January

It has been a fun start to the New Year. After i got over thee accident and post-dramatic stress, I've been able to get out and piddle about a few times.  Here's a couple things I had fun putting together.

In this first video, I borrowed a friends splitboard to go get some fun powder.

In this video, I took my nephew out to find the goods, but the wind had already pummeled it.  Still loads of fun!

I also had a day at Tincan where we rode the in the shadows on Todd's Run.  No video that day, batteries and fingers weren't working in the cold.  But like most, Turnagain was the highlight of January!

The End of an Era

When the winter season comes, my splitboard and I are best friends.  There's nothing that gets me higher than a good split up and board down.  If I could have it my way, we would be inseparable.  But something happened to our relationship recently - the front range finally got her.

Her reflecting back on a day of riding.  

Now, it is I reflecting back on, 'the end of an era'.

It all happened on New Years day.  The Chugach had been receiving decent amounts of snow and my splitboard and I needed to get out.  We toured up Arctic Valley and we were both excited about the snow conditions that day.  The snow was seemingly magical; light, deep and cold.  After a slow descent down the low angle bowl of Mt. Gordon Lyon, we chose a steeper line through some cliffs and to the bowl below.  It was much better (speed wise), though it was noted the base wasn't quite established the whole way through.  The third run however was where our lives would be changed forever.

The same line was drawn and instead of me going around the diving board in between the two cliffs, I decided to drop it.  It felt good, even the short moment after I landed; but once my weight bore down completely on my board, and my board compressed through the cold, sugary snow, it happened!  My base caught the rocks...it was more than she could bare.  As much as she tried she couldn't slide pass the violent hold of the Front Range's grip.  I flipped head over heals and then again.  Through the air I wasn't thinking of my poor friend at all...all I could think of at the time was, helmet?  Though, I was fine alas she was not.  The rocks gouged into my boards core, tearing away skin and wood fragments, and snapping her tail.  I never realized her pain even through her final, graceful turns to the base of her final line.

She was a good board and I have many fond memories of our time spent together.  Her graceful ride will forever be missed.

When she was just a newborn. Cute as could be.

The Doubtful Goat, Chitistones Skolai, Fredrika and the Nizina

John Guthrie and I departed Anchorage, for McCarthy, September 7th to begin a multi-day backpacking trip through the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.  It is now a month later.  I've been writing off and on and have finally finished.  This is my story:

...and if you don't want to read the long story, scroll down to the end and at least watch the video.  Here's the story:

Thrilled at our accomplishment, saddened not to still be out there, and joyed to be back at home with family.  I go back and forth between these three emotions.  Andrew McLean said it best, "When you're on an expedition, you wish you were home; when you're home, you wish you were on an expedition - that's the sign of a balanced life."  I look forward to keeping a balanced life long into the future.  Though, with a trip this grand its hard to not want to be out there still.  

The trip began with a colorful autumn drive into McCarthy, then was proceeded by a flight to the snout of the mighty Nizina Glacier.  We are dropped here, between the glacier and the mouth of Doubtful Creek. Our bird flies off and leaves us to travel by foot and eventually pack-raft, back to McCarthy.

The first day of travel, was up the menacing, Doubtful Creek.  Doubtful Creek had layered canyon walls and colorful cliff bands, rock glaciers and glacier capped peaks, these were the only comfort we had to the upward stumble of this rock choked creek bed.    After the eight mile struggle on a continual upward slope of 3500 feet, we made it through the pass and camped just a few miles down.  Our campsite was near a small creek with views of the University Range.  Dall sheep grazed on nearly every hillside.

Now, on day two, we were pushing for the famed 'Goat Trail' in the Chitistone Gorge.  We walked five miles to where we would drop onto the trail's highest point.  As we walked we were accompanied by snow, sleet, and three waterfalls.  Once on the colorful cliffs of the 'Goat Trail', our eyes peer down thousands of feet to the Chitistone Creek.  We looked out across the gorge to cliff bands of similar beauty and forward to the steep trail, yet to be traveled.

I now understand why Chitistone Gorge is so prized.  The mountains are painted in green, red, orange, grey, and purple.  The colors lay horizontally and diagonally, and fan out below the chutes of cliffs to the valley below.  Snow highlights every ridge and cliff in the gorge making it more of a canvas in September. 

After a long day through world class terrain, we make camp at a tarn in Chitistone Pass.  We will stay two nights to walk the pass' many benches and have a day of rest.  With the wind howling through the pass, we were forced to cook within the shelter of our tents vestibule.

On the second evening at Chitistone Pass, I laid outside in a sleeping bag on the bank of the lake to eat dinner and gaze at the surrounding landscape.  The cold wind was moving our small part of the world that late evening.  The cotton grass seemed to shiver, while clouds moved quickly across mountain peaks, spires, ridges and saddles like a delicate fabric is brushed across the back of one's hand and fingertips.  Chitistone gave us another gift of color and visual majesty when the moon and the aurora would show its light with each break in the cloud layer.  The phenomenon appeared in an emerald green and in one instance had a champagne like edge. 

Chitistone, however, was not done yet. The fourth morning we awoke to a lone, bull, caribou.  He stood silhouetted on the horizon in the morning light, antlers towering in a grand display of prowess.  As he vanished the same way he appeared, we stuffed our gear into packs and began our descent down the pass. Just above where a creek begins its fall to the valley floor, we met another treasure from the grandeur of Chitistone; Dall Sheep, had come down from their pasture, as if to meet us before our descent.  We shared a drink of water with these trusting creatures, then we both went our separate ways.

With another moment to be ecstatic about we quickly descended to the valley floor of Skolai Creek.  Crossing this marshy valley we were happy to have had the cold temps freeze the otherwise ankle deep muck and swampy landscape.  Nearly half way across the valley we see three dark beasts with a mane of white - more caribou.  They are moving up the valley in a majestic trot.  We spooked them off their way but they are soon looking down on us from a high bench.  We move on down the valley towards the Fredrika River.

We made our way to the Fredrika, on an old trail. We cross the cold glacial river after a short bushwhack.  We make more consistent bear calls as we move through old river bars lined with willows and bear scat.  Just as another call goes out a grizzly, hearing the call, rises above a stand of willow.  As soon as he is up he is back down and out of sight, hoofing, with his exit from our presence.  After I get my heart beating again, we move on up the valley and make our camp near the toe of the Fredrika Glacier. 

Dinner made, consumed, and fire started; we again admire the stars and full moon, but this time on a cloudless night.  Watching the sky for satellites and shooting stars, a slow emergence of green appears in the sky, above a ridge, high on the Fredrika Glacier.  The Northern Lights appear for the second time this trip in a ribbon of green.  We couldn't believe this trip deserved to get any better, so we just laughed and watched the Aurora, until the show was over.

After a good nights sleep on a nice flat river bar we walked up the easy going Fredrika glacier, the easiest walking of the trip.  A few miles up the glacier we exited the Fredrika to go up 1000 feet and over a glaciated pass.  Once we were on top of the pass we could see the Nizina Glacier, the first views of it since we started our trip seven days earlier.  Feeling closer to the end we walked down hill toward the glaciers edge.  That evening, next to the glacier, we found the only camp and anticipated tomorrows walk on the Rhone and Nizina Glacier. 

The Nizina unlike the Fredrika was not so easy to travel down.  More route finding had to be put into navigating its moraines and crevasse fields than we hoped.  Soon we found ourselves being pushed to the west side of the glacier.  This was not in our best interest as we had stashed our boats on the opposite side before our trip began.  Nearing the toe we decided to exit on the west side unless we could find a way across.  Admitting our defeat prematurely, we were able to cross to the east a quarter mile from the toe of the glacier.  Tomorrow, we would boat to McCarthy; the end of our trip. 

We awoke to descent weather, but a storm was on the horizon.  After blowing up the boats and strapping on our packs, we were in the water.  Paddling in the lake, around large icebergs was incredible and reminded us how small we were in this big place.  Entering the river, the current picked up, the excitement ensued.  The water was low but also exposed more holes and rocks.  Waves splashed over our small boats.  Currents came from where large braids crashed together and tugged at us, but we endured through 30 mph gusts and pelting rain.  The weather hammered us for more than an hour but soon it subsided and the river did as well.  The river was still swift and cold but not as intense as the first several miles of the float.  We leisurely floated closer and closer to McCarthy.

Nearing the McCarthy Rd. we saw four humans on the banks of the Nizina.  They pointed us to where the road ramps down to the river bar, as this was our take out point.  We then march the road, ten miles into the town of McCarthy.

Being the end of the season in McCarthy and eleven o'clock in the evening, everything was closed, including the pub.  So, pints of ale unavailable and out of trip whiskey, we drove to Anchorage.  Delayed by a flat tire half-way down the seventy mile, dirt road of  McCarthy, we put on the 'donut' and slowly motored our way through the night, back to our lives and its adventures.

I've never been through better country.  This was a seemingly magical land.  There were surprises around every bend and roll in this area.  Crystals littered the ground while cliffs and waterfalls appeared from thin air.  The good Lord, must have took more time creating this magical area.  And it was good.

I'd like to thank John Guthrie for helping to make this trip a reality.  I don't know how he did this trip, with his larger than life pack, weighing at least twenty pounds more than mine, but he did, and much respect to him.  Also noting, his perseverance to get off the Nizina Glacier the way we had intended.



Here is the video I shot, all with the GoPro.  Take note pictures and videos rarely do justice as to the grandeur of the country.  This is no different.  The wide angle of the camera shows the size of the country but nothing replaces the eye. The video is seven minutes long, we were out there for eight days.

Dick Proenneke's Cabin

I was blessed with the opportunity to visit Dick Proenneke's cabin and explore his backyard.  People around the world including myself are intrigued by his home on the Upper Twin Lakes.  Everyday in summer, his cabin is photographed and poked through.  We sort through his many tools, writings, contraptions, hand made furniture and cabin.  It was a remarkable experience to see firsthand what I had only seen in pictures, movies, or books.

I've often pondered on what is so exhilarating about Dick's legacy and have found myself feeling silly for admiring a man who built his home on a remote lake, then living there for some, thirty years.  A short period compared to how long the glaciers, mountains, lakes, and streams have been navigated by natives of long ago. 

I can't quite comprehend mine and the world's admiration for him, but I do know what he did is what most admirers of him, including myself, dream of doing.  Maybe all it is, is he had the courage and willingness to give up the sophisticated world that we live in, to simply live, in a cabin, on a lake.

 

Bombardment Pass

It was a hot, sunny day when we started out, to a valley we'd never been to, only to end up being socked in.  The joke of this trip, and most outings, is we start at 'the shier' and end up in 'Mordor'.  The Shier: Valley full of wildflowers, trees, and life.  Mordor: the lifeless moraine of Ram Glacier and the 'Eye of Sauron'.

Camping on the other side of Bombardment Pass, we slowly made our way back the next day.  Coming back in the clouds made the descent a little dizzying but as long as we kept going down, we would make it back to the Shier in a few.

Ram Valley, is yet, another beauty of a spot in the "backyard".

Finally, the amateur movie.

Good Time, Spring Time

A few weeks ago four of us went out skiing/boarding before our summer season gets increasingly busy.  We had planned on going for a day in Turnagain Pass but web cams and rainy forecasts influenced our decision to go elsewhere.  So, we headed for the bowls around Mount Harp.  It was a relaxed day of hiking, shredding, drinking PBR, enjoying the wildlife (moose w/calf) and skinning in the warm spring air.

Here's my edited footage from that day.  I think I'm actually getting better at this stuff.  

Good Ol' Harp

Mt. Harp never dissapoints. It is my 'Go To' mountain, when I'm in a hurry.  I've been riding this mountain since I began snowboarding in the backcountry, before I even considered it being 'backcountry snowboarding' but rather, just plain, snowboarding.  Being out there reminded me of one of those early years of riding.  I boot-packed up because there was a lack of snow, but it is the same way I ascended in the earlier years.  Also, I did a run on a part of the mountain that I hadn't done since the beginning of my love for backcountry snowboarding.  What a hit!