Mountain Cantata: Hiking Edition

Alaska's streak of glorious weather ended a few weeks back. Now we're back into clouds with a near constant threat of rain. After a complete washout of a weekend, I decided to take a rare vacation day at the next chance of sun. The forecast was looking good so the plan would be an overnight attempt on Cantata.

After work I drove to the South Fork Trail and began the 5-mile walk to Eagle Lake. For some reason, Chugach State Park decided to "improve" the trail a few summers back. What once was a meandering trail that blended well into the surroundings is now a boulevard wide and smooth enough for a motorized shopping cart. Stumps, gravel, and boulders now line the widened route where trees, top soil, and healthy vegetation once was.  Oh, well...

Looking Up the Valley
Cantata - The Rocky One in the Middle

South Fork Eagle River - Chock Full of Glacier Silt

The boulevard becomes a path again after the first bridge. At the second bridge the beaten path yields to a half mile boulder hopping event. The boulder field has dozens of cairns marking at least 4 different options. Each cairn tempts me to leave my chosen route in search of "greener grass" but I just hop along aiming for the divide between Eagle and Symphony Lakes. The path reappears on the divide and leads past the lakes and up a steep slope towards Point 3600.  The trail fades but the route is obvious - keep Point 3600 on your left and hike on. 

The climb rolls over and I gain the long flat ridge that leads to Point 3600 and drop off the back about 100' into a valley that leads up to a pass between two 4,700 points. There is intermittent water up here and I find an acceptable spot for camp around 4,000'.

Symphony and Eagle Lakes from Camp

The 3 Summits of Hurdy Gurdy - Highest on the Right

The fog rolled arrived soon after sunset and it was still socked in come morning. I started hiking around 7AM and quickly found about a dozen better camping spots within 100 yards of my camp. I gained the pass quickly and turned right maintaining elevation (4,500') and passed east of Point 4755 and another high point before regaining the ridge at the base of Mountain Cantata proper.  It was time to climb.

From the col at 4,500' you're supposed to suss out the West Ridge of Cantata, but the fog obscured the route. There are a few cruxes on the West Ridge Route, but these can be avoided by getting off the ridge and scrambling across and up gullies on the South side.

The route is listed as Class 3 and I promise myself not to get on anything tougher than that. Often I would come to a Class 4 or 5 section and be forced to retreat.  The fog was thick and I struggled to interpret the hints of trails, tumbled cairns, and the occasional flagging which marked the passage of climbers more comfortable with exposure than I. But through patience and persistence I worked higher and higher sticking to my Class 3 limit. There was plenty of back-tracking, up, downs, backs, and forths, but I was making progress. Higher into the fog, but the thick fog was getting noticeably thinner.

A Random Dirt Glacier - Mirror Lake

Around 6,000', the fog relented to reveal a perfectly clear day. The glaciers below were mostly obscured but Park's big peaks pierced the clouds forcing their way into the crystal blue sky - peaks for later this summer or next summer or maybe never at all. Eagle, Calliope, Organ stood front and center and other giants poked into the ether further beyond, but there was no time to linger with the Cantata within reach. The cruxes were all below me and the angled had eased leaving a short 500' plod to the summit.

Eagle Peak Rising Up 



Ancient Ice Plastered to the Face of Mountain Calliope

The ascent took longer than anticipated making for a brief summit visit. Obligations were calling from far below. It was tough to give up that sun, but I knew it was time to descend back into the soup. While on the gentle upper section, I kept peaking over the steep north face to check on the ever growing Brocken Spectre.  Bigger and bigger he got until the fog enveloped us both .



Brocken Spectre from the Summit

The route down went much easier than the climb up. I hit most of my landmarks and wasted no time route finding. The descent flowed easily and detours from the ridge were more obvious. I somehow navigated around the scarier parts of my ascent. And before too long I was back on the gentle ridge hustling for camp.

Fatigue was setting in, I made some cocoa and got into some sugary treats while breaking down camp. Feeling rejuvenated, I hustled down towards the lakes. I finally got under the fog to reveal a grey day that gave no hint of the glory above. The walk out went quickly: route to path to boulder field to trail to boulevard. I was about 2 hours late getting back to town and ready to accept the consequences. But my mind kept returning to the sunny peak and plans for the next adventure.

 - U.K.



May Powder in Alaska

Well, maybe not quite endless, but May sure was good.  The storms kept coming and the temps stayed low.  We didn't get onto anything too rowdy, but a good time was had each time out in this late season powder. Enjoy these May Eagle River shots:

The Noodler on the Ship Creek Side: May 4

The Noodler on the South Fork Side: May 18

Big Group Heading up from Hunter Pass: May 19

Him on the Ship Creek Side: May 19

Some of Our Work on the Ship Creek Side: May 19

Turns on the South Fork Side: May 21

Storm Skiing on the South Fork Side: May 18

 - 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.

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.



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.

Mid April Upate: Alaska

Blue skies, warm days, and cool nights have made for some A+ corn skiing in South Central AK.

The Alaska Range

April has been focused on "The Iggle." I've been able to get out most days after work just as the South facing slopes begin to soften.  Unfortunately, this week I am in Kuparuk, Alaska for work. Temps here are in the teens and there is 3-6" of new low density powder on top of a supportable base, but the nearest hills are over 100 miles to the South. Shoot!

Some recent Iggle ski trails that we schussed in the last week or so....

I hope everyone is having a great spring!

 - U.K.

Lynx

Swiss Bowl and East Swiss

North Face of Gordon Lyon
(not sure I'd sleep well in either home at the bottom during a big storm cycle)

Harp: April 9

Anchorage finally got the 3" necessary to make it the snowiest winter ever. It was merely ceremonial here in town. No one shoveled and the plows stayed in, but there was enough to make the skiing above town fantastic.

Or so I heard. I spent the weekend gladly helping friends with various projects, but Monday afternoon I had to do what was right for me, because it was their time, their time, up there.

To my surprise, the west face of Harp was skiing great: 6-8" of blower on supportable. And once you got up to speed, it was a smooth ride. Can't wait to get out tomorrow!

A Quick 2,000' Vertical

- U.K.

Late February Update: AK

The February storm finally let up for a few days. Since there hasn't been a break in the action, there aren't any persistent weak layers. The snow has been quick to heal after storms this year.

Alas, I was tethered to the cubey! The photos and stories were coming in; folk were getting it and I had a serious case of FOMO. It was too much; I needed out. On Wednesday I made for the door at 3:15. Turnagain was too far for this late start, but Hiland Road in Eagle River would fit the bill. ER hadn't received the massive dumps that had buried Turnagain; my expectations were low but skiing is skiing is awesome even if it sucks.

The sky was cloudy with patches of blue, and I hoped to luck into some decent light. But throughout the drive the weather continued to worsen. It was snowing hard at the trailhead with 3" fresh. Poor vis and heavy snow convinced me to hit up the low angle bowl just West of Mountain Harp. As I climbed it got deeper and deeper and it became obvious that I had lucked into some deep powder. Who needs light when you have 18" of blower? Probably someone, but not me.

Oh, that was a rhetorical question?

Yes.

Oh, was rhetorical too?

Enough already! Time to schuss! It was still pounding . The sky, air, ground were all grey. Nothing to focus on except the the faint hint of skinner trailing off into the sky? It would have to be enough. Effortless turns complemented the powder that billowed over my waist with each turn. I was shocked. Hoots and giggles rang out throughout the blind descent until I hit the road. Stunning!

I had to return on Thursday. I put out the word out but no one believed me and again I had it to myself. The plan was to follow my skinner, but that was buried by another un-forecast storm. Usually I bring the rock skis for ER, but today I had the 194s and it was just as deep as the day before. More giggles and squeals and yawps. Their loss.

Turnagain had got 9' in the 2 weeks since my last visit and the CNFAIC proclaimed: Low! Hubert has a penchant for the South Facing shots on Eddies. 1,500', steep, and plenty of room. No more willows, rocks, cliffs, or anything.

We ran into Paul and Anthony at the top of Run #1. It was #3 for them but it was bliss for all. Still no vis, but with conditions like this, seeing is not really that necessary. So you go and trust in the slope, the equipment, and muscle memory. And the super hero snow let's you get away with it time and time again.

Nothing to See Here

The light was so poor, we failed to notice that dusk had arrived. But being the the last car in the lot is not necessarily a bad thing.

Saturday morning was forecast to be sunny, but there was a weather advisory for the afternoon. Get the morning sun and then get an afternoon nap. Mountain Harp was calling again. Harp is the easiest 5er in the CSP, and draped with a dozen high quality lines. It was calm and sunny in the car-park, but by the time Chris W. and summited the wind was ripping. The extra layers were going on. Something was brewing out there. The sun was still shining as we dropped into a sheltered slope just East of the peak.

The wind was howling but the prodigal sun had returned! The glorious sun! The rare sun out for a short tryst in the mountains! The blessed sun! Hello, friend! Oh, and the snow was excellent, but that sun, that wonderful sun. ER continues to deliver.

Looking Up 2,000' of Goodness

We climbed West back towards the summit ridge. It took about an hour but, in those 60 minutes the sky went from blue to a menacing gray.

Climbing Out with Hanging Valley in the Background

It was time to go, but we still had another 2,000' of powder sprawled out under our tips. The light was garbage but we were used to that. Nothing but smiles as we dropped back into the ping-pong ball, but I was secretly cursing that fickle, shy bastard in the sky.

- U.K.

Korohusk Couloirs: May 14

I had an objective in mind but no one to ski with. Finally the Noodler relented. Yes!! 2 hours later he called back and expressed his concern regarding the glacier travel necessary for this objective. I told him to close his eyes and repeat 3 times: "Nothing's gonna happen." Apparently this glacial travel technique is not acceptable to new parents.

I spouted off my other objectives and The Noodler's interest was piqued with "Korohusk." There is a scary chute of the North side that I wanted. The Noodler told me that there was also a second, sneekier, scarier couloir as well. He also had some good beta from buddies that had schussed 'em earlier in this season

There was a solid refreeze at the trailhead when we began hiking at 7:15 AM and the skins were on by 8. Travel was efficient on the refrozen corn and soon The Noodler was pointing at an improbable sliver of snow coming off the ridge. As we rounded the bend, it looked doable, but not really.

Korohusk the 1st

I've never seen anything like this couloir. It splits a buttress and has no slopes above or beside it that will slough into the shot. It is relentlessly steep and narrow and there is almost no apron. The Noodler set the booter / clamp-on-er. The snow was "recycled pow", 8" of blower, wintery goodness. We knew it would be good. Each turn sloughed and quickly the surface of 10' wide chute was moving with the skier. Every so often, I'd pull over and let it go on by before it became a hazard.

The Noodler from the Top

After a 5 minute break at the bottom, we moved towards Korohusk the 2nd. This is the shot I had been thinking of: much wider, not as much vert. This line wanted to be my friend, but this too was a trap.

The Noodler and the 2nd

The chute started as advertised, but it doglegged about 700' off the deck. Cramp-ons came out again. It narrowed and got steep. What looked like a relaxing run from below was feeling very similar to the 1st run.

From the Top of the 2nd

"#34, The Noodler, Nashoba Valley, dropping..."

The snow was great, but not as good as the 1st. I navigated the narrows and steeps above the dogleg conservatively, but was able to link turns through most of the top 1/2. The bottom half relaxed a bit, and I felt better. My whipping jacket drowned all other sounds.

A Scary View of the 1st

In AK, you have to be flexible. Years can pass before conditions, weather, and the right partner align to even attempt a line. Today everything converged and the result was easily the best day of the season. That is, until tomorrow.

- Coemul