BC Experience

Quite possibly, hands down, one of the most memorable experiences I will sustain here in this state...

As Alaska has the power of making anyone feel inferior to its massiveness, I knew that with the daylight’s increased frequency it was my duty to commence experiencing what the mountains have to offer. After much anxiety, anticipation, and begging I found someone whom was willing to assume all responsibilities for me, enlightening me on a true BC experience. *due to the hour of day this is, there may be some sarcasm rising from time to time.

Anyhow, my guide for the day, we'll just call her Em...nah, that's too obvious, how about child from the city where the land meets the sea... Yes, that will do. Where did we leave off? Oh yes, I had been talking (persuading) CFTCWTLMTS that skiing in the back country seemed like a good idea. And by good idea, I meant she should take some novice such as myself into maw of the beast sans a second thought. For comparison (to someone wanted to get on the river), we can look at this as someone who had some good river experience and wanted to up the anti a bit…No big deal, if they have the gear, and the drive. For ease of naming names I will just refer to this ski maven by G3, as those are the type of skis she rides. That way if she ever comes across this, I don't get beat with a belt or anything of that nature. So anyway, this kids' skiing is like my paddling, and luckily she was nice enough to expose me the BC realm Turnagain Pass (south of Anchorage) had to offer.

The day started out somewhere after 10:30 a.m. where we departed the APU parking lot, in a vehicle shabbier than...errrr I mean a nice solid Mitsubishi mountain conquoring device. As we embarked on this journey a loud noise entailed and the vehicle was tilting 55 degrees back towards the pavement. All this way and we hadn't even made it out of the parking lot, so maybe it was 25 degrees, either way the truck was high walled, or if viewed from the side completing half the shape of a capital letter A... Joyous laughter broke out in the cab, and by joyous I mean a half joking half uncertain uncanny style laugh. The driver had seemed to have no qualms, where as in the back of my head... (If she is half the skier that she is driver... I may be in trouble) just kidding. I found it funny, somewhere inside of me, and figured this is Alaska, and these people only drive in the daylight for half the year so it’s excusable...

Blue skies and white clouds eventually turned into an overcast day with many more clouds embossing into an opaque gray so impenetrable the sun eventually lost its battle. South on the Seward highway, (the road leading out of Anchorage which I have indulged upon a few times before) the mountains looked irresistible so much that they felt tangible. (few pics loaded) Through the gray skies and dull day evolving, their monstrous presence was still as impressive as it had ever been.

Eventually, after G3 made a quick stop to pick up her gear, do her hair, shower, write a poem, we were set to get to the trail head. Moments later I stared up into an abyss of white which seemed to disappear into the clouds. It was then I realized, we had parked next to a snow bank and actual summit was on the other side of the parking lot. “No biggie, I got this…” - I thought to myself as I hossed my ski boots on and set my snow shoes up for a baggable peak experience. Previously the night before I had attempted and failed miserably to use telemark skis with chitty plastic skins... Skins, are supposed to be the glorious device that allows you to hike up the mountain with ease. In rebuttal to my failed attempt I reckoned that I would “HIKE” in my ski boots, w/ snow shoes attached. I only mention this to illustrate it’s intelligence as slightly above trying to make waffles sans batter. (Inside joke, Mother would love to tell that story over and over).

Where were we? Oh yeah, hiking into oblivion in search of a summit. As we ascended up…up… and away, I became overheated (rookie syndrome?) and had to shed layers like a malamute in the summer time. This increased physical activity bothered not G3 as she is much more seasoned at this, and on top of it she forgot her snow pants leaving her to hike in Carharts… If there wasn’t anything more intimidating than that, I would be a force to reckon with. Moments later, I found out how wrong I could be. Apparently when you hike in snow shoes with ski boots, you do not have right of way on the skin trail… I was informed about this will all the courtesy in the world by two French folks, whom no doubt had to make some comment about me in their native tongue as they passed by (they must have known my foreign language of choice was of Latin descent) Their two dogs diligently trotting by, sans a care in the world. Needless to say I hopped off the skin highway and continued with my post holing experience. (If you have any questions as to what this is, I would be more than happy to explain in detail for you). The agony of sinking in to the snow up to my calves only inflamed by the two guys (borderline two point five times my age) sliding past, in good respiration, for their THIRD run of the day. While myself, looking green as a mug around the gills, was fighting to make his first. No worries, no worries, it will be all worth it on the way down….

I will cut to that part as I don’t want you to re-live the horrendous 3.25 hr journey up… As I made it to the summit, I was faced with a steep slope of snow, my snow shoe (left one) had turned itself 90 degrees for the second time, making it all but impossible to gain any ground. At the same point I kept breaking snow off the side, with no one in sight I did what any normal person would do. Crouch down into the fetal position and lay there like a slug… So I didn’t do that, but it most definitely crossed my mind. I eventually made it to the top to find G3 socializing with the French folk, having a GRAND time. “Ah, you finally made it,”- smirked the foreigners. “Ah, yeah, you now how it goes, I was just checking the whiteness of the snow, I hear it can blind you like…yeah I got nothing, I am just slow…” my only reply.

Man, this is a long winded story… Finally summit, after a bit of a breather, I clicked in and tried to find my way down as I had been left for dead by G3… Rather, I had to fight (or it felt like it) to keep that speed demon in my sights. I felt like it was the most intensely steep stuff I have ever skied, but most likely it was a manifestation of my imagination. I began to fly down that delicious powdery abyss, losing all my grace and posture as I sloppily carved my way down running over previous tracks and doing my best to stay up right. However, I fell half dozen times because that powdery magma was just to flipping deep. At one point I buried my skis in the snow crossed them and somersaulted out of them into chest deep pow by a tree. I had to laugh as I used my ski poles to clamber out a hole that surly led into another world. I can not help but glorify the effortless feeling of floating down through that smooth powder, truly a thrill I will hopefully be able to responsibly chase as the years go by…

Hiking for your turns is about as rewarding as it comes; even at 3.25 hrs (up time) for 15 min (if that) of down time, I can understand the thrill these folks chase. No matter the temperature gradient from base to summit, the fact your muscles beg for rest as you keep tromping, it’s all worth it when you set the lines, when you set the lines its all worth it. From there we loaded back into that mighty Mitsu headed back to a world that could never fully compare to the glorious day which preceded…

Get out… and stay out…

of doors that is

Vivas