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!
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.
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.
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.
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".
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.
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!
For the second year in a row me and my friend, Greg, floated the Kenai Canyon. The water was lower than when we floated last year but the skies were just as blue. The banks, still lined with snow, we slid in like seals and the crystal clear pools of the Kenai induced vertigo as one gazed down to see giant boulders. Once we made it to the lake we paddled around several robust icebergs before landing on the sandy beach. From there a quick hike through the woods and back to the truck.
While the Kenai River typically can't be visited without seeing droves of people fishing the large, sockeye salmon run, or the easy to catch, trophy sized, rainbow trout. Early in spring, this area is vacant compared to what will be happening in a month, when the chinook salmon begin their run up-river. I look forward to next spring when I can go back or maybe this fall after the visitors diminish.
Here's a few photos courtesy of Greg, as I was too busy enjoying my summer vacation in April.
Sunday came and off I went with the purpose to ascend Knoya Peak. Knoya, is in the front range of the Chugach, easily visible from the East side of Anchorage and one that I gaze at on a daily basis driving home from work. I've always wanted to explore this area, but for some reason I had never ventured to Knoya or any of the other valleys and peaks accessible from the Basher Road trailhead.
Accompanying Aaron Fetter, we set off at late morning with two dogs, blue skies and varied expectations. We hiked the ridge up to the summit and descended the southern aspect towards the North Fork of Campbell Creek. Where we skinned, bushwhacked, and hiked back to the trailhead.
Yesterday, we took our annual trip down to the Empty Bowl Project, to meet with family, pick out some pottery, eat soup and enjoy some fine music. We've been attending this for nearly five years and we look forward to the gathering every year.
Talus, chose (with a little help) the small, red bowl. Canyon, found the colorful, blue, turquoise, and yellow bowl. Dana went with the largest bowl, while, I snagged the bowl with the leaf designed into it. Each one was a joy to pick out and will be used to its fullest for years to come.
I went out with my back country snowboarding partner, Sergei, today. He came up for a few weeks from Portland, so we went to our usual hangout, Harp Mountain.
After a week of non-stop wind the week before last, we knew the conditions were going to be awful, but we wanted to get out anyway. The wind hammered snow made it out to be a great tour on the low angle approach, but gaining the ridge at the higher angle and breakable wind slabs reminded us that the conditions were not ideal.
The descent was brutal, but fun (I've yet to have a descent that isn't). After the first turn, trying to get an edge in was unsuccessful and sent me on my backside sliding down the first 30 yards. Just when I thought I was getting close to becoming a pro rider, the run shattered my ego.
Here's a couple pictures I got of Sergei on his descent:
A 2 pm birthday party sent me packing early this morning. The reward of leaving early was being in solitude in an otherwise busy, Hatcher Pass.
The early morning light show was spectacular along the mountains. The sunrise was casting dark shadows in contrast to the bright white snow and then other times illuminating the snow and clouds with bright oranges and pinks. I felt close to God being in his country on this Sunday morning when most are sitting in a warm, church building. Hallelujah!
The video below shows my descent. The first few turns were nice after that the snow was a bit crusty underneath the few inches of creamy powder. Also, notice how those skiers tracks are all over the place, geez!
Meadow Creek Valley, is quite possibly my favorite destination within the front range of the Chugach Mtns. The ridge walking is ideal, peaks jet up from the valley floor 3000' and the views are anything but limited. Its easy access and limited popularity makes this area one of those undiscovered gems you want to keep secret.
I visited the area this past weekend. Going with the intention of touring up the valley and seeing if there was any possibility of a snowboard descent. Not unexpected, the snow was either non existent or rock solid. Scratching that idea I made an easy climb up toward a ridge to enjoy the views.
The big three just above Mt. Baldy
Mt. Vista
Redoubt and Illiamna are out; zoom in
and squint.
A good looking descent
On my way back down the ridge I ended up making a quick, exciting, blooper video of my descent down to Mile High Saddle. It went just as planned!
I have found winter and spring are my two favorite seasons because I get to surf the gnar! I try to go out nearly every weekend for a quick skin and ride. There is no better therapy for, 'winter blues' or 'work blues' in my case.
For Christmas, I was blessed with a helmet cam. A much needed winter gadget that will help in sharing my passion for riding the mountains. I don't tend to take many pictures if any in the winter, mostly due to colder temperatures, bulky gloves and the fact that I lost our point and shoot last winter.
I was able to use this newly acquired technology on a short day trip out near Summit Lake, Alaska. I didn't take the time to edit the clips, so, turn on your favorite tune and enjoy the few minutes of me, surfing the gnar.
Here are a few projects that I have done in the past. All the pieces have been finished though the pictures may not show the finished product as I wasn't into taking too many photos at the time.
Maple Countertops
Tigerwood Bassinet. A piece I made for my daughter and one that I hold with pride.
I wanted to do one last trip this season while the fall colors were still out. We would hike Peter Hills, located south of the Alaska Range, 130 miles north of Anchorage. If the weather was nice, it would offer fantastic views of Mount Hunter, Denali, and Foraker as well as many others. After hiking Peter Hills we would float the Tokositna River which flows east out of the Alaska Range and joins with the Ruth River before merging with the Chulitna River. Our take-out point is where the Chulitna River intersects the Parks Highway.
To do this trip like most others required a shuttle, so I needed a trip partner. I recruited a co-worker, David Juran. I called him and described the route; twelve miles of hiking and thirty miles of floating in two days. Now, he had never been in a packraft and hadn't even been in Alaska for more than six months, so of course he accepted with naive excitement. Dave is a great guy and enjoyable to be around with his child-like humor, so I was looking forward to spending a couple days outside of work together.
We parked Dave's truck at the Chulitna River bridge on the Parks Highway and headed for Petersville. The road to Petersville is a little rough and takes about an hour to drive the entire distance to where an ATV trail leads in to the high country. I typically get lost being on trails and this was no different, soon enough we had to backtrack, but just once.
Finally, off trail we were starting to get some distance between us and the car. Peter Hills has several small lakes and hills to go around. Route finding wasn't difficult but you had to take your time to find a dry route. Never really getting on a ridge, Peter Hills, is as it sounds, hilly. There are multiple ups and downs but nothing with much elevation gain or loss.
Nearing the end of Peters Hills, the clouds cleared completely and the views of the Alaska Range were incredible. Unfortunately, we had to start dropping down towards Home Lake. Not only were we leaving the grand views of the alpine but we were headed for an inevitable bush whack.
On our descent we were able to devour an abundant amount of high bush blue berries (mountain huckleberries). I would break off a branch and eat while walking down towards the Alaska jungle.
Once in the brush we were able to break through fairly easily but as usual the lower we went the worse it got. We found a decent game trail and followed it for a ways until it seemed to meander off in another direction. In hindsight we should have stayed on the game trail as we wound up in the bottom of a small drainage. More than likely the trail went around the drainage, staying high instead of going straight through it like we did.
Once at Home Lake, darkness was approaching fast and we didn't have much time to find a campsite. Alders sloped around the entire south side of the lake. The north side looked marshy but flat. Confident we could find a flat, dry area across the lake, we blew up our rafts and crossed. We found just enough room in a dense forest of willows to camp and pitched our shelter with the help of headlamps. It was arguably the worst camp that I've ever had, but it worked and was comfortable enough.
We woke early knowing that we had an all day float ahead of us. It was a cool, crisp, fall morning and paddling down the lake through marshes we saw salmon, ducks, grebes and a pair of swans. Coming toward the end of the lake we discovered beavers had dammed the outlet. Approaching the dam, the beavers would swim back and forth across the channel slapping their tail and bodies with such force it looked painful. As we were crossing their territory they mysteriously disappeared. We could feel them watching us as we portaged the dam.
At the confluence of the Tokositna there were so many salmon their backs brushed the bottom of our rafts as we floated over top of them. The Tokositna River, slowly meanders without rapids except the occasional jet boats that powered up and down the river. We laid back and enjoyed the view that became better and better the further east we floated.
We took a few breaks to stretch our legs. Eventually we passed the confluence of the Ruth and further down river had lunch at Tokosha Mtn. Lodge. We poked around the vacant property (that is for sale for anyone interested) before heading back into the water.
Once back in the water we came upon the only rapids the river had; a short boulder garden. Lining the boats down most of it we put in for the last set giving Dave and myself some much needed excitement and practice. Just before joining the Chulitna River we saw a black bear swimming across. The third bear of the trip. The other two, a black bear sow and cub we saw far off in the alpine while hiking Peters Hills.
Once in the Chulitna, it was a fast float to the bridge. The Chulitna was a little more exciting. It was fast, braided, zero rapids, a little wood, and lovely views of the mountain range yet again. At the bridge we were happy to be done with our eleven hour float and nearly 48 hour trip.
If I were to do this route a second time, there are a couple things that I would require before going again. If you follow these two prerequisites, this would be a most spectacular and scenic trip.
I would make sure the weather was as good as we had it on this trip. This isn't a good enough trip to not have the scenery making it worthwhile.
Take two nights to do the trip. The first night you should camp in the alpine, taking in the evening and morning lighting on the mountains. On the second night camp along one of the many river bars, ideal for a campsite.
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.
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!
