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.

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.



Skiing the Boretide

Tide book - check. Bear mace - check. Ski gear - check.

 

Owley and I were ready for a late May ski near Penguin Ridge. We chose this spot for its proximity to the Turnagain Arm as we hoped to watch the bore tide from an aerie 3,000' above the cold, grey North Pacific.

 

Bore tides are a rare phenomena that only occur two places in the United States and then only with specific tides. Bore tides only occur only in shallow inlets or rivers with narrow inlets to the ocean. As the narrow inlet is still draining with the outgoing tide, the flood tide is already en route. The incoming tide travels against the current of the inlet. Moon versus gravity plus hydraulics and harmonics create a single wave that can travel for miles. 

 

I've witnessed the Bore from sea-level at one of the many pullouts along the Seward Highway. Being so close to the wave gives you a great feel for the power of the bore: loud and powerful, sometimes reaching a height of 6 feet, but the experience is short-lived. I hoped that from high above, we could witness the full scope of the Bore Tide as it traveled the entire length of the Turnagain Arm. 

 

Owley Climbing

Our extendo Winter ended abruptly and transformed into what the local Fox affiliated has dubbed: The Great Alaska Heat Wave of 2013. Local news tends to the overly dramatic - 3 days in the 70s is not deserving of such a grandiose title. But considering we were shoveling on May 19th and mowing the lawn on the 27th, the change has been dramatic.

This drastic change has put an end to winter snow conditions. Summer skiing is here which means alder smashing, sweat in the eyes, and skis on the back. The first 600' of hiking had mud, ice, slush, and alders, and the occasional patch of dry ground, but we were soon skinning. The trusty tide book told us where and when to expect the Bore Tide and we were right on schedule. 

Our first views of the Turnagain Arm came at 3,000' as we gained a sub-ridge. The entire Arm was laid before us: Anchorage all the way to Portage. We saw a slow moving serpentine wave out near the mouth of the Turnagain Arm. It made a huge loop and over the course of 15 minutes the loop collapsed on itself.  A new wave took over and center-punched the Arm.

The Bore Tide Center of Photo

The Bore was moving imperceptibly. From the road, the wave is a noisy, violent, dramatic act - churning and foaming ripping through the silty water. From up high, the bore is a peaceful wave meandering slowly and silently.

The day was warm and there were no winds. We sat on a dry patch of tundra watching the wave and a young eagle riding thermals. Sweat soaked gear dried and energy bars that have made a dozen trips succumbed to the extended rest demanded by the scenery.

Juvenile Bald Eagle Soaring

Secondary Waves (called "Whelps") Fan Out

Most witness the Bore Tide from pullouts along the Seward Highway. From these vantage points, you can get a great sense of the fury and awesome power of the wave. But from high above, the beauty and scope of the wave becomes obvious. Instead of a 5 minute noisy display of raw power, we were treated to a full hour of grace and fluidity in the silence of the mountains. Eventually, the Bore Tide weakened and slowly faded in a deep channel on the far side of the Arm.



 

Owley Laying Down Some Trenches

Our timing to watch the Bore Tide was impeccable, but the snow let us know we had missed the good skiing by several hours. The snow - well past corn - was a sloppy, manky mess. We left deep trenches as we descended. My wide open turns failed to produce the speed desired. It was work, but good work. After 2,400' of continuous schussing, it was time to accept that skiing to the road is no longer an option. The downhill hike to the trail was easy and relaxing. The bend of alders and gravity were working with us and we were soon back at the lot.

The June 24th and July 23rd bore tides are expected to be the biggest of the year. The hiking to skiing ratio will be much worse, but I expect to be up high watching the wave and making turns.

Click here for times & dates for 2013 Bore Tides 

 - 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.

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

Tincan: 10/18/12

Work gave me the day off and the Amoral Hippy gave the motivation with tales of excellent skiing at Turnagain Pass. I had planned to ski in the Girdwood area, but the allure of a much shorter approach to decent snow drew me towards the pass. There is a nice hiking trail that goes from the road to above treeline at the Tincan pullout. So even if there is no snow at the road, it is easy to get to the alpine.

Sunrise

I was surprised to see 6ish inches at the pullout - it would be possible to skin from the meadow. Skinning was interesting: minor creek crossings, not so frozen mud, steep sections not deep enough to put in a wide enough track, but it beat bushwhacking or hiking with skis and boots on my back. 


Muddy Underneath - Cold On Top

There was 4-8" below tree line and 12-18" above. It was nice to be in the sun and skinning. Summer was short and rainy; any break from the gloom is welcome. 

Thin

Tincan Ridge

In my mind, the Tincan Bowl would be deep and there would be hours of gleefully schussing lap after lap.  But reality was quite different.  This time last year, multiple storms had laid down great empire-building snow up high by mid-October.  Yesterday on Tincan there was only snow from the most recent storm and the high pressure has sucked out most of moisture needed for effective base building.

The first high pressure in months is ill timed.  The entire (albeit thin) snow pack is rapidly going to sugar with a healthy dose of hoar frost on top for good measure.  It makes a cool noise while skiing through it, but the that noise could be harbinger of problems down the road.  Hopefully the wind forecast for the weekend gives the snowpack a Romney-esque Etch-A-Sketch reset opportunity. 

The skiing right now is tricky to say the least. It would be easy to get injured with not-quite-enough low density snow on tundra, scree, brush.  If you do decide to head out, take it slow up high - there'll be plenty of opportunities to send it this winter.  And don't be too proud to walk out the bottom bit, it's a long season.  You'll get your opportunity to ride it switch into the road soon enough.

 - 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.