Ski Biscuit

Pictures from a sunny Saturday tour on Turnagain Pass. Corn Biscuit was our ridgeline of choice.

Of BroBrahs, Gnar, and the Teleturn

This sounds very similar to a conversation overheard at a bar last week.

Till a' the seas gang dry

Robert Burns, Bard of Ayrshire, was born 251 years ago today in Alloway, Scotland (1759).
Today people in Scotland and groups all over the world are holding Burns suppers to celebrate his life and work. They read Burns' poems, sing his songs, eat haggis, and drink lots of whiskey. (From the Writer's Almanac)

My favorite:

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

What in the World?

Our friend Raymond, Kodiak's own roving photojournalist, snapped these pics on a drive out the road today. First person to post a comment correctly identifying why these eagles are so interested in the shallows wins a prize.

I was reminded that it is January in Alaska.

Windy walk to work this morning. I can’t get out of bed very promptly these days. I want to wait for the sun, usually ignoring my alarm.
I wore my heavy new boots – silly looking things that slow my steps.

My face was covered with a fleece scarf, my giant mittens made my hands into seal flippers, barely able to grasp my coffee mug.
I knew the coffee would be cold by the time I got into the office.

I thought the wind was going to blow me down. I leaned into it. Gravel and ice chips battered my face, making my eyes fill with tears. I was afraid that the street signs would break free

And hit me.

Owls

Owls
— for Camille

Wait; the great horned owls

Calling from the wood's edge; listen.

There: the dark male, low

And booming, tremoring the whole valley.

There: the female, resolving, answering

High and clear, restoring silence.

The chilly woods draw in

Their breath, slow, waiting, and now both

Sound out together, close to harmony.

These are the year's worst nights.

Ice glazed on the top boughs,

Old snow deep on the ground,

Snow in the red-tailed hawks'

Nests they take for their own.

Nothing crosses the crusted ground.

No squirrels, no rabbits, the mice gone,

No crow has young yet they can steal.

These nights the iron air clangs

Like the gates of a cell block, blank

And black as the inside of your chest.

Now, the great owls take

The air, the male's calls take

Depth on and resonance, they take

A rough nest, take their mate

And, opening out long wings, take

Flight, unguided and apart, to caliper

The blind synapse their voices cross

Over the dead white fields,

The dead black woods, where they take

Soundings on nothing fast, take

Soundings on each other, each alone.

"Owls" by W.D. Snodgrass, from Selected Poems: 1957-1987. © Soho Press, 1987.

Know Before You Go

This is an article that I wrote to be featured on the Chugach National Forest Avalanche Information Center website. I plan to contribute two articles per month to the site.

It goes without saying that backcountry travel in avalanche terrain involves risks. Exposure, equipment failure, injury, and, of course, the hazards associated with the release of an avalanche are major risks that a traveler should consider before every tour. Backcountry users, however, tend to be an optimistic group. For instance, even the slightest accumulation of early season snow is cause for celebration among backcountry enthusiasts. In the same vein, backcountry users may also perceive lower risk in the face of danger as a result of their sunny disposition. Indeed, early season avalanches have claimed the lives of three U.S. backcountry users so far this season. While optimism is certainly an enviable trait, this glass-half-full outlook could lead to ill advised decisions in the backcountry. Which begs the question, are backcountry users aware of the avalanche danger during an outing? A recent article in Wilderness & Environmental Medicine details the efforts of researchers in Salt Lake City, Utah to determine who “knows before they go.” The group of three scientists took their clipboards to popular trailheads and backcountry access gates in the Wasatch and Uinta mountains in the winter of 2005-2006 and asked backcountry users to rate the avalanche danger for their destination. Over three hundred backcountry travelers completed a questionnaire that collected information such as level of avalanche education (i.e., whether the traveler had taken an avalanche education course) and mode of travel. Participants were then asked to assess the avalanche danger that they expected for their destination. These results were compared to that day’s avalanche forecast from the Utah Avalanche Center (UAC) daily advisory which uses the same standard ranking system as the CNFAIC – low, moderate, considerable, high, or extreme. The backcountry users who participated in the survey were grouped based on their mode of travel – ski, snowboard, snowmachine, and snowshoe.
Results of the survey indicated that a large portion of skiers and snowboarders were aware of the avalanche danger – only 10% of skiers and 13% of snowboarders underestimated the level of avalanche danger for their destination. While a larger percentage of snowmachiners (22%) and snowshoers (45%) underestimated the avalanche danger. Now, before skiers and snowboarders launch “I told you so” rants and begin blaming other backcountry users for the slab that released during their last tour, it is important to note that this study did not determine whether the participants in the survey had accurately assessed the level of avalanche danger based on their own stability and weather observations. That is, backcountry users were not asked whether they had dug a pit, and tested the snow to assess the avalanche danger. Rather, the study simply identified who had read the daily avalanche advisory. Therefore, it is impossible to know which backcountry travelers in the study had actually examined snow pack conditions for their destination. While the results of the study may confirm preconceived notions about which backcountry users are aware of current avalanche conditions, it also demonstrates the challenges faced by avalanche centers such as the CNFAIC to expand their reach to backcountry travelers using snowshoes and snowmachines. A quick click or call to the CNFAIC daily avalanche advisory is always a good idea when planning a tour. And, with a new advisory every day of the week it’s even easier to “know before you go.”

Silverton NA, McIntosh SE, Kim HS. Risk Assessment in Backcountry Travel. Wilderness & Environmental Medicine, 2009; 20(3): 269-274.

Happy Alaskans

Bruce and I both had a great time visiting our respective families and home states over the holiday. We think that this might have been the last time that we could get away with splitting up for the season as matrimony looms in 2010. Perhaps we will just have to book tickets to Hawaii next year...

This headline greeted us in today's paper:

We live in our happy place (statistically, anyway)

This just in, Alaska: We’re happy.
In a study published earlier this month in Science magazine, Alaska was ranked the 11th happiest state in the country. We beat out Washington (rank: 36) and Oregon (rank: 30), Colorado (rank: 21), sunny California (rank: 46) and New York, which ranked last.

photo by Shelley Sanderman: sometimes Alaskan, always making us happy.

Le Tour

For better or worse, I registered for the Tour of Anchorage yesterday. The 23-year-old ski marathon features four races in both classic and freestyle forms. Being a novice, I chose the 25k freestyle race for my competitive debut. What's most appealing about the race - and the upcoming training - is that the route passes in front of our house, in fact I can ski a portion of it to and from work. While this winter started dry, we've had about 20" of snow fall in town this week and the trails - once groomed - should be quite enjoyable for skating. I've recently noticed that this is the first winter in recent memory I have not been out on telemark skis before Christmas. It seems that skate skiing has sated my desire for speed on skis. Indeed, when everything comes together, skating on a well-groomed trail often feels like speeding downhill. In the meantime, I'll be looking for training tips (Patrick?), a spandex suit, and "more cowbell."

poem by Matthew Brennan

Nights Our House Comes to Life

by Matthew Brennan

Some nights in midwinter when the creek clogs
With ice and the spines of fir trees stiffen
Under a blank, frozen sky,
On these nights our house comes to life.
It happens when you're half asleep:
A sudden crack, a fractured dream, you bolting
Upright – but all you can hear is the clock
Your great-grandfather found in 1860
And smuggled here from Dublin for his future bride,
A being as unknown to him then as she is now
To you, a being as distant as the strangers
Who built this house, and died in this room
Some cold, still night, like tonight,
When all that was heard were the rhythmic clicks
Of a pendulum, and something, barely audible,
Moving on the dark landing of the attic stairs.

"Nights Our House Comes to Life" by Matthew Brennan, from The House with the Mansard Roof. © The Backwaters Press, 2009.

beware the pogonip

I don't think that we are actually experiencing ice fog right now, but the city has been impressively socked-in for the past week in a heavy, freezing fog. My office overlooks the inlet and a shade of gray has been draw across my windows. Yesterday I found myself googling phrases such as "fog madness" and "fog induced insanity." Everything is coated with a dry hoarfrost which lends the city a surreal appearance and makes me feel like I am in Narnia. I have not been served any Turkish delight, yet...

skating fool

While Rebel and I are on the couch updating the blog this morning, Bruce is out for a ski along the trails here in town. Bruce has picked up the technique more quickly than some members of our household, much to someone's chagrin. He is hoping to join in some of the local races in 2010. I might have to invest in a cow bell...

Arctic sunrise

The sun is rising around 10 AM these days-last weekend we were treated to some fantastic colors. This weekend we are socked-in with freezing fog.

Gettin' Excited 'bout the 'Lympics

Meghan on her new skis? Nope, Anchorage 'Lympian Kikkan Randall skiing Powerline Pass Trail
(Photo: Mark Meyer)

Not that anyone is counting, but we're 10 days from the solstice, less than a month from celebrating a new year, and two months from tomorrow the Winter Olympics in Vancouver begin. Although there are several reasons to dislike the modern Olympics - it's brazen commercialism, the large-scale amount of waste generated by changing venues each Olympiad, and of course an over-exposure of Bob Costas - we can't help but get excited about this year's Winter Games. Meghan is thrilled that her favorite country, Canada, is hosting this year. We also love to root for hometown athletes - especially in the unique events featured in the Winter Games. This year we are keenly interested in nordic skiing. A fellow Alaskan, Kikkan Randall, is touted as a favorite for the nordic freestyle sprint competition. As reported in The Times Randall can be spotted training on Anchorage trails and eating the occasional doughnut at local eateries. The Olympics also seem to freeze time, marking different stages of life. I can remember with whom and where I watched several Olympics. For instance, Beijing 2008, when not camping on our drive up to Alaska, Meghan and I were able to watch the Summer Games with varying degrees of clear reception on the TV at the occasional motor lodge across western Canada. I remember sitting next to my late grandmother as she clasped her hands, anxiously awaiting Kerri Strug's final vault in Atlanta. For good or bad, the Olympics turn sport into drama and we often can't hep but get caught up in the spectacle. Now, who's gonna supply the flatscreen?

The Hunters of Greenland

The Kodiak birthday hunt seems balmy compared to these conditions

After reading the morning paper I just had to share what I found. That purveyor of yuppie cool, The New York Times, features an incredible album of black and white photos depicting Inuit hunters on Greenland. The Icelandic photojournalist, Ragnar Axelsson's photographs capture the arctic's stark beauty with an intense immediacy that seems to belie the toilsome work of procuring food in such a harsh climate. Make sure to read the blog post and visit Mr. Axelsson's own site.

Harvesting a narwhal (Monodon monoceros)

It's Great to Skate

Gearing up in the "front yard"

This weekend Meghan and I discovered a new way to enjoy the Alaskan winter - skate skiing. Like classic skiing, skate skis are made for gliding on snow. Unlike classic skiing, skate skis are shorter, skinnier, and designed to be used on edge. Instead of kicking with the base of the ski flat on the snow like a classic ski, a skate, or freestyle skier, kicks with the edge of the ski at angle to propel forward - like ice skating. After the lesson we realized that we can move quite fast when skate skiing - I got giddy.

Out to the Inlet

The day after our lesson we ventured from our house to Anchorage's Coastal Trail. I was delighted to be able to strap on our skis directly in front of our house and begin skiing. The Chester Creek Trail - which I use to bike to work - connects with the Coastal Trail about a mile from our house. The snow on the trails was a little bumpy, but smooth enough to feel the thrill of the speed of this new-found method of sliding on snow. Meghan and I agree that it has been nice to live with powdery snow on the ground during the winter months. Back in Denver an occasional blizzard would dump a foot or two on the ground, but the high, dry temps would soon melt the snow away. Kodiak's maritime climate provided plenty of precipitation and snow to the mountains, but the frequent warmer temperatures would bring rain and ice to the island melting snow or turning it to ice in town.

And back before dark

We had a great time during our ski and even crossed paths with friends who took part in Friday's lesson. I can't wait to get back out there. As I write, sunlight is still an hour hence, but perhaps a headlamp will do. Now I have to convince Meghan that skiing the Tour of Anchorage would be a fun thing to do this winter.

pecan pie for the birthday boy

Here is Bruce's pecan 29th birthday pie. This year my friend assisted me in making her mother's pecan maple syrup rum pie. Mmm...
I think that I might make a tradition of finding a new pecan pie recipe with which to commemorate Bruce's birthday every year. I am lucky to have such accomplished bakers as friends!

Beach Lake trails ski

Yesterday myself and a pack of my new co-workers took to the woods for some turns about the trails. The nordic center in Eagle River does a nice job of grooming a fairly elaborate lighted trail system near Chugiak High School. We spent several hours exploring the twists and turns of the Beach Lake trails. I was a little intimidated by routes labeled "Agony Hill" and "Devil's Corner," but my fearless companions charged ahead, and we all survived.

Time for Pie and Holiday Sweaters

Rebel is shy about showing off his holiday sweater

Ahh, the holidays in Alaska, a time when you remember how far away you
really are from family and Outside friends. It is also a time when my lovely assistant and I make Grandma Peggy's chocolate pie and Grandma Kelly's broccoli casserole. Bruce was a whiz with a new spin on the pies this year: graham cracker crusts...mmm.

We have not been brave enough, yet, to attempt any of Bruce's Babi's famous Czech holiday buchti (cookies)...but perhaps this will be the year! Bruce has inherited some of her baking ability, I believe.

Earlier this winter Bruce did prepare and enjoy a Czech meal in the spirit of his prarodiče (grandparents)-ptarmigan with locally made zeli (sauerkraut), Palmer, AK peas, and a can of pilsner.

Winter Air Travel

Touching down in Old Harbor, AK

It's getting to be that time of year again, the Holidays arrive and so does the inclement weather. Although I was able to get in and out of Kodiak on schedule, Meghan and I have Thanksgiving and Christmas travel plans that take us through several different airports - Seattle, Denver and Chicago - where delays and cancellations are frequent. Back in Kodiak, I used to pack a sleeping bag, extra clothes and food in case of weather delays when traveling to the Island's remote villages. Part of me is glad that my commute to work is a bit more predictable (though coming across ornery moose is often a possibility here in Anchorage). On the other hand, the adventure of flying over remote Alaskan wilderness and landing in a landscape with different features and customs was quite exhilarating. I was always thankful when our pilot brought us safely to our destination, no matter how marginal the conditions. To me, the bush pilots in Alaska are heroes on par with firefighters and other rescue personnel who remain calm and professional in the face of sheer despair. Disagree? Read this account of a pilot flying out of Bethel who's engine quit mid-flight featured in Friday's Anchorage Daily News.

Video of the Birthday Hunt

Thanks to Patrick for leading the excursion and creating the video.

Sharatin Bay Hunt

Loading up in Anton Larson Bay's calm waters

In an effort to augment our winter cache of salmon and halibut Meghan sent me over to Kodiak to hunt for deer. I made plans with Patrick, an avid backcountry hunter and camping fanatic, to kayak to Sharatin Bay on the north end of Kodiak Island. We planned to camp and try our hand at a late fall hunt. Although my interest in hunting had been piqued by last month’s successful ptarmigan hunt and I was looking forward to learning more about pursuing larger game, I found the kayak leg of this brief expedition most appealing. Our paddle began in Anton Larson Bay after a drive over a mountain pass with the same name. As we crested the pass and glanced toward Pyramid Mountain’s white slopes we felt a bit confused, as if we should be preparing for a ski tour rather than a kayak camping trip.

Arriving in Sharatin Bay, rifle on the bow and Elbow Mountain dead ahead

Reaching our intended hunting spot demanded eight solid miles of paddling, most of it unprotected. As we paddled out of Anton Larson Bay and into open water Brother Wind threw down the first gauntlet. Strong northwest winds churned up a confused sea that sent waves in every direction. Our large double-hatch kayaks, however, felt stable in the unsettled seas. Once we found the “rhythm” to the arrhythmic waters we were able to enjoy, as much as possible, the sea life floating and flying all around us. Curious seals and sea otters looked to Patrick’s boat then mine, then back again and dove out of sight. Cormorants and gulls passed overhead perhaps looking for a free scrap of food tossed overboard. Our hands gripped the paddles tight though, the swirling seas allowed no time for eating or even snapping a quick photo. In the distance a pod of whales spouted and breached, enjoying the mid-November sun, while a bald eagle perched on the edge of a tall grassy island surveilling the scene.

Patrick on the hunt

After two hours of sustained paddling we reached our intended destination a bit cold, but prepared to hunt. We decided to set camp first and after clearing the snow away from our tent site we began our foray into the hills above. We climbed steep slopes and bushwhacked through dried alder and salmonberry thickets to reach the top of a long ridge. On several occasions we spotted deer in pairs, all well out of range. We continued to hike through dry snow, looking down at the occasional deer, rabbit and brown bear track and looking up at the sun sitting poised to drop behind Kodiak’s craggy peaks. Then Patrick suddenly raised his binoculars and in one determined motion dropped his pack shouldered his rifle and lined up a shot. In a brief second he fired one shot and downed a doe on a lower ridge. We then decided to split up – Patrick would claim his quarry and I would trace a larger arc across the valley to look for another deer. As I continued climbing up the ridge I soon heard another shot, Patrick had scared up a second doe and dispatched it from about 100 yards. We reunited at the second animal and decided to bring the two deer together to clean and load onto our packs while keeping an eye out for any nearby predators. We soon realized that we had precious little daylight left and the timing of the two kills was impeccable – another 30 minutes and we would be harvesting our quarry in the cold, dark Alaskan night. We bushwhacked our way back to camp in the fading light and loaded the quarry into the front hatch of our boats – just as planned – and settled in for the night.

After a very cold 16 degree moonless night we quickly packed up camp and dragged our boats down to the water’s edge, taking several more steps than when we arrived at high tide. Brother Wind blew down the bay and we paddled hard, perhaps somehow knowing that we would need to be in the right spot at the right time during our return paddle to make it home safely. As we exited Sharatin Bay and returned to the open water we soon realized that we were dealing with a different animal than the confused sea during our earlier paddle. A strong wind whipped waves into a frenzy, many of the larger whitecaps broke over the deck of our boats and coated the entire topside of the kayaks in ice. Our adrenaline surged as we tried to both enjoy the spectacular show of sunrise on white peaks across the larger bay and keeping our fully loaded kayaks upright. Patrick and I paddled in parallel, tacking to face the large waves and riding away from the smaller ones. Once I looked over to see Patrick with a look of surprise. He pointed in my direction and said “Look!” I assumed he was making reference to the increasing size of the waves. I shook my head in agreement as a whitecap broke over the hatch where I was sitting. Relieved to be upright, I glanced back to Patrick and realized what he actually meant by his exclamation. A fin whale, second only in size to the blue whale, surfaced 100 yards to my left. I now had to focus on paddling in tormented seas and avoiding a curious 60 foot whale. Then, in the most exhilarating moment of the entire trip, the whale reappeared this time at half the distance it surfaced before – its back seemed to roll forever out of the water. I tried to stay as calm as possible and focus on the deep blue water breaking all around me.

The last straw, breaking the ice

Eventually we rounded the last exposed point of our journey and slipped into the protection of Anton Larson Bay, sheltered from the wind. The adrenaline that had propelled us through the turbulent open water soon wore off and we had to dig deep to paddle the last section of the bay. As we made our final turn toward our launch point we were shocked to see that the water had frozen solid overnight. Although a skiff had broken a small path through the brackish ice, we were forced to scrape and crash our way through the icy bay. With the little strength we had left Patrick cleared a path and I followed, nearly exhausted. We found our way to shore and dragged the boats to the truck, not quite sure how lucky we really were to be on dry land.

Happy Birthday to Bruce

Today is Bruce's birthday and he is celebrating with a weekend of adventure in Kodiak. He is deer hunting with our friend, Patrick. The high winds kept them inside yesterday, but they were off to an early start this morning. I am hoping that they each bring home a kayak full of meat!

Bruce's apartment on Lake Mendota

We met six years ago today, when Bruce was a graduate student out on the town in Madison, WI, celebrating his birthday, and I was finishing my last semester of college. I can hardly believe that six years have passed. We have had shared more adventures than I could have imagined, and I know that there are many more yet to come. I feel so fortunate to share to my days with such a wonderful partner. Happy birthday, Bruce-I love you!

British Columbia, Canada

Seattle

On the farm in Wisconsin

Rocky Mountain Nat'l Park, CO

Carpathian Mountains, Romania

On the Danube, Budapest

Lost Creek Wilderness Area, CO

Silverton, CO

Pruhonice, Czech Republic

xoxo

first snow

Last night we finally got some snow here in the city. About 3 inches fell and this morning we have bright sun and blue skies. The arctic winter light makes the snow glow with a blueish-purple tint...lovely.

Observant readers will notice that these photos were not taken here in Anchorage (they are actually from the Easter storm in Kodiak last Spring)...stay tuned for more local shots!

finally...

Tribal Chiefs and the President

White House receptions of American Indian leaders have too often been patronizing historical footnotes. President Obama opened what we hope will be a more promising chapter on Thursday when he met with the leaders from all 564 federally recognized tribes. He vowed that there would be no more “going through the motions” and that his administration would finally face the severe economic and social problems that are the result of centuries of federal abuse and neglect.

Read the entire editorial from the New York Times here.