-ish gully that we ascended through the willows. The idea was to pick our way from open spot to open spot and enjoy excellent skiing back to the ATV trail. This strategy worked excellent - last year with record snow. This year it is a bad idea. 

We worked our way down, but quickly realized our error. The willows were getting thicker and the Devil's Club reared its ugly head. Fortunately, we were able to traverse back into the ascent gully. It is just wide enough to make ridiculous hop turns or slide slip - if you are feeling rational. 

When ridiculous hop turns are an option, rational thoughts are hard to find. From the ATV road it was about 5 minutes of skating, double poling, and coasting back to the car park.

The Bottom Third - The gully is in the Sun Shadow Line

There are plenty of options from Penguin Peak and given the weather we stuck with the mellowest.  Hopefully we get a chance to return soon to attempt some of the steeper lines in the this area.

 - U.K

Ptarmigan Couloir: August 5

August is here and that means it is time to ski the Ptarmigan Couloir.  Today made for four consecutive August descents of this shot.  Conditions in the past have been shitty, awful, and everything in between.  This is where I try to convince you the lousy skiing is actually pretty darn fun.  Well, it is.

I like getting the funny looks from people at the trailhead, I like trying to set a booter in firm summer snow, I like getting a bit nervous before the first tentative turn, and I like skiing year round.  The Ptarmigan Couloir is best reached by using a mountain bike.  My, alter-ego, Snotty von Dooshenheim, describes the a typically day of ski-mountain-bike-a-neering.

The big winter and cool summer in Anchorage has the Ptarmy in good shape.  It is still possible to ski from the ridge and the cruxes are still relatively wide and deep.  There was 2-3" of soft on top of very firm.  Long fall line mini-ridges of extra firm snow / ice are aligned in neat rows.   These ridges are 2" high x 2" wide x 100's of feet long about 3-4 feet apart.  It makes for a bumpy ride which is nicely contrasted with the spray from the top few inches of soft snow.  Click for the moving pictures.

So choosing between unleaded, supreme, and diesel, I give today a diesel.  Ricky gives further explanation of this odd rating system.

 - U.K.

Solstice Couloir: June 20, 2012

It was the Solstice so it was off to schuss the Solstice Couloir. Town was sunny but the mountains were super socked in, but there was no other choice.  

The Solstice Couloir is accessed via the South Fork trailhead up Hiland Road in Eagle River. Basically aim for the notch (Hunters Pass) above the car park.  From the notch follow the ridge up-canyon to the summit of Peak 3980. I've made this hike maybe 20 times, but this was the first time in a cloud.  

The bottom 1/3 of the Solstice Couloir

The vis was zero, so I let Jesus take the wheel.  The gamble paid off and after 75 minutes I was rewarded with a majestic view that could best be compared to the inside of a ping pong ball.  But there was good news: the snow had finally changed to névé - summer snow: fast, smooth, and consolidated!  The sun cups are still in their infancy; the skiing was excellent.  

Mid-winter, you can milk this shot for a good 2,100' by sussing private property onto a road below the trail head.  Today, it was good for 1,500'.  

The End

From the bottom of the snow, simply stumble down fall line until you hit the South Fork Trail.  Due to recent work, this fresh scar across the hill side is impossible to miss. Once you hit the ATV road it only 1 mile back to the car.  Easy peasy! And this line will be skiable for the next couple of weeks. So if you have the itch but not the desire to spend all day hiking, keep this shot in mind.

Looking up the Solstice in 2009
(note the dark ash from the Mt. Rebout eruption)

 - U.K.

The X Couloir: June 4, 2012

Looking at the weather forecast on Sunday, it appeared that Tuesday would have the best weather.  I had a few ideas of what to attempt, but half-heartedly decided on the X-Couloir. 

A cloudy Tuesday morning transitioned into a brilliant afternoon. Today would be my best opportunity to go for this bigger objective. I blew out of work at 2:30, biked home, and loaded up the Taco, and was hiking by 3:30. 

The X Couloir is on the North side of Mountain Peeking which is about 10 miles up Peter's Creek. Typically this is accessed via the Ram Valley trail and then taking a left on the Falling Waters trail.  Legal access to Ram Valley definitely falls into a grey area because of private property issues.  It definitely helps if you know someone who has land adjacent to the CSP. 

The start of the hike was super nice amongst the Alaskan Lupine and budding trees. The trail was dry and  snow-free high into the Falling Waters drainage.  At about 3,500', I swapped out the approach shoes for boots and started skinning.  Falling Water is a serpentine drainage that zigs and zags. 



Route Up the Winding Drainage

Finally I was in the high cirque with Mountian Raina on my right. and Mountain Peeking straight ahead.    

Raina from the Top of the X

Going against generations of conventional Mormon wisdom, I opted to "Choose the Left."  The ridge off the summit of Peeking (East to West) makes a distinctive "W" shape against the horizon.  The low points of the "W" mark the entrance points to the top couloirs of the "X."  The left couloir starts lower and is wider, so again I chose the left.

From the col (6,100'), I got my first look at my descent route.  It is wide, but long and steep (~ 40°, 2,200').  The shot is 100% North facing and was still completely in the shade at 7:30 PM.  At some point in the prior week, the snow in the couloir got well above freezing and then froze solid.  Dropping in, the snow was bullet-pack.  If the surface was smooth, only my edges would be preventing a slide for life. Fortunately, someone had skied the shot when it was manky which roughed up the surface considerably.  Jump turns down, down, down, aiming for the trenches and high spots left frozen in place by an unknown benefactor.  The angle refused to ease.  At the nexus, I had a choice of which leg to descend.  The narrow left was about 10' wide, but the snow was still very firm.  This time I decided to "Choose the Right."  In the lower half, the snow began to soften, but it was a mix of runnels and avalanche debris.  I aimed for the smoother sections and got some decent turns as the angle finally began to ease.


The X: Skied Top Right to Bottom Left
(Note "W" shape on the ridgeline)

It was 8 PM and now I was the Peter's Creek drainage.  The options were boot back up, or work my way back to Falling Waters with 2 short 1,000' climbs on South facing tundra.  The tundra seemed inviting, so I loaded up my gear and started walking. 

At the top of the 1st 1,000' climb, I sussed out my descent into the next basin.  I had expected to ski this section, but it was 90% melted out.  It wasn't ideal, but it didn't look too bad.  I planned to down-climb to a narrow band of snow and then sideslip all the way to the floor of the next cirque.  See #1 in the photo below. 

At Point 1, the snow looked super sketchy.  I was hoping for consolidated neve, but what I got was fully saturated slush somehow clinging in place.  This was beginning to look like a bad idea.  I took my skis off my pack and hacked at the snow pack with my tips.  This released the slush / snow to the ground and it accelerated down the slope moving with the consistency and the roar of rushing water.  As the slide ripped down the gully it was gathering debris and more snow.  The snow only ripped out only as far as I was able to slash with my tip (about 10% of the snow width).  What did rip, ripped to a frozen wet tundra bed surface. 

The downclimb had already been steep, but with the promise of 4 edges I was confident getting down to Point 1.  Now that skiing was out of the question, the down climb became much more serious.  My skis were already off the pack.  I decided that the increased freedom of movement was more valuable than my 3-year old spring rock skis. So I hucked them down slope in the hope that they would find their way to the valley floor.  They stopped at Point 2.  Buh-bye. 

I followed the Red Line (line added with iPhoto - not actually present in real life) down to the next snow patch.  At this point I realized I was above a massive cliff.  Fuck!  But I was able to spy a goat path traversing above the cliff band.  Goats are typically smarter than me, so I put my trust in these intellectual superiors and aimed for their route. 

Crossing the wet frozen slide gully at Point 3 was nerve-wracking especially since I was now aware of the large cliff below.  There was only 1 crucial step so I got some momentum to carry me across in the event of a slip.  The foot held and I was across. I worked my way down to the goat path at Point 4.  This was no guarantee that this path would lead anywhere, but it was my best option. 

Goats have massive balls; balls that clank, that's for sure.  This 6" wide path skirted less than 6" from the edge of the cliff.  The path would be easy if it were in a nice grassy meadow, but exposure has a way with fucking with you.  I moved with purpose and tried to block out the void that the ski pole in my right hand was suspended over.  And after the longest 20 seconds in recent memory, I was on an island of safety. 

The route to the valley floor was now obvious and after a quick glisade I had made it.  Thank God!  Thank you Adam, Sroga, Roberta, Memere, Jane, and all of my other guardian angels. There was still another 1,000' of climbing, but could see the entire route and had already sussed out the descent into Falling Waters.  The worst was now behind me.


My Route: Far Right
Preferred Route: Far Left

The next climb would be an easy skin.  That is had I not abandoned my skis. It would be a booter, a deep booter, a miserable booter, up to my crotch and many places.  I tried to link as many tundra patches as possible.  It was exhausting but there was progress.  The pass finally yielded and descent was exactly as I remembered: consolidated snow with perfect scree.  I was down in a matter of minutes.

Expert Route Finders Enjoying the Sunset: 10:30 PM

I followed my skinner back to my transition station and threw my ski boots in the pack. Without skis on my back the hike out was super nice.  It was a glorious Alaskan night. The high peaks were ablaze in the fading light. Due to the high latitude, the Alaskan summer sun moves almost parallel to the horizon this time of night.  This makes for a magic hour that actually lasts for an hour before the suns dips slightly out of sight for a few hours of dusk/dawn.

Polar Bear Peak: 11:00 PM

Sleeping Lady and the Knik Arm: 11:30 PM

It took 8 hours. The snow was poor. I lost gear. I scared the shit out of myself. I was completely exhausted. I questioned my decision making skills, my sanity, my intelligence, but I had made it. I wouldn't want to put myself in that type of situation again, but I was happy. 

 - U.K.

Falls Lake Couloir: May 23, 2012

Falls Creek is couloir central.  There are about 10 puckering shots in the 500' - 1,200' range in this small drainage.  Most top out between 3,500' and 4,500'.  The only drawback is that you start from sea level. Back in April, the Noodler and I climbed South Suicide via Falls Creek and I saw a shot that I needed to ski.  Of course the Noodler had skied it several times.  We didn't have time that day, but I planned to return.



Falls Lake Couloir (FLC): April 20

The FLC has all the earmarks of a classic: narrow, north facing, close to the summit, and an excellent run out.  The only thing that isn't obvious is the location of the lake.  Don't know, don't care.

I returned to Falls Creek the afternoon of May 11.  The Noodler and MB were already up there on an all day couloir hunt and I was fortunate to catch them at the bottom of the FLC.  Unfortunately there was 2-3 feet of freshly wind loaded snow in the couloir. The Noodler and MB had already turned around on another shot earlier in the day due to cracking snow. It had taken 2 hours to get to the bottom of the FLC, but the risk was not worth it. 



Turning Around

Anchorage has had a seemingly never-ending corn cycle since mid-March. Sunny days with cool clear nights has made for excellent skiing.  Hard frosts in town guaranteed excellent late afternoon skiing in the mountains.  This came to an abrupt end this week.  The clouds rolled in preventing temps from reaching the freezing level overnight.  It happens every year, but it was much later than normal in 2012.  Once it happens, the snow goes to shit rapidly before slowly transforming to neve a few weeks later. 

During this transition, a wise skier would stick to the trade routes that see the most traffic (Peak 3) or seek out some gullies that have been wind blasted all winter (Solstice Couloir).  Harp on Monday was a manky mess.  My skis were fat enough to keep me on top, but just barely.  Pole plants easily punched through 12+ inches into the isothermal slush.  Spooky.

Wednesday dawned warm and cloudy but sun was in the forecast.  I always try to work an extra hour on crappy days, so on beautiful days I can sneak out early.  The sun came out and I made a break for it and was hiking by 3:30 PM.

The Falls Creek trail is dry and first mile does not hint at the massive snow pack higher up. 

  

Fiddle Heads Provide a Nice Snack

After about leisurely 2-hour hikes, it is time to take the skis off the pack and start skinning. I retrace my May 11 route but was I am moving much slower today.  The skins are completely saturated adding significant weight to my already heavy set-up.  Ski penetration is 2-3" and the top 4" are completely saturated.  I slog along slow and steady with the hope that the FLC will be much firmer being higher up and in the shade. But this is unlikely with air temp in the 50s. 

At the May 11 turn-around point the snow is slightly better.  The feet of snow from a few weeks prior is still in there but it has cooked down considerably and has insulated the frozen layer beneath.  With skis back on the pack, the booting begins.  Each step is about 8" deep.  The snow in the chute hasn't gone to corn yet; it is really saturated spring snow: the ultimate snow ball snow.  The sun is blasting the wall above the climber's left and there is evidence of fresh rock-fall.  I keep to the right and waste little time and before too long the ridge yields.



Near the Summit of Mountain Peak 3920

The vista is amazing.  Couloirs everywhere and a great view of the lower Falls Creek, the Turnagain Arm, and Hope, AK.  After a short time taking it all in, it is time to focus on the task at hand.  The FLC is in the high 30s and today it is mank-tastic.  The top 8" is on the cusp of sliding.  It wants to go, but not quite.  Ski cuts get small results.  I link 2 turns down the center and ski towards the wall to see what happens.  Manky roller balls.  I repeat this technique about 1/4 of the way down before I feel comfortable enough to start linking more turns.  The snow is slow but super fun and carving pretty deep.  The shadows of the couloir finally give way to the sunshine of the run out and finally I relax.
 

Looking Back Up

It always feels good to get a shot that has captured your attention. FLC has been weighing on me since I saw about a month ago.  One month is not that long considering there are lines that I have obsessed over for years, but it was a good feeling nonetheless.  Hopefully, the transition to neve will be quick so I can tick a few more off before this season winds down.

 - U.K.

Mountain Penguin Peak: May 4, 2012

Work had sent me out of town for the second week in a row depriving me of the excellent early May skiing Anchorage has been blessed with.  I knew my flight would be landing around 1:30 PM, so I loaded the truck with the requisite ski gear before going to the airport.  

The flight back took me over the heart of the Chugach: huge peaks, tidewater glaciers, infinity ski runs.  I was amped and ran from the terminal to long term parking and headed South down the Seward Highway.  I wanted mine.  

The Noodler had been keen on Penguin Peak for the last week or so.  Penguin is often overlooked but highly visible from the highway.

Penguin and the Turnagain Arm

Anchorage had a record snow year, so I there has been no need to drive very far to get the schuss.   This has meant mostly skiing the Chugach State Park.  The park is huge extending roughly 40 miles North, South, and East from Anchorage.  There are dozens of trailheads.  Some are official, most are not.  The route up Penguin happens to start at one of the official entrances.

The run climbs a 3,000' slide-path that averages in the low 30s.  Evidence of large slides are everywhere.  The slides originate from the climbers right hand side from a large steep ridge. Fortunately today is a corn mission and the snow is still very firm. Eventually the main run rolls over to reveal a mellow bowl towards the summit.  The approach is super mellow; maybe 3 switchbacks.  

The Upper Bowl

From the head of the drainage, there is 3,900' of excellent continuous skiing with the cold grey Pacific in your lap.  But the head is a false summit of Mountain Penguin Peak.  The schuss will have to wait.

The Summit Ridge from the False Summit

The ridge is straight forward but firm.  I didn't have a self arrest device, so I opted to boot the 200 yards to the top.  After the short detour, it was time to ski.  

4,100' to the Turnagain Arm looking towards Anchor Town

The top hadn't softened, but that was OK.  A recent squall had placed 2" of new on the top half. The frozen corn underneath was super smooth, so this made for some super fun, high speed turning. The recent snow transformed seamlessly into perfect 2" deep corn around 2,500'  The snow lost the bright white appearance around 1,000' and got a bit punchy and considerably slower, but it was continuous to the parking lot.

It's good, I will return.

 - U.K.

P.S.  Hit it again on 5/8 - still skiable to the lot